They See Me. I'm One Of Them.

*Dexter* · (This post was last modified: 01-04-2014, 01:58 AM by Dexter.)

Dexter

He had come from a place still dusted with deep snow, a heavy blanket over his new home, to this near empty place that had very little, a light jacket in the spring weather. These lands were large and wide, the weather varied quite often, raining here, hot there, and you could meet the most peculiar wolves. He observed the weather the signs of resurrecting life around this place that was beginning to grow with eager movements to escape their prison's of wood and dirt, a zombie risen from the grave to once more, infect the earth with color. Though this place was different, this place was a place of darkness, shrouded in the death of everything for quite some distance. As the thin man placed a paw on the earth, he could feel the weight of the world shift, how the leftovers underneath the melting snow. Standing in awe Dexter was impressed by this masterpiece before him.

All life had ceased to exist here, well, except for the occasional passerby or the many flocks of birds that skimmed through, using the barren, dead landscape as a shortcut to go through to their destination, the monster stood still as stone, observing the empty place that once was a lush forest, teaming with life and sounds, smells and sights that would have surrounded one and sent the normal wolf into a flurry of good feelings and intentions for the world. Underneath his large paws and the nearly melted snow, the ash and soot, from the disaster that caused this, shifted. Squishing together beneath his feet and something about this action caused just the tiniest bit of a stir in the man.

He began a slow pace, his ghostly white body blending in with the thick fog quite well except for the unusual markings on his body. The black fin down his spine bristled dangerously like a hyena's, this hair stood straight up, surrounding the spine stripe and a few inches down from the spine, were black holes of damnation glittered all along his back, the curses from the gods that he was screwed. As the long haired, spotted ghost wandered he observed all the rotting, fallen trees, the charred lands and remains of what once was a forest helped to pollute the air with the sickeningly sweet aroma of smoke would choke the smaller wolf and disgust the larger. Dexter wandered, and soon he was lost in the deep thought of how beautiful the fire must have been.

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