07-30-2018, 10:11 PM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]He had learned about survival at a young age, younger than most should have had to, and with it came the knowledge of just how cruel the world was and how much worse you had to be in order to see another day. There was so very little that you could control when life was a turmoil in and of itself (something he knew not only from experience but from the small part of himself that was connected to the intricate details themselves) that it became almost necessity to control what you could, so that your fate wasn't written in the hands of others.
Des knew it all, had known it for the better of the two years he had been alive on this earth. Life always favored those who held their own, and he had done more than enough to make sure that he wouldn't die without wanting to, not somewhere on the side of a ditch before he could make a difference with this sorry life he called his. Some did it through lying, through manipulation, especially if they didn't have the muscles to make up for the rest... Des was a mix of both. Sometimes whoever thought they could touch him ended up with one less limb without any more pretext... sometimes he felt empty enough for shit to happen and to lull whoever it was with him into a sense of comfort where he could rip their throat out with seemingly the burning rage of the void itself.
The void that had left him to this fate. The void that had deemed their son unworthy of their love and attention, casting him into a life of murder and thievery, of drugs and cigarettes and alcohol, of something... anything that could make him feel alive.
Did he regret his choices? Yes. They haunted him on more than one occasion, the faces of those he had killed always there in the corner of his visions, floating through the shadows and whispering bittersweet words that only he could hear. But that was the price of survival - sometimes you had to lose a part of what made you humane to see another day, and Des had been determined to do just that from day one when he realized that the only person he had to take care of himself was him.
Even clan life was taken with a grain of salt. It could all crash and burn around him as it had already on one occasion. There was nothing left to hope for but death at the end of a journey he should have never been strong enough to take. But Des was too caught up with his will to live to give into any battle, including the one that raged within his head on a daily basis, so he continued, despite the scars both visible and not that this sorry excuse of a life had given him.
Perhaps Theseus was expecting a few minutes to pass before someone approached, not a strange thought given that he had yet to announce his presence or that of his companion by ringing the conveniently placed bell. But perhaps unfortunately for them Desperado had been wandering that evening, patrolling the beaches of the Typhoon if only to get his mind off of things he didn't feel like thinking about. Walking always helped, especially if there was a cigarette pressed snugly to his lips, but the latter wasn't currently the reality so he had settled for simply the former. It was during this walk, which was ironically just coming to a close, that two shapes caught the canine's dual colored eyes, and he approached just in time to hear the question that the lion was inquiring of his companion.
He wondered briefly if this was some sort of strange version of a lover's quarrel, but figuring it wasn't his place to ask and realizing that he wasn't actually that interested, Des shook all thoughts out of his head to settle on the logical part of this encounter. Two strangers on the border always meant something or the other, and maybe he had come just in time to stop some petty excuse for a raid.
"Hope I'm not intruding on anything," that was a lie, but he said it with ease that made it far more than believable. A slight smile formed on the canine's jaws as he padded closer, although he sat down safely on his side of the border once they were a few feet away and his heterochromic gaze never once lost it's sharp, analytical edge. "Gonna go out on a whim and assume you both have some sort of business with the Typhoon?"
Des knew it all, had known it for the better of the two years he had been alive on this earth. Life always favored those who held their own, and he had done more than enough to make sure that he wouldn't die without wanting to, not somewhere on the side of a ditch before he could make a difference with this sorry life he called his. Some did it through lying, through manipulation, especially if they didn't have the muscles to make up for the rest... Des was a mix of both. Sometimes whoever thought they could touch him ended up with one less limb without any more pretext... sometimes he felt empty enough for shit to happen and to lull whoever it was with him into a sense of comfort where he could rip their throat out with seemingly the burning rage of the void itself.
The void that had left him to this fate. The void that had deemed their son unworthy of their love and attention, casting him into a life of murder and thievery, of drugs and cigarettes and alcohol, of something... anything that could make him feel alive.
Did he regret his choices? Yes. They haunted him on more than one occasion, the faces of those he had killed always there in the corner of his visions, floating through the shadows and whispering bittersweet words that only he could hear. But that was the price of survival - sometimes you had to lose a part of what made you humane to see another day, and Des had been determined to do just that from day one when he realized that the only person he had to take care of himself was him.
Even clan life was taken with a grain of salt. It could all crash and burn around him as it had already on one occasion. There was nothing left to hope for but death at the end of a journey he should have never been strong enough to take. But Des was too caught up with his will to live to give into any battle, including the one that raged within his head on a daily basis, so he continued, despite the scars both visible and not that this sorry excuse of a life had given him.
Perhaps Theseus was expecting a few minutes to pass before someone approached, not a strange thought given that he had yet to announce his presence or that of his companion by ringing the conveniently placed bell. But perhaps unfortunately for them Desperado had been wandering that evening, patrolling the beaches of the Typhoon if only to get his mind off of things he didn't feel like thinking about. Walking always helped, especially if there was a cigarette pressed snugly to his lips, but the latter wasn't currently the reality so he had settled for simply the former. It was during this walk, which was ironically just coming to a close, that two shapes caught the canine's dual colored eyes, and he approached just in time to hear the question that the lion was inquiring of his companion.
He wondered briefly if this was some sort of strange version of a lover's quarrel, but figuring it wasn't his place to ask and realizing that he wasn't actually that interested, Des shook all thoughts out of his head to settle on the logical part of this encounter. Two strangers on the border always meant something or the other, and maybe he had come just in time to stop some petty excuse for a raid.
"Hope I'm not intruding on anything," that was a lie, but he said it with ease that made it far more than believable. A slight smile formed on the canine's jaws as he padded closer, although he sat down safely on his side of the border once they were a few feet away and his heterochromic gaze never once lost it's sharp, analytical edge. "Gonna go out on a whim and assume you both have some sort of business with the Typhoon?"
♔ — I want brimstone in my garden