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He liked the snow. It dominated the landscape with a cold and empty presence, which made home feel a little bit warmer, even when it was just a shabby little downtown apartment with too many draft windows and no fireplace. The wind was harsh, and he could smell more precipitation in the air. It would probably be snow. The temperature had risen during the week, but it was starting to drop again. Briefly, he thought again that it was probably a good thing his father had died the way he had, in flames, in warmth, and before the heart of winter really set in. It would have been harder for him to freeze away to die by the new year. But he didn't really like to think about his father much. His family had never felt as far away as they did now.
Arkham still had his cloak, and it still smelled of mint. It was a dried, fading scent though. He hadn't come across a mint plant in a long while, and the cloak was more for warmth than disguise anymore anyway. The city always felt a little too quiet, a little too empty, and blanketed with snow, it was even easier to feel isolated. The streets went on for miles, and the buildings all looked on with grey facades. The staircases echoed like subway tunnels, and the wind rattled half-broken bottles, cans, and papers, acting like the only life in the area. Sitting down on a bench at a bus stop, the coyote thought about going away again.
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Masked vigilantes unite! Or something...
He had returned to the city. He had left his pack here, but the coyote probably would have returned to this place regardless. It seemed to him to be a good base of operations as it were. Mostly empty, he could go about his business undisturbed. That and he had never been the type to enjoy "roughing" it. Always more comfortable in his optime form, an old human city suited him better than wilderness. Besides, he liked the solitude. Onus had never yearned for the company of others. He had been quiet and reserved even as a pup. This way he could devote himself completely to his purpose. If you had something to lose you couldn't give everything.
The male pulled the collar of his coat closer to his neck. He wasn't used to such a cold climate. No matter, he would get used to it soon enough. This snow he wasn't too happy about however. He didn't appreciate how easy it would be to follow him, his footprints clearly left in its surface. He would need to come up with a method of altering that. His thoughts were averted to a strange scent on the air. Mint. Masked eyes turned to take in another coyote, wearing a cape. Interesting. Onus could only assume that the mint was meant to hide his natural scent, as he himself used with the human cologne. Never before had he met another who did such a thing.
The solitary being usually wasn't the one to approach another and instigate conversation, but his interest had been peaked. He took a few steps toward the other male. "Need to refresh the mint. Starting to fade." His ears swiveled through the holes in his hat.
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The stranger's scent was oddly familiar. It reminded him of musty old stores and glass displays filled with little glass bottles and some of the most overpowering stenches he had ever encountered. He supposed that would have been the easiest thing to do, rather than rely on fresh and natural sources. The humans left so many curious things lying around; it was only appropriate to put them to use. He smiled though, because it was rare that anyone seemed able to relate to him, and though he wasn't sure how similar they really were, the lonely coyote was always happy to have conversation.
You're right, of course, he replied, Mint is just harder to find in the winter. Cocking his head slightly, Arkham took in the full figure of the stranger. The cloth around his eyes was only white, but he could see nothing beyond it, no real hint of life or eyes. He couldn't tell if the man was truly blind or if the cloth had another purpose. And of course, he wondered about the other's reason for hiding his scent, his identity, his world and life and the story that went with it. I was thinking of just letting it fade though. I'm not sure I need it anymore. He had never set out to be a vigilante, only a stranger, and a ghost.
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The smile caught him off-guard. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had smiled at him. Usually the only facial expressions he saw were ones of bewilderment, anger, or fear. The smile almost felt like a foreign language to him. Something he might have once known, but had faded into the mists of his past. As such he did not return it, though not out of disrespect. Head nodded at the other's statement. Though he had never looked for the herb himself, surely it wasn't easy to find in the winter landscape.
"Hrm," he mumbled, looking up into the gray-cast sky. What had he been expecting, really? A life such as his was not for many. It took much sacrifice. It took a certain type of personality. It wasn't something he really faulted others for, per se. He couldn't imagine living any other way though. "Why need it in first place? If don't mind my asking." Having never met another with his unique habits, Onus was very intrigued as to why someone else would do it. Did they have the same or at least similar reasons? Or something all together different?
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Why indeed.
It had never been a really good reason. He had avoided his family because he hadn't wanted to cause them any more grief than they had already gone through, and because he had been afraid to hear the answers his half-brother would have to his questions. He had hid because it had been oddly refreshing to not be known as part of something much larger than himself, because his family's bad reputation had finally given him something to be embarrassed about, and because for a while, he had wanted to forget that he had ever been one of them. Part of him still wanted to erase that, but denying something wasn't really the way to go, was it? Arkham could change his name and appearance and scent all the wanted, but at the end of the day, he knew he would still be a Lykoi and the misbegotten son of a madwoman and a maniac.
The coyote shrugged, but his slight smile remained. Some combination of things that might be considered childish, I think. Mostly, I was hiding. Humans had had their superheroes with their noble intentions, but all of Arkham's heroic acts had been coincidental and lucky. He wondered if the stranger was from a fairy tale or reality. What of yourself?
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However "childish" the reasons might have been, hiding was something Onus could at least understand. He had done his fair share of it back in the beginning of his life. Though now that he was thinking about it, he didn't really remember a whole lot about his earlier life. There were bits and pieces, but the long coherent strings had been lost. He couldn't even tell if this forgetfulness was purposeful or not. Had he wanted to forget? Or had he just changed so much and dwelt so little on the past? Such questions were not ones he considered often. Most times all he thought about was his crusade, and what actions needed to be taken on that path.
Onus did remember why he had started to use the cologne however. When he first started this, he hadn't always worn his trappings. He would don them at night, and then discard them once morning rolled around. He had used the overpowering spicy scent to keep those he went after from finding him when out of his disguise. "At first for hiding as well. Now just out of habit." Over time he had taken the guise as his own look. The one he always wore. The cloth, coat, and hat were just as much a part of him as his fur.
"Cloak also part of hiding? You use for any other purpose?" Maybe he really was alone in his self-chosen "career".
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He decided that the other must have functioning eyes under the strip of cloth, but it was a curious accessory all the same; it must limit his eyesight at least a little bit, anyway. There were probably better ways to disguise the face than that, but he didn't really question it. Instead, he considered the answer. Habit. Arkham supposed much of what he kept was habit as well, including the cloak. I guess so, he said. It was warm too, but he suddenly got the feeling that the other was looking for another kind of answer, and he was just a disappointment. It's really not that special -- why?
The stranger must have another reason, and it was a reason that Arkham didn't have. They were not so similar because the younger coyote was not so unique or noteworthy or special. The cloak might only hide that he was really quite ordinary after all, but if that was the only alternative to being like the rest of his family, then he would be happy. Boring and disappointing was still better than crazy.
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The answer was a bit of a disappointment. But only in the sense that Onus thought he might have found someone that felt the same way that he did. He wasn't judging the younger male by any means. "Curious. Reason I dress this way. Thought you might be the same." It was the mint that had really gotten him interested. If he had just simply been wearing a cloak, the man probably wouldn't have taken any note. Many wore old human clothes. It was the apparent attempt at secrecy that had drawn him in to this conversation.
"'Justice is blind, not deaf'" Why he suddenly felt the urge to start divulging information about himself was beyond him. Usually he shared no personal information with anyone. Maybe he wanted to see if this cloaked one could at least understand. "Read that when I was younger. In old city outside courthouse was statue. Blindfolded woman holding scale and sword." That image had burned itself into his mind forever. It had been what lead him to choose to cover his eyes. "I serve such a purpose. I work to stamp out injustice. To punish those who cause it."
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Arkham considered the quote, but was surprised that anyone should actually exist to uphold its ideal. It was too surreal, too idealistic, and the last several months had made him more and more cynical. He didn't really feel like all that much time had passed, but childhood was already just a memory. A symbolic blindfold and a superhero's guise; it was something fresh out of the faded color pages of a comic book, and he almost wanted to laugh. The world was not so easy to divide. It was not made of only good and evil. The coyote liked to believe that he was a decent person, that he had been raised okay and that he had morals, but the truth was that he couldn't be sure. Darkness seemed to run in his blood, and he couldn't deny that without lying.
That's noble of you, he said quietly, I don't think I can judge easily enough to be effective. His family was full of murderers. His family was full of liars and thieves and twisted minds. But they had cared for him, and they had protected him. They had taught him relevant things, and even though he had effectively abandoned them, he knew they were still his family. No metaphoric chasm or physical distance would ever change that. Some people had reasons. Some didn't, but it wasn't really their fault. He couldn't judge those people, especially not when they were kin.
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For some it was hard to judge between right and wrong. Who was bad and who was good. For Onus, it wasn't. He only saw the world in black and white. There were those who lead good, honest lives, and there were those committed moral wrongs. It really was quite clear to him. If someone had done something wrong, they deserved to be punished for it. The circumstances didn't matter. Not to him. Some had tried to argue against his ideologies, but it never moved him. He believed in what he did. No amount of arguments would sway him from that.
The male shrugged his shoulders. "Not really." At least, he didn't think of it that way. He wasn't doing this to get recognition or a pat on the back. He did it because he felt the need to. It was the driving force, the reason for his existence. Too many turned a blind eye to the ugly side of life. Letting the injustices of the world run rampant. Onus wasn't able to just sit idly by and let it happen. People didn't like him. They feared him. Some even thought him mad. None of that mattered though. Because he wasn't doing this for anyone else.
Blindfolded eyes looked around at their surroundings again. "Live in city? Alone?" The younger male seemed to enjoy the company of others. Most of their kind did. If he was indeed alone, he was curious as to why. Onus had never had any real friends. No real connection to anyone. Solitude had always just been his lot in life.
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Yes, I live in the city, he replied, glancing idly in the direction from whence he'd come, With my sister. He was grateful for that. If not for her, then he would indeed be alone, which would have probably driven him mad after a while. The months he'd spent alone had not been particularly pleasant, though it had felt better after he'd finally crossed over the mountain like everyone else -- not because the area felt like home, because it didn't, but just because the essence of it felt familiar, because the people that now inhabited it were familiar, even though he hadn't met or spoken to most of them. And then, he had avoided Rachias for a time, but now it seemed like all they had was each other. Rachias had lost their father, who had arguably been most important to her, and Arkham had lost his clan. Both were in a world they should have never been born into.
What about you? It was half-rhetorical. The other coyote was obviously a loner, and the younger male really didn't get the impression that he was particularly sociable, even if he had been the one to start the conversation in the first place. Ah, I'm sorry. My name is Arkham, by the way, he added. Introductions seemed to be forgotten a lot, but he liked to collect names because there wasn't much else he could hold on to. His own surname had been dropped; it wasn't the first time, but he still felt a little guilty about it. He used to be proud to be part of a well-known family, no matter what negative connotations had been associated with it. Used to.
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The man nodded his head. From what he had observed so far, no one else resided in this place. From the sound of it there were plenty of packs and clans for the majority of people to live in. He could understand that most preferred to live in such a way. But for himself, he had always found more comfort in old concrete buildings than trees. Maybe it was because he had been brought up in a city. Nurture instead of nature (if the term "nurture" could even be used for what his childhood had been). "Hm. I see. Good you not alone. Or she." Even though it was a foreign need for him, he could understand that it was important to other people. Onus didn't really mind company. He had just never found it easy to connect.
"For now yes. Never stay in one place for long though. Not without a need to." If the coyote couldn't further his life's mission here, then he had no reason to stay. As of yet he hadn't been able to determine if there was a reason yet. There was unrest, yes. But he couldn't tell if it was to the point of needing his intervention. He just needed to investigate more. Gather more information. Observe more. Things didn't always happen within the first few days of being a new place. Sometimes not even in the first few weeks. "Onus. Good to meet you Arkham." Really, he meant it. His tone might not have given it away (for it never gave anything away), but it was true. This was the closest he had perhaps ever come to being understood by someone else.
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When he had been younger, Arkham had very much preferred solitude. Those days, he had considered his extended family to be mostly noisy, and as few of them actually paid him any mind, he had liked to sit alone on the beach to watch the waves roll by. Those sentiments changed gradually as those he had taken for granted gradually disappeared. His mother and half-sister left. His sister left. His brother was banished. And then everything was gone, and he realized for the first time what real solitude was. Solitude was glass separating him from the rest of the world; it was calling out and having no one answer, and it was lonely. Thoughts became the noise then.
Is there anyone after you? the younger coyote wondered, perhaps more bluntly than he would have wanted. It seems like you've set yourself up with a job that grants many enemies, he noted further, as if that would circumvent his rudeness. Perhaps that was why he opted to be alone. Arkham had a difficult time accepting that anyone really, really wanted to be alone, completely alone. To be the last person left in the world. The silence on the outside would be deafening, and the noise on the inside would be maddening.
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At the younger man's question, Onus shrugged his shoulders. Honestly he didn't know if anyone was after him. There certainly could be. But it wasn't something he was particularly concerned about. "Not that I'm aware of. Could be." There had been those he had dealt with that hadn't deserved death. Some of them could be following him. But he took good care to make himself hard to track. The mystery not only helped in his personal safety, but helped add to the fear that he used against the bad people of the world. "Most likely have many enemies. None I am concerned about." Vigilance was something he was very good at. Not out of paranoia. It was just how he survived and operated.
Perhaps part of the reason he was alone was that he didn't want his actions to bring down consequences for anyone he would care about. Though he mostly thought of it that as long as he was alone, he could keep doing this. No one else had a say in the way he lived his life right now. He didn't have to worry about how it would effect someone else (though he probably wouldn't anyway). The only thing the man had to lose was his life. That made him very good at what he did. "Have always been alone. Just the way I live." Onus thoughts were almost as limited as his speech. That wasn't to say that he didn't think. He just only thought with a purpose. He analyzed situations and people. He deciphered and decoded. He made decisions based on the facts.
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