08-12-2018, 12:21 PM
[div style="width: 45%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]His cranium tilted ever so slightly at her meek and quiet response; in all honesty, he was expecting retaliation. A screaming match. A fight. At the very least, a string of excuses. Maybe a bit of name-calling and insults to spice things up. But there was a very obvious air of submission around the other female, highlighted with her bowing of the head. At last there would be an excuse: "I have no recollection of anything aside from a few weeks ago to today." And here he couldn't tell if he wanted to punch something or sit down and try to explain.
The latter, it appeared, would be the only possible solution, but the former would bring the most pleasure to the wolf. He would restrain himself for now.
"Well, please, dear, pull up a chair 'n' lemme tell ya a goddamn story," Zjarr finally drawled, his tail lashing as he spoke. Artificial claws of metal tapped against the ground almost impatiently; he was struggling to maintain his composure, struggling to keep his booming, thundering voice at bay, at something above a mere mumble.
"I'm going to assume you're not yankin' my chain here and you really are a hopeless case of amnesia. Look, I get it. Amnesia is a bitch. Been there, done that. So...let's start at the beginning. I'm Zjarr. I'm a blacksmith. I deal arms. I travel. And no need for an introduction on your part—I know who you are. We've met before.
"Things, erm...led to other things...between us. I'll keep it at that. Before I know it, I hear lil' birdies talkin' 'bout how I'mma be a baby daddy. I said, 'okay, great.' Kids. Nice. But I had a business to tend to. And I hoped, every single goddamn day, that at the very least they would grow in an environment where they would be safe. With a mother. With friends who would protect them." There was more to his absence than just business: at the time he was a raging alcoholic, a dangerous one. It would be a foolish decision to let a creature as that linger around children...or anyone, for that matter.
"The storm clouds pass. I'm better off. I pay a visit. I have never seen my children before that. Why? Because they never visited. You never visited. But I digress. I come to the Ascendants. I have myself nice 'n' straight. And then my daughter comes to me, shouts in my fucking face, and leaves. My other children? Who the fuck knows? They all fuckin' disappeared, assumed dead. And their mother? ...Well, she left.
"Look, hon, I'm a prick. I'm an asshole. I know it, you know it, any dude with fuckin' ears in the Ascendants knows it. No one wants their kids around me. Hell, my kids don't want me around 'em. Because I'm a...careless...fucking...prick..." He struggled to compose himself now, his throat tightening and threatening to strangle him if he dared to speak once more. His voice crumbled like a wall being torn down, torn to reveal an intriguing nature for a demon—caring. He cared for his children, he loved his children so fucking much, but he hated himself for not being there, he hated himself for disrupting their lives by showing up. And maybe he hated Lunafreya for leaving them to.
"You were...you were gone, too. Least that's what I heard..." The cyborg slunk back now, forcing down heavy inhales and releasing broken exhales. He couldn't do this anymore. His lust for vengeance was missing altogether. His desire for reconciliation was gone. It was over. There was nothing more he could do.
"We don't deserve her, Lunafreya. She's better off...with the family she found. Not the one she was born into."
The latter, it appeared, would be the only possible solution, but the former would bring the most pleasure to the wolf. He would restrain himself for now.
"Well, please, dear, pull up a chair 'n' lemme tell ya a goddamn story," Zjarr finally drawled, his tail lashing as he spoke. Artificial claws of metal tapped against the ground almost impatiently; he was struggling to maintain his composure, struggling to keep his booming, thundering voice at bay, at something above a mere mumble.
"I'm going to assume you're not yankin' my chain here and you really are a hopeless case of amnesia. Look, I get it. Amnesia is a bitch. Been there, done that. So...let's start at the beginning. I'm Zjarr. I'm a blacksmith. I deal arms. I travel. And no need for an introduction on your part—I know who you are. We've met before.
"Things, erm...led to other things...between us. I'll keep it at that. Before I know it, I hear lil' birdies talkin' 'bout how I'mma be a baby daddy. I said, 'okay, great.' Kids. Nice. But I had a business to tend to. And I hoped, every single goddamn day, that at the very least they would grow in an environment where they would be safe. With a mother. With friends who would protect them." There was more to his absence than just business: at the time he was a raging alcoholic, a dangerous one. It would be a foolish decision to let a creature as that linger around children...or anyone, for that matter.
"The storm clouds pass. I'm better off. I pay a visit. I have never seen my children before that. Why? Because they never visited. You never visited. But I digress. I come to the Ascendants. I have myself nice 'n' straight. And then my daughter comes to me, shouts in my fucking face, and leaves. My other children? Who the fuck knows? They all fuckin' disappeared, assumed dead. And their mother? ...Well, she left.
"Look, hon, I'm a prick. I'm an asshole. I know it, you know it, any dude with fuckin' ears in the Ascendants knows it. No one wants their kids around me. Hell, my kids don't want me around 'em. Because I'm a...careless...fucking...prick..." He struggled to compose himself now, his throat tightening and threatening to strangle him if he dared to speak once more. His voice crumbled like a wall being torn down, torn to reveal an intriguing nature for a demon—caring. He cared for his children, he loved his children so fucking much, but he hated himself for not being there, he hated himself for disrupting their lives by showing up. And maybe he hated Lunafreya for leaving them to.
"You were...you were gone, too. Least that's what I heard..." The cyborg slunk back now, forcing down heavy inhales and releasing broken exhales. He couldn't do this anymore. His lust for vengeance was missing altogether. His desire for reconciliation was gone. It was over. There was nothing more he could do.
"We don't deserve her, Lunafreya. She's better off...with the family she found. Not the one she was born into."
[glow=#f24b00,2,300]how'd it get so scandalous?[/glow] — ☼
✰ — I'M JUST A SOUL WHOSE INTENTIONS ARE GOOD
zjarr ignibus / tanglewood / hellcat / weapons dealer / plot