the witching hour Nov 4, 2019 2:37:11 GMT
Post by Ramsay on Nov 4, 2019 2:37:11 GMT
The cover of night held a certain comfort within it that drew him out, that whispered sweet nothings in his ear and lured him out to stand under the light of the moon. The stress induced insomnia did not help his wanderlust either, especially considering the weight of the Saints' recent tragedy. Unlike anything he had ever seen before - flames and man alike ravaged the place they called home, stealing the life from their gang members all the same. It left them wounded in more ways than just physical, the stress that hung over each one of them was palpable, and Ramsay wasn't an exception. The conversation he had had with Karma merely nights before it happened played over and over again in his mind, the plans for war and the spoils were now struck down. He had promised her it would all be hers; it was his job to deliver unto her whatever it was she desired, to execute her plans and drive them forth as her steady hand. And now... Now they were seeking shelter from the Crabs' like refuges, and it made him feel helpless, his power snatched away from him for no reason beside human greed and stupidity.
In an attempt to soothe the tired ache in his mind, he decided to put his sleeplessness to good use and hit the streets of Blood Village. Although the night was climbing into the wee hours where morning would soon begin, the humans crawled the streets. Thankfully they were quite loud in doing so, clearly inebriated or going about their own lawless business. Lucky for the Akita he was of a darker hue but he still clung to the walls of the buildings he passed by, his senses all on high alert as his eyes surveyed the streets around him. It had not taken him long to no longer feel the grit of sand beneath his paws, the rough streets feeling like home against his pads once he got into the city. Karma had warned them all to steer clear of the Warehouse for now, as it was obvious the dog men would be lying in wait for even just one of them to return, a fool that would lead them back to their temporary safe haven.
The dark hound breached the edge of the city center where the shops sat, an area much safer navigated through the alleyways as he turned down a dimly lit path to reach the rear of the stores and businesses. Large paws moved his compact frame swiftly past the trash cans and scattered garbage, his nose upturned as nostrils flared to scent the air. On one of his many night walks he had seen abandoned homes not more than few blocks out, where he anticipated to scout out as a new home base, even if it was only until a more suitable domicile was found. At this point, anything would be better than nothing, so long as it was within their gang's territory and off of the humans' radar.
His tail bounced against his hip in a tight curl as he trot along and soon became still as he slowed to a stalk, the line of row homes towering before him. The windows were boarded up and pink papers were stapled to all their doors. Judging by the state of their appearance it was clear that it had been quite some time since any human had inhabited any of the houses. As he lifted his paw to take his next step, a sound caught his pointed ears and he whipped himself around to see what it was.
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