[html] It was perhaps ironic that whilst the large, currently sole dwelling of the Storm pack was bringing them closer together, one of their number was currently not nestled amongst them. There had been no rule, after all, that he remain locked up like a child or a criminal on house arrest, and no curfew — as far as Tamerlane was aware, Phoenix was far from the type of Alpha to try and take away the basic independence and rights of his pack mates. If he had been, Tamerlane would certainly not be one of them. The position of being a traveller and loner had long since been built into his core, but this did not neccessarily make him at all unfriendly or misanthropic. It simply gave him reason to move; motivation to act.
As the white afternoon hinted an early descent into evening, one long, sinuous hand wound beneath the crook of a treestump and withdrew from it a struggling rabbit, deep in hibernation only seconds ago. The Luperci brought it swiftly up to his mouth and broke its neck with powerful jaws, before tucking the corpse into his rope belt. Twenty minutes later saw his trim form sitting back on an ancient vehicle at the side of the road, one of his feet drawn up as Tamerlane took a nonchalant mouthful of his raw meal. Before him sprawled a massively wide road. Empty, incredibly empty.
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Yay. 
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 News had a tendency to trickle down the grapevine, but Matrix still managed to miss the memo of the avalanche in Storm. The powdery snow that fluttered down from the heavens and danced in the occasional burst of wind, however, was smacking her in the face--and it was therefore harder to ignore. She put in a decent effort to anyway, and occasionally she would find success in being distracted by her own thoughts. The repairs on her greenhouse were completed, and one might wonder why she would choose the frightful weather over the cosy comfort of the heated structure, where already some of the seedlings she planted were beginning to poke above the soil in search of light.
Perhaps she was in search of something--or someone--but if this were the case, the efforts were all subconscious. Walking along in her half-shifted quadruped form, she suddenly became acutely aware of her environment. The snow which had faded into the back of her mind now catapulted itself to the forefront, agitating her because she could not see through it far enough into the distance. The scent of blood was what triggered these reactions, and she now raised her head and sniffed the air more carefully. After a short distance, she pinpointed the source. At first she nearly missed the tattooed stranger, for he seemed to blend in so well with the snowy scenery. From a distance she regarded him, intrigued as she began to notice the peculiar markings that adorned his body. Anybody that strange was worthy of her attention, she decided, although she kept her distance for the time to show that she was not after his kill.
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OOC — agreed. <3
IC —
[html] Tamerlane shifted his foot upon the dashboard of the open, broken car, and dust and snow crumbled from the rust that had built up there over decades. He ran his wrist briefly over his chin to pick up remnants of the rabbit's blood, and then took another bite, his teeth a careful guillotine as the creature's arm was sliced gently from its joint.
Looking up casually, he noticed a supple, feminine form that seemed expertly cautious nearby. Tamerlane ignored her not as any form of arrogant indifference, but to show that he did not feel threatened by her — and in turn, he was not a threat to her either. This was generally characteristic of the Luperci, and it was generally taken by others as one of two things; a request that they continue on their way, or subtle permission to approached as they wished. Either way was fine with Tamerlane. |
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Although she sometimes chose to ignore them, the girl was very quick to notice social cues. In this situation, there was only so much time she could spend lingering at some distance before things became awkward--sooner or later, it would be appropriate to either approach or continue along her way. She watched carefully as he looked over toward her, and she flicked an ear curiously at his indifference. Well, he had definitely seen her, right? He certainly didn't appear upset, so she moved closer and took a seat at an appropriate spot. Her tail curled neatly across her forepaws and she tilted her head back to see his face (she supposed some might even find it queer that she chose to interact with others in such different states--bipedal or quadruped).
"Neat tattoos," she offered--the principle reason for her interest. It was spoken casually, although the genuine interest in her gaze hopefully made it clear that it was a compliment. She traced out the darker patterns on his light fur freely, and she made no effort to hide this. She had a theory on "these sorts" of wolves, anyway. "Don't stare" (as at the weirdos with bright pink fur) had to be the stupidest advice she was ever given by her parents. If they didn't want to be noticed, they wouldn't have made themselves so noticeable--and if they hadn't thought of that, it wasn't her problem. It wasn't as though being a bit strange or different was anything to be ashamed of, anyway. As far as she could tell, the normal folks were boring. Maybe this guy had some crazy stories to share.
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[html] Neat tattoos, was heard but not seen. Maintaining the feel that he did not deny the stranger her right to approach him, his eyes remained on the ravaged scape, and his teeth dipped once more into the rabbit flesh for another sinewy mouthful. Tamerlane didn't thank her for her compliment, because to be grateful would be to express vanity. He was quite the opposite of vain, and these markings did not exist to look interesting, intriguing, "neat" or anything of the sort. The female's philosophy that those who made themselves noticeable thus wanted to be noticeable, was a healthy way of thinking, but was of course flawed. A foreigner walking on new lands may dress in a way that would be considered normal at his home, but in these lands were noticeable. Not all chose to be conspicuous; so not all deserved to be stared at.
The same can be said for your pendant, he replied warmly, nodding briefly towards what lay at her chest. Is there a story behind it?
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Despite her youthful age, Matrix had seen a lot. She was even more knowledgeable than some of her elders, as she had been trained for combat and construction alike. She had also participated and gained experience in these fields. This was not to say that she was more wise, however. Indeed, she held somewhat stubborn views on nature and how things worked (and furthermore, how they ought to work). As she grew and experienced more outside of her somewhat chaotic birth-world, those views would change. After all, the concept of "self" and "individual" had been an outright necessity at those times--sociological ideas eluded her. Of course, anybody who outright told her how to think would receive some of that infamous teenage resistance. She had to come to realise these things with guidance, not force.
At the mention of her collar, her ears instinctively pinned back for a moment. Horrid, gory images raced before her mind's eye and she visibly shuddered, although just slightly. "It is a reminder," she replied, her tone somewhat numb and distant. The collar was not something she usually chose to discuss. By wearing it, though, she voluntarily subjected herself to feeling it, seeing it, and running the risk of somebody asking about it. One may have to question her motives--was she masochistic? Either way, she was not prepared to go into the details with a stranger. "What about you?" Now she was beginning to realise that the tattoos may have been more than mere decorations.
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[html] Tamerlane blinked back down to the food in his hand to allow the stranger her moment of involuntary expression. At least, he assumed it was involuntary — her silky ears flattened swiftly, and no pleasure could be seen upon her young face. There was nothing ambiguous about the toneless reply it is a reminder — a reminder of something horrific, of course; and not a something that Tamerlane was interested or involved in. As the question was returned, he replied likewise, but this was just one of the many, many truths surrounding his markings.
The tall Luperci took another bite of the meat, licking blood briefly from his rugged chin, before he placed the carcass on the rusty dashboard of the car. His eyes were on the rough, jagged horizon; a thousand miles away, and yet simultaneously only a few hundred yards from where he sat. Things that had been made and destroyed by humans were surrounding them. It’s left such blatant remnants, hasn’t it, he mused, the all-embracing catastrophe that was human life. |
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She remained silent and absently watched as he finished his meal. He seemed to have awfully good table manners--although he looked rather collected and strong, so she supposed there was good reason for this. Her mixed heritage placed her above the coyotes in size, but she was still no larger than a small to mid-sized wolf. Usually, once she caught something she managed to gulp it down in a matter of moments. This came at the expense of being much messier and inelegant, although it greatly reduced the odds that her meal would be stolen.
Absorbed in her own thoughts, she first failed to realise what he was talking about. He clarified shortly, however, and she mulled over the sentiment. Matrix, like many youth, tended to take a lot for granted. The broken cities, the litter and rubbish--all of these things were almost natural to the girl. Life would be weird without it. Yet... there was one key difference between the human junk and nature's creations: although she utilised the tools and enjoyed certain knick-knacks found in the cities, she occasionally wished to destroy, as well. She would have no second thoughts burning an old house to the ground, but the thought of killing a tree was sickening. "I suppose that it is a reminder to all of us," she mused. Or they should be. A reminder not to kill when it wasn't for food; a reminder that too much knowledge or power could be a dangerous thing. "It's a shame many seem to ignore it." She had seen first-hand what human weapons could do.
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[html] It was quite some thought, that all this was placed here as a reminder. Useful that it didn't all sink into the ground in its entirety, but remained loud and ravaged so all who looked upon it could heed its warning. Some could take it as more of a challenge, however. Some had failed to introduce industry and technology to the world, but the human abilities of Luperci had the capacity itself; some would take the could-be challenge up on its daunting offer, and try, try again. Chances were, however, all would fall to pieces once more; they lived in a post-apocalyptic world, but that was not to say that the only apocalypse had been and gone.
You're right, I suppose it's only too evident from all this that nature will always be the prevailing force. Tamerlane paused, and shifted his foot on the sharp edge of the car. But do you not think our capacity to be "unnatural" is natural enough? It's that age-old question again, he mused with a faint smile, the state of nature. |
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Sorry about the wait. ><;
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She would never rule out a repeat of history. Time and time again, it seemed like the same mistakes were made for the same reasons--power, sex, prestige. All of these things, she thought, could make a sane mind irrational--then again, she also felt that way about any emotion. Matrix didn't necessarily trust the motives of their species on the whole, but for now, she thought mass destruction to be largely a non-issue. They still couldn't launch missiles at one another. If they killed, they had to see the pained face of their victim. Life was still something tangible and not to be utterly taken for granted.
His question caused her eyes to widen and her brows to furrow--well, this fellow certainly seemed to think about things more than the average wolf she met. Either that or they all did, and nobody wanted to talk about it. It was interesting and it put her into a peculiar mood--one in which she was open to discussion, hypothesising, and philosophising. "I'd say affairs become unnatural when the followers no longer share the plights of the leader. Wolves were not meant to be controlled or directed by a distant name and title." To some extent, she had seen this in the war. It was easy for a "commander" of sorts to send his men away to death when he was not present--a leader that stuck with his men, however, was more likely to see what could and could not be done. He knew when to retreat; he knew when lives were more valuable than small victories. Sometimes, she thought this was what the humans' problem had been. She'd never really gotten to share this view, however, and she was interested to hear the tattooed stranger's thoughts.
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OOC — no worries. ^^
IC —
[html] It was rare that two strangers (or even friends) got to fall comfortably into a deep philosophical discussion. As the female thought one thing, the male thought the same. Did everyone think this much, or was it just them, the only difference being that they spoke aloud? The more optimistic side of Tamerlane liked to think that each person certainly had the capacity to think like this, but some thought that it wasn't worth it; some weren't sure how to grab hold of their own opinions. Too often did the selfish decide that all that mattered was their own little world, rather than the world in general, and they would wallow in self-pity or what they hoped was self-deprecation, when what was really worth thinking about didn't have the prefix "self-" at all.
Potential aside, this conversation was somewhat rare. Tamerlane held no surprise for their elegant debate and casual agreements, however; he let things move as they chose to. The stranger had an interesting but very particular definition of the word unnatural, and Tamerlane pondered it as he simultaneously asked for a clarification. What do you mean by distant, in this context? |
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