Can't save the Princess from Bowser like that.
Tuesday, 24 January 2012 22:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouAnd wolves aren't meant to be alone.
24 January, 2012
The moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (9% full).
Flint's currently the only occupant of the cubroom, with others whose room it also is busy and therefore not present, which might — or might not — explain the fact that the boy has laid down on the floor, propped up on his elbows and a pillow while he plays with the DS. Or more, not plays on it. The cub still has the game in front of him, but it's long ignored.
Devon comes into the bunk room from the hall, likely having traveled the stairs to make it this far. His pack, formerly slung over a shoulder is pulled off as he enters the room, to be deposited onto his bunk. Flint earns a glance and then a longer look as the Ahroun crosses the room. "You know you can't save the Princess from Bowser by staring off into space," he offers helpfully.
Flint grins, setting the game fully down after a moment of pressing buttons and looking over at Devon. "Yeah," he acknowledges. "Hey." The cub doesn't seem inclined to sit up, or anything like that, but he's not going to be totally antisocial and continue playing the video game, either.
Brows lift slightly, though Devon nods as he sinks onto his mattress. "I was thinking I'd go try to talk to Kevin again," he says, bending to pull off his shoes. "Pray I figure out when to stop talking so he doesn't do worse than just kick me out of his apartment and not speak to me again."
Flint furrows his brow a bit, turning to Devon slightly, and then nods. "Right," the boy says, gathering up the pillow and game in order to sit, knees drawn to his chest, facing Devon. "Might be good." There's no judgment in the words, though, just simple and plainly stated observation.
"Think so," Devon asks as he pushes his shoes under the bed. He flops onto his back, one arm beneath his pillow cradling his head. "Don't know if it'll do any good. He… I thought he'd understand, since… he's kind of…. We started off into this world the same way. Lost, I mean."
"Hard to tell if it will or won't," Flint says. Pillow and arms are both hugged to the cub's chest for a moment, and he offers the Ahroun a faint shrug. "I think, though, that you may as well try. Understanding's a tricky thing, anyway."
"I guess." Devon lifts his other hand, rubbing it against his forehead. "Think a couple others and I're making a pack," he says, changing the subject. "I don't know, may be anyway."
Flint pulls his knees up to his chest as well after a small pause. "Oh?" There's a faint interest betrayed in his tone of voice, in the momentary arch of the cub's brows.
Devon nods as he drops his hand to his chest. "Think so. Kind of strange, but… I dunno. Kind of hoping it's real. They seem like a good couple of Garou to hang out with."
Flint nods briefly. "That's good, then. Should be a good thing and all?" Though the cub's not quite sure of that, it's more of a question than a statement.
"Supposed to be." Devon grins slightly, half his mouth pulling back and up to form the expression with the other remains in an unsure line. "People'll tell you we're part wolf, and wolves aren't meant to be alone."
Another nod from the cub. "Honestly, that's not been covered all that much, aside from exactly that, that wolves aren't meant to be alone or something." Flint shrugs again.
"Yeah, I didn't really understand it either." Devon still doesn't quite, by his tone. "Nice to be accepted by people, though. Really kind of hoping it all works out."
Flint pushes himself to his feet after a long moment of pause, a single nod given to the Ahroun's words. "It'll work out," he offers, making his way over to the ladder to the upper bunk, and then tossing things up there before leaning against it. "I should sleep, supposed to be getting up early and all. Anyway." A faint grin is offered, before the boy makes his way to the upper bunk.
Devon nods absently, turning somewhat to face the wall. "Yeah, gotta head out to Edgewood bright'n early. G'night, Flint."
"Night, Devon," comes the response, a little absently. The sounds and movement from the upper bunk continue for a few minutes, before they quiet and still.
24 January, 2012
The moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (9% full).
Flint's currently the only occupant of the cubroom, with others whose room it also is busy and therefore not present, which might — or might not — explain the fact that the boy has laid down on the floor, propped up on his elbows and a pillow while he plays with the DS. Or more, not plays on it. The cub still has the game in front of him, but it's long ignored.
Devon comes into the bunk room from the hall, likely having traveled the stairs to make it this far. His pack, formerly slung over a shoulder is pulled off as he enters the room, to be deposited onto his bunk. Flint earns a glance and then a longer look as the Ahroun crosses the room. "You know you can't save the Princess from Bowser by staring off into space," he offers helpfully.
Flint grins, setting the game fully down after a moment of pressing buttons and looking over at Devon. "Yeah," he acknowledges. "Hey." The cub doesn't seem inclined to sit up, or anything like that, but he's not going to be totally antisocial and continue playing the video game, either.
Brows lift slightly, though Devon nods as he sinks onto his mattress. "I was thinking I'd go try to talk to Kevin again," he says, bending to pull off his shoes. "Pray I figure out when to stop talking so he doesn't do worse than just kick me out of his apartment and not speak to me again."
Flint furrows his brow a bit, turning to Devon slightly, and then nods. "Right," the boy says, gathering up the pillow and game in order to sit, knees drawn to his chest, facing Devon. "Might be good." There's no judgment in the words, though, just simple and plainly stated observation.
"Think so," Devon asks as he pushes his shoes under the bed. He flops onto his back, one arm beneath his pillow cradling his head. "Don't know if it'll do any good. He… I thought he'd understand, since… he's kind of…. We started off into this world the same way. Lost, I mean."
"Hard to tell if it will or won't," Flint says. Pillow and arms are both hugged to the cub's chest for a moment, and he offers the Ahroun a faint shrug. "I think, though, that you may as well try. Understanding's a tricky thing, anyway."
"I guess." Devon lifts his other hand, rubbing it against his forehead. "Think a couple others and I're making a pack," he says, changing the subject. "I don't know, may be anyway."
Flint pulls his knees up to his chest as well after a small pause. "Oh?" There's a faint interest betrayed in his tone of voice, in the momentary arch of the cub's brows.
Devon nods as he drops his hand to his chest. "Think so. Kind of strange, but… I dunno. Kind of hoping it's real. They seem like a good couple of Garou to hang out with."
Flint nods briefly. "That's good, then. Should be a good thing and all?" Though the cub's not quite sure of that, it's more of a question than a statement.
"Supposed to be." Devon grins slightly, half his mouth pulling back and up to form the expression with the other remains in an unsure line. "People'll tell you we're part wolf, and wolves aren't meant to be alone."
Another nod from the cub. "Honestly, that's not been covered all that much, aside from exactly that, that wolves aren't meant to be alone or something." Flint shrugs again.
"Yeah, I didn't really understand it either." Devon still doesn't quite, by his tone. "Nice to be accepted by people, though. Really kind of hoping it all works out."
Flint pushes himself to his feet after a long moment of pause, a single nod given to the Ahroun's words. "It'll work out," he offers, making his way over to the ladder to the upper bunk, and then tossing things up there before leaning against it. "I should sleep, supposed to be getting up early and all. Anyway." A faint grin is offered, before the boy makes his way to the upper bunk.
Devon nods absently, turning somewhat to face the wall. "Yeah, gotta head out to Edgewood bright'n early. G'night, Flint."
"Night, Devon," comes the response, a little absently. The sounds and movement from the upper bunk continue for a few minutes, before they quiet and still.