07-31-2018, 07:58 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Much unlike his friend (? yes, friend), Theo actually did give a shit about the stories people left behind. Sometimes it was just curiosity, but sometimes you needed to find out why people ticked. Because yeah, life tended to suck. He'd led one of those sucky lives, seen it all right in front of his face. But even if life sucked universally, everyone handled it differently. (The ring around Doktè's throat must mean as much to him as the claw around his own. He doesn't take it off, doesn't lose it, doesn't talk about it. Doesn't fidget, he's used to wearing it.) Now Des — Theo doesn't know what to make of him right away. He's a canine of some sort, both colored and decorated strangely enough that not even he could figure out which parts are important. And of course his mind immediately jumps back to the lion across from him. His colors are simple, easy to look at, handsome in a rugged kind of way. It's easy to tell what's important to him, perhaps thanks to the quiet indifference he seems to treat everyone else. (But back to Desperado; he decides almost immediately that he likes the stranger, maybe for the smell of smoke that follows him, or the piercings in his ear. Something they have in common.)
Like him or not, though, the canine did interrupt something, and Theo's shoulders tensed first at the sound of his voice. His attention had ended up fully on the way that Doktè opened his mouth — watching him shut up was understandably frustrating. It took him long enough to pry answers out of him when they were alone. It was kinda obvious it wouldn't happen around others. Yet. (He's fine with never, really. Something sweeter about it that way.) While still facing him, the smaller lion offers a frown and a roll of his eyes before turning to face the — two, now. There are two of them. There's the sweetest sort of smile on his face, no remnants of the eye rolling from before. "Technically yes," he corrects with an insulted (offended, really, he knows what that word means by now) glance back at Doktè, "but nothing that can't be picked up later." Theo flicks his tail underneath Doktè's jaw, just in front of his mane and the line of his throat. He feels content with the knowledge that he had thought about answering, though, and that's really all he could ask for in the moment.
People who think life is meant to be tragic don't put enough love into the little moments like that. Getting things right, feeling content. For those few moments, the bad in the world stopped spinning forward. Whatever pain he would inevitably get was worth the small moments, like — like getting his first hoodie from his dad and his piercing from the first friend he'd celebrated independence with (before he realized independence was overrated and painful). Like watching Letty catch himself for the first time, turn bloodstained paws downy soft, even if they shook with the timid effort it took to be gentle. Life wasn't tragic. He can't think that it was, or — or it'd end up swallowing him whole, spitting him back out in a world he couldn't deal with. Theo's been there before. Never again, that's what he tells himself. And he means it, he does. This isn't him running away from his past. Like Doktè said, everyone had one and it was always tragic in some way. What matters was how they dealt with it, how they picked themselves up and kept walking. So with a rather rough nurse and every intention of figuring out where he belongs on this planet, he'd ended up here.
"We're not a thing." For the first time since people had approached him, Theo's voice is a little harsh, desperately so, even with rounded edges and an attempt at an amused smile. He'd already got his fair share of sing-song you like hims and laughter like carbonation breaking through any attempts to seal it off. Doktè may be admittedly attractive, in the rough sort of way, but he's also not into guys — Theo knows the type. Anyway, whatever, there's a rush of heat flooding his chest now but that's not what this is about. He manages to keep his mouth quirked into a lighter smile that quickly becomes genuine, even offers a bit of a laugh at Kazumi's comment about Desperado. "That sounds like a great time, but maybe for later. We do have business here." He says we like he's not entirely sure of the word and looks back at Doktè with a tilt of his head. "You're staying too, right? Or did you walk me all this way just to be a gentleman?" He'd better be staying.
/ thank you!! i love both of your writing styles too asldkfj
and alloy's ofc but i yell about that every day
Like him or not, though, the canine did interrupt something, and Theo's shoulders tensed first at the sound of his voice. His attention had ended up fully on the way that Doktè opened his mouth — watching him shut up was understandably frustrating. It took him long enough to pry answers out of him when they were alone. It was kinda obvious it wouldn't happen around others. Yet. (He's fine with never, really. Something sweeter about it that way.) While still facing him, the smaller lion offers a frown and a roll of his eyes before turning to face the — two, now. There are two of them. There's the sweetest sort of smile on his face, no remnants of the eye rolling from before. "Technically yes," he corrects with an insulted (offended, really, he knows what that word means by now) glance back at Doktè, "but nothing that can't be picked up later." Theo flicks his tail underneath Doktè's jaw, just in front of his mane and the line of his throat. He feels content with the knowledge that he had thought about answering, though, and that's really all he could ask for in the moment.
People who think life is meant to be tragic don't put enough love into the little moments like that. Getting things right, feeling content. For those few moments, the bad in the world stopped spinning forward. Whatever pain he would inevitably get was worth the small moments, like — like getting his first hoodie from his dad and his piercing from the first friend he'd celebrated independence with (before he realized independence was overrated and painful). Like watching Letty catch himself for the first time, turn bloodstained paws downy soft, even if they shook with the timid effort it took to be gentle. Life wasn't tragic. He can't think that it was, or — or it'd end up swallowing him whole, spitting him back out in a world he couldn't deal with. Theo's been there before. Never again, that's what he tells himself. And he means it, he does. This isn't him running away from his past. Like Doktè said, everyone had one and it was always tragic in some way. What matters was how they dealt with it, how they picked themselves up and kept walking. So with a rather rough nurse and every intention of figuring out where he belongs on this planet, he'd ended up here.
"We're not a thing." For the first time since people had approached him, Theo's voice is a little harsh, desperately so, even with rounded edges and an attempt at an amused smile. He'd already got his fair share of sing-song you like hims and laughter like carbonation breaking through any attempts to seal it off. Doktè may be admittedly attractive, in the rough sort of way, but he's also not into guys — Theo knows the type. Anyway, whatever, there's a rush of heat flooding his chest now but that's not what this is about. He manages to keep his mouth quirked into a lighter smile that quickly becomes genuine, even offers a bit of a laugh at Kazumi's comment about Desperado. "That sounds like a great time, but maybe for later. We do have business here." He says we like he's not entirely sure of the word and looks back at Doktè with a tilt of his head. "You're staying too, right? Or did you walk me all this way just to be a gentleman?" He'd better be staying.
/ thank you!! i love both of your writing styles too asldkfj
and alloy's ofc but i yell about that every day