Post by Kinalara on Aug 17, 2011 12:56:53 GMT -5
(HAY GAIS ME AGAIN.
So this isn't done yet, lawls. Just posting the first part of it for now because I actually like it a lot better than some of my other free-written, for-fun pieces and wanted to get some feedback on it. I'll post up the rest later. So for now you get suspense. WHERE ARE THEY GOING OMGUS.
Little backstory on these two- Blanchette actually came first a few months ago as an easy going blind Whippet anthro with long brown hair and a bit of a flower-child complex. I decided he needed afoil best buddy to flesh him out a little bit, so I made a huffy, snarky, deaf, slightly sociopathic,little Cardigan Welsh for Blanchette to deal with, Wilde. This piece of writing was just an attempt to work on my writing skills, flesh these guys out and hurfdurfdurf. They're kind of my guinea pigs for now.
I would love some opinion on this, and I'll have the rest finished....eventually.
Also, yay for not having titles. I'MSOPROGAIS.)
Blind eyes are some of the most unnerving things on the planet.
Their silent vacancy drills a hole into the sturdiest of wills. Or at least it did me- and I always considered myself to be rather strong. That is until I found myself sitting in a suffocatingly clean room lit only by a television set that buzzed with sound my ears could not detect while my best friend's sightless orbs dug craters into my patience. Though the eyes were directed at me, his attention was elsewhere entirely, his floppy white ears, that almost glowed in contrast to his long brown hair that flowed around his thin neck and down his steep back, twitching at the sounds from the TV that didn't exist for me.
It was almost scathingly ironic, our involvement. When you consider our disabilities leaving one with what the other did not have. Though our afflictions differed in when we received them- his from birth and mine from a tragic accident later on in my life, after we had met one another. Had we have met afterward in any way, I suspect we would have passed right by each other. I can't exactly say I'm thrilled that the accident itself happened at all, but it was...'lucky' that, if it had to happen, it happened when it did.
The accident took my hearing, but left me my speech- though it was awkward and difficult when I was totally unable to hear what was coming out of my mouth. I could still speak to Blanchette- but the whole thing left him at a bit of a loss. If he spoke to me, I could no longer hear him. And when would there ever be a reason- or a way- for a blind person to learn sign language? He also could not write, leaving that option useless- as well as the option of braille out, as I knew not a single word, or perhaps 'dot' is a better term, of braille. At most, I had trained myself to read lips, though even that was a bit awkward at times. (I can think of one occasion in particular where he had attempted to mouth “Vacuum”. It didn't go down well.)
I looked over at him with bored eyes, but of course he wouldn't be able to notice that. Instead I looked back at the television. It ran soundless pictures of arguing, crying furs- one of Blanchette's soaps. I never understood the appeal for the things. Overly melodramatic and depressing. You could get about the same thing just by browsing internet forums. Though needless to say that was not an option for him, so I just put up with his horrible taste in shows. I didn't bother with the subtitles- no point if I wasn't going to pay attention. Worse if I did- then it might actually suck me in if I got bored enough.
I would never let that happen.
My eyes drifted from the weeping squirrel on the screen to the wall clock. 2:35 am. It was easy to forget how early in the day it was with how dark I tended to keep the house- curtains drawn on every window in every room. I found it more relaxing that way- not that I had that big of a problem with the sun. I'd go out in it when I had to. I'd hide from it when I didn't.
I looked back down at my greyhound companion- his blue eyes still in my general direction, though his thought process was obviously no-where near me.
...Perhaps he'd forget.
I looked back at the wall clock, then turned around in my arm chair to spy the corner of the digital clock in the kitchen just behind us. I tried to fool myself into the mindset that, for once, he'd forget to set the alarm when he had a date to make. Surely everyone flubs up at least once. I continued to stoke this hope as the five turned into a six and turned myself around in the seat.
I was greeted by a smoky great muzzle and a wave of offensive breath.
With a yelp of surprise I jumped back in the chair, almost sending it capsizing back. The hulking, one-hundred-thirty pound, pie-bald Anatolian Shepherd Dog, not phased by my obviously terrified reaction, kept his wash-tub paws on the seat of the chair and his big, boxy muzzle inches from my face with a ridiculously empty, slack-jawed, panting grin slathered onto it.
It was moments like this that I briefly forgot how intelligent the animal actually was.
I scowled at the monster, making to shove his stupid face away from my own. As per usual, the creature just gave my hand a wet lick, leaving it dripping with canine saliva I grudgingly scraped off on the armchair.
“Get off, Thatch.” I growled at him, but he just kept trying to lick me, wanting me to pat his giant furry head as happy-go-lucky ferals do. Suddenly his head shot to the side, ears perked and amber eyes trained in Blanchette's direction. A second or two later he was on all wash-tubs again, trotting over to his master and lying down at his side. Must have called him off. Ah, context clues.
The greyhound was giving me a toothy smirk, to which I replied with a slack scowl. “You'd better be glad that dog sees for you,” I muttered, or at least I think that's what came out- I can only assume, “I'd have thrown him out years ago.”
Blanchette shook his head and angled it in the direction of the TV, ears pricked up again as he listened. His eyes didn't move.
Of course he didn't take my threat seriously. It was his house I was staying in, as it were. Not much I could really change even if I wanted to. Thatch was here first. I didn't hate the dog, but he possessed a kind of annoying empty-headed temperament that gnawed at the nerves now and again. But one thing was for sure, he was a damned good sight dog.
I leaned back in the chair once more, in the position that had once been comfortable. Now I found myself twitching about in an attempt to get comfortable again. Not an easy task. But my attempts at finding a good relaxed position were vainly cut short when the room was plunged into darkness by the TV being shut off. I stopped fidgeting and blinked, looking over at Blanchette who was now standing.
Damn. He did set the alarm.
His head directed itself at me, and for once his eyes, ears and mind were all focused on the same thing- A surreal thing to realize as it was rarely ever the case.
He must have been waiting to hear the noises of my standing, and continued staring at me when they didn't come. I stared stupidly back at him
“I don't want to go.” I stated blankly, my ears dipping back a little bit at my vain attempt at an argument. I saw one of the corners of Blanchette's lips rise a bit, along with his left eyebrow. I knew that look. I knew it all too well. The “You Honestly Think That's Going to Change Anything?” look.
He and I both knew for a fact that when things needed to get done, they would get done with or without my approval or consent. With that understanding came the knowledge that he would leave little old Wilde here alone and go himself.
All alone.
He knows I hate that.
It's torture like that that makes me forget what a good heart he has.
After a few more minutes of staring, he shrugged and started into the kitchen to shut off the alarm, then into the hall to his bedroom. Probably to get dressed and ready. Of course.
I considered my options for a moment. I could stay here all by myself. In the suffocating quiet. With no one around to alert me to anything. Probably just root myself to this chair and vegetate until he got back. And knowing him, he'd stay out as long as he safely could manage just to spite me. Because he knows all I would do is sit in this chair and vegetate until he got back.
Or I could go into the stuffy, claustrophobic open with the sun clawing into my fur and the heat squeezing the moisture out of me while passerby stared at the odd couple of the week.
…
I hate him so much sometimes.
(Ps. I noticed while typing this that some people may be prone to jump to conclusions about these two- and I don't blame you. But just to set the record straight, Blanchette and Wilde are not a couple. They're close best friends that just happen to be living together.)
So this isn't done yet, lawls. Just posting the first part of it for now because I actually like it a lot better than some of my other free-written, for-fun pieces and wanted to get some feedback on it. I'll post up the rest later. So for now you get suspense. WHERE ARE THEY GOING OMGUS.
Little backstory on these two- Blanchette actually came first a few months ago as an easy going blind Whippet anthro with long brown hair and a bit of a flower-child complex. I decided he needed a
I would love some opinion on this, and I'll have the rest finished....eventually.
Also, yay for not having titles. I'MSOPROGAIS.)
Blind eyes are some of the most unnerving things on the planet.
Their silent vacancy drills a hole into the sturdiest of wills. Or at least it did me- and I always considered myself to be rather strong. That is until I found myself sitting in a suffocatingly clean room lit only by a television set that buzzed with sound my ears could not detect while my best friend's sightless orbs dug craters into my patience. Though the eyes were directed at me, his attention was elsewhere entirely, his floppy white ears, that almost glowed in contrast to his long brown hair that flowed around his thin neck and down his steep back, twitching at the sounds from the TV that didn't exist for me.
It was almost scathingly ironic, our involvement. When you consider our disabilities leaving one with what the other did not have. Though our afflictions differed in when we received them- his from birth and mine from a tragic accident later on in my life, after we had met one another. Had we have met afterward in any way, I suspect we would have passed right by each other. I can't exactly say I'm thrilled that the accident itself happened at all, but it was...'lucky' that, if it had to happen, it happened when it did.
The accident took my hearing, but left me my speech- though it was awkward and difficult when I was totally unable to hear what was coming out of my mouth. I could still speak to Blanchette- but the whole thing left him at a bit of a loss. If he spoke to me, I could no longer hear him. And when would there ever be a reason- or a way- for a blind person to learn sign language? He also could not write, leaving that option useless- as well as the option of braille out, as I knew not a single word, or perhaps 'dot' is a better term, of braille. At most, I had trained myself to read lips, though even that was a bit awkward at times. (I can think of one occasion in particular where he had attempted to mouth “Vacuum”. It didn't go down well.)
I looked over at him with bored eyes, but of course he wouldn't be able to notice that. Instead I looked back at the television. It ran soundless pictures of arguing, crying furs- one of Blanchette's soaps. I never understood the appeal for the things. Overly melodramatic and depressing. You could get about the same thing just by browsing internet forums. Though needless to say that was not an option for him, so I just put up with his horrible taste in shows. I didn't bother with the subtitles- no point if I wasn't going to pay attention. Worse if I did- then it might actually suck me in if I got bored enough.
I would never let that happen.
My eyes drifted from the weeping squirrel on the screen to the wall clock. 2:35 am. It was easy to forget how early in the day it was with how dark I tended to keep the house- curtains drawn on every window in every room. I found it more relaxing that way- not that I had that big of a problem with the sun. I'd go out in it when I had to. I'd hide from it when I didn't.
I looked back down at my greyhound companion- his blue eyes still in my general direction, though his thought process was obviously no-where near me.
...Perhaps he'd forget.
I looked back at the wall clock, then turned around in my arm chair to spy the corner of the digital clock in the kitchen just behind us. I tried to fool myself into the mindset that, for once, he'd forget to set the alarm when he had a date to make. Surely everyone flubs up at least once. I continued to stoke this hope as the five turned into a six and turned myself around in the seat.
I was greeted by a smoky great muzzle and a wave of offensive breath.
With a yelp of surprise I jumped back in the chair, almost sending it capsizing back. The hulking, one-hundred-thirty pound, pie-bald Anatolian Shepherd Dog, not phased by my obviously terrified reaction, kept his wash-tub paws on the seat of the chair and his big, boxy muzzle inches from my face with a ridiculously empty, slack-jawed, panting grin slathered onto it.
It was moments like this that I briefly forgot how intelligent the animal actually was.
I scowled at the monster, making to shove his stupid face away from my own. As per usual, the creature just gave my hand a wet lick, leaving it dripping with canine saliva I grudgingly scraped off on the armchair.
“Get off, Thatch.” I growled at him, but he just kept trying to lick me, wanting me to pat his giant furry head as happy-go-lucky ferals do. Suddenly his head shot to the side, ears perked and amber eyes trained in Blanchette's direction. A second or two later he was on all wash-tubs again, trotting over to his master and lying down at his side. Must have called him off. Ah, context clues.
The greyhound was giving me a toothy smirk, to which I replied with a slack scowl. “You'd better be glad that dog sees for you,” I muttered, or at least I think that's what came out- I can only assume, “I'd have thrown him out years ago.”
Blanchette shook his head and angled it in the direction of the TV, ears pricked up again as he listened. His eyes didn't move.
Of course he didn't take my threat seriously. It was his house I was staying in, as it were. Not much I could really change even if I wanted to. Thatch was here first. I didn't hate the dog, but he possessed a kind of annoying empty-headed temperament that gnawed at the nerves now and again. But one thing was for sure, he was a damned good sight dog.
I leaned back in the chair once more, in the position that had once been comfortable. Now I found myself twitching about in an attempt to get comfortable again. Not an easy task. But my attempts at finding a good relaxed position were vainly cut short when the room was plunged into darkness by the TV being shut off. I stopped fidgeting and blinked, looking over at Blanchette who was now standing.
Damn. He did set the alarm.
His head directed itself at me, and for once his eyes, ears and mind were all focused on the same thing- A surreal thing to realize as it was rarely ever the case.
He must have been waiting to hear the noises of my standing, and continued staring at me when they didn't come. I stared stupidly back at him
“I don't want to go.” I stated blankly, my ears dipping back a little bit at my vain attempt at an argument. I saw one of the corners of Blanchette's lips rise a bit, along with his left eyebrow. I knew that look. I knew it all too well. The “You Honestly Think That's Going to Change Anything?” look.
He and I both knew for a fact that when things needed to get done, they would get done with or without my approval or consent. With that understanding came the knowledge that he would leave little old Wilde here alone and go himself.
All alone.
He knows I hate that.
It's torture like that that makes me forget what a good heart he has.
After a few more minutes of staring, he shrugged and started into the kitchen to shut off the alarm, then into the hall to his bedroom. Probably to get dressed and ready. Of course.
I considered my options for a moment. I could stay here all by myself. In the suffocating quiet. With no one around to alert me to anything. Probably just root myself to this chair and vegetate until he got back. And knowing him, he'd stay out as long as he safely could manage just to spite me. Because he knows all I would do is sit in this chair and vegetate until he got back.
Or I could go into the stuffy, claustrophobic open with the sun clawing into my fur and the heat squeezing the moisture out of me while passerby stared at the odd couple of the week.
…
I hate him so much sometimes.
(Ps. I noticed while typing this that some people may be prone to jump to conclusions about these two- and I don't blame you. But just to set the record straight, Blanchette and Wilde are not a couple. They're close best friends that just happen to be living together.)
