04-01-2010, 10:40 PM
[html]
He shrugged, not knowing how else to respond to the statement. To be sorry for someone's own past was strange to him -- it was not in her control, nor his. Where it is you are born is something beyond anyone's control, and, while true that some places were worse than others, it was not something to get hung up on. It had shaped who he was, but he did not hate who he was. He simply was. There was no way to change it and therefore no reason to worry. So he didn't. Regardless, it was a pretty enough sentimentality from the woman, and he appreciated it.
Had he fared well? Yes, he believed so. He had managed to survive his trek here alone, though he had appeared malnourished and exhausted when he had. It was an amazing transformation that that skinny, quiet coyote had undergone to become what he was now. Now… he assumed that he was somewhat fearsome. He certainly got strange looks, though he assumed it was probably just the scars that he bore on his chest. That, or the abysmal look in his eyes. Snake raised a brow at her inquiry. Arenas, challenges? "I have never heard of such things, so I would assume not." People… fighting for sport? He would spar, but to actually risk injury for something that was not in self-defense of one's self or one's pack was very strange to him, very alien. Snake's personal philosophy was a strange thing. He viewed himself as a weapon, his body the very instrument of harm. There was nothing inside to guide it -- if he killed, it was because someone told him to or because he had been threatened. He was obsessive about keeping up himself physically because that was where all his worth was. "But people spar all the time, so I suppose that could be a challenge."
As for his training, "Yes and no. I was trained some, but I was encouraged to find a way to defend myself that suited me. It was trial and error, but it did help find a personal style." The most structured training he had been subject to was that of CQC from both his mother and Patriot. All the rest was just fighting, fighting, fighting. He got good at it because he fought so often.
From what she said, her talents were diverse and very impressive, seeing as though she was mostly self-taught. Snake spoke only the language he had been born into hearing, and he could only perform the most basic of first aid. Tattooing was something he had seen and heard about, but not something that interested him -- his body was the weapon, and he didn't want it marred by scars or ink. He was far too paranoid. But still, he was vaguely pleased to know that she was trained in knives. "Far too many think that to fight with a knife is superfluous," he said almost bitterly. Luperci who thought their teeth and claws were superior to man's machines of slaughter. He didn't believe so. He could have a knife in someone's heart far before they could work their way to some vital artery. And if he could get the Goddamned pistol to work, he wouldn't even have to get close. Snake had massive respect for the humans.
He was brought from his reverie by her sudden and very unexpected statement. It was not something that he got a lot. His demeanor was… off-putting for the majority of those he met. His olive gaze focused on her sharply then, trying to distinguish any shadows in the words. But no, they seemed genuine. Interesting -- yes, he could say he was that, but he had never thought so in a positive way. He paused, still unsure of what to say, before nodding and saying, "You are interesting also." A bit of an awkward pause before he added, "So I suppose that means I like you as well."
She was definitely unique, individual, among all those that he had met in the past few months. It was actually refreshing. Once you played over the same strange introductions and bland conversation over and over, it got sickeningly old.
[/html]
He shrugged, not knowing how else to respond to the statement. To be sorry for someone's own past was strange to him -- it was not in her control, nor his. Where it is you are born is something beyond anyone's control, and, while true that some places were worse than others, it was not something to get hung up on. It had shaped who he was, but he did not hate who he was. He simply was. There was no way to change it and therefore no reason to worry. So he didn't. Regardless, it was a pretty enough sentimentality from the woman, and he appreciated it.
Had he fared well? Yes, he believed so. He had managed to survive his trek here alone, though he had appeared malnourished and exhausted when he had. It was an amazing transformation that that skinny, quiet coyote had undergone to become what he was now. Now… he assumed that he was somewhat fearsome. He certainly got strange looks, though he assumed it was probably just the scars that he bore on his chest. That, or the abysmal look in his eyes. Snake raised a brow at her inquiry. Arenas, challenges? "I have never heard of such things, so I would assume not." People… fighting for sport? He would spar, but to actually risk injury for something that was not in self-defense of one's self or one's pack was very strange to him, very alien. Snake's personal philosophy was a strange thing. He viewed himself as a weapon, his body the very instrument of harm. There was nothing inside to guide it -- if he killed, it was because someone told him to or because he had been threatened. He was obsessive about keeping up himself physically because that was where all his worth was. "But people spar all the time, so I suppose that could be a challenge."
As for his training, "Yes and no. I was trained some, but I was encouraged to find a way to defend myself that suited me. It was trial and error, but it did help find a personal style." The most structured training he had been subject to was that of CQC from both his mother and Patriot. All the rest was just fighting, fighting, fighting. He got good at it because he fought so often.
From what she said, her talents were diverse and very impressive, seeing as though she was mostly self-taught. Snake spoke only the language he had been born into hearing, and he could only perform the most basic of first aid. Tattooing was something he had seen and heard about, but not something that interested him -- his body was the weapon, and he didn't want it marred by scars or ink. He was far too paranoid. But still, he was vaguely pleased to know that she was trained in knives. "Far too many think that to fight with a knife is superfluous," he said almost bitterly. Luperci who thought their teeth and claws were superior to man's machines of slaughter. He didn't believe so. He could have a knife in someone's heart far before they could work their way to some vital artery. And if he could get the Goddamned pistol to work, he wouldn't even have to get close. Snake had massive respect for the humans.
He was brought from his reverie by her sudden and very unexpected statement. It was not something that he got a lot. His demeanor was… off-putting for the majority of those he met. His olive gaze focused on her sharply then, trying to distinguish any shadows in the words. But no, they seemed genuine. Interesting -- yes, he could say he was that, but he had never thought so in a positive way. He paused, still unsure of what to say, before nodding and saying, "You are interesting also." A bit of an awkward pause before he added, "So I suppose that means I like you as well."
She was definitely unique, individual, among all those that he had met in the past few months. It was actually refreshing. Once you played over the same strange introductions and bland conversation over and over, it got sickeningly old.