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Apr. 2nd, 2007 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainryan
He’s not lost. Lost implies you don’t know your way back. He knows where he is. He’s content to be there.
(Wander closer to the edge)
He’s living very much in the now. Past and future are vague unimportant concepts. Betrayal…not so much, but the wolf has no ties to
(Nothing valued, think no fear)
He hadn’t really meant to.
(Always wondering why you're here)
Mr. Ingram refuses to use anything found from my unlawful confinement and torture. He said that it would cost what little remains of
(All your purposes are gone)
Worthless. His sacrifices, his life, his soul, worthless. Ingram was a moron. What little remained of
(Nothing's right and nothing's wrong)
He’d meant to beat his anger out on the pells, but when the sword snapped any shred of control he had went with it. Sane people don’t break their hands by pounding on pieces of wood.
(Nothing ventured, nothing gained)
The wolf understood blind fury. Always just below the skin this time of month, he let go and let it take over, almost completely. He would have had Suzi not shown up. He almost did anyway. Almost didn’t care enough to come back, and even then it’d been a struggle as he wondered if it was worth it. If Suzi hadn’t been pack…
(Feel no sorrow, feel no pain)
His thoughts are simple. Hunt when he’s hungry. Rest when he’s tired. He’s constantly moving through the woods, checking his territory, but staying in the deeper sections. Not so far that things start getting strange, but deep. His mind never goes further than reacting to his surroundings.
(Looking forward, not behind)
He has the sense to disrobe when the moon rises, more from a sense that what pieces of uniform he’s wearing deserve respect. He keeps his dog tags on. He always has. He’s proud of what he’s done for his country. Oh, he never expected a medal. They don’t hand those out for the things he’s done. But to have it all go to waste because of one man…
(Everybody's got to cross that line)
Those thoughts, the complex ones, are fleeting and brief and so far beneath his current mindset that they’re barely noticed. The house ring stays on. It’s the only link to his pack that he has; it’s not coming off. There’s barely a change in the way he’s thinking as he trades his form for another.
(Free me now to give me a place)
He spends the night hunting and marking his territory against the other werewolves. They can use the woods, but they damn well better know who owns them. When the sun comes up, he cleans away the blood from the night’s hunting and dresses because his skin isn’t as thick as the wolf’s hide. There’s a bit of meat left over from the night’s kill, and he’s able to put off the day’s hunting while he does something just as important. Selecting a spot far away from any tree that used to smell like Witherspoon along with Wells’ lakeside area, he starts making a den of his own.
(Keep me caged and free the beast)
On some level, he knows he can’t stay like this.
(Falling faster, time goes by)
It’s easier this way. He knows what happened. He remembers it. He doesn’t care. The rage is still there, but wolf instincts don’t understand prolonged anger. He sees it. But living like he is, mingled with the wolf as he is, he doesn’t really understand it.
(Fear is not seen through these eyes)
He could. He could flip that switch and step back into it. He could push the instincts back down. He’s aware of that the same way he’s aware that he can’t let go completely. But he doesn’t know how to deal with the rage.
(What there was will never be)
He’s never liked anger. Like happiness, it blinds you, alters your perceptions and you can’t see what’s what. And like the puppet’s all-consuming happiness, he’s never dealt with such all-consuming anger before. He wasn’t thinking straight before he let go. If he steps back, he’s not sure he’ll be able to.
(Now I'm blind and cannot see)
But he knows he has to. Eventually, at some point. Simple living is as good an answer to his problems as being happy or angry. But it won’t do him any good to come back to unthinking rage. He has to figure out how to get around that first.
(Kiss me while I'm still alive)
That all of this is undercurrent complicates matters. He’s aware of it, but the wolf’s on top and sees little point in pursuing such things. It doesn’t relate to the current situation. It will not help ease the hunger or build the den or protect the pack. Why bother?
(Kill me while I kiss the sky)
He feels the same way about the indoors of Milliway’s. If it weren’t for the rest of the pack choosing to live there, he’d avoid it completely, except for when Suzi needed his assistance in the workshop. The interior of the Bar isn’t his. That belongs to Security and he would have to abide by their rules or face the cells. The thought is fleeting, but he shudders anyway.
(Let me die on my own terms)
He has no plans, none that concern him now. He's content to live moment to moment and not much more. The second night the demon rabbits launch an attack on his den and he gorges. There are enough carcasses left that when light comes again he's able to snag bites between adjusting the shelter so it's a metre or so off the ground. It's not difficult. He remembers his training, still has access to it and, well, the wolf hasn't made him stupid. He does not want to have to deal with sieges by demon rabbits every night.
(Let me live and let me learn)
The den is well hidden, something else he remembers to do. It's surrounded by bushes that should only serve to hide it further when the leaves start to come in. But there is no planning for it. It's just whatever comes to mind is what he adds to it. If what he added doesn't work, he takes it away again. Utterly content to build it by trial and error.
(Now I'll follow my own way)
Which is good, because it looks like he'll be doing a lot of that in the coming days.
(And I'll live on to another damn day)
(Freedom carries sacrifice)
(Remember when this was my life)
