09-24-2008, 10:12 PM
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Table by Mel!
405
Your reply made me laugh.
And it is probably the best analysis of Hybrid I've ever seen. <3
Everything was a battleground; nothing was sacred, and there was no sanctity. Peace and security could be damned, for it was all a simple little lie to intrigue and confuse you. Hybrid knew it did not exist, for it could not exist. There was no reason for it to. There was always a battle- of words, thoughts, physical strength, and endurance. Hybrid had waged many wars, won his fair share, and seen a number of them end in defeat. He was not all-knowing, but he was (arguably) decently educated in the art of war. He could easily be classified as a thrill junkie, preferred to throw his life on the line just to feel alive, for his dallied with Samael, there was always the possibility of death. It was slim, but it was there, and it existed in a degree that comforted him. It made sex feel more real, more vivid. He knew he was alive when he felt the tickling of worry in the back of his mind, knew he was alive when he saw evidence that others were, too. When Samael bled, Hybrid knew he lived, and thus, was alive as well. It was a strange and twisted logic, and came back to the origin of war.
In this respect, Hybrid never really 'relaxed.' Or at least, not the way others might-- his idea of relaxation was just as twisted as his idea of fun. "I've always found killing wolves to be extremely soothing," he joked with a smirk. He snorted, almost laughed even, to show that it was in jest. Yes, killing wolves was enjoyable, but it was not relaxing. What was relaxing? The scent of lavender? No, only to a bottom. What about the sound of running water, the quiet serenity of a brook? Perhaps not-- it made him need to take a piss. Perhaps his definition of relaxing was a little different. "I don't know," he replied. "I don't think I relax much," he mused. Sure, he might take a nap on a rock in the sun, but that wasn't relaxing-- that was just sleep. Sometimes, he might stare at the clouds and ponder the meaning of life, but that wasn't very relaxing, either (and he knew his purpose in life was to kill wolves, so that was easy enough). He supposed his honesty only betrayed how little he did, aside from sex, killing and, well... that was it, really.
Your reply made me laugh.
And it is probably the best analysis of Hybrid I've ever seen. <3 i heard they say the boy's missing
Everything was a battleground; nothing was sacred, and there was no sanctity. Peace and security could be damned, for it was all a simple little lie to intrigue and confuse you. Hybrid knew it did not exist, for it could not exist. There was no reason for it to. There was always a battle- of words, thoughts, physical strength, and endurance. Hybrid had waged many wars, won his fair share, and seen a number of them end in defeat. He was not all-knowing, but he was (arguably) decently educated in the art of war. He could easily be classified as a thrill junkie, preferred to throw his life on the line just to feel alive, for his dallied with Samael, there was always the possibility of death. It was slim, but it was there, and it existed in a degree that comforted him. It made sex feel more real, more vivid. He knew he was alive when he felt the tickling of worry in the back of his mind, knew he was alive when he saw evidence that others were, too. When Samael bled, Hybrid knew he lived, and thus, was alive as well. It was a strange and twisted logic, and came back to the origin of war.
In this respect, Hybrid never really 'relaxed.' Or at least, not the way others might-- his idea of relaxation was just as twisted as his idea of fun. "I've always found killing wolves to be extremely soothing," he joked with a smirk. He snorted, almost laughed even, to show that it was in jest. Yes, killing wolves was enjoyable, but it was not relaxing. What was relaxing? The scent of lavender? No, only to a bottom. What about the sound of running water, the quiet serenity of a brook? Perhaps not-- it made him need to take a piss. Perhaps his definition of relaxing was a little different. "I don't know," he replied. "I don't think I relax much," he mused. Sure, he might take a nap on a rock in the sun, but that wasn't relaxing-- that was just sleep. Sometimes, he might stare at the clouds and ponder the meaning of life, but that wasn't very relaxing, either (and he knew his purpose in life was to kill wolves, so that was easy enough). He supposed his honesty only betrayed how little he did, aside from sex, killing and, well... that was it, really.