Post by Loppiainen on Dec 6, 2011 0:41:00 GMT -5
Sometimes I write really weird oneshots with animal-human hybrids and they make no sense.
You know, just another day at the office.
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Damian was the runt of the litter.
He was far smaller than any of his brothers and sisters, and was valued as such. He was always the last to be fed at mealtimes, and was not allowed to hunt, even though he was nearly full grown- or, at least, as full grown as he could ever get.
Paul was the runt of his own litter.
He, however, was treated as the beautiful Feline that knew he was. Never did he have to worry about food, or hunting, or anything. It wasn't as if there was much competition anyway; he only had two brothers and a sister. Along with that, the leader of the clan usually took care of hunting.
Canines and Felines were never supposed to associate with one another, but that never stopped Paul and Damian. They snuck out into the forest every evening, and spoke with each other.
They'd met in the summer, when both had wandered away from their respective families, hoping to explore what laid beyond their camping grounds.
Neither had known what to do upon facing each other. They'd always been taught that the two species were mortal enemies, and were to stay that way. Damian, however, didn't think that Paul looked like any sort of threat, and Paul simply did not care what anyone else said about anything, and paid no mind to the fact that he was disobeying his mother and father.
They'd greeted one another- Damian a bit uncertain, and Paul absolutely fearless- and settled beneath a tree to converse.
"My mother said that Canines were filthy, untrustworthy mutts," Paul said casually, licking at his fingers before carefully running them through his hair. "And that you were ugly creatures. I don't think you're ugly, though."
"Thank you, I suppose," Damian replied awkwardly. "Neither are you."
Their exchanges gradually grew less maladroit as they got to know each other. Soon enough, the two had become good friends, despite only being able to see each other around an hour a day.
Damian and Paul talked animately about their lives- complaining about siblings, parents, and anything else that was bothering them on that particular day.
Damian had been told by his parents that Felines were stuck-up and quite rude to anyone who did not live up to their standards. He didn't think that this description fit Paul very well, though. Sure, Paul had moments where he'd come off as a bit cocky, but he wasn't necessarily stuck-up.
Paul's own mother and father had informed him that Canines were a vulgar, savage bunch, which he didn't quite agree with. Damian seemed to be very intelligent, and very civilized- contrary to the stories Paul had heard when he was a kitten about Canine hunters slaughtering deer and eating them raw... Things Paul couldn't possibly picture Damian's kind doing.
"My parent's are wrong," He'd said to Damian one day. "You're brilliant, and I bet your family is, too."
Damian shrugged. "They are, I guess. And you know, you're nothing like my folks said, either. You're nicer than they made you out to be."
Paul grinned, tail swishing happily back and forth.
"Thank you, Damo," He said.
"I mean, honestly. Where do our families get these ideas about each other? They're pretty inaccurate," Damian sighed.
"I don't know," Paul replied. "But you know what? I don't think it matters much."
"Why not?" Damian asked.
"Because," Paul began. "We know that they're wrong. So, why should we be bothered? Why should we care what they think?"
Damian nodded.
"Good point," He said.
"Do you promise then?"
Damian tilted his head to the side. "Promise what?"
"That you won't care what your family thinks about us," Paul answered.
"Oh, yeah," Damian confirmed. "Of course!"
Paul smiled.
"Best friends then, right? Forever?" He held out his pinkie.
Damian hooked his own little finger around Paul's, and shook.
"Forever."
You know, just another day at the office.
----------
Damian was the runt of the litter.
He was far smaller than any of his brothers and sisters, and was valued as such. He was always the last to be fed at mealtimes, and was not allowed to hunt, even though he was nearly full grown- or, at least, as full grown as he could ever get.
Paul was the runt of his own litter.
He, however, was treated as the beautiful Feline that knew he was. Never did he have to worry about food, or hunting, or anything. It wasn't as if there was much competition anyway; he only had two brothers and a sister. Along with that, the leader of the clan usually took care of hunting.
Canines and Felines were never supposed to associate with one another, but that never stopped Paul and Damian. They snuck out into the forest every evening, and spoke with each other.
They'd met in the summer, when both had wandered away from their respective families, hoping to explore what laid beyond their camping grounds.
Neither had known what to do upon facing each other. They'd always been taught that the two species were mortal enemies, and were to stay that way. Damian, however, didn't think that Paul looked like any sort of threat, and Paul simply did not care what anyone else said about anything, and paid no mind to the fact that he was disobeying his mother and father.
They'd greeted one another- Damian a bit uncertain, and Paul absolutely fearless- and settled beneath a tree to converse.
"My mother said that Canines were filthy, untrustworthy mutts," Paul said casually, licking at his fingers before carefully running them through his hair. "And that you were ugly creatures. I don't think you're ugly, though."
"Thank you, I suppose," Damian replied awkwardly. "Neither are you."
Their exchanges gradually grew less maladroit as they got to know each other. Soon enough, the two had become good friends, despite only being able to see each other around an hour a day.
Damian and Paul talked animately about their lives- complaining about siblings, parents, and anything else that was bothering them on that particular day.
Damian had been told by his parents that Felines were stuck-up and quite rude to anyone who did not live up to their standards. He didn't think that this description fit Paul very well, though. Sure, Paul had moments where he'd come off as a bit cocky, but he wasn't necessarily stuck-up.
Paul's own mother and father had informed him that Canines were a vulgar, savage bunch, which he didn't quite agree with. Damian seemed to be very intelligent, and very civilized- contrary to the stories Paul had heard when he was a kitten about Canine hunters slaughtering deer and eating them raw... Things Paul couldn't possibly picture Damian's kind doing.
"My parent's are wrong," He'd said to Damian one day. "You're brilliant, and I bet your family is, too."
Damian shrugged. "They are, I guess. And you know, you're nothing like my folks said, either. You're nicer than they made you out to be."
Paul grinned, tail swishing happily back and forth.
"Thank you, Damo," He said.
"I mean, honestly. Where do our families get these ideas about each other? They're pretty inaccurate," Damian sighed.
"I don't know," Paul replied. "But you know what? I don't think it matters much."
"Why not?" Damian asked.
"Because," Paul began. "We know that they're wrong. So, why should we be bothered? Why should we care what they think?"
Damian nodded.
"Good point," He said.
"Do you promise then?"
Damian tilted his head to the side. "Promise what?"
"That you won't care what your family thinks about us," Paul answered.
"Oh, yeah," Damian confirmed. "Of course!"
Paul smiled.
"Best friends then, right? Forever?" He held out his pinkie.
Damian hooked his own little finger around Paul's, and shook.
"Forever."