07-27-2019, 11:28 PM
[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:65%;font-family:verdana;"]Michael wasn't sure if anyone should be living here. Between the pollution-ridden marshland, the landfill on the outskirts, and the massive crater that made his head ache every time he stayed too close for too long, this place was far from habitable. And, yet, here they stayed, strange bunch that they were. He reasoned that this was as good as he deserved: he knew no other group in the area, and figured none of them would be keen on his kind. What that was, exactly, he wasn't sure, but the faint ringing in his ears and dull feeling of guilt that clung to his every thought gave him a clue.
He's walking because he can, because nobody is telling him not to. About a month prior, he was but a hostage under the scrutiny of a stranger who claimed to be a doctor - every step he took was monitored, every twitch of his ear a sign of something terrible, every breath too hot or too shallow or too aggressive. Everything Michael had done was a mistake, a sign of some crucial flaw that made him a monster which needed to be contained. Now, free to do as he pleased, he constantly felt as though all eyes were on him: thus he hid in the shadows, lurked just out of sight. He felt safer when he was the only aware of his own whereabouts.
It's as he plods through the mud, picking up each paw just to hear the faint suck of wet clay and debris underfoot, that he comes across an unfamiliar scent. And, in following this scent rather blindly, he bumps right into the chest of a stranger - a large stranger, much taller than his canid frame. Michael steps back, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly, and allows himself a good look at the newcomer. He would ask what they want, who they are - but the words stick in his dry throat and escape his half-parted mouth as a faint wheeze. Instead, he tilts his head in question. That ought to say enough.
He's walking because he can, because nobody is telling him not to. About a month prior, he was but a hostage under the scrutiny of a stranger who claimed to be a doctor - every step he took was monitored, every twitch of his ear a sign of something terrible, every breath too hot or too shallow or too aggressive. Everything Michael had done was a mistake, a sign of some crucial flaw that made him a monster which needed to be contained. Now, free to do as he pleased, he constantly felt as though all eyes were on him: thus he hid in the shadows, lurked just out of sight. He felt safer when he was the only aware of his own whereabouts.
It's as he plods through the mud, picking up each paw just to hear the faint suck of wet clay and debris underfoot, that he comes across an unfamiliar scent. And, in following this scent rather blindly, he bumps right into the chest of a stranger - a large stranger, much taller than his canid frame. Michael steps back, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly, and allows himself a good look at the newcomer. He would ask what they want, who they are - but the words stick in his dry throat and escape his half-parted mouth as a faint wheeze. Instead, he tilts his head in question. That ought to say enough.
[align=center][div style="text-align:right;width:59%;font-family:verdana;"][font=verdana][size=11pt][color=transparent][url=https://beastsofbeyond.com/index.php?topic=13462.0][color=black][b][i]LET HIM WHO THINKS HE KNOWS NO FEAR
LOOK WELL UPON MY FACE
LOOK WELL UPON MY FACE