HUSTLE BONES :: aesior

[Zjarr]

[div style="width: 48%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]The canine was utterly unfazed by all that was around him at this moment, his chocolate brown gaze darting about the piles of metal like the all-seeing eyes of an eagle. Nothing eluded him, not one single piece. He had his means of determining what he would take and what wouldn't; there were certain degrees of usability amongst his finds, and he had to quickly determine what was a good catch and what wasn't before moving on to the next. The demon would grab hold of a piece of scrap, check it for visible vulnerabilities and faults, and then put it to the test physically, smacking it against the rusted and worn frame of the car he was standing on and even going so far as to bite the metal, testing its strength with his own teeth and jaws. Anything that wasn't suitable for him was unceremoniously tossed into some other pile in the distance before he went back for more.

But something brought Zjarr out of this stupor: a disgusting, razor-sharp noise that made his ears flatten against his head and his lips pull back into a disturbed grimace. An icy chill shook through his entire body, from nose to tail, in response to the abrupt sound coming from behind him. Pulling his head up from between the cranny he had plunged into, the husky promptly turned, blinking quickly and roughly so to readjust to the sun's blinding light. Below him was a small tabby cat, a feline with his paw stretched out next to the junk next to him, claws extended so to create an unpleasant noise once he ripped his paw across it. That unpleasant noise, the one that tightened every muscle in Zjarr's body in revulsion.

He waited in silence for a little as if he expected for the cat to say something to him. Was he trespassing? He didn't pick up anyone's scent coming into this place (then again, with the pungent reek of rust and shit everywhere, it wasn't like he could smell anything). The tabby was silent still, even after a few moments. What was his deal? "Uh, sorry, man. Am I in your way?" he asked, running a pink tongue across his lips.

Maybe the cat was another scavenger like him. This junkyard was more or less a goldmine for scrap hunters, and Zjarr didn't mind sharing this space. Fine by me, he thought. "I'll just find another spot, don't'cha worry," he continued as he made his way down his current tower and onto the one next to it. If his assumptions were correct, he wasn't sure why the other guy wouldn't just find another place in this big-ass yard to scavenge. What was really going on?

[glow=#f24b00,2,300]cold cold cold[/glow] — ☼