11-26-2018, 03:28 AM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]/ shush alloy you're fine + thank you!!
Grayson really had been something else, when they were growing up. Others in the vault flocked to him, wrapped up in his impeccable manners. Washington couldn't say that he was entirely immune. Though he'd thrown himself into his studies and spent his off time doing more studying, there were some days when his heart did something odd. He waved it off, but it was hard not to feel something when the leopard grinned at him. It was always part jealousy and part affection. He hadn't quite managed to not get caught up in that snare, the same one that left almost everyone he knew dead. There were some days that he would find himself absently smiling at the leopard's back as he told some ridiculous joke — then it was back to his books. Those were safe, and quiet, and existed solely on his terms. Though lonely, it was also comfortable.
Then his parents had died. Shocking, he knows: another kid with dead parents. They'd died in some sort of accident, and with that went a lot of his hope. Sure, he pushed himself out of his box a bit. Got social, dated a few times, found himself falling into his work with a smile. But more than that, Washington found himself taking up all sorts of sports. Everything he could. They had a sort of soccer team and he'd joined that, wrestled and play-fought and tore up all kinds of training dummies. He'd only fully grown after losing everything. The wolf's shoulders are broad, with a limber sort of strength. He knows his body and its limits. Today, that might just save his life.
His first instinct when weight hits his body is to fall — not gently, but not gracelessly either. The canine drops to his side with a heavy thud, his shoulder hitting a moment before his hip and the contents of his bag haphazardly scattering. Washington has yet to see who attacked him, just a black blur of fur, but he's too busy moving to search anyway. All he can hope is that it was enough to shake his opponent off their game long enough for him to finish finding his feet without interruption. A low growl already tears from his throat and his ears are flat. There's no betrayal — yet — but Honeyguide certainly caught him by surprise.
Grayson really had been something else, when they were growing up. Others in the vault flocked to him, wrapped up in his impeccable manners. Washington couldn't say that he was entirely immune. Though he'd thrown himself into his studies and spent his off time doing more studying, there were some days when his heart did something odd. He waved it off, but it was hard not to feel something when the leopard grinned at him. It was always part jealousy and part affection. He hadn't quite managed to not get caught up in that snare, the same one that left almost everyone he knew dead. There were some days that he would find himself absently smiling at the leopard's back as he told some ridiculous joke — then it was back to his books. Those were safe, and quiet, and existed solely on his terms. Though lonely, it was also comfortable.
Then his parents had died. Shocking, he knows: another kid with dead parents. They'd died in some sort of accident, and with that went a lot of his hope. Sure, he pushed himself out of his box a bit. Got social, dated a few times, found himself falling into his work with a smile. But more than that, Washington found himself taking up all sorts of sports. Everything he could. They had a sort of soccer team and he'd joined that, wrestled and play-fought and tore up all kinds of training dummies. He'd only fully grown after losing everything. The wolf's shoulders are broad, with a limber sort of strength. He knows his body and its limits. Today, that might just save his life.
His first instinct when weight hits his body is to fall — not gently, but not gracelessly either. The canine drops to his side with a heavy thud, his shoulder hitting a moment before his hip and the contents of his bag haphazardly scattering. Washington has yet to see who attacked him, just a black blur of fur, but he's too busy moving to search anyway. All he can hope is that it was enough to shake his opponent off their game long enough for him to finish finding his feet without interruption. A low growl already tears from his throat and his ears are flat. There's no betrayal — yet — but Honeyguide certainly caught him by surprise.
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｢ WHERE CAN A DEAD MAN GO? ｣
[color=black]INFO | A QUESTION WITH AN ANSWER ONLY DEAD MEN KNOW