10-04-2009, 03:37 PM
[html]
[/html]
Perhaps someone from Inferni, that Snake hasn't met? 500+
The previous night had been a clear one—and one that wasn’t even that cool. Snake had slept comfortably out in the open, abandoning the Caves that the rest of Inferni seemed so captivated with. He wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t passing judgment just yet. Nonetheless, there was still a lot of these packlands that he had to discover. He had seen the Caves, and ventured north to see what some called the “Sun’s Peak”. As he had crashed to sleep last night in the plains south of Hades Beach (he had not yet ventured to go see the ocean and coast yet, however), he decided to go south. He had seen some glimpses of something strange down there, so the thought to investigate was merely natural.
What he found was the Harrow Road Landfill. It wasn’t quite what it had been when humans inhabited Halifax and its surrounding areas—time had eroded the natural elements and sent them back into the earth, therefore it didn’t harbor the pungent odor that would have kept away young humans. For the coyote, however, it caused ceaseless fascination. He had heard stories of humans, but they were to him as dinosaurs would have been to a human kid, and if that kid had never seen dinosaurs on movies or in books. They were like a fantastical animal, and one he wasn’t so sure existed. Cities could have been built by Lycanthropes, couldn’t they?
Well, as he aged, that thought faded, and it all together disappeared now.
The place was absolutely full of crazy things. Everywhere he looked he found something else that piqued his attention—rusted metal springs, broken and rotting tables and chairs, cans, bottles, lightbulbs, iron bars, and frames of objects so strange he couldn’t even put a label on them. He walked about for a little while, observing this graveyard of a civilization long past, until he found something that made him more curious than anything else there.
It was the rusted-out shell of what used to be a car. Covered in dirt and with weeds growing around its flat tires, it didn’t look like much to the human eye, but it looked like some kind of fantastic spaceship to the young coyote. He approached, dusting off some of the grime from the windows and peering inside. Unhappy with the bad view that offered, he looked around and finally found the handle to one of the doors—the driver-side door, it happened to be. He took hold of the handle firmly and pulled, but there wasn’t any budging. Growling, he put a foot against the side of the car and tried with all of his worth. Luckily, and with a grinding screech, the door of the car opened. Dust and rust were spewed into the air, but he had gotten the damned thing open.
After wiping some more of the grit off of the windshield, he climbed inside, sitting on something that had once been a leather seat. Now it was just some kind of stuff stretched over springs and coils. His foot rested on the gas pedal (as the brake had broken off, and was on the floor a foot away). He looked at the dashboard—broken, with some of the icons still visible. Snake, whose literacy wasn’t exactly his strong point, didn’t understand any of them. They were fascinating however. He placed his hands on the steering wheel (gingerly, as it seemed ready to fall off) and imagined what it could have been used for.