sinister kid. [o]

THE KING IS DEAD

A gravestone might have marked the fallen, but it was Lamb's philosophy to believe that where one fell they died and it was there that their body would decompose, torn and ravaged by scavengers and the elements. Thus, to the wolf hybrid, the graves were meaningless in their own respect--mere pockets of earth marked by stone, for no reason other than that humans were peculiar. The profound nature of the dates inscribed into the stone was lost upon him, regardless of the fact his bright cerulean eyes moved idly over the words he couldn't understand.


It was a language not his own. Thus, it was meaningless. He moved on, idly making his way from the back of the graveyard into the forefront. He and Lion had made a sort of temporary residence in the church and he had wanted to familiarize himself with the surrounding area. Lion thought it was ironic that they were a pair of sinners living on sacred land, the metaphorical lion and lamb. His tongue wet his chapped lips as he meandered forward, initially without a sense of purpose. He simply couldn't sleep. His mind was full of thought. He could not help but contemplate the future and what the recent anarchy in the city might mean. No leadership had stepped up in how long? Lamb was tiring of it.

It was then that the wind shifted, bringing the scent of another individual to his attention. Lamb stiffened instinctively, his ears pinning against the base of his skull as he swiveled his head, looking for a threat. When he saw none in the immediate vicinity he proceeded to take a deep breath, steadying himself. With that, Lamb trotted forward and toward the scent carried on the hot, stale wind. It was a small graveyard and he was amazed that he had not caught on sooner--the other dog blended with the dark, but was walking aimlessly around the gravestones.


Lamb's decision was not as impulsive as one might have expected. His eyes swept the other dog and the wolf hybrid pegged him as young, perhaps a little arrogant. His posture suggested confidence if nothing else, but Lamb noted that there was something distracted about his movements, as though he were merely going through the motions. Interesting. He cocked his head. "Hey!" The greeting was jovial, friendly enough. "You don't look like a sleepwalker or a ghost." Lamb loped up aside the brindle canine, the edge of his mouth lifted in a light smile. "So, what brings you to the land of the dead? Looks like you've got something on your mind, kid."


He was friendly, lacking the edge of distrust that many canines seemed to greet one another with.

LONG LIVE THE KING