12-29-2018, 04:39 PM
Home. It was an object, and similarly to every object, homes had the potential to be solid, just as homes had the potential to be broken. Many of those who skulked into Tanglewood’s territory uninvited had found themselves on fault of a broken home. Awful families, unlaundered living conditions, destitution, each an affliction that could birth an imperfect dwelling. In the hound’s case, it was all of the above, and all it took was a single dire event to send him this far west and into the bogs. These disarrayed mires were not at all a bad habitat for those who needed it. Tanglewood was unlike the remainder of the nearby groups - one was not expected to dedicate all of their time to needless responsibilities, nor were there inordinately restrictive rules to abide by. As long as another Tangler was not harmed on your part, and you welcomed each lost cause moseying along, you were good.
Leroy was good. He followed the few principles that the swamp-bound tribe had to its name. It was not in his code to harm a fellow comrade, unless absolutely necessary, and he did his outright best to greet the newcomers, as ugly as he (and they) were.
The holiday season may have been drawing to a quick close, yet today was just like the rest. The ground was soppy, the gators were gnarring, and the radioactive fluids were likely bubbling. And his fucking head hurt. The migraines were ailing the Guardsman once more.
On this completely humdrum day, Leroy’s surroundings were donated the conventional gift of a fresh face. Totally normal. Nothing off the beaten track. Top-to-bottom unremarkable.
Also present was Kiira, who spoke the essential words of welcome, and Crow, whose mere greeting supplied the encounter with basically nothing. Leroy simply added, "Dittoin’ the glitch. What’s it ya specifically need?"
Leroy was good. He followed the few principles that the swamp-bound tribe had to its name. It was not in his code to harm a fellow comrade, unless absolutely necessary, and he did his outright best to greet the newcomers, as ugly as he (and they) were.
The holiday season may have been drawing to a quick close, yet today was just like the rest. The ground was soppy, the gators were gnarring, and the radioactive fluids were likely bubbling. And his fucking head hurt. The migraines were ailing the Guardsman once more.
On this completely humdrum day, Leroy’s surroundings were donated the conventional gift of a fresh face. Totally normal. Nothing off the beaten track. Top-to-bottom unremarkable.
Also present was Kiira, who spoke the essential words of welcome, and Crow, whose mere greeting supplied the encounter with basically nothing. Leroy simply added, "Dittoin’ the glitch. What’s it ya specifically need?"