08-21-2018, 07:23 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Gabe's sure not the only one melting here. Why he stayed in a place that burnt his paw pads and scorched his back was beyond him. At least Gabe had the advantage of wings and talons, though — well, he had a broken wing and all. His fault. He figured that he'd manage just fine, 'cause it's not like there were a whole lot of people he'd regretted hurting in the past. Nobody, really. But even though he'd gotten permission, waited for the hybrid to tell him to do it, something had still twisted and burned. It was the first time he'd felt sorry for the pain he caused, finally realizing that sometimes people didn't deserve it — sometimes he should stop himself. A strange lesson to learn in the strangest of places and times, but every part of his life had been strange in some way, and he couldn't really expect an exception, now could he? At least it's not to say that life here was entirely awful; he seems to be doing alright.
One of the first things he did was find a stick. Not people or a place to sleep, just something to chew as he thought. The canine found a relatively cool place and bit at it until it snapped. Splinters bit into the hard corners of his mouth, but it didn't hurt. The motion manages to lull him into a quiet, comfortable emptiness. No more thinking, just the hard wood against his teeth and tongue. It was easier to feel things snap than feel.
The canine is jolted out of his haze by a familiar carrying over the desert. Immediately the Cane Corso is alert, cropped ears perked and short tail pointed high to shot off his underside. Not alarm, though. Not fear. Forgetting about the stick he still carries (it's long and sun-bleached and one end has been chewed to splinters — it's covered in slobber), he listens effortlessly. There's no wariness, and the built that tries to rise up in his throat is summarily swallowed again and again. Because Gabe wouldn't be here if he was mad, he wouldn't be telling him to get over there. Laz only remembers the stick once he's standing over the hybrid again, just because he tries to say something and finds his mouth full of wood. Oops. He sets it down but doesn't quite find his words again yet. He'd never been one to understand what it felt like to have his heart in his throat, but Lazarus might be learning.
One of the first things he did was find a stick. Not people or a place to sleep, just something to chew as he thought. The canine found a relatively cool place and bit at it until it snapped. Splinters bit into the hard corners of his mouth, but it didn't hurt. The motion manages to lull him into a quiet, comfortable emptiness. No more thinking, just the hard wood against his teeth and tongue. It was easier to feel things snap than feel.
The canine is jolted out of his haze by a familiar carrying over the desert. Immediately the Cane Corso is alert, cropped ears perked and short tail pointed high to shot off his underside. Not alarm, though. Not fear. Forgetting about the stick he still carries (it's long and sun-bleached and one end has been chewed to splinters — it's covered in slobber), he listens effortlessly. There's no wariness, and the built that tries to rise up in his throat is summarily swallowed again and again. Because Gabe wouldn't be here if he was mad, he wouldn't be telling him to get over there. Laz only remembers the stick once he's standing over the hybrid again, just because he tries to say something and finds his mouth full of wood. Oops. He sets it down but doesn't quite find his words again yet. He'd never been one to understand what it felt like to have his heart in his throat, but Lazarus might be learning.
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｢ GRAVE DIGGER, GRAVE DIGGER. [url=https://beastsofbeyond.com/index.php?topic=7333.msg48711#msg48711]INFO. ｣