12-20-2009, 08:30 AM
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Poor Mew, it's not easy being a racist! Word Count: 531
time will heal even a heart of steel
The strong currents of emotion caused her breath to go faster, her heart to speed, but after her last exclamation she calmed, yet her breath was stuck in her throat, as if expectant. The glowing embers quickly flared into a fire again when Jefferson spoke, and though she had been called names and been the target of a coyote's hatred many times before, she had never given it thought. Now, for the first time, she felt it, and the words from her half-brother's mouth tore at her as her own opinions had torn at him. Now, she was the target of prejudice, for presented with the situation he described she would almost certainly have been in a dilemma. She did not believe in unneccessary death, and that included saving an individual. Perhaps she would have given it means of survival where it was, if possible, and instructions to leave for Inferni. Any coyote who managed it as far as Dahlia would likely seek out the clan by the aid of their nose instead though, so it was not a problem. Would never be a problem. She stood silently and took his words, trembling slightly with anger and shame.
He compared her to Deuce? Mew did not have the best of feelings about that femme; in any situation where compared to her, Mew would have been indignant. Mew Sadira was proud female who took care to mind her life and her own business, not some sexual-driven female without control who wehnt around producing children with someone else's mate, and ripping his family apart. Emwe and Conor might have had a good home had it not been for the white female and her daughter. It had made Mew sick at the time. But in Jefferson's world she was no better; a racist, someone without control, someone who was beneath him. He sighed again, and some of the fire seemed to have left his being as he told her to go home. She still did not know how to react. Feelings of desperation slowed, halted, yet she still wished she had never come here, and never learned of her brother. Now she was stripped of her pride in the family name and of her worth as an individual, and all that was left of her core was uncertainty. Her head and paws felt heavy and instinctively her tail curled inwards at the end, giving away her position. One by one her feet were lifted and she turned away, only speaking when she stood with her back to him. Now, she raised her head. "I am sorry. We are what we are."
Speaking what she knew as truth, she started the journey home. All her life she had blamed the coyotes for her misery. It had been easy, a target that was avilable and ready for use. It wasn't as if she was the only wolf with these opinions. She had hated them and loved her family, and now her faith in herself was torn to shreds. She had accepted him as her brother before the truth was known. We are what we are, but not now and forever. She could not go back now.
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Poor Mew, it's not easy being a racist! Word Count: 531
The strong currents of emotion caused her breath to go faster, her heart to speed, but after her last exclamation she calmed, yet her breath was stuck in her throat, as if expectant. The glowing embers quickly flared into a fire again when Jefferson spoke, and though she had been called names and been the target of a coyote's hatred many times before, she had never given it thought. Now, for the first time, she felt it, and the words from her half-brother's mouth tore at her as her own opinions had torn at him. Now, she was the target of prejudice, for presented with the situation he described she would almost certainly have been in a dilemma. She did not believe in unneccessary death, and that included saving an individual. Perhaps she would have given it means of survival where it was, if possible, and instructions to leave for Inferni. Any coyote who managed it as far as Dahlia would likely seek out the clan by the aid of their nose instead though, so it was not a problem. Would never be a problem. She stood silently and took his words, trembling slightly with anger and shame.
He compared her to Deuce? Mew did not have the best of feelings about that femme; in any situation where compared to her, Mew would have been indignant. Mew Sadira was proud female who took care to mind her life and her own business, not some sexual-driven female without control who wehnt around producing children with someone else's mate, and ripping his family apart. Emwe and Conor might have had a good home had it not been for the white female and her daughter. It had made Mew sick at the time. But in Jefferson's world she was no better; a racist, someone without control, someone who was beneath him. He sighed again, and some of the fire seemed to have left his being as he told her to go home. She still did not know how to react. Feelings of desperation slowed, halted, yet she still wished she had never come here, and never learned of her brother. Now she was stripped of her pride in the family name and of her worth as an individual, and all that was left of her core was uncertainty. Her head and paws felt heavy and instinctively her tail curled inwards at the end, giving away her position. One by one her feet were lifted and she turned away, only speaking when she stood with her back to him. Now, she raised her head. "I am sorry. We are what we are."
Speaking what she knew as truth, she started the journey home. All her life she had blamed the coyotes for her misery. It had been easy, a target that was avilable and ready for use. It wasn't as if she was the only wolf with these opinions. She had hated them and loved her family, and now her faith in herself was torn to shreds. She had accepted him as her brother before the truth was known. We are what we are, but not now and forever. She could not go back now.