05-16-2016, 02:00 PM
i like the ones who say they listen to the punk rock
i like the the kids who fight against how they were brought up
i like the the kids who fight against how they were brought up
They all have a bit of a legacy these days, don’t they? Even those who aren’t born to parents whose names are written in the stars. Whether or not they bring honor to that legacy and increase it sevenfold, or let it fall into obscurity is completely up to them. Despite whatever circumstances surround their birth, they have their own agency to ride the current all the way to the end, or to swim upstream, fighting all the way. There is no right way, because if you’re raised like a salmon and live like a salmon, you’re going to swim upstream like the rest of the, even if you’re a trout. So who makes the fish? Nature or nurture? If sand is as comforting as your mother’s womb, what’s the point in running around like a howler monkey?
Monkeys don’t like sand. Sand doesn’t like monkeys. And so Alek and Q are very wise in this regard, and really, their philosophy should be written down and passed on to whatever younger siblings are to come. Eliora, perhaps, or you know, whatever kids they can properly influence. They two of them are having a grand ol’ time, laughing and horsing around by themselves when they hear Volcan’s call. Q’s ears swing towards her voice, casting a quizzical expression towards Alek.
Whatcha think?
“I don’t know, she’s kind of weird.”
And not like, actually our sister.
“Yours, you mean. Last time I checked, I was still a cat.”
Ass. Just for that, let’s go.
“You know I could just stay here, and you’d be shit out of luck.”
You know Ima would skin you aliiiiiive if you did that.
Alek growls, but says no more, and the pair head from a smaller oasis to the large one. The sun is setting, and it casts a deep red glow over the dunes, turning the caracal a burnt red color, and setting their shadows to giant-size. Qatar is large enough, but not as large at Kratos and Kreios are, tempered by Yael’s petite size instead of amplified by Lyric’s. He is glad to see his elder brother there, and offers an enthusiastic greeting to the two of them. Alek is less than pleased, however, remembering the mischief and sting of the spotted stallion’s sparks. He grumbles while they’re still out of earshot, “You didn’t tell me your brother would be here…”
Had Qatar the ability to speak, he would have deepened his voice to the tremorous rumble that Vanquish and Kratos possess, making fun of the imposing stallion in the way that only brothers can. Alek, however, cannot walk the walk that he talks, and would never dream of teasing Kratos to his face. Not after the last ill-timed remark. Instead, the cat holds his tongue and as the pair approach and offer a mild-mannered greeting, curiosity figuratively killing him.
“Volcan? Nice to meet you. This is Qatar, and I’m Alek. The big guy is Kratos.” He jerks his head politely towards the stallion that towers over all of them. “What’s going on?”
Qatar
the little mute prince.
i have no idea what this is, except that it is full of ramblings and puns...