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Post by Reconsider on Aug 22, 2013 20:34:33 GMT -8
Life is just a Riddle.
His paws touched the wet sand, rough rocks against soft paw pads. Though he didn't wince, or even notice any pain. He had been walking for days. Traveled through city to broken city, one after another. Everywhere he went he saw destruction. It was saddening. To see the world falling apart right before your eyes. Almost funny how., everyone saw humans as the enemy, however now that they are gone the world is slowly deteriorating. He jaunted over to the edge of the water, staring at himself in the dark reflection lit only by the sheer moonlight. It was a full moon. One that cast a beautiful and almost unearthly sort of pure light that surrounded him and almost seemed to make things glow. The whole night was beautiful, a perfect illusion created by nature's light alone.
He adored the night. It mask him from being seen and being bothered. The night provided an escape to reality. A place to get away. A place to think. As weird as it may seem... he considered the nighttime his home. He was never fully comfortable unless it was night, and he only slept in the early morning hours. He looked out around him, observing. This beach had been littered, trash strung out everywhere, and random objects simply left to rust away. He shook his head. He didn't understand sometimes why others did the things they do. Why they didn't think of the repercussions of their actions. He walked up to the trash, grabbed it in his mouth and started a pile. He collected most of the trash around where he was and sighed. It was a pleaseant feeling to do something positive. He wondered..how does one decide what is "positive" and what is "negative" kind of actions? While his "positives" such as keeping things clean and organized may be a "negative" for someone else.... Like those that left the trash here to begin with. Life was so weird. While society pushes for conformity, life and karma push you to become an individual. And there is a fine line from being unique and being yourself. And those that tiptoe that line, usually end up in positions they didn't want to be in. Such as his mother..
He still remembers her stories. How she snuck away to see his father, knowing that it was forbidden. She was just a mutt dog, she was of nothing important to that pack. She knew damn good and well they would have slaughtered her if they had found out sooner. It was her fault he even died. She deserved the guilt she brought on herself. Zaruko let out a throaty growl and tried to ignore those memories. She was nothing to him anyway. He was happy to be away.. wasn't he? He looked around him. He truly had nothing except the world around him. He had no friends, no real family. He was isolated and antisocial. But on some aspect he was lonely.. and ached for someone to share his ideas with, though he rarely craved another's attention. He watched the water, waves slowly crashing up against the shore. In a way.. life was like a riddle. It made us ask ourselves questions that require complex and unnecessary answers. It kept us guessing. Sometimes it was funny, but most of the time frustrating. Then again, he never really cared for riddles anyway.
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Post by * Imagine * on Aug 24, 2013 18:10:15 GMT -8
The brute was bathed in moonlight, his mixed coat caste in a eerie silver hue that made him glow against the darkness of the night. The soft breeze smelled of sea salt and was laced with tiny flecks if ocean water that beaded on Eos' pelt and left him close to uncomfortably damp. He paused just long enough to shake himself from muzzle to tail. How long had he been walking now? The brute twisted his head and set his gaze on the darkness behind him, sometime he got too lost in his thoughts. Sometime he wished that he could turn his own mind off, even if just for a little bit.
He shook his head and picked up his pace, like he could actually escapes his own mind. He was supposed to be the smart one too, yet here he was, wandering without a destination, alone. Tormented by the lingering memory of egde. He fought her name from his mind once again, he was torturing himself thinking of her again. He really needed to get as grip. He was beginning to believe that it was eventually going to drive him mad, though a strange part of him found the idea welcoming. Though another part of him laughed at the mental image of himself curled into a ball mumbling to a rock about Edge. What a sight that would be.
He was pulled from his thoughts when a new scent reached his nose. Through the darkness he noted faint movement in front of him along the sandy strip. For a moment, despite his nice clearly identifying another canine, he almost wrote it off as an animal of prey. He wasn't sure which he reality he preferred. A canine meant conversation at best, conflict at worst. Prey meant food but it also meant the hard work of bringing it down. He settled on canine finally. Mainly because it didn't matter which he preferred, what mattered was reality.
He sauntered forward in an way that was only slightly hesitant.
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