Post by chaaron on Aug 8, 2012 19:20:21 GMT -5
Chaaron was on no particular mission on this bleak and foggy night. He was just walking through the deadly swamp, letting his body go where it would without his expressed permission. The male wolf took each step in stride, but it was as if he was numb completely. There seemed to be no feeling all throughout him like normal wolves would feel. The wolf’s mind was blank as well, and normal thoughts seemed to dissipate before Chaaron became aware of them. This infection had truly turned him into a creature beyond mortal imagination. It had been days since he’d laid eyes on another wolf, but that wasn’t a thing of his concern right now. Chaaron’s stomach was full from a previous day’s hunt and he went into complete and total autopilot after that. Step. Step. Step. Each paw placement moved Chaaron forward to an unspecified destination. He merely wandered through the swamp, casting aside all worries that normal wolves would have in a place like this. In fact, the male wolf would be cause for concern more than anything else around perhaps. There was no fear, no rational drive to leave this place at once. Chaaron might have felt at home here even, were circumstances different. He had lived the life of a loner for a while now and a secluded area would do him well. And even before that, he was assigned with fighting off those that had become zombies near his home. That exposure to the infection was bound to happen sometime to him. Chaaron just wondered when exactly. That small band of wolves that got to him just made it happen faster. When it did, he was charged with the burial of the dead bodies that were increasing in number by the day.
So here he was, prowling aimlessly through a mucky swamp, and his intentions weren’t clearly defined at all. Perhaps what his main goal in life was now was just to survive until things became too overwhelming. All hopes of ever becoming something more had been tossed out of the window. He would never see his parents again, that was for sure. And as for his siblings, their blood would be on his paws for the rest of eternity. There was nothing he could do about that now. When the disease decided to give him a break, Chaaron wondered how life would’ve been had the situation not gone the way it did. Everyone has their “what ifs” or “how come this happened to me” moments admittedly. And this male was just the same sometimes. He had grown quite fond of a stunning British Columbian wolf female in his first pack, and it seemed that she’d reciprocated his feelings too. There was hope that when he grew a little older and wiser, that they would be bonded and take each other as life mates. Pfft, so much for that. Chaaron would never lay eyes on that beautiful black wolf again. But it was too late for pity and that “woe is me” crap. There was no going back this time. He would have to create a life for himself outside of the normal boundaries. If it was one thing that Chaaron could say, he felt stronger than before. When he surrendered everything to the disease, that animal instinct seemed to power him forward with a renewed sense of authority. Others feared and obeyed him. Perhaps that’s why he just let go of control sometimes. There was a surge of emotion and a flickering flame that turned to a raging fire. And that was what Chaaron loved so much. He wasn’t out to kill on purpose; it was just that when that mode turned on, there was no stopping him.
Chaaron walked through the swamp boldly, his shoulders rocking back and forth in their sockets. The male’s head and tail were held low in a predatory position, and the scruff on his neck was raised. The multi-colored beast had his ears perked on his head, though he didn’t hear a thing. His pink tongue lolled out of his jaws, and his ivory teeth were partially exposed. He was a machine, built for the greater good, but with malfunctioning parts. He was different now and another side of him was constantly sitting on his shoulder, whispering to him. “Let me out,” it said. “I’ll show you what we can do,” it said. And there were times when Chaaron listened. He succumbed to the voice, taking the bait, and grasping the temptation. One could say that this infection was his guilty pleasure. Chaaron wasn’t a bad wolf innately, most weren’t; his parents had trained him up very well from the very start. They loved him and both of his siblings evenly. But things went weird once the disease began to spread.
As the wolf prowled through the swamp, the frigid water could have chilled someone to their very core. Not him. Algae and fowl smelling debris clung to his coat. He didn’t care. Chaaron’s maroon eyes glinted in the moonlight that shone through the fog submerging him. Once the wolf stopped near the water’s edge, and a sense of coherency seemed to flash before his face. Chaaron lifted his black nose to the air, and it twitched a second. But he was taken once more into that state of oblivion, and pushed onward. There was only one voice he heard, the one of the disease consuming him more and more by the second. 'Can you feel that? No you can’t, I make it so that you don’t feel pain anymore. Giving me your everything was the best choice you could’ve made, Chaaron. Why not let me stay for good now and show you the way? What use is that other side of you? It’s nothing compared to me. Chaaron, don’t you love me? Embrace me and you’ll live free. I’ll never betray you my sweet one. Trust me, confide in me, and all will be well from here on out.'
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So here he was, prowling aimlessly through a mucky swamp, and his intentions weren’t clearly defined at all. Perhaps what his main goal in life was now was just to survive until things became too overwhelming. All hopes of ever becoming something more had been tossed out of the window. He would never see his parents again, that was for sure. And as for his siblings, their blood would be on his paws for the rest of eternity. There was nothing he could do about that now. When the disease decided to give him a break, Chaaron wondered how life would’ve been had the situation not gone the way it did. Everyone has their “what ifs” or “how come this happened to me” moments admittedly. And this male was just the same sometimes. He had grown quite fond of a stunning British Columbian wolf female in his first pack, and it seemed that she’d reciprocated his feelings too. There was hope that when he grew a little older and wiser, that they would be bonded and take each other as life mates. Pfft, so much for that. Chaaron would never lay eyes on that beautiful black wolf again. But it was too late for pity and that “woe is me” crap. There was no going back this time. He would have to create a life for himself outside of the normal boundaries. If it was one thing that Chaaron could say, he felt stronger than before. When he surrendered everything to the disease, that animal instinct seemed to power him forward with a renewed sense of authority. Others feared and obeyed him. Perhaps that’s why he just let go of control sometimes. There was a surge of emotion and a flickering flame that turned to a raging fire. And that was what Chaaron loved so much. He wasn’t out to kill on purpose; it was just that when that mode turned on, there was no stopping him.
Chaaron walked through the swamp boldly, his shoulders rocking back and forth in their sockets. The male’s head and tail were held low in a predatory position, and the scruff on his neck was raised. The multi-colored beast had his ears perked on his head, though he didn’t hear a thing. His pink tongue lolled out of his jaws, and his ivory teeth were partially exposed. He was a machine, built for the greater good, but with malfunctioning parts. He was different now and another side of him was constantly sitting on his shoulder, whispering to him. “Let me out,” it said. “I’ll show you what we can do,” it said. And there were times when Chaaron listened. He succumbed to the voice, taking the bait, and grasping the temptation. One could say that this infection was his guilty pleasure. Chaaron wasn’t a bad wolf innately, most weren’t; his parents had trained him up very well from the very start. They loved him and both of his siblings evenly. But things went weird once the disease began to spread.
As the wolf prowled through the swamp, the frigid water could have chilled someone to their very core. Not him. Algae and fowl smelling debris clung to his coat. He didn’t care. Chaaron’s maroon eyes glinted in the moonlight that shone through the fog submerging him. Once the wolf stopped near the water’s edge, and a sense of coherency seemed to flash before his face. Chaaron lifted his black nose to the air, and it twitched a second. But he was taken once more into that state of oblivion, and pushed onward. There was only one voice he heard, the one of the disease consuming him more and more by the second. 'Can you feel that? No you can’t, I make it so that you don’t feel pain anymore. Giving me your everything was the best choice you could’ve made, Chaaron. Why not let me stay for good now and show you the way? What use is that other side of you? It’s nothing compared to me. Chaaron, don’t you love me? Embrace me and you’ll live free. I’ll never betray you my sweet one. Trust me, confide in me, and all will be well from here on out.'
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ooc||
Hmm...not bad for using Chaaron for the first time, I think.
Word Count|| 1,000
Actions
'Thoughts'
'Disease Thoughts'
"Voice"
Hmm...not bad for using Chaaron for the first time, I think.
Word Count|| 1,000
Actions
'Thoughts'
'Disease Thoughts'
"Voice"
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