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paixaorpg2006-07-26 04:05 pm
onedeadwulf.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2006-07-26 04:05 pm
Welcome to the Afterlife [Solo/Completed]
Character(s): Graywolf.
Content: Graywolf's first few moments in Paixao.
Setting: Vanaheim Gate
Time: Friday afternoon.
Warnings: None.
Graywolf sat there awkwardly for a moment, leaned over and staring at the small black machine that had been recording his words down on the little white screen. He had run out of things to say, or at least, things that he wanted to say out loud, and was at a bit of a loss as to how to tell the machine that. Blue eyes scanned the keypad for a moment, and located a red button with the word ‘OFF’ near the top. He reached out with a paw, spreading his toes and carefully maneuvering himself so one long silver claw pushed the button. A small box popped up on the screen, and the phrase ‘Sending…’ flashed once or twice before the screen went black, and the small green light on the side of the device switched off. He smiled just a little, pleased with himself at this very small triumph.
The tiger glanced around him, turning his head to look back over his shoulder at the stream of people that were still sifting through the gates a ways off behind him. They all looked just as confused as he did, and nearly all of them looked different from most humans or creatures he had ever seen. The sight seemed like a sad one, and he quickly turned back around, staring idly down at the small black machine still sitting open in front of his paws. He closed his eyes, and murmured quietly to himself. “Are really that many people dying…?”
He jumped a bit at the sound of his own voice, his mane bristling and horns crackling. A second or two passed before he calmed down, and realized it was his own, even though he had been listening to himself talk all that time to the machine. Its just that he had never really heard himself until then, and had never taken notice of how different his voice sounded until just now. That didn’t sound like him at all. Why? He arched his head to try and look down at his chest, but succeeded only in giving himself a painful crick in the neck. In the end, he settled for reaching awkwardly up with a paw and feeling his throat. The skin was bare, and there was a twisted mass of scar tissue under his padded paw.
“I still have the scars.” Graywolf said to himself, with a bit of a blink of those blue eyes. He was dead, and Tiger had killed him. He was in some sort of afterlife, and instead of having wounds or nothing at all, he had scars. Scars that changed his voice. For some reason, that struck him as particularly funny, and he mumbled with a smirk. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
He pushed himself up to a stand, and went about the long and awkward business of trying to put the collar the machine was attached to back on his neck. Inwardly he chided himself for taking it off in the first place, just because some stranger had put it on him. Eventually, with the help of a decidedly blank looking passersby he managed to get the thing back on, and now stood, still staring at all the people coming through the gates. His mouth twitched into a frown, and he turned his back on them, padding silently off down the cobblestone streets with a sigh.
“Tiger, I wish you were here…”
Content: Graywolf's first few moments in Paixao.
Setting: Vanaheim Gate
Time: Friday afternoon.
Warnings: None.
Graywolf sat there awkwardly for a moment, leaned over and staring at the small black machine that had been recording his words down on the little white screen. He had run out of things to say, or at least, things that he wanted to say out loud, and was at a bit of a loss as to how to tell the machine that. Blue eyes scanned the keypad for a moment, and located a red button with the word ‘OFF’ near the top. He reached out with a paw, spreading his toes and carefully maneuvering himself so one long silver claw pushed the button. A small box popped up on the screen, and the phrase ‘Sending…’ flashed once or twice before the screen went black, and the small green light on the side of the device switched off. He smiled just a little, pleased with himself at this very small triumph.
The tiger glanced around him, turning his head to look back over his shoulder at the stream of people that were still sifting through the gates a ways off behind him. They all looked just as confused as he did, and nearly all of them looked different from most humans or creatures he had ever seen. The sight seemed like a sad one, and he quickly turned back around, staring idly down at the small black machine still sitting open in front of his paws. He closed his eyes, and murmured quietly to himself. “Are really that many people dying…?”
He jumped a bit at the sound of his own voice, his mane bristling and horns crackling. A second or two passed before he calmed down, and realized it was his own, even though he had been listening to himself talk all that time to the machine. Its just that he had never really heard himself until then, and had never taken notice of how different his voice sounded until just now. That didn’t sound like him at all. Why? He arched his head to try and look down at his chest, but succeeded only in giving himself a painful crick in the neck. In the end, he settled for reaching awkwardly up with a paw and feeling his throat. The skin was bare, and there was a twisted mass of scar tissue under his padded paw.
“I still have the scars.” Graywolf said to himself, with a bit of a blink of those blue eyes. He was dead, and Tiger had killed him. He was in some sort of afterlife, and instead of having wounds or nothing at all, he had scars. Scars that changed his voice. For some reason, that struck him as particularly funny, and he mumbled with a smirk. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
He pushed himself up to a stand, and went about the long and awkward business of trying to put the collar the machine was attached to back on his neck. Inwardly he chided himself for taking it off in the first place, just because some stranger had put it on him. Eventually, with the help of a decidedly blank looking passersby he managed to get the thing back on, and now stood, still staring at all the people coming through the gates. His mouth twitched into a frown, and he turned his back on them, padding silently off down the cobblestone streets with a sigh.
“Tiger, I wish you were here…”