07-11-2009, 07:58 PM
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back-dated to 7/10, if you don't mind, so it can occur before ares finalls runs into princess 
. sub-territory: cottontail valley. 326 words.
If Ares' incredibly depressed / buoyantly happy trade off was a tame version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, this was definitely a Mr. Hyde day. Or was it Dr. Jekyll? God fucking damnit, it had been too long since he read that book, too long since he had read anything. He couldn't remember which was the bad guy, but the important thing was that, today, he was not feeling particularly pleasant to be around in any sense of the word at all. He couldn't even fucking hunt. He wanted to hunt to calm his nerves, to assure himself that he was worth something, worth something, worth anything! But he had fucked that up, too. His agitation was betrayed in careless footsteps, poor aim, and a myriad of other simple dumb idiotic mistakes that just reaffirmed to him that hah, he wasn't actually even good at the things he thought he could do. Nothing! He couldn't do a single fucking thing right.
So he had given up, and his stomach rumbled unpleasantly as he stalked the borders, starting near the manor and wound his way north, stopping for a minute at the very tip-top most north-east corner, staring off in the direction he knew held his mother. His mother, whom he hated, and his sister, whom he was constantly failing, every second that he stood on safe grounds while she was out being brainwashed by Tokyo. What if his mother was hitting Princess, now, instead, without Buttface around to soak it all up? He shivered, wanting, desperately longing for the courage to step off the border, to traverse the forest, to travel for the few hours he knew it would take... But he didn't have the courage, didn't fucking have the courage! He veered west, still sticking to the border, relishing the soreness of his muscles, complaining at the fast-paced trek uphill, back out of this valley. Ares deserved sore muscles. Fuck, he deserved much worse.
. sub-territory: cottontail valley. 326 words.If Ares' incredibly depressed / buoyantly happy trade off was a tame version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, this was definitely a Mr. Hyde day. Or was it Dr. Jekyll? God fucking damnit, it had been too long since he read that book, too long since he had read anything. He couldn't remember which was the bad guy, but the important thing was that, today, he was not feeling particularly pleasant to be around in any sense of the word at all. He couldn't even fucking hunt. He wanted to hunt to calm his nerves, to assure himself that he was worth something, worth something, worth anything! But he had fucked that up, too. His agitation was betrayed in careless footsteps, poor aim, and a myriad of other simple dumb idiotic mistakes that just reaffirmed to him that hah, he wasn't actually even good at the things he thought he could do. Nothing! He couldn't do a single fucking thing right.
So he had given up, and his stomach rumbled unpleasantly as he stalked the borders, starting near the manor and wound his way north, stopping for a minute at the very tip-top most north-east corner, staring off in the direction he knew held his mother. His mother, whom he hated, and his sister, whom he was constantly failing, every second that he stood on safe grounds while she was out being brainwashed by Tokyo. What if his mother was hitting Princess, now, instead, without Buttface around to soak it all up? He shivered, wanting, desperately longing for the courage to step off the border, to traverse the forest, to travel for the few hours he knew it would take... But he didn't have the courage, didn't fucking have the courage! He veered west, still sticking to the border, relishing the soreness of his muscles, complaining at the fast-paced trek uphill, back out of this valley. Ares deserved sore muscles. Fuck, he deserved much worse.