10-07-2009, 02:59 PM
Yeah, usually I get the image done and get to coding and realize that I don't like it, and won't want to deal with it every time I post. I don't really mind at the moment, though! I rather like this table, and it feels like Snake needs one. -shrug- Table-less posts are always awesome. <3
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While the concept of “politics” was rather beyond Snake, he understood that it meant that it wasn’t an issue about beliefs or about resources. No, it was more about just people not getting along for all kinds of other reasons. When he thought about it, it was probably as simple as blood. Sentient beings naturally were distrustful of others that were not like them. Snake still felt strange around wolves—he didn’t feel he could trust them as he could a coyote. It was kind of like family. You could go somewhere with your family and feel safe. You couldn’t go somewhere with someone you knew (but not well) and feel that safe.
Regardless of reasons, Snake’s pragmatic mind was busy sketching a mental image. He wasn’t going to stay holed up in Inferni his entire stay here—especially since he knew that his parents had lived here at one point. He eventually wanted to find the camp that his mother said they’d left behind and, more importantly, see if her instrument was still there. Nikita had always told Snake of her love of playing music, and her instrument of choice had been the cello, a large string instrument. Incredibly rare (as most were destroyed by time), she had been blessed to find the one she had found in New Haven. She had left it in Esper Hollow before going to face Patriot again. Snake wondered if he could find it. Maybe if he met his mom again, he could give it to her as a gift.
Dahlia de Mai, to the rest, pup- and mother-killers. Snake’s usually serious face grew even grimmer. Unjustified murder made him feel ill, but, directed towards children and mothers, it made him feel angry. He made a strong note to keep away from them… and to keep them away from here. Truce or not. The thunder rolled once more as Hezekiah continued on, outlining another pack—Phoenix Valley—that was not to be messed with. Snake nodded. He made a note just not to go mess with wolves, ever. They had their lands, and the coyotes had theirs. Trespassing only made matters so complicated.
“Okay,” the young coyote murmured. He wondered what to ask next. It wasn’t as though he felt the need to be conversational—Snake was anything but a socialite. But he was truly curious about this other kid his age, and he thought it would be good to get to know someone his own age around here. “Why are you in Inferni? Or this whole place, for that matter.” he asked after a moment, not really thinking if the question was prying or not. His justification was that he’d answer the question if it was posed to him, so why wouldn’t Hezekiah?
While the concept of “politics” was rather beyond Snake, he understood that it meant that it wasn’t an issue about beliefs or about resources. No, it was more about just people not getting along for all kinds of other reasons. When he thought about it, it was probably as simple as blood. Sentient beings naturally were distrustful of others that were not like them. Snake still felt strange around wolves—he didn’t feel he could trust them as he could a coyote. It was kind of like family. You could go somewhere with your family and feel safe. You couldn’t go somewhere with someone you knew (but not well) and feel that safe.
Regardless of reasons, Snake’s pragmatic mind was busy sketching a mental image. He wasn’t going to stay holed up in Inferni his entire stay here—especially since he knew that his parents had lived here at one point. He eventually wanted to find the camp that his mother said they’d left behind and, more importantly, see if her instrument was still there. Nikita had always told Snake of her love of playing music, and her instrument of choice had been the cello, a large string instrument. Incredibly rare (as most were destroyed by time), she had been blessed to find the one she had found in New Haven. She had left it in Esper Hollow before going to face Patriot again. Snake wondered if he could find it. Maybe if he met his mom again, he could give it to her as a gift.
Dahlia de Mai, to the rest, pup- and mother-killers. Snake’s usually serious face grew even grimmer. Unjustified murder made him feel ill, but, directed towards children and mothers, it made him feel angry. He made a strong note to keep away from them… and to keep them away from here. Truce or not. The thunder rolled once more as Hezekiah continued on, outlining another pack—Phoenix Valley—that was not to be messed with. Snake nodded. He made a note just not to go mess with wolves, ever. They had their lands, and the coyotes had theirs. Trespassing only made matters so complicated.
“Okay,” the young coyote murmured. He wondered what to ask next. It wasn’t as though he felt the need to be conversational—Snake was anything but a socialite. But he was truly curious about this other kid his age, and he thought it would be good to get to know someone his own age around here. “Why are you in Inferni? Or this whole place, for that matter.” he asked after a moment, not really thinking if the question was prying or not. His justification was that he’d answer the question if it was posed to him, so why wouldn’t Hezekiah?
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