I See The Faces In My Head [OPEN]

[Desired]

Angry. Irritable. Uncontrollable. All three words would describe Admiral’s current mood. The large twenty-seven inch tall Doberman cross smoked through the alleyways and the shadows like fog, billowing out to glance around the metropolitan city before ghosting back into the recesses of the city. It was ingrained, something he had always learned. When the dying twilight sun did manage to reflect on him, there was no doubting the pride he had in every step, the way his yellow-jade eyes scanned everything. There was also no hiding the dark aura that hung around him like a second skin. He appeared little more than a phantom, wounded and lonely with a crazed and dark atmosphere around him. His lips were twisted upon his maw into a mangled grimace, half-snarl and half-sneer. His thickly muscled body moved with the single-minded focus of a prowling wolf.

Often, the brute would stop his reverent wanderings to stand rigid, attention focused and predatory. The feral ferocity he was just barely hiding beneath his thin black and tan coat sparked forward and sparked like static across his handsome face. Teeth clamped together with audible clicks as he glanced around the fallen city. This was what the dogs here thought large and massive? Desirable? His maw slid into a full sneer as he shook his thick head. They had no clue. Chicago was the image that would always be painted in his mind as a kingdom. This city was nothing, just some back alley compared to the skyscrapers and busyness, the sheer grittiness that had been his home in Chicago.

He snarled at his thoughts, the sound reverberating off the quiet street he stood on and he took off at a lope until he found the forest. It stretched dark and looming in front of him. His nape bristled and he shook his head. He did not want to think about Chicago and days gone by. He had been a prince, one step away from advising the king, who would have been his brother. The brother he had had in the snares of his clutches. Admiral wouldn’t have had title of King, but he certainly would have been. Blithe had been too stupid when it came to maintaining power, relying solely on the fact that he was beloved for his warrior mentality and general around goodness. His temper had been too easily ignited and it all too often blinded him, like a fire ripping through trees.



That goodness and popularity hadn’t saved him when the entire city revolted, nor had his temper. Only Admiral had survived that trip through hell. He chomped his teeth in agitation, desperately wanting to through off the thoughts that surrounded and clanged inside his brain. He was a far cry from the talkative and rampant powerhouse he’d been only two days ago. Then he had been a champion of champions, no one was smarter, no one was smoother. Now he traversed the streets as a demon, haunted and haunting. He found no joy and there was not a bit of happiness in his slowly moving frame. His body was riddled with the darkness more aptly reserved for the dying and the sick. He didn’t know where he was going or why. His paws were tired and his brain was tired and stuck only on thoughts of death.

He snorted once more, forcefully throwing the morbid thoughts that surrounded him out of his head. He refocused on his surroundings and became aware that he was standing in front of a train station. As he breathed in it, a familiar scent came to him that marred the dying beauty it held. Pain and darkness. It was abandoned. He strode up the steps. Eyes that two days ago had glittered with energy were now dull and full of anger and pain. He wanted to feel this place’s energy and to add his own. He had no excitement in his step, very unlike him. He normally thirsted for knowledge but now he only wanted nothing more than a place to hermit up in, to lie until everything died around him and he finally left this cursed place.

He entered the station without trouble, the door being ajar. He glanced around the wide open entryway with distaste. Humans. A low growl rumbled in his throat and he inhaled the dusty air. No one. No dog or human had been here in quite a while. He started up a grand staircase near to his left, heading towards what was probably the tracks. He paused halfway up, barely able to fit his broad shoulders between the railings. He looked down at a cart. He figured it had at one point carried something big. It was large enough for him and another dog fit, if they didn’t slip through the metal cart. He didn’t care what it held, only that it stood four feet off the ground and was about a six foot drop down.

He had long ago given up keeping up with his own brain. Two days ago he could have, he was skilled an amazing enough to have three or five different thoughts filtering through problems all at once. Now he couldn’t even focus on the single one. He was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. So instead, he leapt. It was very nearly suicidal. He could miss and snap a leg, or worse, his neck. But it was nothing he didn’t think he didn’t deserve. After all, hadn’t little Jerome counted on him to save him? And where had Admiral been the night a gang tore him apart alive? Fucking a whore while his brain exploded with energy.

So it would serve him right to break his neck and die. It’d probably save a few more lives anyway. But his dark thoughts were pointless. He landed perfectly, the cart shaking as his paws skittered until they caught on the metal part. For a moment, he simply stared. He should have wagged his tail with amazement, anything more than the dead expression he held. He looked mechanical, robot-like, as he settled himself onto his haunches and then dropped his jaw to his strong legs, jade-green eyes staring hard at the door as more macabre thoughts filtered in.



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Amount:1,038 Words.

Notes/Admiral’s emotional state: Admiral is in the midst of a depressive episode and is ‘riding low’ and is depressed, suicidal, and easily angered and combative.

Muse: Bunches! Admiral hasn’t been out in a while! But don’t feel like ya have to match my wordcount. Admiral always does this too me.

Tune: None

Tags: OPEN;;

[rook]

This place again. The beast that wandered recognized the place and despite the fact that she could not get into the carts on the tracks, it did not deter her from wandering through it yet again. The past few times she had came to the Train Station wolves had been her source of entertainment but now her shoulder was healed, a fresh scar replacing the scabs she had held for weeks. Of course, that wound had not came from either of the two wolves she had met here, no it had been from Price whom she had met in the suburbs. The wolves here…they were different. The male, he had been a joke, bluffing a charge- as if it would make her realize she was in danger and send her running over the hill. He’d find her when he was ready to take her on, till then, she would find others that were worthy of her pack. The female, a fight hadn’t been necessary, the beast needed numbers and this wolf blindly promised her loyalty-without knowing where it would get her. An idiot, but she would do, for now.

It seemed at the moment that Price was the only one really worthy of the Pariah, she needed another gladiator, someone who would fight and hopefully one that did not have the moral issues that wolf had. Rook understood morals and values and there wasn’t a single thing wrong with his, but he seemed more willing to run from a fight than to face it head on- unless he was cornered like she had done to him. Their fight had been brief, a mere test of strength one that she won with ease. How could she not win? She was a mastiff, she outweighed the wolf and her weight was muscle, not fat. This was a dog that barely felt it when dogs slammed into her. Rarely did it knock her off balance and she hadn’t been knocked too the ground since she was fully-grown. A dog had to have a death wish to fight her, that or something to prove.

Reminiscing was fine and good, but at the sound of a cage rattling, the mastiff stopped, head lifting up into an alert position. She caught the dog just as it lay down on the top of the cage. The canine was sleek with a deep chest and cropped ears, a Doberman? Maybe. Only one way to know for sure. She mused quietly as she pressed forward, large paws moving lazily across the ground. The ugly dog made no attempt to hide her approach; in fact she made more noise than necessary. The wrinkly mass did not care if the other was alerted, hell; she wanted him to know she was coming. More than that, she wanted him to think she was a clumsy dog- she was certainly large enough to be. Drool had begun to pool in the corner of her jowls, not yet dripping but it was thickening and soon, it would seem like she had eaten a shoe with the strings hanging out of her mouth.

Rook was a dog of few words, speaking was not her forte. “You seem worn out.” She was blunt and to the point, her words were not meant to provoke the dog, merely to establish a conversation. Although it wouldn’t bother her any if the dog became so enraged that he attacked her. More fun for her and there was the opportunity to see what the Doberman was made of and make sure he was worthy of the Pariah before offering him a position. She was done being nice and giving the benefit of the doubt, the Dogue de Bordeaux no longer wanted blind loyalty; she was once more searching for gladiators.


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[Desired]

Admiral’s aureate and emerald eyes were looking at the shadowed door but they weren’t seeing it. He was instead roaming the past inside his brain. He clicked his jaws together, face sorrowful. He hated this, hated the melancholy that sometimes made it hard to breathe. But he was simply too tired and didn’t care enough to force himself to get over it. Why try? It had never worked before. It would hang around him for ages, sometimes. He desperately hoped that once he managed to sleep he would wake up himself again. Not this testy, depressed and quiet mimicry.

His ears flickered before his brain fully registered that he’d heard something. He didn’t even have the energy to lift his head. Instead, he kept his intense gaze on the door, where the dog would inevitably show up. His nose finally picked up the scent as a shadow descended onto the floor. His head cocked, trying to see what this canine wanted. The scent was female. And as the mutt came into view a small smirk appeared on his maw and his head lifted itself up off his paws and cocked with a hint of his normal disdain, though the demeaning look was nowhere near as strong as he could typically wield, there was no doubting the emotion.

She was an ugly bitch of a dog. Wrinkles and massiveness combined with the drool slinging from her maw, (Admiral’s derision increased) she would never capture hearts based on appearance alone. Since Admiral was smart enough to realize that looks didn’t mean anything, he scanned her large body. A large scar on his shoulder spoke of a newly healing wound.
She was a warrior.

She walked without a limp. She didn’t seem to be on the attack, but his brain was so low he wouldn’t have realized it until it was too late to flit away. If it came down to it, Admiral had no doubt he could out-run her even though every instinct would tear him apart for it. He hadn’t met a dog or a wolf in a while that had pure power on him. He had never met one that could match him for strategy. He wondered if this female’s jaws could take him down. So many before had tried and failed. Was she one that he would have to try to outmaneuver? He was faster but that was no guarantee. Would fate smile on him tonight and give him a reprieve from the pain inside?

Admiral’s intense gaze remained on the wound. He wondered if it hurt still, if it would feel better than this black hole that had descended upon him and eaten his soul. She stopped in front of him. Her words made his ears flicker, the torn one twitching. He kept his head on his paws, looking for all intense and purposes utterly forsaken. Admiral’s face was a handsome mix of pitbull strength and Doberman slimness but it was always marred by the snarky grin that was his usual expression. This time was no different. He kept his position on the cart above the female, looking down on her. It was, of course, tainted by the way his eyes were dull, even with such aureate coloring, they appeared almost lifeless. It gave him the aura of a snake, lying still in the grass, just waiting for the opportunity to strike. So lazy did he appear, it was a wonder he didn’t yawn constantly. But it was a tiredness felt only in his head and heart. A fatigue felt from years of a rambling life and it hovered around him like a thunderstorm.

”And you look…” He took a moment to pause and rake his eyes over her in an obvious way. He lifted his head and met her eyes, ”Not unlike me, sweetheart.”


Admiral had always had manners. He had a regality that even now still shone through the dark shroud around him. The barb was slow to come, in his normal state or his higher one, it would have been hard to hush him. But now he was so low that getting his maw to open was hard. It made his meaning unclear. Were they similar because of the obvious fights littered across their pelts or because she too seemed tired? His own brain wasn’t sure, couldn’t get past the blackness to care. It was a wonder he had spoken at all.

He just hoped that she was worth it. He did hate to come across boring individuals.

”And I am worn. Worn thin by the stupidity of most canines on this planet.” He added, voice low and a snarl on the edges. He was a prince without a kingdom and he hadn’t ever felt the weight of that it seemed. So he was worn thin by more than just the incompetence of canines in the area, but by his own inability to die and rejoin his family.



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Amount:779 Words.
Notes/Admiral’s emotional state: Admiral is in the midst of a depressive episode and is ‘riding low’ and is depressed, suicidal, and easily angered and combative. He is also easily manipulated by the right character.
Muse: Bunches! This should be interesting. Just letting you know that he’ll be extremely snarky and combative without much oomph to back any of it up.
Tune: None
Tags: Rook;;

[rook]

While being groggy was one thing, this dog was something else. His eyes were dull, upon her arrival, it took a long second for the dog to realize that she was there and even longer to properly respond. The mastiff’s first thought was that he was starving, but from what she could tell, he was not weak and malnourished. No, this was a mental weakness, something was bothering the dog, but what could stoop a dog to this level? Rook had a guess and for once, it made sympathy flicker in her chest, hidden on the outside but painful within. This brought memories back that she would rather chase away. In that moment, Rook despised the dog on the platform but why? For bringing back the memory of the death of her mentor.

Still, the dog she had mistaken for a pure bred Doberman lifted its head in a regal fashion, gazing down at her as if she were the peasant and he the king, if only he knew the roles were reversed. She let him believe what he wanted, they would fight it out soon enough and he would realize that she was superior. Battles were more than just brawn and while she would happily play the part of the muscular moron, she was more than she appeared. Whether he realized that yet or not was still to be seen. For him, she felt she had him fairly well mapped out. Traumatized by something close, he was looking for an escape- perhaps a fresh start but by the gaze gave she doubted it. Although it became questionable as to why he didn’t just off himself, she thought she had that answer to, pride. The same emotion that had plagued her after the death of her mentor, she had wanted to die and the bitch tossed herself into every fight she could just so her life could be ended. No one had been able to beat her instincts, however, what started as a will to survive quickly turned into her training and the years of being beaten by her mentor.

When he spoke, it shifted her from her thoughts. Her eyes, although never having left him, once more focused on the present form of a mutt. His eyes raked over her so sharply she could almost feel it. The bitch didn’t move, instead she let him take his time looking her over, trying to find the perfect word, the perfect mockery of her appearance. Rook was no stranger to her hideous appearance and the nicknames never seemed to end. Price often called her “piglet” due to her wrinkled, ugly look. This didn’t bother her though, she was not a dog that based affection off beauty and good looks her attraction was far more primitive. The mastiff only cared about the ability to fight and survive, if one could not do that, then they were not worthy enough to breed with her. When he finished his sentence her brow furrowed, wrinkling further in surprise. That was not what she expected. His snarky response evoked a grin from the behemoth though and as she did the shoestring like drool dripped further down. “Is that so?” She cocked her head to the side in curiosity as she peered at his sleek and slim form. “You don’t drool, you aren’t wrinkled, and you have a slender snout. I’m pretty sure you have the ladies swooning in your presence. How are we alike?” Her tone was amused, barely choking back laughter. In flesh, they were nothing alike, but she was certain his sobering attitude was something she could relate.

The battle hardened mastiff listened as he spoke again, this time, his dull body and voice came to life a bit an added snarl giving his words more meaning. Once more the mastiff grinned, an excited glimmer in her copper eyes. “You and me both. Fortunately, I have a plan for that. Do you?” Her tone was casual but serious. The mastiff wanted gladiators for a reason; it wasn’t just to bully the town she wanted to create something more than a gang of thugs. Rook wanted power; she wanted others to fear her and others like her, those like Admiral. “I’m Rook.”



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[Desired]

Admiral’s mood was so low that even this interesting turn of events couldn’t bring more than a sheen of life into his dull eyes. He didn’t know what the female wanted and any other time he would have slobbered at the chance to find out. Right now though, he was aching in his soul and desperately wanted to be left alone. He didn’t care for any reasoning as to why the bitch would approach him. He simply didn’t care about a lot of things.

He blinked and forced himself to refocus on the task at hand. His sluggish mind slowly obeyed and he once again took in the female. She was simply standing there and watching him, unmoving. Not too much of a threat, considering he was up here on this cart. It was because his eyes were on her steady that he saws the flicker of emotion across her haggard face. She had expected something worse to come from his maw. Admiral’s lips twitched. He did so love to be unexpected. He figured that if the mutt hated her appearance and any comment on it, she wouldn’t approach so confidently. She had no care, that he could tell, because it mirrored his own take on his face.

His lips grew apart a little wider. It wasn’t much of a smile but the effort was too much to fully complete the movement. She hadn’t been able to follow his reasoning, but he forgave her. No one ever really had. Marks of the insane, he guessed. That no one would ever understand the metaphors and similes his fantastic brain conjured up. ”You’re a fighter, scarred and old. In that, we are much the same.” His voice this time was a little clearer and he managed to lift his head from his paws and look at her disconcertingly. He wanted to see her reaction, like he always did. Or at least, he felt like he had too. Because he always did.

A plan? To rid the world of asinine characters? This time his head did cock and a little more life appeared in his eyes. Did she plan to go on a vigilante expedition and destroy the canines of stupidity? He hated to admit it, because it was too much like Gully’s mother’s plan, but he wouldn’t claim to not understand. Sometimes, fighting was really all that made sense. Blood and pain, that he could deal with. It was his own damned uncontrollable mind that he liked to forget about. Her mention of him made his eyes spark with annoyance. She knew nothing of him and had no right to add that domineering tilt to those two little words. He had done much in search of somewhere to stake his claim. It was all evidenced on the many scars on his fighter’s frame.

”Admiral.” he replied lowly, more out of instinct than actual response. Still, his name came forward with the ego of the old Admiral, the one that wasn’t riding a low cycle. His name had spread fear far too many times for him not to be proud of it. If that was ego, then he had it.

He lifted his head and looked down at her again. What would a dog like her want to change the world with? He figured it was the same thing that he missed. A kingdom. Or a pack, as these dogs tended to call it. To feel the power of a loyal pack, that would be something he had never experienced. To once again be heralded for what he deserved. He was a prince and nothing could change that.

”A kingdom. Is that what you wish to build, sweetheart?” His lips quirked, ”Because you’ll need more than your brawn.” He still hadn’t decided what he felt about it. Could hardly muster the energy to make sure his sneer was in place as he spoke.



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Amount:650 Words.
Notes/Admiral’s emotional state: Admiral is in the midst of a depressive episode and is ‘riding low’ and is depressed, suicidal, and easily angered and combative. He is also easily manipulated by the right character.
Muse: Bunches!
Tune: None
Tags: Rook;;

[rook]

It seemed with every passing moment the mutt became more alert, more alive. Rook watched the dog slowly begin to form a smile, but it never quite made it. She had not followed his reasoning, but then again, very few followed hers all the time. This did not mean that she was incompetent; merely that she had a different way of thinking and interpreting his words. His actions, however, were easy to read and she noted that he was beaten and broken, down on his luck and possibly beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The French mastiff watched quietly, soaking it all in.

When he spoke, explaining what he had meant she smirked. Old? She disagreed but with a flick of her ears she dismissed it. “Ah, what fighting scars do you have, they’re a little hard to see from way down here.” She wanted him on ground level, to absorb the scars he carried to see just what sort of gladiator he was. Despite his down and dreary mood, she could occasionally see flickers of the real dog, the Admiral and that part of him looked more than promising. Rook was not one to get her hopes up and so, any thought of them fighting side by side was snuffed out before it began to grow. The Doberman cross could very easily fight for the good, to protect everyone. Those were not the ideals she wanted within her empire.

At the mention of ridding the town of the weak and stupid his head lifted, cocking to the side. There was an emotion that lingered in his expression for more than a second and in it, Rook found promise. When he spoke she grinned. A kingdom… She liked the sound of it. Although a pack worked well, a Kingdom sounded even better. When he mentioned needing more than her brawn she chuckled. “A Kingdom is what I want, yes, where the strong protect each other and strive to rid the town of everything else. I want to control the town, those that aren’t part of my empire; I want them to fear us.” There was a glimmer in her copper eyes. Rook wanted a lot and she knew it wasn’t happening overnight, nor even in her generation, but her children…brought up in her image and with her ideals…they could see her ideals come into reality.

“I’m smarter than I look, Admiral. However, I wouldn’t be opposed to someone offering their own knowledge and wisdom. What do you think?” She cocked her head in curiosity as she questioned him, he seemed like a dog that would cheer up with the idea of higher power and control and he certainly seemed built for it. Of course, she wanted to test him, but that could be done later- when he was once again himself. Despite being a bit of a dirty fighter, she wouldn’t lower herself to fight a dog that was already down. “The ranking system I have in mind is simple, to get to the top, you earn it by fighting and completing missions. Every member is expected to protect one another, but treat outsiders without mercy.” She paused, staring at him calmly. “Is that the kind of Kingdom you imagine?”




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[rook]

bump?

[Desired]

Admiral may be down in a darkness that he couldn’t fight. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t just as cunning or manipulative as always. His tired brain noted the expression that flickered across the female’s haggard face. She didn’t agree with what he had said about scarred and old. He didn’t care at this point in time. Any other and he would have latched on the chance to show how his brain was more superior and that was why she hadn’t kept up with it. But now he was simply trying to make sure he stayed focused enough on the here and now and not get caught up on the drowning of his soul.

He snorted at her next set of words. Scars aren’t always on the outside. was muttered between his teeth. He was unaware that his vocal chords had vibrated his thought out into the air. It was a quiet remark, easily lost if one wasn’t latched onto his every move. He lifted his head and slowly stood up, making sure that he kept his balance on top of the metal cart. He cocked his head and looked down at her. He still had the advantage should this turn ugly and the undepressed Admiral would never give up any advantage. But right now he didn’t give a damn if Rook decided to strike him. He jumped and landed with a thud that betrayed the grace with which he moved. Doberman blood kept his pitbull bulk from overpowering his visage and frame, but when he landed there was no doubting the fighter in his stance. Torn left ear flopped crookedly and the soft light reflected off the scars that glittered on his chest. The curse of his thin skin and short hair was evident at the battle wounds across his shoulders. Remnants of dogs passed that had tried to get inside his killer jaw’s range and failed.

He knew mania when he saw it, even now, though he blinked stupidly until the emotion in her amber eyes registered. She saw glory the same way he did, by fear and blood. A crooked smile graced his maw momentarily as he listened to her speak. ”I’m familiar with the type of empire you seek.” he uttered, yellow-green eyes watching her intently. She spoke some more and he couldn’t help but twist his maw more, ”Sweetheart, I never said that your looks portrayed your intelligence. If anything, you are more prepared than half the dogs I’ve come across begging for glory and power.”

She wasn’t begging. She was demanding it. In his state, it reminded him so much of Blithe that his chest physically ached in memory. He had held the position of advisor once to a brother tighter than two souls could possibly be. But that was before his mother’s disease had filtered into his brain and shattered who he was. He blinked to clear the memories and the pain, trying desperately to remain on topic and present.

What type of Kingdom did he expect? Much of what she said was true for many packs. His father’s pack had always been a kingdom. No other word had fit the enormity and synchronism of the canines within the territory. Nor did any compare to the iron fist that the royal family maintained. ”A kingdom is ruled by own leader who has all control. It’s impossible to be a strong one by oneself.” He began, stepping towards her slightly. He may be in a well at the moment, but he was going to build a throne while he was there. Admiral was nothing if not pragmatic. ”After all, a king can’t be king if there’s no one to govern. And experience helps in certain matters. Tell me, Rook, why should I follow you when I could do the same elsewhere myself?”

He of course knew his last sentence was a lie. A king that couldn’t predict his next mood, who spiraled from manic tyrant to suicidal martyr the next was no good for anyone, not even himself. But he was also Admiral, prince and advisor, and he wasn’t going to slip inside the ranks of a forming pack without seeing what he could get out of it. He didn’t need protection or family, the loner life suited him just fine. If she was any good, she would be testing him the same as he was testing her.
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Amount:734 Words.
Notes/Admiral’s emotional state: Admiral is in the midst of a depressive episode and is ‘riding low’ and is depressed, suicidal, and easily angered and combative. He is also easily manipulated by the right character.
Muse: Bunches! So sorry for the wait
Tune: None
Tags: Rook;;