01-29-2010, 12:10 AM
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Viei! Bet you can't guess what song this title is from. :b 700.
He felt better now, or at least assured that he wasn't going to get a terrible infection from the wound he had sustained from the rogue Dahlia de Mai wolf and die the dishonorable death of the diseased soldier. That was one of the worst ways to go in New Haven—disease ran rampant, and many would incite others to finish them off or simply commit suicide rather than succumb to it. There, illnesses were seen as testaments to how weak you were; if you contracted a major disease, you were not fit enough to live. No one would heal you. No one would care. Everyone would avoid you like the leper that you were. Snake had seen it, and it had made him critical on the selfishness of these sentient beings. They had spurned those that had really needed their help. Regardless, it rubbed off a little on him. He felt strange around those that were ill or had any serious disability, especially if they were living with it. It was a strength that he did not understand, and one that he had thought was weakness for so long.
That might have been attributed to Vieira, though he believed her a different case. She seemed like a child still, totally reliant on the one that kept her. There had not expressively been slavery in New Haven, because everyone was so obsessed with bettering their own lives that they did not consider accepting another into what they had accomplished (minus mates, of course, to further the population). He didn't really notice anything wrong with it, though. It was mutualism, almost—a symbiosis between the two in which Vieira helped Kaena (who was aging, as one could tell) around the den and Kaena made sure Vieira was well-kept for it. Snake, of course, would not know of any abuses. He only saw what was on the outside, and that seemed right enough.
He had spent several days close to the den, trying to keep his physical state up while making sure he didn't reopen the wound that was beginning to heal on the shoulder. It hurt and was sore, but he managed it. Once he was confident that if he happened to be confronted by another intruder he would be able to stave them off, he decided to go check on Vieira to make sure she had pulled through well enough as well. He had nearly left when he remembered something—a present that he had gotten for her when they had gone to Halifax. He had intended to give it to her at Christmastime, but that opportunity had passed. Hopefully she would like it just the same when he gave it to her now.
He had kept it in the trunk of his car-den, safe from the snow and rain and wind. It was in relatively good shape, a stuffed animal that must have been made out of some kind of velvety material at one time. Now it was frayed and threadbare in some places, but it held together well and still resembled what it had been intended as. With its four hoofed legs, proud antlers on its head, and a comical red nose, it was what the humans had regarded Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Snake was not familiar with that tale (would anyone be in the Luperci civilization?), but he had thought that Vieira might find it cute and appreciate it. He tucked the toy under his arm (the one that wasn't hurt, of course) and started in the direction of the Caves.
It was not a journey worth mentioning, though it was chilly and moist. The rain had mostly stopped, though there was a fine mist that seemed to fall from the sky whenever he least expected it. He reached the caves and specifically that that belonged to Kaena. He wasn't sure if the Centurion or if her Quintus was there, but nevertheless he called out in a flat voice,
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Viei! Bet you can't guess what song this title is from. :b 700.
He felt better now, or at least assured that he wasn't going to get a terrible infection from the wound he had sustained from the rogue Dahlia de Mai wolf and die the dishonorable death of the diseased soldier. That was one of the worst ways to go in New Haven—disease ran rampant, and many would incite others to finish them off or simply commit suicide rather than succumb to it. There, illnesses were seen as testaments to how weak you were; if you contracted a major disease, you were not fit enough to live. No one would heal you. No one would care. Everyone would avoid you like the leper that you were. Snake had seen it, and it had made him critical on the selfishness of these sentient beings. They had spurned those that had really needed their help. Regardless, it rubbed off a little on him. He felt strange around those that were ill or had any serious disability, especially if they were living with it. It was a strength that he did not understand, and one that he had thought was weakness for so long.
That might have been attributed to Vieira, though he believed her a different case. She seemed like a child still, totally reliant on the one that kept her. There had not expressively been slavery in New Haven, because everyone was so obsessed with bettering their own lives that they did not consider accepting another into what they had accomplished (minus mates, of course, to further the population). He didn't really notice anything wrong with it, though. It was mutualism, almost—a symbiosis between the two in which Vieira helped Kaena (who was aging, as one could tell) around the den and Kaena made sure Vieira was well-kept for it. Snake, of course, would not know of any abuses. He only saw what was on the outside, and that seemed right enough.
He had spent several days close to the den, trying to keep his physical state up while making sure he didn't reopen the wound that was beginning to heal on the shoulder. It hurt and was sore, but he managed it. Once he was confident that if he happened to be confronted by another intruder he would be able to stave them off, he decided to go check on Vieira to make sure she had pulled through well enough as well. He had nearly left when he remembered something—a present that he had gotten for her when they had gone to Halifax. He had intended to give it to her at Christmastime, but that opportunity had passed. Hopefully she would like it just the same when he gave it to her now.
He had kept it in the trunk of his car-den, safe from the snow and rain and wind. It was in relatively good shape, a stuffed animal that must have been made out of some kind of velvety material at one time. Now it was frayed and threadbare in some places, but it held together well and still resembled what it had been intended as. With its four hoofed legs, proud antlers on its head, and a comical red nose, it was what the humans had regarded Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Snake was not familiar with that tale (would anyone be in the Luperci civilization?), but he had thought that Vieira might find it cute and appreciate it. He tucked the toy under his arm (the one that wasn't hurt, of course) and started in the direction of the Caves.
It was not a journey worth mentioning, though it was chilly and moist. The rain had mostly stopped, though there was a fine mist that seemed to fall from the sky whenever he least expected it. He reached the caves and specifically that that belonged to Kaena. He wasn't sure if the Centurion or if her Quintus was there, but nevertheless he called out in a flat voice,
Hello? Is Vieira there?He made no move to hide the toy that he held—the surprise would be that it was for her, he supposed; he was not hiding it from her sight straight from the beginning.