Post by Connor on Sept 28, 2006 22:25:44 GMT -5
The sun beat down on the city harshly, it’s rays more bright than Connor could recall them being before. But hey, that’s what it’s lie living in the city. So much haze and pollution, it alters everything, even the rain at night. Why should the light be any different? Honestly, you can’t just give one things something and not expect the other thing to go without. Great, now he was making absolutely no sense, and this was talk in his head even! Silently, Connor walked down the busy street of the city, against the traffic on the sidewalk. People bumped into him from time to time, but he made no motion to look up or stop to receive an apology. He kept his head low, sunglasses close to his eyes, backback straps on both shoulders tightly, and his hands in his pockets. Unfortunately, that was one thing he inherited from his father. His habits.
Connor wore a light T-shirt, white, with some weird band logo for rock and baggy jean pants with holes in the knees. They were worn holes, not the kind of pats you buy in the store that already have the holes or the starts of them. No. He believed in making things for yourself, not taking the cheap way out. The lazy approach. School had just got out and Connor was attempting the journey to travel home. His head was always bowed as he walked, making his 6’0” figure down to about 5’9” or 10”. It also helped prevent attention from coming to himself. People had a tendency to recognize his face and ask if he was Strike’s boy. Politely, he would say yes, but after that, they would never let Connor leave. Instead, he would have to stand there with a heavy school bag and listen to them going on and on about how well he’s done for the crime on the werewolves side and such.
Of course, there really was no change. He barely did anything. The city was a city and there were more unsolved reports as there had always been. Besides, the crime for werewolves in this city was not just his job, it also included the other law council members, and that wasn’t just for this city either. Yeah, it was a great job and all, slightly interesting to be the son of the man who was in it, but after awhile, it got boring. Politics bored Connor. What was the point? They were all corrupted anyways and just wanted to take everyone’s money for themselves. Breath Connor, Breath.
Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, Connor only paused for a couple seconds to see just where he had tripped. Finding the crack and realizing it had no interesting features, he moved on. Once more, his head bowed down and he brought up a hand from his pocket to push the sunglasses as much closer to his face as they would get. His dad once told him that he too wore sunglasses, night and day to cover his eyes. But Connor well knew they had entirely different reasons. His father did it because he had to hide what he was from the public, and even at night, people could recognize the eyes as something supernatural. Now a days, no one cared, though silver was an interesting color and fairly uncommon, it was not eerie. Connor wore his sunglasses only at day, never at night, and it was to hide too. Only he was hiding who he was as being, not who he was in species. His father never understood this, but they never argued it. In fact, they really never argued at all. Which was good. Only in certain debates, and that really wasn’t arguing, just more of their passion for the topic showing through.
Once in awhile, Connor would raise his eyes up to see how crowded it was on the sidewalk still. But he always brought his eyes back down and continued on, bumping into people here and there. Almost home. He knew his father would be waiting inside, doing work of some sort. Once stepping foot inside the door and announcing himself as being home, Connor would hear his dad’s voice beckoning him o come to the Study and tell him how his day at school was. It was ritual. Connor, of course, would say it was ok perfectly fine, boring, and more fine. And then he would neglect to inform him that he is failing gym or got into a small fight at school. Fights weren’t rare for Connor, but they weren’t always hand to hand, they were mostly all talk and getting up into each other’s face. Ah school. The drama. Thinking this deep caused him to trip again. This time, it was over a small metal pole laying on the ground. Growling under his breath, he rose his foot over it and stomped down in anger, making the metal bend under his foot.. Some things just don’t die down in a blood line, now do they?
Connor wore a light T-shirt, white, with some weird band logo for rock and baggy jean pants with holes in the knees. They were worn holes, not the kind of pats you buy in the store that already have the holes or the starts of them. No. He believed in making things for yourself, not taking the cheap way out. The lazy approach. School had just got out and Connor was attempting the journey to travel home. His head was always bowed as he walked, making his 6’0” figure down to about 5’9” or 10”. It also helped prevent attention from coming to himself. People had a tendency to recognize his face and ask if he was Strike’s boy. Politely, he would say yes, but after that, they would never let Connor leave. Instead, he would have to stand there with a heavy school bag and listen to them going on and on about how well he’s done for the crime on the werewolves side and such.
Of course, there really was no change. He barely did anything. The city was a city and there were more unsolved reports as there had always been. Besides, the crime for werewolves in this city was not just his job, it also included the other law council members, and that wasn’t just for this city either. Yeah, it was a great job and all, slightly interesting to be the son of the man who was in it, but after awhile, it got boring. Politics bored Connor. What was the point? They were all corrupted anyways and just wanted to take everyone’s money for themselves. Breath Connor, Breath.
Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, Connor only paused for a couple seconds to see just where he had tripped. Finding the crack and realizing it had no interesting features, he moved on. Once more, his head bowed down and he brought up a hand from his pocket to push the sunglasses as much closer to his face as they would get. His dad once told him that he too wore sunglasses, night and day to cover his eyes. But Connor well knew they had entirely different reasons. His father did it because he had to hide what he was from the public, and even at night, people could recognize the eyes as something supernatural. Now a days, no one cared, though silver was an interesting color and fairly uncommon, it was not eerie. Connor wore his sunglasses only at day, never at night, and it was to hide too. Only he was hiding who he was as being, not who he was in species. His father never understood this, but they never argued it. In fact, they really never argued at all. Which was good. Only in certain debates, and that really wasn’t arguing, just more of their passion for the topic showing through.
Once in awhile, Connor would raise his eyes up to see how crowded it was on the sidewalk still. But he always brought his eyes back down and continued on, bumping into people here and there. Almost home. He knew his father would be waiting inside, doing work of some sort. Once stepping foot inside the door and announcing himself as being home, Connor would hear his dad’s voice beckoning him o come to the Study and tell him how his day at school was. It was ritual. Connor, of course, would say it was ok perfectly fine, boring, and more fine. And then he would neglect to inform him that he is failing gym or got into a small fight at school. Fights weren’t rare for Connor, but they weren’t always hand to hand, they were mostly all talk and getting up into each other’s face. Ah school. The drama. Thinking this deep caused him to trip again. This time, it was over a small metal pole laying on the ground. Growling under his breath, he rose his foot over it and stomped down in anger, making the metal bend under his foot.. Some things just don’t die down in a blood line, now do they?