Having just passed his six month mark of life (twenty seven weeks, specifically), Vassago was very near looking like an adult. Sure, he wasn't quite as tall as he'd end up, and the Juvenile wasn't anywhere close to the bulk and muscle he'd earn in the next six months of his life, but he got closer every day -- his winter pelt had developed nicely so far, giving him a fluff that he hadn't before. As he strode along the borders of the Isle today, the chestnut boy wished for the millionth time he could cross it.
Other things also became more prevalent -- his balance, something he was sure would never improved, had gotten even better. He'd learned to hunt, and though it wasn't a skill he felt compelled to develop further than the basics, it was nice to not have to rely on his parents so much. Ever since his literal run-down with Malice, he'd been keeping a distance from almost everybody, preferring to keep quiet and brood more: often it was to think more about any plans he had in putting The Brotherhood in their place.... Since Aeronwyn had come back hurt by the one named Nemesis, he'd been placent, even depressed, following his family like a drone or not bothering to get up from the den. He felt closer to his Aunt some days than his own family, but even now he felt disconnected from everyone -- the boy felt as if he stuck out like a sore paw, like he didn't belong, like something was.... Wrong. Everyone always seemed so mad at him, and that was just when he was actually along for things -- what did people say about him when he wasn't there?
Perhaps it was just age? There was no experience to tell him what was wrong: all he wanted to do was protect them, to be the best Mercenary he could be.... Why was that so bad? He just couldn't understand why Malice and Burke lashed out each time he asked of the dark wolves....
Instead of allowing equally dark thoughts to flood his mind, Vass stalked along the side of the river his family ruled. He hadn't been taught how to cross it, unfortunatley -- each time he saw the rushing water, the boy regretted running from the white bear.... "Tupi" may very well have taught him how to traverse the waters as his parents did.
In the next moment, however, hot anger flashed through him, and his yellow eyes darted around him to be sure that nobody was around. Nobody; good. Fur prickling in fear, Vass turned to the river, moving downstream until he knew he was very close to the floodlands -- if he couldn't get out, he could at least survive and dry himself off down there.
Lunging, Vassago splashed into the water, and his first reaction was that of cold -- he didn't realize just how cold the river would be, really, despite the snow on the earth -- and immediatley he knew that Winter was now his least favorite season. Instinctually, his four legs paddled and thrashed, completely out of rhythm and causing his chin to dip under quite a few times as he was washed with the current. Spluttering with a whine, the Lordling allowed plan B to take effect, chosing only to keep above water until, finally he crept over to the bank. Hooking is awkwardly large paws onto firm ground and scrabbling with his hindlegs to push himself out, Vass flopped to the opposite side of the Isle and panted harshly for a full minute.
Once the adrenaline began to fade, he felt the bitter cold -- this is when the copper-toned boy sat up and set to licking his pelt. It's what Burke had done for Pyro when he fell in the river, and Vassago was smart enough to know that getting so wet in the cold was not a good idea. Nervousness of getting caught, however, drove the boy to stand after he was no longer sopping wet-- there was so much to explore! With one glance back at Arthendal, silently promising to return before dark, Vassago struck out into the Hinterlands with a grin on his face and his little stump wagging.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just before the sun dipped below the horizon, Vassago plodded carefully towards the scent of his home -- the day had been eventful and fun, and though Vass was loathe to go home, he knew already the world of hurt that would likely befall him upon his return. This angered the boy, for many reasons: he was six months old, able to hunt and patrol, and smart enough to know now when danger simply wasn't worth a risk -- losing his tail taught that well.
At first, when he reached the far bank, Vassago sat with a thump on the far bank and kept silent -- if only he could cross on his own back over, he could just lie and say he'd been sleeping in a fox den somewhere most of the day. Unfortunatley, he couldn't, and eventually loosed a call for @Aeronwyn to come save him, but knew it was likely for @Malice, @Burke, and @Pyro to show up at any time.
Other things also became more prevalent -- his balance, something he was sure would never improved, had gotten even better. He'd learned to hunt, and though it wasn't a skill he felt compelled to develop further than the basics, it was nice to not have to rely on his parents so much. Ever since his literal run-down with Malice, he'd been keeping a distance from almost everybody, preferring to keep quiet and brood more: often it was to think more about any plans he had in putting The Brotherhood in their place.... Since Aeronwyn had come back hurt by the one named Nemesis, he'd been placent, even depressed, following his family like a drone or not bothering to get up from the den. He felt closer to his Aunt some days than his own family, but even now he felt disconnected from everyone -- the boy felt as if he stuck out like a sore paw, like he didn't belong, like something was.... Wrong. Everyone always seemed so mad at him, and that was just when he was actually along for things -- what did people say about him when he wasn't there?
Perhaps it was just age? There was no experience to tell him what was wrong: all he wanted to do was protect them, to be the best Mercenary he could be.... Why was that so bad? He just couldn't understand why Malice and Burke lashed out each time he asked of the dark wolves....
Instead of allowing equally dark thoughts to flood his mind, Vass stalked along the side of the river his family ruled. He hadn't been taught how to cross it, unfortunatley -- each time he saw the rushing water, the boy regretted running from the white bear.... "Tupi" may very well have taught him how to traverse the waters as his parents did.
In the next moment, however, hot anger flashed through him, and his yellow eyes darted around him to be sure that nobody was around. Nobody; good. Fur prickling in fear, Vass turned to the river, moving downstream until he knew he was very close to the floodlands -- if he couldn't get out, he could at least survive and dry himself off down there.
Lunging, Vassago splashed into the water, and his first reaction was that of cold -- he didn't realize just how cold the river would be, really, despite the snow on the earth -- and immediatley he knew that Winter was now his least favorite season. Instinctually, his four legs paddled and thrashed, completely out of rhythm and causing his chin to dip under quite a few times as he was washed with the current. Spluttering with a whine, the Lordling allowed plan B to take effect, chosing only to keep above water until, finally he crept over to the bank. Hooking is awkwardly large paws onto firm ground and scrabbling with his hindlegs to push himself out, Vass flopped to the opposite side of the Isle and panted harshly for a full minute.
Once the adrenaline began to fade, he felt the bitter cold -- this is when the copper-toned boy sat up and set to licking his pelt. It's what Burke had done for Pyro when he fell in the river, and Vassago was smart enough to know that getting so wet in the cold was not a good idea. Nervousness of getting caught, however, drove the boy to stand after he was no longer sopping wet-- there was so much to explore! With one glance back at Arthendal, silently promising to return before dark, Vassago struck out into the Hinterlands with a grin on his face and his little stump wagging.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just before the sun dipped below the horizon, Vassago plodded carefully towards the scent of his home -- the day had been eventful and fun, and though Vass was loathe to go home, he knew already the world of hurt that would likely befall him upon his return. This angered the boy, for many reasons: he was six months old, able to hunt and patrol, and smart enough to know now when danger simply wasn't worth a risk -- losing his tail taught that well.
At first, when he reached the far bank, Vassago sat with a thump on the far bank and kept silent -- if only he could cross on his own back over, he could just lie and say he'd been sleeping in a fox den somewhere most of the day. Unfortunatley, he couldn't, and eventually loosed a call for @Aeronwyn to come save him, but knew it was likely for @Malice, @Burke, and @Pyro to show up at any time.
Since nobody joined originally, I've brought this to currrent date (December 12th); for the sake of not having this and a return, this is set to sunset and I'm going to be vague about what he did. He left somewhere in the late morning. :3
Follow The Tracks I Lost Long Ago
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Messages In This Thread
Moving On Up - by Tryp - November 18, 2016, 10:27 PM
RE: Moving On Up - by Burke - December 12, 2016, 10:34 AM
RE: Moving On Up - by Tryp - December 12, 2016, 10:45 AM
RE: Moving On Up - by Burke - December 12, 2016, 04:17 PM