Post by Strike on Aug 11, 2013 18:15:56 GMT -5
Standing outside the Manor doors brought on a whole set of waves of emotion. Magda’s Manor guards hovered at his back, keeping their posts. For too long he had been stuck in the prison of bars and walls with nothing but his own company and that of the few visitors that were permitted. Mostly they were Oriana and Magda. His own sister hadn’t even shown her face to him again and he was quite alright with that. She had her reasons as he had his own. Crystal was the new Alpha. Strike held no interest in taking that back or interfering in any form. He only wanted what he came to this forsaken place for. His blood. Crystal was Kragarian yes, but she was flawed and no longer pure in the blood. Connor, his own son, was of the blood and he would get to that. Right now he couldn’t face him. There was too much pain still and everything was far too foreign yet. There was no way he could act…appropriately to the boy. Even if he tried.
Taking in a deep breath, he stepped forward and continued the gait toward the streets. It was his first time on his own. The hair at the back of his neck prickled as the eyes of the guards watched him. Strike knew that no matter where he was in the city, he would have all the eyes and ears of every guardian of every race on him. It was inevitable with his entrance. That and Magda’s over protectiveness. He understood her drive to protect her people and the city but had she not learned that he was capable of so much? It happened to be a miracle he already had the spores of the ancient placed in his system. If he and Trisha hadn’t tussled and caused the reaction, the partial paralysis never would have taken hold. Even now he believed it was the only way Oriana managed to get the sedative in him next. Believed.
Looking up toward the sky, his silver eyes watched the clouds float by. Before his release, Magda had taken him for a run to test his abilities in comprehension. It helped his pining for fresh air and space. Shaking his head, he cast the thoughts away, not wanting to concentrate on that. Despite best effort on everyone’s part, he was still conflicted. Still at ends with himself. One thing he continued to believe in was his goal of Trisha. She was of the blood now.
As he walked, his eyes scanned the surrounding area, taking in all the sights. Partial memories haunted him and came in spurts but he did recall a few images before his departure 10 years before. Much had changed. Hands instantly shoved in his jean pockets, an old habit that came back to him as soon as he put his old clothes back on. Someone had delivered the material to the Manor for him. Despite his deep distaste for the constricting articles, he wore it anyways. More like persuaded by insisting pests. Apparently no one evolved beyond the cultural dependence of being covered even though it was only natural to wear your skin. Go figure.
His nostrils flared as he took in the smells, walking past various people along the street way. No one spared him a second glance. In that moment he stopped and stood still, staring at the concrete below his feet. He was thankful no one recognized him. One of his worries had been being associated with his past and this was a way to escape that. Eventually someone would remember him, but for now, it seemed there were enough new faces and enough people that simply didn’t care. Why would anyone want to acknowledge a leader figure that was from ten years ago and no longer prevalent to the current standings.
Strike’s expression remained void, blank of emotion even though on the inside he was smiling with the realization. Blinking he finally looked back up and glanced over the buildings around him.
Taking in a deep breath, he stepped forward and continued the gait toward the streets. It was his first time on his own. The hair at the back of his neck prickled as the eyes of the guards watched him. Strike knew that no matter where he was in the city, he would have all the eyes and ears of every guardian of every race on him. It was inevitable with his entrance. That and Magda’s over protectiveness. He understood her drive to protect her people and the city but had she not learned that he was capable of so much? It happened to be a miracle he already had the spores of the ancient placed in his system. If he and Trisha hadn’t tussled and caused the reaction, the partial paralysis never would have taken hold. Even now he believed it was the only way Oriana managed to get the sedative in him next. Believed.
Looking up toward the sky, his silver eyes watched the clouds float by. Before his release, Magda had taken him for a run to test his abilities in comprehension. It helped his pining for fresh air and space. Shaking his head, he cast the thoughts away, not wanting to concentrate on that. Despite best effort on everyone’s part, he was still conflicted. Still at ends with himself. One thing he continued to believe in was his goal of Trisha. She was of the blood now.
As he walked, his eyes scanned the surrounding area, taking in all the sights. Partial memories haunted him and came in spurts but he did recall a few images before his departure 10 years before. Much had changed. Hands instantly shoved in his jean pockets, an old habit that came back to him as soon as he put his old clothes back on. Someone had delivered the material to the Manor for him. Despite his deep distaste for the constricting articles, he wore it anyways. More like persuaded by insisting pests. Apparently no one evolved beyond the cultural dependence of being covered even though it was only natural to wear your skin. Go figure.
His nostrils flared as he took in the smells, walking past various people along the street way. No one spared him a second glance. In that moment he stopped and stood still, staring at the concrete below his feet. He was thankful no one recognized him. One of his worries had been being associated with his past and this was a way to escape that. Eventually someone would remember him, but for now, it seemed there were enough new faces and enough people that simply didn’t care. Why would anyone want to acknowledge a leader figure that was from ten years ago and no longer prevalent to the current standings.
Strike’s expression remained void, blank of emotion even though on the inside he was smiling with the realization. Blinking he finally looked back up and glanced over the buildings around him.