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mall-caps;">be careful of what you do 'cause the lie becomes the truth
The remains of the past meant little to him. The history was significant, of course; the chain of events leading up to how things were now, the destruction of a race. But he did not care for it or have much in the lines of respect for it; the crumbling structures and rusted machinery were not worth a second glance. If the slight remnant of a crippled wall were to get in his way he would break through or stomp over it. On occasion, were he feeling particularly unpleasant, he might even go out of his way to cause more disruption, intentionally breaking what little glass might be left in tact, knocking and breaking worn objects. There was no point in such actions, and he was aware of this; he just did so purely for the hell of it. To cause some sort of disruption when other sources were unavailable. For, destruction was something that Merit enjoyed; as he grew, he began to crave cataclysm.
The male weaved through the trees away from the world's past, into the forest areas. The sun glared as his back, warming the dark fur along his shoulders, causing him to give them an unconscious roll. Dusk was but a few hours away; he was anticipating the moon. The sun was useful and all, but Merit personally preferred the night. So much more could be done at that point, so much could go unnoticed. He had no plans for what he would do, if anything, but even travelling was much more satisfying under the cover of darkness.
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A loud sound — a girlish yawn accompanied with the slight clicking slap of jaw-on-jaw as her mouth snapped shut — cut the impending darkness and tranquility of the Dampwoods in half, slicing near through the core and bringing with it a satisfactory smile. Birds were shut away in nighttime cages, the sun was retreating toward the horizon, and the moon had already begun to play across the soon-to-be star-studded canvas overhead. The sound of water was no longer available to her sans the drip of water leftover from an early drizzle falling from leaves to a parched ground below, but she was comforted nonetheless by the cool blanket thrown over her from the night's ascent. The forest was quiet after the day's customary bustle, yet jaded; the lack of activity now seemed to leave a hole in its centre that nobody, not even herself, could patch up.
The girl that meandered through the trees, not yet capable of standing on her own yet more than willing to escape clan life briefly for the reprieve of cool shadows, was possibly the most fragile thing present. Even the flowers under the trees, drooping a little in the hazy warmth that suffocated them under the canopy, seemed to be stronger than her. She moved with a fluid, yet childish grace marred only by a bounce she had acquired throughout her youth. Her bright champagne eyes were fixed not upon her surroundings, but the sky, where they lingered only a moment longer as her dark paws flitted over a fallen log. She hoisted her body up and over, landing once more on all fours to continue as if nothing had impeded her.
In the trees lurked a veritable monster — clothed in bitter cinnamon and sweet honey, with a mask that named him "bandit" even if it was not his profession and haunting eyes that would never be matched by another being — but she was unaware of any such presence and had she been, well, Valkyrie was used to wolves so much so that any destructive intent in them would never be foreseen.
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mall-caps;">someday i will wake up and realise i made up everything
The sound of scratching claws made him roll his eyes and look in the direction of the noise. Another being was not something he wanted to find; remaining by himself was preferred, and the fact that whatever had found him was tiny and probably immature did not help matters. He caught his first glimpse of the tiny creature as it pulled itself up over an obstacle, acknowledging his presence soon after. He could see the little critter clearly; its lively, yellowish eyes, bi coloured fur, and small, delicate body with unusually large ears that some might consider cute.
He did not consider them cute. Merit did not like children, despite being well aware of the fact that he was one once; were he to meet himself, or to have his current personality at the time of his puppyhood, he would surely have hated himself, too. They were annoying little creatures with too far much energy. They involved too much care and watching. They were too fragile, too easily broken. They were stupid without any common sense. The latter was made obvious in the way the little gremlin looked at him without any apparent fear or much hesitance aside from an interest as she scanned him.
His lip curled in distaste. What do you want? he grumbled.
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Oh, Val doesn't know he's there — "but she was unaware of any such presence" — but I'll just… Roll with it.
The sudden voice in the trees made the young hybrid's head turn sharply to meet it, her comically massive ears zooming in to it like little satellite dishes. And there he was. In the shadow, he was all but black, though where bits of light splashed over him there was a vibrant fire to him. No, he wasn't pure black, just his face. His feet were hidden below, and anyway, she didn't tend to look down from somebody to see what their feet looked like.
The eerie thing about him was the eyes. They seemed almost to glow in the low light, but they were not of any bright colour themselves. Dark, but purple, so vibrancy was achieved through some other unusual effect of the light. She sat down patiently in front of him — like he suspected, no fear or hesitance in her whatsoever — and quirked her mouth into the semblance of another little smile. If his preconceived notion of children were to be shattered by any individual, it would be by Valkyrie de le Poer.
I don't want anything, she answered him then, her eyes fixed somewhere about his man-chiseled chin. I was just walking. Did you want something?
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mall-caps;">someday i will wake up and realise i made up everything
She was just walking, she said. Well, she was walking in his damn line of sight; he didn't even want that. Just the sight of the little critter annoyed him; which was, of course, illogical and pointless, perhaps even immature of him. He was aware of this, too — seeing a child should not bother him to such an extent. Speaking to one, watching one do something idiotic, or something that caused more interaction made sense — there was reason for irritation, at that point — but just looking at one was no reason to feel any sort of annoyance, realistically. But for him it was, and he did not even care that it was ridiculous. Looking at the fragile, lanky, awkward bodies was hard for him to deal with without becoming irritated.
No, he said. Just for you to go away. He did not move toward or away from her; he just stayed where he was, looking at her with narrowed eyes. Her voice was that of a young individual — the way she spoke and the pitch made her age obvious when she spoke — but it was not squeaky or shrill, and she seemed slightly down to earth. At least she had that going for her.
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