07-15-2012, 01:34 AM
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Table by Sie!
| http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/jacquez.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-bottom:323px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; padding-top:10px;"> It's all good, my dear~ <3 Yay! Jacquez Trouillefou, for that was indeed the identity of the one-armed man, strode forth fearlessly into the depths of the city. It felt good to be back in the deep south; it felt right, like he was home again. The frozen north with all their wolves and pack politics were far behind him, and he had no desire to return to their frigid winters with the ice and the snow, ugh! It was too difficult for his damaged mind to grasp the fact that his bitterness stemmed from the loss of his Ruri. Instead, he had drifted from continent to continent; sailing with his lover Firefly to her native Ireland, remaining there for some seasons... growing bored of her when she became mother to his children, deserting them when she was drawn back to Canada again. After that, he had sailed south, picking up a motley crew around the cape, reaching the arid red desert of Australia where he settled for a while. He licked his lips, recalling the worship of the aboriginal dingoes, how eager the tawny dogs had been to attend to his every need. That had been fun for a time, but as always, he grew bored so easily. The tides carried him back west, dashing his ship against the rocks yet again; he had found his way back to the Americas, wandering into the south from whence he came. Jacquez liked this city, New Orleans; it reminded him of when he was young, surrounded by the mongrel dogs who spoke his creole French and loved his charismatic ways. He was getting on in years, but still tough enough to handle himself against the fools who thought a one-armed dog was weak enough to mug. He barked a laugh, amused by the prospect. He was undefeated, or so he remembered -- his rum-soaked mind did not always record events the way they transpired, and as the seasons dragged on, the memories grew fuzzier around the edges. His plumed tail waved proudly behind his haunches as he walked. He was always with the dominant posture of a leader, even when he was living all by himself. Turning from corridor to corridor, he found himself entering the theatre district. In human times, it had been bustling and vibrant, bright colors and costumes lighting the streets. Now it was run down and decrepit, paint peeling from signs battered by the coastal weather, old buildings collapsed from the floods and rain. Jacquez ducked under a fallen billboard, emerging with a mischievous smile and a half-full bottle of rum clasped in his white fingers. He had stashed liquor in several hiding places in this city, and his nose was well-trained to sniff out new ones. He tipped back his lean muzzle and took a swig, grunting as the fire burned down his throat and coiled in his belly. His tolerance for the alcohol made the feeling fade too quickly, and he took another swig, dependent on the stuff. It was then his shiny black eyes noticed a figure standing by the street corner. Not the one that was following him, but a new face; a female dog giving him a wink and crooking her finger to beckon him over. Booze and a whore? Today had just gotten that much better. |