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flint_garouThe stupid little things.
19 January, 2012
The moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (27% full).
Noon finds Flint in the bunkroom, sprawled out on the floor with headphones on, intent on whatever game he's playing on the DS. Attacking something, from the buttonmashing, and then the look of victory and grin that passes the cub's face, but nearly oblivious to his surroundings.
The door pushes open as Devon enters, a vaguely preoccupied look on his face, partially masked behind the scratches from the day before, laptop closed and tucked under an arm. "Hey, Flint," he says as he passes the cub, the greeting given absently. His laptop is dropped onto his bunk, with him following shortly after.
It takes a moment for Flint to notice the presence of the Ahroun, and the cub reaches up, headphones pushed off to hang around his neck. "Hey there Devon," the boy says. Attention is turned back to the game on the DS for a minute, saving progress and then the game is closed, powered off, and Flint props his head up on his arms.
Devon casts a glance toward the other boy as he kicks his shoes off. A couple of seconds are used to fold his pillow in half before he reclines back again. "What's up," he asks, setting his gaze upon the slats of the bunk above him.
"Not much, actually," Flint responds, headphones coming off to rest atop the DS. The cub looks over at Devon for a second, before simply going back to looking nowhere in particular. "Being lazy and playing a game, for a little?" The admission comes with half a grin.
"Lazy," Devon echoes, chiding without a truly serious note. He reaches blindly, fingers pulling his laptop close enough to pick up. It's rested on his knees, though not opened.
Flint laughs a little, before turning to sit up, knees hugged to his chest. "Just a bit. Wasn't getting anywhere trying to figure some stuff out, so. Took a break from it."
"What're you trying to figure out," Devon asks. His laptop is opened, though he looks at the cub instead.
"Just a song," the boy responds. "Kinda. Except, like I said, wasn't getting anywhere." A shrug follows.
Devon nods after a moment, looking at the black screen in front of him. "You think any more about your actions at Edgewood the other day?"
The cub nods. "Yes," he responds, "fair lot, really. And about… how to make sure I don't let stupid little things like that get to me like that in the future." Flint's brow furrows, and he rests his head on his knees for a moment.
"It's not stupid," Devon says tapping a finger against the casing of his laptop. "And it's okay to get angry about it. What isn't okay is letting it consume you."
Flint frowns a little, looking up at Devon. "It feels stupid," the cub responds. "There's no logic to the getting angry about it, because I mean. You're right. I'm here now, this is better, and all that. It shouldn't matter. Yet. It still makes me mad."
Devon glances toward the cub, nodding after a moment. "Understandable. Hard to let go of those bonds. Even when it's nothing good."
Flint raises a hand to rub at his forehead. "Yeah," the boy eventually says. "And I'd just as soon not think about it, in general. But I think, that avoidance and such was part of why it got to me so quickly."
"Impossible to avoid it completely," Devon points out. "You might as well avoid everyone all together. Change the subject or …get a drink of water. Something. Just stop letting yourself be taken by your rage. It'll get you killed."
"I know," Flint acknowledges, head resting on his knees again, and looking over at Devon. "I know." The repetition is quieter than the first time he said it, and shoulders slump a little further.
Devon frowns slightly, then just shakes his head. He turns back to his laptop, booting it up. "If you know, then stop getting all …self-pitying. You made a mistake, learn from it."
Flint sits up a bit, arms wrapping around his knees, and then pushes himself to his feet, picking up the DS and then walking over towards the bunk. The first two rungs are climbed, and it's dumped on his bed, and the cub jumps back down to the floor, turning to lean against the ladder. "It's not self-pity," Flint says, though he doesn't quite look at the Ahroun. "It's more…" A shrug, and his brows furrow, unwilling to admit that he's beating himself up for the mistake.
"It is self pity," Devon returns, casually. "But look. I'm not going to argue with you about it. Someone'd end up getting pissed and hurt and… just not worth it. Call it whatever you want."
Flint nods, brows furrowing in thought. "Suppose so," the boy responds. Thumbs hook into the pockets of his jeans, and there's a shrug.
"Hey," Devon says as he looks up from his laptop screen. "You know I'm not going to beat around the bush and put things nicely. I didn't before all this werewolf stuff, I'm not going to start. Don't take it personally, because I'm not trying to pick on you or …whatever. But this…" He waves a hand in vague gesture toward Flint. "I mean, seriously. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."
Flint nods. "It's not feeling sorry for myself, as such," the cub insists, again. "Caught up on something, maybe. Annoyed at myself because it really… it feels stupid to be caught up on it, yes. But no. Not sorry for myself." Nonetheless, there's a sense that for the moment at least, Flint's picked himself up and out of it. "Anyway. Are you… busy, or?" He looks over at the Ahroun, now. "Whenever you're done, could we work on sparring, some?"
"Yeah," Devon says, returning his gaze to the screen. He stares at it for a long moment, not truly working or reading the display. With a sigh, he closes the laptop again and sets it aside, then drags himself up from from his bunk.
19 January, 2012
The moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (27% full).
Noon finds Flint in the bunkroom, sprawled out on the floor with headphones on, intent on whatever game he's playing on the DS. Attacking something, from the buttonmashing, and then the look of victory and grin that passes the cub's face, but nearly oblivious to his surroundings.
The door pushes open as Devon enters, a vaguely preoccupied look on his face, partially masked behind the scratches from the day before, laptop closed and tucked under an arm. "Hey, Flint," he says as he passes the cub, the greeting given absently. His laptop is dropped onto his bunk, with him following shortly after.
It takes a moment for Flint to notice the presence of the Ahroun, and the cub reaches up, headphones pushed off to hang around his neck. "Hey there Devon," the boy says. Attention is turned back to the game on the DS for a minute, saving progress and then the game is closed, powered off, and Flint props his head up on his arms.
Devon casts a glance toward the other boy as he kicks his shoes off. A couple of seconds are used to fold his pillow in half before he reclines back again. "What's up," he asks, setting his gaze upon the slats of the bunk above him.
"Not much, actually," Flint responds, headphones coming off to rest atop the DS. The cub looks over at Devon for a second, before simply going back to looking nowhere in particular. "Being lazy and playing a game, for a little?" The admission comes with half a grin.
"Lazy," Devon echoes, chiding without a truly serious note. He reaches blindly, fingers pulling his laptop close enough to pick up. It's rested on his knees, though not opened.
Flint laughs a little, before turning to sit up, knees hugged to his chest. "Just a bit. Wasn't getting anywhere trying to figure some stuff out, so. Took a break from it."
"What're you trying to figure out," Devon asks. His laptop is opened, though he looks at the cub instead.
"Just a song," the boy responds. "Kinda. Except, like I said, wasn't getting anywhere." A shrug follows.
Devon nods after a moment, looking at the black screen in front of him. "You think any more about your actions at Edgewood the other day?"
The cub nods. "Yes," he responds, "fair lot, really. And about… how to make sure I don't let stupid little things like that get to me like that in the future." Flint's brow furrows, and he rests his head on his knees for a moment.
"It's not stupid," Devon says tapping a finger against the casing of his laptop. "And it's okay to get angry about it. What isn't okay is letting it consume you."
Flint frowns a little, looking up at Devon. "It feels stupid," the cub responds. "There's no logic to the getting angry about it, because I mean. You're right. I'm here now, this is better, and all that. It shouldn't matter. Yet. It still makes me mad."
Devon glances toward the cub, nodding after a moment. "Understandable. Hard to let go of those bonds. Even when it's nothing good."
Flint raises a hand to rub at his forehead. "Yeah," the boy eventually says. "And I'd just as soon not think about it, in general. But I think, that avoidance and such was part of why it got to me so quickly."
"Impossible to avoid it completely," Devon points out. "You might as well avoid everyone all together. Change the subject or …get a drink of water. Something. Just stop letting yourself be taken by your rage. It'll get you killed."
"I know," Flint acknowledges, head resting on his knees again, and looking over at Devon. "I know." The repetition is quieter than the first time he said it, and shoulders slump a little further.
Devon frowns slightly, then just shakes his head. He turns back to his laptop, booting it up. "If you know, then stop getting all …self-pitying. You made a mistake, learn from it."
Flint sits up a bit, arms wrapping around his knees, and then pushes himself to his feet, picking up the DS and then walking over towards the bunk. The first two rungs are climbed, and it's dumped on his bed, and the cub jumps back down to the floor, turning to lean against the ladder. "It's not self-pity," Flint says, though he doesn't quite look at the Ahroun. "It's more…" A shrug, and his brows furrow, unwilling to admit that he's beating himself up for the mistake.
"It is self pity," Devon returns, casually. "But look. I'm not going to argue with you about it. Someone'd end up getting pissed and hurt and… just not worth it. Call it whatever you want."
Flint nods, brows furrowing in thought. "Suppose so," the boy responds. Thumbs hook into the pockets of his jeans, and there's a shrug.
"Hey," Devon says as he looks up from his laptop screen. "You know I'm not going to beat around the bush and put things nicely. I didn't before all this werewolf stuff, I'm not going to start. Don't take it personally, because I'm not trying to pick on you or …whatever. But this…" He waves a hand in vague gesture toward Flint. "I mean, seriously. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."
Flint nods. "It's not feeling sorry for myself, as such," the cub insists, again. "Caught up on something, maybe. Annoyed at myself because it really… it feels stupid to be caught up on it, yes. But no. Not sorry for myself." Nonetheless, there's a sense that for the moment at least, Flint's picked himself up and out of it. "Anyway. Are you… busy, or?" He looks over at the Ahroun, now. "Whenever you're done, could we work on sparring, some?"
"Yeah," Devon says, returning his gaze to the screen. He stares at it for a long moment, not truly working or reading the display. With a sigh, he closes the laptop again and sets it aside, then drags himself up from from his bunk.