You can't take it with you.

Bangle Guffawri · 01-08-2011, 03:22 PM

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ooc: 1173 words. Bwahaha.

He was such an idiot. A fool, a joker, and downright stupid. The coywolf pushed past trees, angry at himself and at the world for what happened that afternoon by the pool. He was making a beeline back to Thornbury, his working mat and its loose materials tucked under his arm almost viciously. Bangle could not work that day, not for the life of him, despite how nice and pure the world outside looked. The traveling salesman could not take it anymore, he could not stand to work when the thoughts of orange and cream boggled his mind.

'Why did you ever do that? You are stupid,' he yelled to himself mentally. Spring was not going to get here fast enough, and Bangle felt tortured both inside and out. It could not wait any longer, his feet needed to move, and they not only needed to leave Thornbury, but all of Cercatori d'Arte. The coywolf's tail lashed behind him in irritation, pushing into the clearing towards his home. 'It's not even yours, you were only using it temporarily,' his mind convinced him. No one seemed to be around the small town when he approached the house with the large oak tree near it. The air was stale with tension, especially after the fight of a few pack members. He wasn't sure how Shawchert was doing, nor Orin nor Sky. For the moment, he did not care, the traveler was going to pack up and be on his way, out of everyone's hair. Without a single word of goodbye, just like he always did.

When he approached the house, Bangle paused. He glanced up at it, and narrowed his bright orange eyes at it. The roof and the right walls were patched up, with help from the large alpha - his friend. The male closed his eyes and shook his head, beads and bones rattling as he did so. 'Ya don't have any friends, th' only one you can trust is yerself.' His mind was playing tricks on him, but on that clear winter day, Bangle was willing to believe anything he told himself. How like a salesman, he was.

Furious steps were taken as he climbed the front porch, gray furred hand on the doorknob. His throat felt thick once again, and he hated that feeling, swallowing hard as if he was going to find something, or someone, in there that wasn't welcome. He turned it gently, hearing the click from the wall slide through, and Bangle let the door swing open. It was dark inside, and dust particles flew in the air when the sunshine flowed through the open doorway. The coywolf grumbled, still inwardly battling with the thoughts in his mind as he entered, leaving the door open behind him. He wasn't about to light a candle or get the fireplace going like he usually did, to make himself at home. No, this would be the final time he'd be in the comforting wooden shack.

And he began to pack, with more vigor than even he anticipated. Every time he opened his eyes, however, all he saw was bright orange hair, complimented with pure white fur. His fangs were bared, then, as he sifted through the materials he had planned to work with today and packed them in appropriate bags. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, not now or ever. The gypsy would always be a gypsy, with needs to fulfill and to be on his way again. But why wasn't it like that with her? His heart skipped beats, and something coursed through his body that he had never felt before. She was just another female, wasn't she? Couldn't he just have his way with her and get up and go?

'You fool, you've changed!' His manipulative mind would tell him. Confusion merely turned into anger for the Guffawri male, as he crammed several more things into pouches, belts, and containers. He didn't even feel like he was touching the ground, as his feet took long strides across the room of the household to snatch things from tables and from drawers. 'You're letting your heart do the talking, and that gets you in trouble.' It nearly hurt the coywolf for his brain telling him these things, but what else could he believe? Feelings only got in the way, especially in his life. Bangle wasn't allowed to feel these strange feelings, he was a traveler. And no one, not even a beautiful russet haired female, could take that away from him.

Everything was slowly lining the large table in the front room, as the coyote mix made his way up the stairs into the loft, where his bed was. When he made it to the top landing, he crossed the bed to the drawer that was next to it, caked with dust. Nothing was on it, but there was a treasure within its wooden depths. As angry as the merchant was, he told himself to calm down for this one thing, as he pulled open the drawer to reveal what he had been hiding all this time.

There was the glass rose, the only thing lying in the drawer by his bedside. It was a gift for the one who was constantly in his mind, making him feel what a gypsy was not supposed to feel. He pulled the treasure out carefully, and in the light that streamed through the dirt-caked window, Bangle held it up. It shone different colors in all directions, seeing clearly through it unlike the first time he discovered it. And the first time he discovered her. The craftsman had taken time out, without Skye's knowing, to extensively clean the glass rose, and to give it to her. 'Why else would you give her such a pretty thing, hm?' His mind told him, having, for lack of a better word, a mind of its own now. Still holding the rose up to the light, he closed his eyes, gently at first - before squeezing them shut. Bangle tried to squeeze his horrible thoughts away, but they came in waves. They were controlling him now, like a puppet.

The coywolf turned with the gift in hand and strode back downstairs, to where the rest of his things were. It didn't matter then if he gave her the stinking glass flower or not. It wasn't like it was special or anything. Despite his anger, however, he set the rose down on the small table to the right of the door, along the wall, and stared at it for a few seconds more. How the light was deceiving - even on the table the sun from the outside kissed the glass, displaying an array of colors along the shack's wooden floorboards. Again, he grumbled, and turned to the living room for more of his belongings. Packing wasn't new to the traveler, and it wasn't going to take him long to pack everything, hoist it over his shoulders along with the other burden he was carrying, and leave Cercatori forever.

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