Current Objective:Waiting to discuss things. ---
Form:Lupus----
Mood: Calm-----
"We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.” Andre Berthiaume
There were things in his mind that even he did not understand, like the masks or example. He knew that in points he was not supposed to care about what happened, he was supposed to be in the eternal third person, an outside that had no stake in what happened around him. Merely to use the information that he gained from it to his own advantage, yet. When one wears so many masks he often forgot just what his true face actually looked like. Which one of the makes were real and which ones were false? He didn’t know anymore. It was a strange feeling, And it wasn’t the oddness of the feeling that bothered him more in the sense that he was feeling anything at all. This wasn’t normal for him, normally he would Fein emotions to try and better manipulate anyone, but no matter the face that he put on there it was. Always lingering in the background of his mind. Not huge, but it was always noticeable. Like a moth perpetually flying around a flame, blocking the light every now and again announcing its presence to the world.
Ever since he had had those words shared with her, ever since he had seen the evolved scarred nature of her face. He knew that this was not going to be easy. More over though this feeling began to generate it began to pop up in the back of his mind. It was only best described as….betrayal. But he didn’t get it, for all his intelligence he was little versed in just how that worked, it was illogical and he shouldn’t have felt it, he just shouldn’t have. There was no need for it, they had been friends as pups as much as he could be a friend to anyone. But that shouldn’t have mattered. He had betrayed, blackmailed. And done all sorts of unscrupulous things to others. So why was it that now he was tasting this, small as it was? When they were younger, he had always ben bigger, not a great fighter perhaps. But his mind was larger in scope, his body in size. He had always felt that dominating persona ever since then, and had not expected for even a brief moment that anyone would be able to disarm him of this air of threatening charisma.
And yet, she had managed it. Brief as it was, she had managed it.
He was sat on the edge of the mountain side as he had done when he was younger. Thinking, contemplating these problems and trying to figure out just which mask that he wore actually suited his true nature. All the time trying to still the voice that told him You wear masks because you have no face. No face, nothing real. Just all masks to hide, nothing. He refused to believe that there was nothing to him, even if all the evidence seemed to portray a different conclusion. Just how would he form with this pack? She had threatened him with reprocussions if he was to cause any discomfort, but then again that was to be expected among anyone. But it had felt so raw. So directed, a grunt escaped from his maw as he turned his head slightly to the right, another rock laid out there, his eyes drwn to it. Place the rock in the stream, divert the flows of what was to be, and make what you will of it.
Was this his role within the pack? To make of it something that was great? To change its fate from one of blood? But then came to him another question. Was he the the person flicking the rock into the stream?...or was he the rock being flicked?.....
Contemplation. Mind full of questions. Who was he, what was his role?...what was his fate?.
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