Haunted Wood Hand in Hand

His home wasn’t one of beauty, no it was one of death. Then, if one thought the brutal death of dozens of others a day is beautiful, than to each their own. He never thought the place he was from was beautiful. No, it was gritty and disgusting. Not at all compared to the vast expanse of the great outdoors he has here. He doesn’t put much thought into it. Only whenever he thinks of the ring, a fire lights in his soul at the recall of all the hype and emotions he’s always felt. Or rather lack of emotions he supposes. It was horrible now that he thinks of it, but he wouldn’t take it back.

“No, it was horrible.” He chuckles easily back. It’s the only thing that seems to escape after all that mental reflection. “But I loved it.” He shrugs.

Then she stops properly as seems to be staring at the thing on his ear. A cock of his brow and an easygoing smile reach his face at her questioning. “Not sure. Two legs put it on me. I’m sure it means something to them though.”

Then he sighs indifferently. “My home was full of two legs. I was ruled by them. Then a different bunch of two legs took me. Ones that always tried touching me and would coo at me through the cages and shit. They gave me that then set me free.” His twin moons gaze to her, no real emotion hidden beneath them.