|
Xinaru's Moon: Ch 2 Dilema |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Different POV
____________________________________________________________________________________________
A large wolf creature growled aloud to himself as he stormed about the large den. He muttered angrily about his young consort, lurching about the dark, and straining to smell an approaching scent or hear far off footsteps of the canine.
He couldn’t believe how reckless Xinaru was being! Going in to humans territory all the time like some bloody vampire, dragging random humans away, and nearly smothering them to death with affection! This was all insane. That was it. Xinaru had lost it. He was insane, that was the only possible answer, and He, Raggirok, was perfectly normal.
Alright so he had a temper problem, a superiority complex, a few, around 35, bipolar/scitzophrenic issues now and then, but who was counting? He certaintly wasn’t! Oh and not to mention that strange obsession with bottle caps he had developed as of late. Had a whole shrine full of beautiful and unique (and incredibly shiny) bottle caps…. Alright maybe perfectly normal was a little stretch. But come on, he was over thirty hundred!
Stopping to look into an old piece of glass they used as a mirror, he smirked. Well, at least there was always his looks! Unlike Xinaru, he often groomed himself, sleek gray fur running the length of his back and top of his muzzle to make way underneath for a soft, silvery downy on his belly and chin showed it off nicely. Not to mention his strong build, much more solid and firm than the teenage cuteness his younger had going on. He atleast had been infected in the prime of his life… which made things all the more sadder for his love’s situation.
Taken at 15 his wolven body was thin and still mildly androgynous, as only a child can be. In his human like form, he was a round faced rogue, wild long black hair, bright yellow-brown eyes, elven ears and soft chocolate skin. He hadn’t even grown any facial hair back then. Then again, facial hair on a twenty year old wasn’t very common 300 some years ago anyway. The boy still had seperation issues after he watched his family die, so now he feels he has to find any human possible and bring them to himself as if they were his family. He always picks the same within the humans.
Boys around twenty one years old, no beard, shaggy brown hair and blue eyes, rather tall for their age, with a sort dumb cuteness about them. Like a bunny, or something to that affect. Maybe a dog. They eventually go mad and kill themselves from lack of sun, and outside contact, or whatever humans get depressed over.
Girls around 9 years old, black hair, big innocent green eyes, dark skin, very hard to find, with a sassy mouth, and a love of purple and china dolls. He showers these few doll-like girls in utter affection, until, upon realizing their own aging, demand to be infected with the Curse. He loses love for those who do, and eventually leaves them.
They are usually found dead by some creep on the street, waiting for such a chance.
Woman, around forty years, kind with a sterness about them, soft blacks curls, big brown eyes, with the slightest wrinkles about the corners, clings to them as if they were his mother, rather or not they acted like his past mother.
Men, have to be atlest 6”5, longer hair, and a meaness about them that has nothing to do with drinking or otherwise. MUST have a hate of kids, art, and books. Bit of a hermit, around 50-60 years old.
Its sad, really. And the boy didn’t even realize that’s why he did it. He couldn’t even remember, for god’s sakes!
It depressed Raggirok deeply at the thought so he banished it immediately from his mind. It was a rather easy thing to do, considering how forgetful he was as it were. He chuckled as he remembered Xinaru telling him this was such exasperation it was funny.
He had laughed at the poor frustrated boy, upon who, forgetting where he stuck his book and how it was nowhere to be found, had struck Raggirok atop his head. This was considerably funnier when he had to jump up to do so.
He sighed, he had it bad for his little friend. But how to tell him? ‘Don’t tell him!’, a little voice he heard quite often. ‘You know him, he’ll go berserk, porbably tear out his fur!’ that was his hesistant logical side speaking.
‘You have to be kidding me!’ another voice spoke, ‘we’re going berserk here! Him walking about so close, it drives me mad!’ at this Raggirok protested.
‘yes or no, we can’t have him yet!’
‘Excuse ME, but I saw him first!’ both of his voices stopped arguing for a moment.
‘You idiot, we are you!’ they both scoffed. ‘loser…’
Raggirok shook his head, oh god, I am insane…. I just lost an argument with myself and called myself a loser. Wow.
Another collective sigh... he's back.
 Kama Deva · Mon Mar 03, 2008 @ 02:40am · 1 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
