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Post by poison on Jan 17, 2012 22:37:50 GMT -5
A M O R A
Silence. Everything was quiet, everything was still. It left her ears ringing, simply from the quiet. Relaxed, easy steps down the sidewalks. Her pads were so used to walking on grass, the cement was slightly chaffing on her paws. She simply turned it into an elegant walk, the walk of pain. She would have to get used to it, suck it up. She had never been in town before. Well, she had, but she was so young she doesn't remember it. She was born a stray, and had been one her whole life. It didn't really make her sad to be without humans, it made her rather happy. They had cold, metal things they would put you in. Or hard plastic, and give you a blanket like that was supposed to keep you warm. Pfft. & they would poke you and poke you, until you bled. Then they would give you good bones to chew on, but they reeked of foul things. They tried to tell you where you could go and when, and how far. They put collars on like they owned you, and used leashes. Awful, ugly controlling things.
Anyways, this is what her mother had told her. She didn't know, for they were all gone by the time she was born. She told her awful stories about them. Good ones, too, but not many. Amora still wishes she could have met some, experienced it for herself. Draw her own conclusion from her own experience, not someone else's. After all, everyone sees things differently, and who know what they left out or added in when they told the story. Her mother, especially. She wouldn't add things in very often, but she would leave them out. Just to spare their young ears. Amora didn't care either way, it's not like she had a bad story to go off of and decide anyways. That's what Amora was about. Independence, Individuality. She was her own dog, she had her own opinions and feelings that she felt should be respected. She did her own things, and didn't believe in someone else telling her what and how to do, like her mother.
Except her mother's experience came from dealing with humans, Amora just couldn't even imagine being bossed around. That had been a huge issue with her mom, when she was a pup. Being told what to do. After she had learned the word "no", all hell broke loose for her mom. She chuckled under her breath. Poor mother. She loved the word, felt amazed at how such a little word could hold so much power to it. So, she used it as often as she could, much to those surrounding her's dismay. She wasn't "bossy", persay, she just knew what she liked and wanted and how to do it. As long as you didn't ask what she wanted, you would be okay. But dogs that didn't consider what other's wanted to perceived as selfish, and she did not like selfish dogs. She always asked what others would rather, whether they would act like her as a result or not, she still did it. Still walking along with a slight gimp she did her best to disguise and ignore, she smiled.
status: closed
words: 537 [minus coding]
mood: placid
puppet(s): Amora & Roscoe
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Post by swifty on Jan 17, 2012 23:06:46 GMT -5
There was much to know about the big, muscular Beauceron that now strolled down the empty street. There was a lot to know about any dog but especially a lot to know about this dog. That is if one wanted to take the time and effort to try to get to know him and find out what had made him the way he was. No one really seemed to care about his history so he did his best to put it behind him and not even think about it. What was the point? Why should he care about his past when no one else did? So he simply didn't care.
One thing the Beauceron did care about however was females and fighting. He had been born and raised in the cursed human dog fights which had given him a completely different outlook on life than any other dog would normally have. He of course didn't know any better and didn't know anything different than fighting so whatever he might have missed as a puppy mattered little to him. All he knew was that what he had learned while he was in the dog fights was that you have to fight if you want to survive and you have to worry about yourself above everyone else. And that was exactly what he did.
The name of this strong beast you may ask is Roscoe. It is as sarcastic and devilish as he is. It's safe to say that it suits him well. Besides being sarcastic and devilish, Roscoe is also quite the charmer when it comes to ladies. At least that's what he thinks. He isn't incredibly bright but isn't stupid either. Normally he is found out on his own since he doesn't particularly enjoy being stuck with dogs all day, every day. And it's quite surprising that the beast is a part of a pack. His main reason for joining a pack is unknown to most and sometimes he isn't sure why he broke down and joined one.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, the male continued on down the sidewalk till his golden gaze stopped to rest on the approaching shape of a female dog. Raising his head a bit more, a smirk began to spread across his face and he paused for a moment before his paws carried him forward once more. As he came closer to the canine, he could tell that her paws were hurting a bit from the way she was walking and he began to wonder where it was that she came from. If she was a stray then she should be use to walking on the hard cement like he was. But it didn't seem that way. He pushed the question to the back of his mind but didn't completely forget about it.
"Well hello darlin', what are ya doin' out here by yourself?" he asked her, a bit of a smirk still remaining on his face as he tilted his head to the side a bit and waited for her reply. |
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Post by poison on Jan 18, 2012 17:53:37 GMT -5
A M O R A
Quietly she pondered how she became this way. Such an empathizer, when did she come to care so much about other dogs when they cared nothing for her? She was thinking on it sourly, til she got too close to the other dog for her liking. She didn't dislike it, but she needed to focus, couldn't be deep in thought about other things that were completely unrelated. She thought they turn away, go somewhere else, so she continued to watch her surroundings, and not the dog. She studied what was in the shops. She walked by what looked like used to be a fllower shop. Pondering who had bought what kind of flowers and what they had done with them, she imagined a man giving them to his lady and her eyes lighting up after that, thrilled. Her look turned sour. 'Well, he got laid that night.' she thought to herself, trying not to think too deep into it.
As he got to the point where she could hear his toe nails hitting the cement, she looked up. He was a sturdy dog, healthy. He had his share of scars, like he'd been in plenty fights. Didn't look like he'd lost too many from the swagger in his walk, either. She rolled her eyes. 'Great, another dude he thinks hes hot stuff when hes probably got much for brains and won't hold my attention for long at all.' she thought. She wasn't quite a complete good girl, a lot of males lost her attention quickly. And so she would proceed to move on, not hang around and try to make it work like some girls. The closer he got, the more closed off and tense she became. She wasn't tense to the point of it being obvious, as she did nothing in the obvious manner. She was just naturally a sneaky dog, so sometimes others grew frustrated about not being able to tell what she thought or how she felt.
Oh well. At least she could draw conclusions from their actions following the frustration or annoyance, or maybe both. She drew her own conclusions, always. She didn't go off of hearsay, which sometimes turned out good and sometimes bit her in the ass. It was about half and half, so she continued to do so. That was just the dog she was. He kept getting closer, his swagger more apparent. She held her head high, not frightened in the least, whether she should be or not. Ignorance at its best. Pride at its best. She had it to go around. She stopped in her tracks. When he got close enough she could smell him, his lips parted. "Well hello darlin', what are ya doin' out here by yourself?" He was smirking, she had the impulse to reach out and knock that smirk right off his face. With her teeth. "Well, sweet heart," she said, sarcasm dripping from her words, "I could ask you the same." she finished. Satisfied with her reply, she waited. Her face had an expression of innocence on it, played like a damn good actor. Really, she had nothing but venom spewing out of her mouth.
His first question was the best way to piss her off. She decided he deserved an award. The first thing out of his mouth. Sexist males were one of her buttons, and that is the way she interpreted his statement. "Or, do you think you can do whatever you please but I can't because I have a vagina?" she asked, purposely not saying 'because I'm female' to see his reaction. She would gauge it, judge it, and store it away. Maybe he hadn't meant it that way at all, she thought. Maybe I'm just in such a sour mood I took it that way, and bit his head off for nothing. Oh well, he had her pride times a few, he needed someone to knock him down a few steps. She didn't think it would be her, but that decision made her not feel bad in the least. She was not, sure as hell, taking that statement back. Backtrack was not her thing, when she said something she meant it.
status: closed
words: 715 [minus coding]
mood: sickly sweet
puppet(s): Amora & Roscoe
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