The Cross Cloaked in Mists
01-18-2014, 12:21 AM
Carlito "Sucre" Dalibor
The big brute hummed to himself as he walked, boredom eating away at his mind. His pawsteps were cushioned by the soft, reaching tendrils of moss heads, but he didn't notice. The beauty around him went unobserved as his mind was firmly planted elsewhere. The land was quiet and pleasant, and yet somehow chilling, the fog lending the land a slightly eerie quality. This he was aware of, but on a subconscious level. Without quite realizing it, he was a bit tense.
Sucre ambled on, completely unaware of his body's attempts to prepare him for the worst. The tune stuck in his head was a simple piece, one that was sung to him frequently when he was quite young. He didn't remember all the words to it, but it amused him nonetheless. Aw, sweet memories. It was odd for him to think about what lay behind him, odder still that he would think so far back. Life had been so simple then. He remembered laughing a lot and being warm, always warm. Though their faces were blurry, he remembered his parents. Especially his mother. She'd loved him. Doted on him. Always made him feel safe and good. He remembered his father too and how he'd been. Now that wolf? There'd been no love in him, only anger. Sucre remembered him well.
A figure suddenly stood out among the mist and Sucre froze, hackles rising in alarm. Lit by a light from behind, the figure was a shadow without distinguishable features. The brute tasted the air, searching for a scent with which he could identify the apparition. He drew closer, curiosity and a naive fearlessness leading him.
As he neared, the wavering mist lifted and for a second, Sucre laid eyes on the creature before him. Oh. His hackles settled and his tail lifted to fan out behind him in greeting. She was beautiful and perhaps a bit sad, the picture of quiet poignancy. Immediately he was smitten with this sorrowful angel in the mist. "Hello, miss."
The big brute hummed to himself as he walked, boredom eating away at his mind. His pawsteps were cushioned by the soft, reaching tendrils of moss heads, but he didn't notice. The beauty around him went unobserved as his mind was firmly planted elsewhere. The land was quiet and pleasant, and yet somehow chilling, the fog lending the land a slightly eerie quality. This he was aware of, but on a subconscious level. Without quite realizing it, he was a bit tense.
Sucre ambled on, completely unaware of his body's attempts to prepare him for the worst. The tune stuck in his head was a simple piece, one that was sung to him frequently when he was quite young. He didn't remember all the words to it, but it amused him nonetheless. Aw, sweet memories. It was odd for him to think about what lay behind him, odder still that he would think so far back. Life had been so simple then. He remembered laughing a lot and being warm, always warm. Though their faces were blurry, he remembered his parents. Especially his mother. She'd loved him. Doted on him. Always made him feel safe and good. He remembered his father too and how he'd been. Now that wolf? There'd been no love in him, only anger. Sucre remembered him well.
A figure suddenly stood out among the mist and Sucre froze, hackles rising in alarm. Lit by a light from behind, the figure was a shadow without distinguishable features. The brute tasted the air, searching for a scent with which he could identify the apparition. He drew closer, curiosity and a naive fearlessness leading him.
As he neared, the wavering mist lifted and for a second, Sucre laid eyes on the creature before him. Oh. His hackles settled and his tail lifted to fan out behind him in greeting. She was beautiful and perhaps a bit sad, the picture of quiet poignancy. Immediately he was smitten with this sorrowful angel in the mist. "Hello, miss."
Current time: 11-22-2024, 10:21 PM
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