Tidbit of Writing
Oct. 26th, 2014 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breezeshadow He woke up with fresh pain in old wounds, sleep interrupted for that night at least. It took a few minutes for him to even stand up, every movement of his legs bringing new and exciting agonies. When he hit the ground chest-first, he finally gave in and morphed, fur and paws getting tangled up in his pajamas. The new weight distribution helped, though, and once he freed himself from human clothes, Andy thought he might be able to walk away the insomnia.
His living quarters were tiny and sparse -- a whole new adventure in impoverished living, but the truth was that he did not have to come home to creaking floors and new chips in the walls. The were camp was still open to him, a place where he could live in makeshift buildings with warmth and food, rather than cold drafters where the food may or may not poison him. He had stayed there before, and knew that in almost every aspect it was far better than living in a slowly-rotting city, collapsing under its own greed and madness.
But he felt a little mad himself lately, and Kisechawchuck was not known for his calm when it came to such matters. Some days, Andy welcomed that threat, but enough of his self-preservation was still with him to make him leave.
Though really, fleeing from the were camp to Io was not exactly a sure life-saver. Perhaps he was looking for closure after all.
Somewhere within the walls, a mouse squeaked and crawled along decaying wood and worn stone; Andy's ears swiveled to the sound, but destroying the building as a distraction did not seem like the best idea. The ceiling falling on top of him would definitely not help the pain; with a sigh, the werewolf pushed open the broken door to his apartment, and headed down the broken staircase to the streets.
Just a little Andy story. I was trying to think of who to use for the prompt "wounds" (![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
origfic_bingo), and sadly it took me a while to remember Andy instead of Tegre or Gareth.
Will fit it out a bit more. I just have focused on two works in October and wanted to get a third in as something to share.
Tschuess.
His living quarters were tiny and sparse -- a whole new adventure in impoverished living, but the truth was that he did not have to come home to creaking floors and new chips in the walls. The were camp was still open to him, a place where he could live in makeshift buildings with warmth and food, rather than cold drafters where the food may or may not poison him. He had stayed there before, and knew that in almost every aspect it was far better than living in a slowly-rotting city, collapsing under its own greed and madness.
But he felt a little mad himself lately, and Kisechawchuck was not known for his calm when it came to such matters. Some days, Andy welcomed that threat, but enough of his self-preservation was still with him to make him leave.
Though really, fleeing from the were camp to Io was not exactly a sure life-saver. Perhaps he was looking for closure after all.
Somewhere within the walls, a mouse squeaked and crawled along decaying wood and worn stone; Andy's ears swiveled to the sound, but destroying the building as a distraction did not seem like the best idea. The ceiling falling on top of him would definitely not help the pain; with a sigh, the werewolf pushed open the broken door to his apartment, and headed down the broken staircase to the streets.
Just a little Andy story. I was trying to think of who to use for the prompt "wounds" (
origfic_bingo), and sadly it took me a while to remember Andy instead of Tegre or Gareth.Will fit it out a bit more. I just have focused on two works in October and wanted to get a third in as something to share.
Tschuess.
