even the devil needs time alone sometime | vathmos

[Felibri]

[align=center]

It wasn't that Virgil was tired of being essentially homeless, but she was starting to feel a bit out of place. Everyone else had a house. She wondered how they managed to live alone in such a large place. Honestly, all Virgil needed was a place to lay down. She didn't even have any possessions. However, she began to worry that she looked out of place. Lately she had been venturing further and further beyond the borders in search of actual food.

When she returned the sun was beginning to set and Virgil tried to set foot in an empty house. The wood creaked under her paws and she jumped up skittishly. She pushed open the door and was greeted with a musty smell. The smell of loneliness. The smell of sluggishness. It was also dark and the ridiculously open space was putting her on edge. Something shifted and Virgil's ears laid back. She pulled her lips back over her teeth. Two beady eyes stared at her unblinking. It was a rat.

The painted wolf gave up and left the house. Something ached in her chest, but she couldn't put a paw on it. She had never felt anything other than triumph, pride, and courage. Now she looked over her shoulder continuously, almost certain that there was some weight chained to her legs, pulling her back.

Virgil paused when she reached Vathmos' house. She recognized the scent. She was also dimly aware of what had recently happened between her and the other hyena. The lycaon chewed her lip worryingly, glancing side to side. Whose house would she sleep under tonight? Virgil stood stock still, deep in thought.

[member=6879]Vathmos[/member]

[Vathmos]

[table][tr][td]

VATHMOS

INFORMATION ROLEPLAYER MISC.

[/td][td]

[/td][/tr][/table]

Vathmos' home was on the outskirts of town, and it was in bad shape. Vathmos didn't have the means to repair it, but it would probably be good for her. The hyena's home smelled much like herself- blood in various states of age, dead and rotting animals with a hint of mud.

Most of the rooms were empty and devoid of life. Vathmos didn't live in Tanglewood long enough to make her house into a home. It had a small living room with old, patchy, rotting carpet. It had a singular couch, a club chair, and a empty, rotting entertainment center. She never did anything with this room- its vacancy made her feel lonely. She only stayed in this home because the cub Mrish lived nearby and her shrine inside was too precious to be moved.

Vathmos' ears perked at the sound of someone outside, raising her head from her couch and trying to give a sniff, but the scent of her home clogged her nose. He moved to the broken window facing the front of the house, sitting up and resting her forepaws on the windowsill.
"Virgil? What are you doing on this side of town?"

━ [b]MY SKIN IS A STORY┆LONELY. CLINGY. HATEFUL. ━

[Felibri]

[align=center]

Virgil did not often find herself pondering. She was no intellectual and it would have frightened her to realize that she was actually thinking and analyzing her emotions. Her short, bristly fur rose at the sound of Vathmos’ voice. She hopped upwards awkwardly in surprise. Forcing down the quickening beat of her heart, she managed to meet Vathmos’ gaze with a sheepish look on her mottled face.

”Coming back from a hunt.” Came the blunt response. She forced her fur to lay down flat. The painted wolf turned and took a few steps forwards toward Vathmos’ house as if expecting to engage in a conversation. She paused, however, one paw raised in the air uncertainly. Vathmos had not invited her over. Her first encounter with Vathmos hadn’t been the best, but she hadn’t made a good impression on anyone yet. She had no friends and nobody to defend. Am I just a parasite? The thought of sucking out resources without contributing to the collected good of a society was a horrible idea. She wouldn’t do it willingly, but when she actually sat down to think about her character, it certainly seemed like she was just that, a parasite.

“I ... ah, I don’t spend much time in the center of town.” She admitted. Virgil mentally berated herself for sounding so extraordinarily dumb and unconfident with herself in front of another animal, even if they were supposed to be bound by virtue of being Tanglers.