05-11-2020, 03:44 AM
♛ SMOKED A PACK OR TWO, IT NEVER WAS A PROBLEM —
shhhh ignore the fact this is a day late
Sorry, Mom.
Dante had never met his mother, but there was one thing he was sure about... she likely wouldn't like the creature he had become. She wouldn't have liked what he had done to the humans who tortured and beat him, nor his habits or beliefs. He was making his way through the loner lands, where the humans had buried his mother so many years ago, ignoring the stares and murmurs from NPCs about the way he looked. He knew he was in a more busy area, knowing that it was the quickest way to get to his mother's grave. Not everyone seemed to like the hybrid nor his size, but frankly he didn't give a shit.
Finally, he was alone. Dante sat at the grave, inhaling the cigarette that hung from his mouth, flicking his shark-like tail as he stared down at the place his mother was buried. He exhaled, watching the smoke flow from his mouth and into the air, recalling the stories that the other captured animals had told him about his mother. They told him how smart and kind she was, and how she would've been so proud of him for surviving for so long. At the time, Dante had been a young kit and took their words with pride, but now the scarred hybrid chuckled at the thought. I highly doubt she would be proud of a murderer. He mused, flexing his claws. He hadn't killed anyone important just yet but still, he was a murderer nonetheless.
And yet, Dante couldn't say he felt guilty or regret for ending NPCs' lives. Truthfully, the only time he really felt anything was when he thought about his mother. I wish I had met her. Perhaps if she had lived, he wouldn't be the person he was now. Maybe she would have taught him how to be kind and loving and how not to let the humans get to him so damn much. There was a reason Dante smoked and drank; it numbed his feelings and helped him forget the things that were done to him. As much as he loved his mother, the emotions he felt when he thought of her was something he didn't like.
Dante took another hit from his cigarette, before tossing it to the ground. As he stood up, he used one of his paws to crush it and put out the smoke and fire. Sorry, Mom. I can't change who I am now. He frowned at her grave before turning around and making his way back through the loner lands to The Pitt.
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px darkorange; font-size: 24px;"]— DANTE♛
#psychosocial.Sorry, Mom.
Dante had never met his mother, but there was one thing he was sure about... she likely wouldn't like the creature he had become. She wouldn't have liked what he had done to the humans who tortured and beat him, nor his habits or beliefs. He was making his way through the loner lands, where the humans had buried his mother so many years ago, ignoring the stares and murmurs from NPCs about the way he looked. He knew he was in a more busy area, knowing that it was the quickest way to get to his mother's grave. Not everyone seemed to like the hybrid nor his size, but frankly he didn't give a shit.
Finally, he was alone. Dante sat at the grave, inhaling the cigarette that hung from his mouth, flicking his shark-like tail as he stared down at the place his mother was buried. He exhaled, watching the smoke flow from his mouth and into the air, recalling the stories that the other captured animals had told him about his mother. They told him how smart and kind she was, and how she would've been so proud of him for surviving for so long. At the time, Dante had been a young kit and took their words with pride, but now the scarred hybrid chuckled at the thought. I highly doubt she would be proud of a murderer. He mused, flexing his claws. He hadn't killed anyone important just yet but still, he was a murderer nonetheless.
And yet, Dante couldn't say he felt guilty or regret for ending NPCs' lives. Truthfully, the only time he really felt anything was when he thought about his mother. I wish I had met her. Perhaps if she had lived, he wouldn't be the person he was now. Maybe she would have taught him how to be kind and loving and how not to let the humans get to him so damn much. There was a reason Dante smoked and drank; it numbed his feelings and helped him forget the things that were done to him. As much as he loved his mother, the emotions he felt when he thought of her was something he didn't like.
Dante took another hit from his cigarette, before tossing it to the ground. As he stood up, he used one of his paws to crush it and put out the smoke and fire. Sorry, Mom. I can't change who I am now. He frowned at her grave before turning around and making his way back through the loner lands to The Pitt.
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px darkorange; font-size: 24px;"]— DANTE♛