11-25-2018, 03:05 AM
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idk what this is = he was joining but then there's honeyguide
Washington had never expected leaving everything behind to be this easy. His entire life lies behind him, sealed up and unreachable. That on its own manages to mitigate some of the homesickness — can't miss what you can't go back to. When people say that it's impossible to go home again, they usually don't mean it this literally. So he looks to the future as best as he can, with only the occasional glances back to the gently forested area he called home. The longer he walked, the more the landscape changed and the more unsure he became. The area he found himself in now was hot and humid, though after the trek across desert sands — well, that was more than welcome. Still, he finds himself missing a world that understood moderation.
But this world didn't understand anything, certainly not his purpose here. He ran into animals he didn't understand. Unnatural colors, mutations, and a certain brutality. The wolf bared his teeth and most of them left him alone. His bark was worse than his bite, or maybe he was just a pacifist. Leaving him alone gave him some time to think, to observe. And so far all that he's observed is that everything he'd learned in the vault was wrong. The doors opened and they all flooded out; Washington with his medical supplies and candid smile, others with guns and scrap metal. They were messy, enthusiastic creatures, all wanting to fix things. Rebuild. But the world that they had been introduced to wasn't one that needed rebuilding. It certainly wasn't without its flaws, though. These people didn't really convince him to leave them alone. Not after he saw the cruelty they all offered one another.
So he was... here. The wolf keeps his head turning as he walks through the thick jungle, his pace slowing once he hits a scent marker that he honestly finds repulsive. A low, disgusted hh rumbles in his throat as he takes a seat, to — wait, he supposes, though he decides that he should probably go through his supplies or something instead of just wasting time. As soon as he unhooks the strap holding it in place, it falls to the ground with a gentle thump with bandages cushioning the bottom. Like he hasn't done this a thousand times without need.
idk what this is = he was joining but then there's honeyguide
Washington had never expected leaving everything behind to be this easy. His entire life lies behind him, sealed up and unreachable. That on its own manages to mitigate some of the homesickness — can't miss what you can't go back to. When people say that it's impossible to go home again, they usually don't mean it this literally. So he looks to the future as best as he can, with only the occasional glances back to the gently forested area he called home. The longer he walked, the more the landscape changed and the more unsure he became. The area he found himself in now was hot and humid, though after the trek across desert sands — well, that was more than welcome. Still, he finds himself missing a world that understood moderation.
But this world didn't understand anything, certainly not his purpose here. He ran into animals he didn't understand. Unnatural colors, mutations, and a certain brutality. The wolf bared his teeth and most of them left him alone. His bark was worse than his bite, or maybe he was just a pacifist. Leaving him alone gave him some time to think, to observe. And so far all that he's observed is that everything he'd learned in the vault was wrong. The doors opened and they all flooded out; Washington with his medical supplies and candid smile, others with guns and scrap metal. They were messy, enthusiastic creatures, all wanting to fix things. Rebuild. But the world that they had been introduced to wasn't one that needed rebuilding. It certainly wasn't without its flaws, though. These people didn't really convince him to leave them alone. Not after he saw the cruelty they all offered one another.
So he was... here. The wolf keeps his head turning as he walks through the thick jungle, his pace slowing once he hits a scent marker that he honestly finds repulsive. A low, disgusted hh rumbles in his throat as he takes a seat, to — wait, he supposes, though he decides that he should probably go through his supplies or something instead of just wasting time. As soon as he unhooks the strap holding it in place, it falls to the ground with a gentle thump with bandages cushioning the bottom. Like he hasn't done this a thousand times without need.
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｢ WHERE CAN A DEAD MAN GO? ｣
[color=black]INFO | A QUESTION WITH AN ANSWER ONLY DEAD MEN KNOW