12-19-2009, 10:49 PM
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It was truly too bad that the pack that seemed best fit for Daisuke was so far away, though if it was truly so vital for him, Snake would come out there to call for him then if he had something important to say. Distance didn’t really mean much to him. Neither did time. Both passed when you put your mind to it, and especially when you started moving and let your mind lie dormant. That was pretty much the state that he had traveled here in—practically automaton.
Since he was finished eating, Snake moved somewhat to where his back was against the side of his car-den, his legs stretched in front of him and with vodka in hand. He listened to Daisuke speak of how he thought of packs, taking sips periodically from the fiery liquor as he considered it. He had, naturally, never been very touchy-feely for the earth, and he surely did not believe in any kind of Earthmother that gave them what they had to live on. In truth Snake’s beliefs were very sparse—he was not staunchly disbelieving, but he merely thought such things were above him. So he shrugged, a frown flickering across his face. “It’s just how things are. Luperci and normal canines claim lands to make it easier for them to survive.” Sure, nomadic lifestyle was fine, but the dawn of civilization had come when the first humans decided to stay and farm instead of follow the herds.
He largely understood Daisuke’s standpoint, though. It was the same as Snake’s, except that Snake’s came from his personality in general. Daisuke’s came from beliefs. “Living easier’s the only reason why I joined Inferni,” he said, taking a drink from the vodka. It was nearly empty now. “It’s nice having a den with a fire to go to every night. Nice to have hunting grounds you know well. That sort of thing.”
As for sharing information, Snake had no reason not to. “Sure,” he replied, taking one last deep swig of the vodka. It was finished now, and his hunger and thirst were thoroughly satiated. He placed the bottle aside—he would put it in a more hidden corner of the landfill later—and then stared at the fire. He didn’t have anything else to say.
It was truly too bad that the pack that seemed best fit for Daisuke was so far away, though if it was truly so vital for him, Snake would come out there to call for him then if he had something important to say. Distance didn’t really mean much to him. Neither did time. Both passed when you put your mind to it, and especially when you started moving and let your mind lie dormant. That was pretty much the state that he had traveled here in—practically automaton.
Since he was finished eating, Snake moved somewhat to where his back was against the side of his car-den, his legs stretched in front of him and with vodka in hand. He listened to Daisuke speak of how he thought of packs, taking sips periodically from the fiery liquor as he considered it. He had, naturally, never been very touchy-feely for the earth, and he surely did not believe in any kind of Earthmother that gave them what they had to live on. In truth Snake’s beliefs were very sparse—he was not staunchly disbelieving, but he merely thought such things were above him. So he shrugged, a frown flickering across his face. “It’s just how things are. Luperci and normal canines claim lands to make it easier for them to survive.” Sure, nomadic lifestyle was fine, but the dawn of civilization had come when the first humans decided to stay and farm instead of follow the herds.
He largely understood Daisuke’s standpoint, though. It was the same as Snake’s, except that Snake’s came from his personality in general. Daisuke’s came from beliefs. “Living easier’s the only reason why I joined Inferni,” he said, taking a drink from the vodka. It was nearly empty now. “It’s nice having a den with a fire to go to every night. Nice to have hunting grounds you know well. That sort of thing.”
As for sharing information, Snake had no reason not to. “Sure,” he replied, taking one last deep swig of the vodka. It was finished now, and his hunger and thirst were thoroughly satiated. He placed the bottle aside—he would put it in a more hidden corner of the landfill later—and then stared at the fire. He didn’t have anything else to say.