07-14-2012, 07:12 AM
Every time I've tried to go to sleep lately, I can't. Brain won't quit. So I figure maybe writing will help. I have to work two-thirty to midnight today and we have three coolers dedicated to energy drinks at work. >_____> I get into them a lot, yes.
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Mephisto liked to believe that they were all the same underneath their fur, and medically-speaking they were. But it was more than just flesh and bone at hand here, which he imagined Myrika knew already. It had to do with more than what they were. It simply had to. Still, the prospect of hate-fueled propaganda piqued his interest a bit more, even if they were full of lies and nonsense. If someone out there believed in something enough, then any lie was a truth and vice versa. He had often debated the morals of right and wrong, but never too far outwardly. That was in part why he had come searching for Inferni, if only to experience what there was to experience. If nothing else, then to find a drive for something that made life more than living and dying.
“Well, with the history that Inferni has, it's probably talked about. It interested me enough to make the journey here, so maybe somewhere out there, there's someone still alive who spouts about how Inferni is bad. Or whatever. And maybe it reaches deeper than that, too. I've always heard from elders that we weren't always the way that they are now, that we always didn't shift or be civilized, read, whatever. I've even heard that there are some of those kind still around today.” Mephisto had never seen someone who wasn't Luperci. His ignorance unknowingly showed through, but he could empathize. “I bet we'd be scary to someone who's never known a stance outside of four legs. Towering and imposing and all.” A smile broke his face in near childlike wonder as he glanced to Myrika in their strides.
And perhaps while Mephisto may have fit in better somewhere else, he already felt that he didn't want to be somewhere else. Cities had bored him and with his limited knowledge of how packs truly functioned, he doubted he would have been an asset. Submission wasn't totally in his repertoire, at least not all of the time. To him, they were manners, a throwback to just how differently he was raised to someone who lived in a completely different structure. “Are the attacks were why Ezekiel left, though?” he queried, changing the subject slightly. While he would no doubt hear different takes on the whole thing, he felt it best to try and discover why straight from the person who had taken over his stead.