faceless pariah

Jace wasn’t the type to show outward distress,usually. He was fairly certain that had meant to be a snarl, but it had looked…very grin-y. His brow twitched, momentarily  breaking into a frown. Dogs couldn’t grin. That’s ridiculous. 

 askinwalkerscorned

Jace stared at the dog. He didn’t seem particularly hostile toward the canine, but neither did he seem all that welcoming. He didn’t look like he’d pet it, or anything of the sort. At first, it looked like he was analyzing if the dog would become hostile to him, but that contemplative look soon disappeared as he accepted it was just another stray. 

He didn’t know if they were locked in a staring contest or what, but he didn’t seem all too interested in another stray dog either way.

        And he stares back. For a long time.

   He doesn’t look terribly interested either until his lips pull back in what would normally be a snarl, but in this case, it looks disturbingly like an exceedingly unnerving and unnatural grin.

✗ askinwalkerscorned

     Vic reclined on the park bench, his sandwich on the spot beside him as he got      comfortable. He didn’t take enough days to just sit outside, and appreciate na-      ture (in a city). So, on this, his first day off in what seemed much longer than a      business week, he decided to do just that.

     For a little while. Anything more than like… fifteen minutes in that smog heavy      air was pushing it.

            This is a pathetic excuse for a park.

   Why did he bother to leave the wilderness, again? It was, all in all, much more gratifying to lope around in the body of a wolf than the body of a (slightly) domestic dog, garnering headpats and coos of ‘how cute and/or handsome he is’ everywhere he decides to go.

      Regardless, the ‘friends’ will be useful. Each new ‘ally’ further erases any suspicion that he is not actually, in fact, a two year old dog. Details.

   Ironically, he spots the sandwich on the bench before he actually spots the man. Snatching it up is almost tempting. And if he was a dog, he would’ve—but he doesn’t necessarily feel like being hit with the nearest newspaper.

   Ajax circles around from the back of the bench and sits in front of it.

     What a nice dog. “Hey, there, little fella!” The dog is almost half Basil’s size, to be fair, not exactly a small dog, but all dogs are family friends and therefore get baby-talked. “Don’t you have a nice family to go home to? What’re you doing wandering the streets like this?”

     Basil scratches behind the dog’s ears. What he wouldn’t give to have a dog.

   Eugh.  The baby is baby-talking him.         I'm older than your great-great-great grandmother, you halfwit. 

"Ohmysweetharmonyabove!!" The words escaped her mouth in a single breath once her eyes finally found the source of the meowing. "Aren’t you just the most handsome fella?!" 

Squatting down, Thalia slowly extended her hand towards the cat, stopping about half way between them. She’d learned early on that the best way to approach new cat friends was to let them come to her. Cats tended to be very independent creatures, after all. 

    He’s only been observing her long enough to know that she absolutely adores cats, and that must really be all he needs to know.           This is going just as expected, really. 

   He’s long since pushed away the slight imperialistic attitude towards things like this, like legitimately acting like an animal—but if it’ll help him blend in and possibly score a home he has the option to go towards should he need to get off the streets…       It would benefit him in the long run. No shame in that anyway, not as if any of these humans know what they're dealing with. They never do. 

♣ askinwalkerscorned

"Aww! Pookie, look! A new puppy friend!" Luci dangled her freshly groomed pup above the bigger dog. It looked like he could eat her Pookie in about 3 bites, but Pookie seemed to be unimpressed.

         ( I could eat that rat in two bites. )

✘ askinwalkerscorned

     His name was Jeremi Carver, and the world would not mourn his loss. A small-time businessman, he had somehow managed to bury his own grave by turning on a wealthier business partner—and by sleeping with the business partner’s wife. The method was simple. He was garrotted in an alleyway and left to rot. She took his wallet and watch—there was nothing else worth taking. Mist swirled around her feet, 

     A shift in the shadows caught her attention and she cursed herself, gun freed from the holster beneath her jacket in a moment. It was only a dog. but Kalrien’s senses had been honed enough to be suspicious of anything living. 

     There was no way to tell for sure, but it was worth a try. 

     ”I have no interest in the tenets of the Path.” Her voice was quiet, cold. “So if you have come to sell me out or give me sage advice, I must warn you that I have patience for neither.” It felt idiotic to talk at a dog, but one couldn’t be too careful. Besides, she wasn’t speaking so loud that anyone else could hear.

      When was the last time he set foot out of the forest? A few years, a decade ago, at the least. Roaming the streets again—it feels odd. You never quite forget the feeling of asphalt under your paws, but it’s certainly no forest floor, no grass nor gravel.   While Ajax doesn’t make it habit not to skulk around for this and that, he really was minding his own business. For the most part.

   He doesn’t need to map out the city again. He remembers it all with crystal clarity—it might just be for nostalgia’s sake, but something tells him he was in the wrong place, at the wrong time.         Not that it matters. Not that he cares.

     When the body of a man drops dead not a few meters away and the stench of blood hits his nose, it’s hardly enough to make him care. He’s got nothing to do with it anyway. Although the figure approaching him – the murderer, or perhaps assassin, he wagers – with a gun in hand is enough to make his guard rise, feet prepared for fight or flight (or both in that respective order), and he nearly draws away, but he doesn’t.

    His ears flick once, twice, head tilting dumbly to the side, tongue lolling out over his teeth, out of the side of his mouth.            Masking that intelligence in his eyes is easy by now. Habit.

✘ askinwalkerscorned

     ” …!!! " That is definitely a dog. Urge to pet irresistible.

                     (He doesn’t even try to resist, and that’s Harmony’s own truth.)

                                                                                                 ”Nice doggie.”

    You know, this is not the first time this has happened, so he's not even sure why, at this point, he nearly startles as a hand pets his head for the tenth time in the past four days.

   Ears swivel backwards, a glance cast up. Same old routine-- whatever helps him fit in better, really. 

               Bark, bark.                Tail wag.