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Post by Valerie 'Thorny' Thornalh on Sept 1, 2012 10:25:50 GMT -5
status Done
for Finch
wordcount 330
It was quite obvious to her that another long night of watching the world go by was awaiting. After all, that is how she chose to lead her life, or more precisely, how her parents had unknowingly raised her to. They'd probably assumed she'd forgotten them by now, having finally left their deluded perspective only to continue in the life of isolation she had become comfortable with. It was better this way, quiet, alone. No worries about others, no concerns about conflicts. All that mattered was her own wellbeing, and finally putting a bit of equality back into society, like any good girl. Then again, what good girl wanted to be able to feast on humans, like her great grandparents may very well have? It was a good cause to her at least, that was surely enough to get her through the constant worry of what awaited her every day...
A group of humans walking by her seated position in the tranquil park made her wake from her musing over the irony of her life. Many who were raised in the city had spoken of 'wanting to return to the wild'. Having been raised there, she knew exactly what it was like, and didn't share the same desire. The park was the closest she let herself go. The worry that if she returned to the forests completely, she'd end up living the life of a wolf again. It had been done before, it could be done so again. Natural wolves seemed to accept their shifting counterparts as their own, despite the rarity of actually assuming their form. It was better than sitting alone at home for one thing.
Sooner or later, someone would happen upon her in her idle waiting. Hopefully someone that would prove to be of some worth to her cause, or more precisely, Jay's cause. Then again, anyone who recognised her for who she was would be worthy of response, simply for not being an ignorant fool.
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Post by winston on Sept 3, 2012 6:45:54 GMT -5
status done
wordcount 321
Winston didn’t see much difference between the city and the so-called wild: not really. There just happened to be more pollution in the air in the city, more people per square mile. It was still the same battle, the same struggle, the same ‘survival of the fittest’ crap that they bawled about in military camps.
For as long as he could remember, Winston had been a work-in-progress towards a single goal: slaying. He’d been honed into a weapon from the very earliest days of his youth. Most people thought of the combat training and paranormal lore first when it came to slayers, and not unreasonably. But the single most important thing about slaying was the diagnosis. You had to know what you were up against. You had to know where to look for your enemy. You had to know for absolute certain that it wasn’t some hapless, powerless mortal you’d just taken out with a silver-coated KA-BAR.
It got easer with time.
Most of Winston Wright’s nights were spent watching, searching, tracking. Tonight was no different, though he’d lost his target about town. Always very irritating. Winston was jonesing for a bit of excitement. The jaunt he was taking through the park was a long shot, lighting up a superking menthol cigarette as he went, but if the wild things wouldn’t come to him, it was time to get himself to where the wild things are. He spent some time quietly perusing the park, spotting the lone girl but not indicating much interest in her until he’d done a casual, ambling circuit of the place.
Then he approached her. “This time of night, only three types of people are hanging around alone and unprotected. The monsters, the monster-hunters, and the stupid.” He paused to smile just the tiniest bit; a cold, emotionless smile. “And I’m going to generously give you more credit than stupidity.”
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Post by Valerie 'Thorny' Thornalh on Sept 8, 2012 8:52:01 GMT -5
status Done
wordcount 260
Idly listening as an unfamiliar man spoke of monsters to her, fingers tapping away on the back of the park bench as she found herself bored by the transparent compliment. Why was she necessarily not stupid? After all, as far as just about every other werewolf was concerned, her unique approach to socialising with them was ridiculous to say the least.
"It depends then, what defines the monster, and the hunter? Is it that the monster is different from one such as yourself, or is it the one like yourself. One who consumes his natural prey, or one who makes his predator suffer for mere pleasure, under the guise of protecting others. As for the hunter... I think it's clear who does the hunting."
He obviously knew what she was, probably seeking information if anything. Did her pondering on a philosophical view of their respective situations surprise him? For that matter, did philosophical questions coming from herself surprise him even? Maybe, obviously he cared naught that her interest in the truce was nothing beyond the principle of the thing. She enjoyed living the life of the wolf, human life bored her to no end. But then, a hunter did not care for that. They only cared for their racist views.
"Are you here to satisfy the human hunger for killing? Is it any better than the need for flesh or blood? At least the latter have physical benefit, what gain will you get out of ending the life of someone who cares nothing for humans, in food or friend anyway?" [/size][/color] |
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