09-13-2018, 06:52 PM
Neutral, as a word, could be greatly exaggerated. And, in Leroy’s view, he felt that was the case for him. Tanglewood was not a war-hungry clan, nor was Leroy, and he quite liked being in the middle, thank you very much. Yet, his actions may say the contrary.
Deliberately leaving his turf to forcefully heist an innocents’ limb? That was downright evil. But, once you took into account that it was not out of his own interest, as the mongrel committed the deed under Aya’s influence, one would find that the leg-snatching mutt was no longer the evil one - his employer was. Thus, the whole “neutral” term begins to get tossed around, and yadda yadda, everybody moves on. Starkweather was not a good person, yet he was not bad either. He was in the centre. The medium. The halfway.
Essentially, in a yin-yang, he was the border that separated black from white.
Most of Tanglewood’s inhabitants were like this as well, not wanting to be the light or dark, though there were indeed a some folk here that had yet to get their head straight. Mainly, this was referring to Delilah, who must have not harmed another being before, and Ophelia, his friend whom fell underneath the same category. Even if their presences were welcomed by all, their actions, by default, labeled them as outlanders, regardless if others could accept the fact. Those two weren’t “neutral” - they were good. And, the thing was, due to his friendly relationship with talkative Ophelia, Leroy wanted to be good, too. Disregarding that it would never be so, her ways inspired him to view situations from the positive side, and motivating him to many other mannerisms that he had never thought he’d do six months ago.
Overall, this one scenario was a minor addition to the crisis he was already going through heeding where his loyalty was and his current alignment, and it was really getting to him. A few nights ago, he got loaded drunk, unfortunately to the viewing pleasure of a handful of others, just to harden his mind. Evidently, waking up to an incredibly messy home and an upset stomach the morning after, it only made things worse. What he truly needed was someone to talk to, a someone that could see the good in him, all while pointing out his flaws. In other words, he needed an honest friend, those of which weren’t in a vast supply anymore, though luckily for him, Leroy could always count on one. Ophelia.
God, he hoped she was faring well with her injuries. His eyes hadn’t caught sight of her since the calamity between her and some assailant wannabe until recently, which was entirely his fault. After Axle carried her back (the feat Leroy still believed he should have done), immediately going to see her should have been his top priority, instead of pursuing giblets for the boss; but alas, he was a bad friend.
Would she even care to see him after all this time? Would she be happy? He didn’t know.
He did understand, though, that a visit could work well for the both of them. Initially he’d begin at her home, rattling on the door’s exterior to garner the winged feline’s attention. If that did not work, he’d continue to the library, where the deuce first met, subsequently to the forest onwards. It all depended on her current location, the one in question he’d find before the sun truly went down. Only a few hours remained before that happened.
// [member=1933]ophelia.[/member] really had no idea how to write this + literally lost all muse rip
Deliberately leaving his turf to forcefully heist an innocents’ limb? That was downright evil. But, once you took into account that it was not out of his own interest, as the mongrel committed the deed under Aya’s influence, one would find that the leg-snatching mutt was no longer the evil one - his employer was. Thus, the whole “neutral” term begins to get tossed around, and yadda yadda, everybody moves on. Starkweather was not a good person, yet he was not bad either. He was in the centre. The medium. The halfway.
Essentially, in a yin-yang, he was the border that separated black from white.
Most of Tanglewood’s inhabitants were like this as well, not wanting to be the light or dark, though there were indeed a some folk here that had yet to get their head straight. Mainly, this was referring to Delilah, who must have not harmed another being before, and Ophelia, his friend whom fell underneath the same category. Even if their presences were welcomed by all, their actions, by default, labeled them as outlanders, regardless if others could accept the fact. Those two weren’t “neutral” - they were good. And, the thing was, due to his friendly relationship with talkative Ophelia, Leroy wanted to be good, too. Disregarding that it would never be so, her ways inspired him to view situations from the positive side, and motivating him to many other mannerisms that he had never thought he’d do six months ago.
Overall, this one scenario was a minor addition to the crisis he was already going through heeding where his loyalty was and his current alignment, and it was really getting to him. A few nights ago, he got loaded drunk, unfortunately to the viewing pleasure of a handful of others, just to harden his mind. Evidently, waking up to an incredibly messy home and an upset stomach the morning after, it only made things worse. What he truly needed was someone to talk to, a someone that could see the good in him, all while pointing out his flaws. In other words, he needed an honest friend, those of which weren’t in a vast supply anymore, though luckily for him, Leroy could always count on one. Ophelia.
God, he hoped she was faring well with her injuries. His eyes hadn’t caught sight of her since the calamity between her and some assailant wannabe until recently, which was entirely his fault. After Axle carried her back (the feat Leroy still believed he should have done), immediately going to see her should have been his top priority, instead of pursuing giblets for the boss; but alas, he was a bad friend.
Would she even care to see him after all this time? Would she be happy? He didn’t know.
He did understand, though, that a visit could work well for the both of them. Initially he’d begin at her home, rattling on the door’s exterior to garner the winged feline’s attention. If that did not work, he’d continue to the library, where the deuce first met, subsequently to the forest onwards. It all depended on her current location, the one in question he’d find before the sun truly went down. Only a few hours remained before that happened.
// [member=1933]ophelia.[/member] really had no idea how to write this + literally lost all muse rip