11-16-2018, 01:33 AM
Children were not something Sigmund adored, nor were people who acted as children acted, but Videogames was an exception. Somewhat. There were always things that bothered him about other people, but the serval bothered him less than most. At least he took his leadership seriously. That was all the wolf cared about, really, was politics and facts. That was just his personality, he supposed.
He had recently donned a new white jacket and black scarf, something not quite characteristic of him but something that was necessary in the frigid cold. He had skipped over boots, though. Boots were awful. They cramped his paws. Another awful thing was the snow. Snow was just not quite his style. It was much too cold and it got everywhere and made you wet, all of which Sigmund hated. Winter was not a good season. But, he supposed, there was always a silver lining in everything bad, and there was a silver lining to the white snow blanketing their territory.
It was because of small moments like these that Sigmund didn't move somewhere nice and warm where it never snowed, as he had lived in before. While he missed the sanguine sands of his old desert home, he had never seen a small serval struggle with a giant snowball back then, and it was quite a sight.
"Do you need some help with that?" he asked. His tone was mocking in the endearing sort of way, like an older sibling teasing the younger. Of course, he only felt superior because he was taller. Videogames still outranked him, but that was fine. He just liked messing with the serval from time to time.
His ears pricked as snow crunched under Ian's paws. Sigmund already felt heat in his throat. God, that slacker was here? Of course it was unavoidable seeing him- they lived in the same clan -but the maned wolf held a certain distaste for him that most others could not garner from him. The maned wolf's ears flicked back along his skull for a moment just at seeing the serval, but he was also Videogames's kid, wasn't he? Just a kid. He reminded himself for what must have been the thousandth time that children were prone to procrastination and daydreaming, and that was why Ian never seemed to get anything done, but the frustration lingered. Maybe if there was one thing the child could complete, it would be a snowman.
Either way, Sigmund's neutral demeanor quickly restored itself to his face, and he waited to see if Videogames would confirm or deny his child's assumption. It was obviously a snowman- no one just rolled out a giant snowball -but that was fine. It was a child, after all.
He had recently donned a new white jacket and black scarf, something not quite characteristic of him but something that was necessary in the frigid cold. He had skipped over boots, though. Boots were awful. They cramped his paws. Another awful thing was the snow. Snow was just not quite his style. It was much too cold and it got everywhere and made you wet, all of which Sigmund hated. Winter was not a good season. But, he supposed, there was always a silver lining in everything bad, and there was a silver lining to the white snow blanketing their territory.
It was because of small moments like these that Sigmund didn't move somewhere nice and warm where it never snowed, as he had lived in before. While he missed the sanguine sands of his old desert home, he had never seen a small serval struggle with a giant snowball back then, and it was quite a sight.
"Do you need some help with that?" he asked. His tone was mocking in the endearing sort of way, like an older sibling teasing the younger. Of course, he only felt superior because he was taller. Videogames still outranked him, but that was fine. He just liked messing with the serval from time to time.
His ears pricked as snow crunched under Ian's paws. Sigmund already felt heat in his throat. God, that slacker was here? Of course it was unavoidable seeing him- they lived in the same clan -but the maned wolf held a certain distaste for him that most others could not garner from him. The maned wolf's ears flicked back along his skull for a moment just at seeing the serval, but he was also Videogames's kid, wasn't he? Just a kid. He reminded himself for what must have been the thousandth time that children were prone to procrastination and daydreaming, and that was why Ian never seemed to get anything done, but the frustration lingered. Maybe if there was one thing the child could complete, it would be a snowman.
Either way, Sigmund's neutral demeanor quickly restored itself to his face, and he waited to see if Videogames would confirm or deny his child's assumption. It was obviously a snowman- no one just rolled out a giant snowball -but that was fine. It was a child, after all.
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✰.:*[b] MY EYES ARE BIFOCAL, MY HANDS ARE SUBJOINTED
[font=verdana][sub]sigmund [color=white]/ 23 months / moonlight vale / storage