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Post by Rook on Jan 28, 2009 1:16:05 GMT -5
Rook remembered thinking that clearly, or something like it, something about the flipped-over slide, which had long since been cleared away, looked like a dying dinosaur.
Rook could see the cheerily red, yellow and blue paint still newly dried on the poles, bars and springs that made up the playground of Kenn park.
Already the paint was streaked with lines of broken white, and indication of tiny, absentminded fingernails scraping the surface without realizing what they were doing.
He saw evidence of a lower life form as well, foul words scraped, and printed in final-looking black ink on one of the cheery yellow poles.
There were whores, sluts, bitches and bastards betraying strings of phone numbers and names, cross outs and arrows. Already, Christ they just built it. Rook felt a familiar anger and pain strike his gut, in contempt for the younger generation so pure that it reminded him of his father and he grimaced.
There were also declarations of love, lust and newborns, but many of these were defaced and scratched out. Smiley faces, beer bottles, penises (of all shapes and sizes) and breasts (usually of generally the same variety), pawprints, crucifixes, Clan signs, dratols. After a while they ran together into one blob of symbols, initials and dates.
on the back of the KENN PARK sign he saw the cream of the crop, whole sentences in capitals, of still drying red paint.
THE ONLY GOOD SCRATCH IS A DEAD SCRATCH
Ah, the old fall back. That's us all right. We all have birth defects and stutter when we talk. We tend to be weak of mind and body and can not be left to our own devices.
Rook smiled ironically, but he actually chuckled when he saw what had been added below it by someone else with differing opinions.
AND THE ONLY GOOD PURE WAS YOUR MOM.
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Post by dargan on Jan 28, 2009 1:56:19 GMT -5
Wind rushed the mixbreed's ears, the sound buffeting out most others as he rode high above the ground, weaving and dodging in between buildings. His eyes were trained through the tented lenses of his ventilator mask, the optics scoping out and locking onto multiple targets and giving him full range readings from distance to height. His altitude and speed streamed across the bottom of his vision, though not hindering it in the least.
His fur was matting to itself, freezing in low cloud cover of the evening, the moisture weighing down his tattered cloak and pants. The feathers on his mask were even starting to freeze to one another. His front foot pushed harder on the nose of his board, bringing it downward slightly and his speed increased, knees bent and arms sprawled out like wings arched to take off, but he was already in flight. Suddenly he pushed off, the board shot out behind him though his feet were still locked into position, one slipping back and landing on a small silver button. A blast of fire shot him rocketing between two close buildings and over the park muzzle first, the board catching air and causing him to spin like a bullet shot from a gun.
Freedom at it's finest. He kicked the button again turning off the thruster and his speed slowed. Trailing behind him was a string of smoke that twisted in the tight spiraled path that he'd taken, the color unlike that from flames, but deep bloody red.
A laugh escaped his muzzle. The boy was a bit crazy for pulling such stunts in the middle of a populated city, but who could stop him?
He pulled the nose of his board down again, heading towards the ground at an ever slowing speed and turning towards a clearing in the park. Before he'd even reached the ground his feet were free of the straps. Dargan stepped form his board, grabbing it with one hand and throwing the kick switch with his elbow to turn it off. His ears were freezing at this point, chilled so bad that they stung. "Shit!" He muttered to himself, walking towards a sheltered area and sitting down on a concrete berm.
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Post by Rook on Jan 28, 2009 23:15:43 GMT -5
Rook heard the loud, though somewhat dignified, roaring of the jets in his ears and they lifted high to catch the familiar thrum of a dying engine. He smelled the smoke strongly and looked away, grimacing and following the ruddy ribbon to Dar's safe landing.
His eyes widened a bit as he watched the other hybrid take off towards the small pavilion, his frown not quite becoming a grin but flattening and spreading over his features to tug into a smug half smile, his long whiskers twitching in the cold, moist air.
He paused to look up at the sky, his long, thick fur kept him warm on days like this, not as cold as it could be, not with heated streets and such, but nevertheless, with night approaching, it was a little chilly. His claws fed information to him as he waved his hand in the air, at the same time gesturing for the brat's attention.
Woo, below thirty today. Not the worst, but it's not exactly the Gelph.
He blinked in the fading light and heard the familiar night sounds of Lucent begin, hover vehicles roared and beeped, enourmous floating bill boards lit up, the street was quiet with the mutter of the crowds of pedestrians and the occasional straggler asking for change, but it was almost devoid of light compared to Lucent's skys.
Things couldn't spread out, so they went up.
Rook felt a familiar ache of desperation for his city. He loved it, often he forgot how much in the cold and crime.
He approached Dar, his smirk becoming a grin, handsome, but rare on his rough features.
"Hello brat, seems you haven't quite killed yourself yet".
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Post by dargan on Feb 3, 2009 22:42:42 GMT -5
Dar shivered, leaning against a concrete wall, his head shaking to flick the ice from his ears. It was bad enough that it had built up on his fur, but his skin as well? That wasn't exactly what he would have called good. Frost bite could take someone's ears completely off. A low growl left his throat as he pulled off the ventilator, letting it dangle from the connecting tubes. His left hand lifted up to rub the remaining ice flecks from his fur and ears. "Damn.. I need to put some ear protectors on this thing." He muttered looking down through the ventilators eye pieces and watching as lines of information passed through their lenses.
A sound caught the mixbreed's attention and he turned to see the Angel walking towards him and waving. Dar paused and stood up again, flicking a small switch to turn off his oxygen and information.
Laughing he shuffled the board in his biogenetic arm's grip. "You wish old man. At least then you wouldn't have to deal with me hmm?.." He paused, smiling. "Nah not yet.. at least I don't have plans on it anytime soon...What about you? I see you haven't exactly gotten yourself killed." He joked, looking Rook in the eyes.
Why's he always look so down? Besides the fact that every time I see the man he's alone. He needs to lighten up a bit...
Another sigh left his muzzle. Maybe it was just his job, it had to be a hard one. Unlike Dar's, which was just performing once in a while, turning tricks for cash. It was a good living, but.. sometimes it was like all eyes were on him, expecting more and more each time. Like some of them couldn't wait to see him fail.
This city, the people, they'd turned into a bunch of blood lusting killers and maniacs. Between the fighting, crime, and the stuff that went on in that so-called game, Pack, was it? Sure it was fun to watch, but to be a part of it? You had to be a little crazy.
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Post by Rook on Feb 4, 2009 1:15:53 GMT -5
"You shouldn't be so frivolous with your health" said Rook disapprovingly as he watched the ice chip from Dar's fur like snowflakes. He of course, was a hypocrite, being the one rather on the thin and alcoholic side, but there was no need to bring that up, respect for your sah's and all that. Rook's thick, heavy layers of fur was only slightly russled by the onslaught of the wind, his thick coat hung from his sleek frame like the skin of an animal.
Rook did crack a smile though and raised his eyebrow at the fellow mutt, closing the distance between them and settled down beside him in the oddly quick, shuffling way he moved "Yeah well, it's just been luck all this time, sort of like that stone age motercycle I have, my old sah used to say "It's not if, it 's when". "
His ragged tail whapped on the icy ground and then curled around the bench's leg. "I dunno what he would've done if he'd met a pro skyboarder while he lived, probably would have told you to take that hippi shit elsewhere".
He dusted the sleet off his sleeves. "However I am kind of admiring that hippi shit. Have you been doing it in this rain"?
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Post by dargan on Feb 4, 2009 2:28:41 GMT -5
Dar sat down beside Rook, having stood in respect to the older man. It was only polite after all, to meet someone's gaze. "It isn't that bad out..and its not hippi shit. Sure it can be fun, but you can get yourself skinned if you aren't careful.. Like you dodging bullets.. try dodging the ground when your rockets give way to faulty metal or a ball of fire under your toes."
Seems Dar was only slightly protective of his sport, or rather, art. Not everyone could pull it off, and he'd like to see the old man try just once. Of coarse, not right now, it was dangerous for anyone to be on a skyboard in this weather. "I'm just crazy is all. Anyone in their right mind would be grounded right now." His tail flickered as he leaned back and propped his board up beside him, keeping one hand on it while the other slid behind his head. Bladed claws unsheathed and tapped the edge of his board, accompanied by the sound of metal against metal.
"So.. what've you been up to anyway? Out here all alone with killers and thugs starting to slither out of their holes. You could be killed you know, a lot of them know your face. Hell.. A lot of them have probably had your fist in theirs, or your bullets in them at some point."
Dar's gaze again fell on the older man, a look of admiration in his eyes.
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Post by Rook on Feb 7, 2009 15:44:46 GMT -5
"I'm not going to sit at home because I'm afraid they'll approach me. We know where we stand, and I never stop being alert at any rate".
But was it very true? Did he go anywhere but the library, when it was nearly deserted and the parks, when it was similarly barren? Did he even go to his bars anymore. No, I spend all my time holed up in that building..
He felt a twinge of envy at Dar, for doing what he did and loving it.
He also felt abashed by the hint of admiration in the young mutt's eyes, it hurt. He would have discouraged it, but he decided it wasn't his place to tell Dar what to feel, or what to reach for.
He merely pulled out a bottle of his brandy and let the warmth wash over him like in a hot bath. He paused and then handed it to Dar without a word.
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Post by dargan on Feb 9, 2009 3:23:26 GMT -5
Dar laughed and pushed the bottle back towards the older man and shaking his head. "I'm not THAT crazy. Flying in this shit is bad enough, let alone doing it with impaired judgement. Its hard enough when Ice gathers on my lenses." He said in a rather scolding tone to Rook, almost as if he was telling him it was bad for him. He'd never really say that though, when he knew the man loved it so much. Though as to why, he'd never really know.
"Ah.. I'm sure you'd claw them to death before they attacked, but.. there's always that off chance that you aren't ready for it. I'm just worried for your safety. It doesn't matter how alert you are.. sometimes you just aren't ready for it.." He muttered, slitted eyes slowly falling to the ground beneath his paws. It was almost readable in those pale yellow orbs, what he was thinking about. Things happened sometimes that were out of anyone's control. Bad things most of the time. He was remembering that incident a long time ago, how he lost his arm because of a faulty rocket. It'd been brand new, he'd even checked it to make sure it was good for what he was doing.. How could things have gone so wrong?
A chill ran up Dar's spine and it pulled him out of his thoughts. Shaking his head he looked back to Rook. "Hey, why don't we get out of here and go to my place? Got some good stuff there and we won't even have to go to a crowded bar or anything. Besides, I've got something for you." He said with a big grin pulling at his muzzle.
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