12-13-2018, 12:57 AM
[glow=#000,1,400]BUT YOU WERE BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN — TAGS[/glow]
[ mentions of abuse ]
Sometimes, Lucky considered what life was like on the brunt of the stick. Sure, he was the one that dealt the blows and hits and whacks to the face and could never bat an eye to it. But, more often than not, he could see the fear in his victim's eyes. He could smell it r a d i a t i n g off of them. He could picture himself in their same shoes; he had felt the exact same way when his violent father would raise his voice at him and threaten him with brute force. Now, he was the aggressor. He had channeled his distressed childhood into strength and as a driving force behind his motivation.
There he saw it again, the smaller stranger cowering in terror of his hulking form. He supposed that his size always contributed to the fear-factor, along with his glowing amber eyes and gleaming pearly whites. There was one thing he knew for certain — after a childhood of living in fear, it was sure nice to be the one in power.
However, this situation would indeed be defused. He found this to be Cosette, apparently a former member here. He lowered his hackles and straightened his posture, assuming a non-threatening stance. Lucky's features spelled out pure confusion, and perhaps a dash of hesitance. He didn't have time to worry over nothing, so if she was indeed telling the truth, then so be it. The hellhound muttered, [glow=black,1,400]"My apologies."[/glow] He must've scared the shit out of her.
The hellhound bent down to take his kill into awaiting jaws. He didn't even spare the feline another glance before moving to carry on with the trek home, fresh cuts now visible across his flank. He appeared to be ignoring them quite well, as if they weren't even there. He couldn't let a few scratches throw a wrench in his duties, now could he?
Sometimes, Lucky considered what life was like on the brunt of the stick. Sure, he was the one that dealt the blows and hits and whacks to the face and could never bat an eye to it. But, more often than not, he could see the fear in his victim's eyes. He could smell it r a d i a t i n g off of them. He could picture himself in their same shoes; he had felt the exact same way when his violent father would raise his voice at him and threaten him with brute force. Now, he was the aggressor. He had channeled his distressed childhood into strength and as a driving force behind his motivation.
There he saw it again, the smaller stranger cowering in terror of his hulking form. He supposed that his size always contributed to the fear-factor, along with his glowing amber eyes and gleaming pearly whites. There was one thing he knew for certain — after a childhood of living in fear, it was sure nice to be the one in power.
However, this situation would indeed be defused. He found this to be Cosette, apparently a former member here. He lowered his hackles and straightened his posture, assuming a non-threatening stance. Lucky's features spelled out pure confusion, and perhaps a dash of hesitance. He didn't have time to worry over nothing, so if she was indeed telling the truth, then so be it. The hellhound muttered, [glow=black,1,400]"My apologies."[/glow] He must've scared the shit out of her.
The hellhound bent down to take his kill into awaiting jaws. He didn't even spare the feline another glance before moving to carry on with the trek home, fresh cuts now visible across his flank. He appeared to be ignoring them quite well, as if they weren't even there. He couldn't let a few scratches throw a wrench in his duties, now could he?
[align=center]![[Image: NMNfCHJ.png]](https://i.imgur.com/NMNfCHJ.png)