04-12-2009, 12:41 AM
Brennt's dull yellow eyes rose from their point of focus on the scent-laden floor, and though there could be no intensity behind them, he kept them on her for a long while, as if doing so might actually translate his desires into a solid push that would send her away. His ears fell, and he bared his teeth in the feral snarl from before, but without the predator, his eyes, and in many ways his soul, were not in the gesture. His hair remained where it was. He knew she hadn't attacked him last time, and though he was not very intelligent, and wasn't conscious of the conclusion he'd reached, he now believed that she in fact wouldn't attack him unless he attacked her first. Or at the very least, unless he touched her first.
"You're mean. You're lying." His words wouldn't do much for him when it came to arguing with Cwmfen...or anyone, for that matter. The reason he abandoned words and reason so quickly was because he was so astoundingly poor at both. Nonetheless, the thoughts--slow as they were--were there, and the words followed them. He still didn't like Cwmfen, and the name 'mean' was the only word he knew that manifested his feelings completely: that he didn't like her, but it was her fault, not his. She was dishonest with her words like other wolves were, like Pallok, like even his mother who had promised she would love him forever. But despite her words, her big son had been able to clearly see otherwise. Had he been possessed of a keener intellect, he might have pieced together that her greater love for the new pups was only temporary, that when all of them were grown he might have her best-love again, but he had known only the present, and in that present she had broken her promise to him, and loved others better.
"Other ways?" he said absently, eyes unfocused, aimed vaguely and confusedly at the floor. He hadn't reflected very much to himself his own reasons for why he ate children, and so her statement was not immediately clear to him. He knew what she was referring to, because as Brennt he was always aware that what he was doing was supposed to be wrong. It was clear to him which part of his activities she didn't like. Nonetheless, he didn't know precisely what he was getting from it, and so getting it in some other way was difficult to wrap his brain around. "Are you lying?" His harsh accusations were becoming deflated, insecure musings. He spoke as much to himself as to her...could she be trusted? Brennt rarely trusted anyone, but since his meeting with Maz, he had a better sense that he desperately wanted to trust some people.
"You're mean. You're lying." His words wouldn't do much for him when it came to arguing with Cwmfen...or anyone, for that matter. The reason he abandoned words and reason so quickly was because he was so astoundingly poor at both. Nonetheless, the thoughts--slow as they were--were there, and the words followed them. He still didn't like Cwmfen, and the name 'mean' was the only word he knew that manifested his feelings completely: that he didn't like her, but it was her fault, not his. She was dishonest with her words like other wolves were, like Pallok, like even his mother who had promised she would love him forever. But despite her words, her big son had been able to clearly see otherwise. Had he been possessed of a keener intellect, he might have pieced together that her greater love for the new pups was only temporary, that when all of them were grown he might have her best-love again, but he had known only the present, and in that present she had broken her promise to him, and loved others better.
"Other ways?" he said absently, eyes unfocused, aimed vaguely and confusedly at the floor. He hadn't reflected very much to himself his own reasons for why he ate children, and so her statement was not immediately clear to him. He knew what she was referring to, because as Brennt he was always aware that what he was doing was supposed to be wrong. It was clear to him which part of his activities she didn't like. Nonetheless, he didn't know precisely what he was getting from it, and so getting it in some other way was difficult to wrap his brain around. "Are you lying?" His harsh accusations were becoming deflated, insecure musings. He spoke as much to himself as to her...could she be trusted? Brennt rarely trusted anyone, but since his meeting with Maz, he had a better sense that he desperately wanted to trust some people.