11-29-2008, 05:21 PM
I haven't the foggiest how to join OOCly with packs, but my information should already be on file, blah blah blah. 
Set in the Mansion. I did a little reading of your threads also, James, so I've gotten the gist of what Salem's been up to and etc so yay. Nice to see that he was included in meeting some folks. ;D
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Out of all of his siblings, he had been the one who purposely kept close to his mother. It wasn't because the world was a scary place, or that it was often too cold for his liking to venture around in anyway, but rather because at his age, he didn't see the point in always running in the other direction than she was going in. He thought himself a good boy. In turn, Salem had already learned things that he believed his siblings hadn't so in his own form of twisted sibling rivalry, he was the favourite, the most obedient, and the most educated. Even if they all got their time to learn things, he had done them first in his mind.
But these were mostly thoughts in his head as he wandered through the quiet halls and rooms of the mansion. He preferred to be the quiet child, observing the world around him instead. His baby blues—still too young for them to make their colouration transition—studied each and every contour of each and every thing he could and couldn't see. He had come to the kitchen after fruitless, uncounted minutes of mental adventures, but not out of hunger. No, Salem was admiring the old counters for a moment. The brass handles on the drawers. The way the light filtered in through a window over a deep sink basin. He paused in the warm sunlight that had broken through the colds for a moment, and a yawn split his ebony-haired face in two.
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Set in the Mansion. I did a little reading of your threads also, James, so I've gotten the gist of what Salem's been up to and etc so yay. Nice to see that he was included in meeting some folks. ;D[html]
Out of all of his siblings, he had been the one who purposely kept close to his mother. It wasn't because the world was a scary place, or that it was often too cold for his liking to venture around in anyway, but rather because at his age, he didn't see the point in always running in the other direction than she was going in. He thought himself a good boy. In turn, Salem had already learned things that he believed his siblings hadn't so in his own form of twisted sibling rivalry, he was the favourite, the most obedient, and the most educated. Even if they all got their time to learn things, he had done them first in his mind.
But these were mostly thoughts in his head as he wandered through the quiet halls and rooms of the mansion. He preferred to be the quiet child, observing the world around him instead. His baby blues—still too young for them to make their colouration transition—studied each and every contour of each and every thing he could and couldn't see. He had come to the kitchen after fruitless, uncounted minutes of mental adventures, but not out of hunger. No, Salem was admiring the old counters for a moment. The brass handles on the drawers. The way the light filtered in through a window over a deep sink basin. He paused in the warm sunlight that had broken through the colds for a moment, and a yawn split his ebony-haired face in two.