10-03-2019, 07:52 PM
Home now a days was less about the place and more about the people. The animals that called it so. To survive in a world so drab argus clung to the personalities and made their own mockery of a face; not a lie, necessarily - just another face to wear. A Part of themselves shown to suit the kind of people surrounding them. It was hard to hind behind the mask that covered their face: a convoluted sentiment for sure - but in this form - this time: almost everything gave them away. THe body to big, too long. Strange foreign feeling but theirs to fit, suit to their needs. The size of some large prey animal, but argus was no prey ( no longer would they cower behind the opinions of animals that didn't matter , no longer would they allow themselves to care ) But it was bigger than the body of a white wolf they knew ; still the scars marked them as the same, the large gaping hole cutting above their collar bone and in between two glittering scars- declared them real. More Monster than they every were before. Hollows by nature were lined by a white mask and a hollow hole, the only difference was the color scheme, there was scant any black on them save the color of the scars.
Their size was only heightened when they had to bend lower to greet the young vulpine. Young, innocent seemingly. Bright eyed and so eager if just a touch shy. Argus could not claim such a mindset ever aroused in them, seeing something they could claim no sympathy for - no part of themselves in the stranger made the motions easier, made the greeting all the more smoother. But still, weary, awkward, the dragon bent the hook-tipped mask that just barely hid their pointed razor fangs down to the earth, all ten eyes focused on the small fae before them.
"[glow=#cc3232,2,300]little one,[/glow]" echoed the beast, the dragon - Argus ( their voice was different then they rembered, did it always change when they shifted forms? they cannot recall. Cannot remember a time they willingly changed from wolf to something else, now dragon was all they would know - all they would allow themselves. ) "[glow=#cc3232,2,300]do you always talk to strangers ? It is dangerous [/glow]" Argus cannot help the question , a part of themselves still coy - manipulative to a fault. A question before and answer make them work for the truth . Still they cannot help the way thier thoughts travels, in places like these they cannot help but wonder what other kind of foes the little kit must have avoided , a prisoner looking for a easy escape route, another more apathetic pittian who would only see such a kit as meat, scrap . they cannot help but think the worse; it is all they've known. The worst of animals. The worst of logic and justification can give.
argus cannot help the taste that catches their attention ; scent in flavor - new growth . The kit smells of plants and herbs, of kit-hood. It is a soft smell and they're head cocks to the side. Large leathery wings coming to allow their front paws to raise off the ground. It is an odd position. Six limbs - six limbs each with ways to hold, more dexterous than they are used to; they grip the ground underneath. claws cutting through dirt and green, staining pure white with an off shade contour to it. The silence rings, and they allow it ; discovering this knew feeling, this new feelings; no, not new but fresh. The first time they felt so vividly without memory or nightmare: wonder.
"[glow=#cc3232,2,300]Argus Grimm.[/glow]"