DUST BOWL DANCE | p, for now

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]In a sense, Val agrees with him: the people here deserved to die, not for their alliance, but for their actions. They hurt others and enjoyed it, and he's not perfect either. He wants them to die, he doesn't want to offer them the chance at redemption. But if he thought that one person could do it, that Val could do it, he needed to rethink a few things. Maybe it's just that he's never killed like that before. Not in a fight or any situation where they can beg, and never senselessly. There was never a perfectly right or wrong way to do things, sure, but there's sure as hell a better one. Whenever there was the option for it, Val would avoid conflict. His temper might get the better of him when they hit the right buttons, but so far that's the only thing to get him riled up too much. See, the dog isn't the strongest opponent out there, with only a lean build and minimal experience. And maybe he just doesn't want to be the reason that people end up in the ground. It makes sense that he wouldn't go throwing himself around with those big problems.

Right now, both of those are showing pretty clearly. Compared to Feliks, Val is tiny. Most of his shape is fur, covering a body that isn't soft anymore but certainly isn't strong. Everything about him is rougher than when he started out into this world, from his paws to his personality. Snapping back at bullies became standing up to people like this, when it meant more, but it also became a bitter anger that often turned to people who didn't deserve it. He doesn't know if that's what's happening now — he keeps getting angrier and angrier the more Feliks talks, but maybe it's just because every word out of his mouth feels like another threat to his friend's safety. His teeth grind until his jaw starts to ache, not having wings to flap and not daring to move from where he stands. "A life is a life. You can't — justify or excuse what you just said." What was that phrase he'd heard thrown around all the time? Helping one person might not change the world, but it will change the world for that one person.

It is selfish that he chose Butch, of all the people here that could need his help, but selflessness has already cost him too much. With the way that the gryphon lunges at him, he wonders if it could possibly cost even more. Claws cut through his cheek, parting the white fur around his muzzle with long tines of red. He doesn't register the sting for a moment, but by then he's already in motion. The dog jumps right back at him, [b]aiming to clamp the same forelimb between his teeth. Tug-of-war was one of the few things that he had been good at when it comes to physical activity, and although his jaw couldn't clench too tightly around a limb like his, he has no intention of letting go if he manages to get a good grip.