Post by L. Malady on Jul 29, 2009 15:21:11 GMT -5
Name : Abel Driscol
Alias : Acidulate, Acid, Test Subject 004
Gender : Male
Age : 27 years old, born June 20, 1982
Race : Mestizo, vampire
Sexuality : By and large, he's disinterested entirely in the whole affair, but there is still a small window to keep him from being completely asexual
Marital Status : Single, not looking
Religion : Strong atheist
Hometown : The slums on an island off the coast of Argentina
Current Residence : Rosewood, with no static place of residence
Occupation : None
Height : 5'11" ft.
Weight : 153 lbs.
Body Type : Rather skinny, you can see his ribs without much of a problem, but he can still take some pretty hard hits unless they're dealt in just the right way.
Skin : Olive. Naturally tanned and added to somewhat by his childhood in the sun. However, it's very lightly discoloured now due to his sudden lack of being outside in the daytime. Rather marred in some places, especially the left side of his chest and some of his back; scarred and burnt, although the wounds healed considerably well.
Eyes : Originally blue, his irises are now a piercing yellow.
Hair : Red in an orange hue. Somewhat curly, generally pretty messy as he doesn't have common access to things like running water and grooming products. Has a bit of a stubble along his jaw, and tries pretty hard sometimes to make sure his facial hair doesn't grow beyond that. Fortunately for him, it doesn't grow all that fast.
Physical Description : When you live in the streets, you take what you can get, and sometimes it isn't the best, but you learn not to care; just one of many things Abel has learned to not care about. He wears a pair of tan slacks that are somewhat loose on him, in spite of the black straps that held them up over his shoulders. At least they allow his tail to go in or out depending on the situation. However, they tend to leave his distinct hip bones rather bare on the odd occasion he decides to go shirtless. On the topic of shirts, he normally wears a red, long-sleeved, button-up shirt which he got by perhaps some questionable means, but it is his only shirt that he did not get out of the dumpster, and it is his pride. All prides, of course, must have some protection, so he tends to wear a black hoodie he found someplace over it. To hide his missing ears, he wears a pair of slightly oversized headphones, and to hide his new ears, he wears hats. Usually, he wears a ski cap, but when he tries to be formal to some degree, he wears an old fedora.
Beneath the bandages that are wrapped all around his torso, as aforementioned, his skin is marred by years of scientific abuse. It tends to be somewhat dirty, as well, though that would be fairly obvious. It's somewhat dark, mostly by nature, but his years of sun-dwelling are over, and thus is becoming somewhat discoloured. His hair is orange, about a medium length to his shoulders, and lightly curly. Due to his lack of hair care products, it's messy, but he at least manages to keep it from getting matted.
Accompanying his history with the wrong end of science, he has ears and a tail--but not human ears. Cat ears. Both are mostly white, with black speckles forming about half way and intensifying until the reach the ends, which are completely black.
Voice : Often dry and a bit harsh sounding. Has a bit of a northern Scottish accent.
Personality : Generally, Abel infinitely prefers to keep to himself and whatever books he manages to check out from Rosewood's library, and he tries rather hard not to draw much attention to himself. To people who are at least somewhat "important" to him (employees at whatever business he's at, especially a food place or the library), he generally behaves politely unless they really get on his nerves. Otherwise, when faced with meaningless, annoying people on the street (he has a particular distaste for children), he tends to be somewhat rude and antagonistic.
Likes : Abel loves a good book, almost more than anything in the world. Although he really wishes he could go back outside in the sun, he doesn't take the usually dark places he takes refuge in during the day for granted. At least they give him a quiet place to read. By that same note, he has a grudging like for blood. In this world he finds to be so stupid, he respects the rare intellectual he finds, or simply just "cool" people. He has a tendency to get really into history, and he holds a certain fondness for instrumental music--moreso than (most) vocal music, although he has a soft spot he doesn't quite understand for some music from the '80s. Loves knowing just about anything. He most certainly enjoys himself when he can almost feel like a normal person, and still eats human food.
Dislikes : He hates bad books and fangirls of bad books, especially the fangirls, and gets rather annoyed when he finds that a book he likes is damaged. Has a distaste for religion in general and thinks it's all stupid. Absolutely abhors scientists and doctors, even becoming somewhat hostile to them when face-to-face. He says he dislikes idiots, when in reality they amuse him to almost no end...when not giving him massive headaches. Though he doesn't talk about it much (when he does talk), he really hates his mutations, and goes out of his way to hide them when he goes into public. He hates his vampiric state, namely for the fact that it has imprisoned him one too many times in the most run-down and lonely places he's ever seen, even coming from the slums.
Fears : His former family finding out about the monster he's become, even if he practically disowned them. The sun mildly frightens him, but only because he's well aware that it can kill him if he's exposed for too long.
Family : His father was native to the island they lived on, and his mother was a Scottish immigrant, who worked as a reporter. He may have a few siblings by now. Howeer, he has not talked to any of his family since his last phone call.
History : Abel's life began in the slums of an island not far off the coast of Argentina. Here, when you climbed onto the roofs of the shacks that barely passed for houses, you could easily see the city where the richer people lived. Everyone dreamed of getting there one day, even Abel at one point. At the very least, he wanted his family to have money, to get out of this dump where gangs ruled the street and no one cared enough to shout "cut it out!" at the hooligans. So naturally, when he was offered a job as a lab rat for some American scientists, and they promised to pay his family well for it, he accepted--eagerly. However, he never knew it would go as far as it did.
He and four other children from the town got to ride a fancy aeroplane all the way to the western United Stated, easily somewhere near Arizona. First class and delicious food, it was the posh life he dreamed of having every day.
They arrived at their location, and for a while, they and the other 15 foreign children did nothing but school. Fortunately for him, he'd already learned quite a lot of English from his English-speaking mother, and had this much over his peers. Other than this, he did not differ much. However, eventually the scientists forced some changes onto them, in the form of genetic mutations and diseases. What seemed simple at first became barbaric quickly as the first child died. But his family was still getting money, it was all that mattered now; he was in it for the long haul. He endured being infected with vampiricy, though it did not make itself fully known until a few months after the end of the whole ordeal. He endured his very genetics being toyed with like dolls in a playhouse, endured acid, fire, anything and everything. They at least had the heart to stop most testing when he was injured or ill.
After a few years of this, the program abruptly ended. The survivors, perhaps about 9 or so, were all thrust out onto the street and told to find their way back home. Some did, somehow. Others banded together and ran off to "claim" this new land, or so they said. He never thought they did, though. Abel himself called for home.
It was late at night. His father picked up, obviously groggy, and they spoke for a little while. The scientists were true to their word and paid his family--maybe not as much as he had hoped, but it was something. And then he asked for something simple enough. "Can you come pick me up...?" His father said yes, and the conversation ended shortly thereafter.
Abel made his way to the nearest major airport, and waited. It got dark.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited.
But no one ever came for him. Before the night was through, he'd lost hope; not just for returning home, but for humanity. It was all rotten, to be sure. They were either insane scientists or back-stabbers (maybe not exactly, but it was close enough). With deep scars, both physical and mental, he decided none of them mattered anymore and set out. To where? He had no idea. Just...somewhere else.
Eventually, he found his way into a small city, and to its train station. He attempted to buy a ticket, but had none of the local currency. Fortunately, a kind stranger bought a ticket for him, and they boarded the train together. Perhaps there was one person who wasn't corrupt, then. She said she survived a hurricane somewhere in southern America, and instead of waiting on the government to help her, she decided to go north and find somewhere better. That was what brought her here. She never poked into his own business, though.
The train stopped eventually, as all trains must, and they got off. However, she made no signs of stopping here, and instead began walking off along the nearest highway. Curious and perhaps somewhat clingy (though he would never admit to that), Abel followed her, and eventually the pair of them entered Rosewood. Since then, they have gone their separate ways, perhaps hers better than his own, but they still cross paths from time to time in the dark.
Strengths : Having had his very DNA toyed with by the scientist, he has grown many advantages over the average human. He has absolutely superb strength when he taps into his reserves, excellent balance, above average speed (he isn't super fast, but he does move faster than most), a great sense of hearing and smell, and he can see in the dark. He's virtually immune to most diseases and very, very tolerant of most pain--although this much only comes half from the vampiricy and more from what he's been through. When injured, he heals fairly quickly. Unrelated to his mutations, though, he's a fast learner and retains information rather well, which he openly prides himself in.
Weaknesses : Unfortunately, his strengths come with a heavy price. As with any real vampire, the sun burns him. It doesn't quite set him on fire, but it gives a similar sensation just under his skin, and eventually shows on his body if he's exposed long enough. Of course, this is only in direct sunlight, as if he were outside; filtered through a few windows or so only makes him itchy. If he's exposed to direct sunlight for too long, though, he's very aware of the fact that he will die, or at least wish he were dead. Fire has an increased effect on him, burning faster and deeper than it would on the average person. "Blessed" objects don't really do anything to him, but garlic weakens him to a degree (such as leaving him slightly disoriented, not being able to draw on his strength, and making him susceptible to average illnesses). Silver bullets and the like, however, do have an increased effect on him over other things, and a stake to the heart is the only sure-fire way to kill him once and for all. Also, he is rather dependent on blood; he begins acting...differently when he doesn't drink any for a certain amount of time. He might get a little jumpy after a week or so, but nearing two weeks, he simply becomes animalistic with another kind of hunger. Because of this unfortunate mechanism to keep himself from starving, he drinks blood about once a week.
Extra Information :
Sample Post : For most, the park was a nice place to relax. It was quiet, he assumed, it was friendly. The city seemed to have tried its hardest to uphold the relatively small plot of land's quality. They planted things, they made sure the chalk lines in the baseball area were always up to snuff, kept the place clean as they could. There were kids, couples, pets, always going this way or that or not going anywhere at all. It was so nice to just sit back and enjoy the sun and the soft noises that filled the air, and sometimes the music according to the fliers at the gates. He could practically see the children wriggling through the plastic warm-coloured tunnels that were supported by wooden beams, even when they grew red hot in the baking sun but no one seemed to mind. It was all fun. And he could see the sun and the kids swinging on the chained swingsets and sliding down the slide and playing in the sand and couples having picnics and people walking their dogs and birds and the sun and people sitting on this very bench and the sun
And it was not a life for him. It was one he missed out on, and one he wasn't going to get back. He grew up in the baking sun, but it was nothing like here; it was hotter. There was no playground. There was an urban jungle where gangs kicked kids that didn't do what they wanted them to. That was the life he knew, and it clearly wasn't the lifestyle he perceived here. Here it was a quaint suburban place, in spite of the few buildings that seemed to scrape the clouds as they lolled by. It wasn't even on most maps.
He supposed it was a nice enough place to disappear. It might have been nicer if he could walk the day like the people he could imagine being here just about every day as the summer ended. It might have been nicer if food came easier, if he owned the roof over his head instead of practically stealing new structures in the suburbs, if things were normal.
And that was not a life for him. No, his life rested on the night streets of this city and the housing projects that were rather unnecessary. Fortunately, the houses sat empty for months, giving him somewhere to be just a little longer.
He sighed as his bony fingers delicately took hold of the next page and laid it back down on the opposite side. Now that his glowing eyes were satisfied with the emptiness of the park at dusk, he shifted on the curved wooden bench and was serenaded by a cricket somewhere nearby. Now that his mind was satisfied with reminding him of his state of outcast, it could return to the book which was actually of some quality. No, it wasn't the best, but it was certainly much better than that Tritelight teenage girls dared to call a novel, much less a "saga." What stupidity. Now that he was satisfied to some degree, he sank back into the book, effortlessly scanning the page and absorbing the words. Next page, next page, next page...
...And yet something continuously caused him to look back up, like a bad itch somewhere in his head that he couldn't scratch, and the itch made him look up and around. He had to keep looking back at the brightly coloured plastics of the playground, dully illuminated in the pale moonlight, at the cobblestone pathways, at the trees, at the grass, at the sky, at what was there when he was not.
This was what life could have been like, wasn't it? If he hadn't stuck his neck out for the ultimately ungrateful, at least he might be happy. He might have had a chance to go to a playground, or maybe given someone else to go to that playground. He would almost kill for a life like this.
But it was not a life for him, and he didn't care. He shifted several times now, until he layed down completely, with the book held over his face, blocking out the only light he'd been reading by for a while now. The street lamps were just for show here, the park was shut down after dark. But maybe he wouldn't know that, wouldn't care to know that, if he walked in the sun like everyone else in the world. A din of crickets drowned out his growl.
It was for the best that he lived the life he did. Humanity was horrendously obnoxious and back-stabbing. Beside, it didn't matter to him anymore. He didn't matter. This normal life these people lived was gone now, and he didn't care.
He couldn't care.
(from A Walk in the Park)
Alias : Acidulate, Acid, Test Subject 004
Gender : Male
Age : 27 years old, born June 20, 1982
Race : Mestizo, vampire
Sexuality : By and large, he's disinterested entirely in the whole affair, but there is still a small window to keep him from being completely asexual
Marital Status : Single, not looking
Religion : Strong atheist
Hometown : The slums on an island off the coast of Argentina
Current Residence : Rosewood, with no static place of residence
Occupation : None
Height : 5'11" ft.
Weight : 153 lbs.
Body Type : Rather skinny, you can see his ribs without much of a problem, but he can still take some pretty hard hits unless they're dealt in just the right way.
Skin : Olive. Naturally tanned and added to somewhat by his childhood in the sun. However, it's very lightly discoloured now due to his sudden lack of being outside in the daytime. Rather marred in some places, especially the left side of his chest and some of his back; scarred and burnt, although the wounds healed considerably well.
Eyes : Originally blue, his irises are now a piercing yellow.
Hair : Red in an orange hue. Somewhat curly, generally pretty messy as he doesn't have common access to things like running water and grooming products. Has a bit of a stubble along his jaw, and tries pretty hard sometimes to make sure his facial hair doesn't grow beyond that. Fortunately for him, it doesn't grow all that fast.
Physical Description : When you live in the streets, you take what you can get, and sometimes it isn't the best, but you learn not to care; just one of many things Abel has learned to not care about. He wears a pair of tan slacks that are somewhat loose on him, in spite of the black straps that held them up over his shoulders. At least they allow his tail to go in or out depending on the situation. However, they tend to leave his distinct hip bones rather bare on the odd occasion he decides to go shirtless. On the topic of shirts, he normally wears a red, long-sleeved, button-up shirt which he got by perhaps some questionable means, but it is his only shirt that he did not get out of the dumpster, and it is his pride. All prides, of course, must have some protection, so he tends to wear a black hoodie he found someplace over it. To hide his missing ears, he wears a pair of slightly oversized headphones, and to hide his new ears, he wears hats. Usually, he wears a ski cap, but when he tries to be formal to some degree, he wears an old fedora.
Beneath the bandages that are wrapped all around his torso, as aforementioned, his skin is marred by years of scientific abuse. It tends to be somewhat dirty, as well, though that would be fairly obvious. It's somewhat dark, mostly by nature, but his years of sun-dwelling are over, and thus is becoming somewhat discoloured. His hair is orange, about a medium length to his shoulders, and lightly curly. Due to his lack of hair care products, it's messy, but he at least manages to keep it from getting matted.
Accompanying his history with the wrong end of science, he has ears and a tail--but not human ears. Cat ears. Both are mostly white, with black speckles forming about half way and intensifying until the reach the ends, which are completely black.
Voice : Often dry and a bit harsh sounding. Has a bit of a northern Scottish accent.
Personality : Generally, Abel infinitely prefers to keep to himself and whatever books he manages to check out from Rosewood's library, and he tries rather hard not to draw much attention to himself. To people who are at least somewhat "important" to him (employees at whatever business he's at, especially a food place or the library), he generally behaves politely unless they really get on his nerves. Otherwise, when faced with meaningless, annoying people on the street (he has a particular distaste for children), he tends to be somewhat rude and antagonistic.
Likes : Abel loves a good book, almost more than anything in the world. Although he really wishes he could go back outside in the sun, he doesn't take the usually dark places he takes refuge in during the day for granted. At least they give him a quiet place to read. By that same note, he has a grudging like for blood. In this world he finds to be so stupid, he respects the rare intellectual he finds, or simply just "cool" people. He has a tendency to get really into history, and he holds a certain fondness for instrumental music--moreso than (most) vocal music, although he has a soft spot he doesn't quite understand for some music from the '80s. Loves knowing just about anything. He most certainly enjoys himself when he can almost feel like a normal person, and still eats human food.
Dislikes : He hates bad books and fangirls of bad books, especially the fangirls, and gets rather annoyed when he finds that a book he likes is damaged. Has a distaste for religion in general and thinks it's all stupid. Absolutely abhors scientists and doctors, even becoming somewhat hostile to them when face-to-face. He says he dislikes idiots, when in reality they amuse him to almost no end...when not giving him massive headaches. Though he doesn't talk about it much (when he does talk), he really hates his mutations, and goes out of his way to hide them when he goes into public. He hates his vampiric state, namely for the fact that it has imprisoned him one too many times in the most run-down and lonely places he's ever seen, even coming from the slums.
Fears : His former family finding out about the monster he's become, even if he practically disowned them. The sun mildly frightens him, but only because he's well aware that it can kill him if he's exposed for too long.
Family : His father was native to the island they lived on, and his mother was a Scottish immigrant, who worked as a reporter. He may have a few siblings by now. Howeer, he has not talked to any of his family since his last phone call.
History : Abel's life began in the slums of an island not far off the coast of Argentina. Here, when you climbed onto the roofs of the shacks that barely passed for houses, you could easily see the city where the richer people lived. Everyone dreamed of getting there one day, even Abel at one point. At the very least, he wanted his family to have money, to get out of this dump where gangs ruled the street and no one cared enough to shout "cut it out!" at the hooligans. So naturally, when he was offered a job as a lab rat for some American scientists, and they promised to pay his family well for it, he accepted--eagerly. However, he never knew it would go as far as it did.
He and four other children from the town got to ride a fancy aeroplane all the way to the western United Stated, easily somewhere near Arizona. First class and delicious food, it was the posh life he dreamed of having every day.
They arrived at their location, and for a while, they and the other 15 foreign children did nothing but school. Fortunately for him, he'd already learned quite a lot of English from his English-speaking mother, and had this much over his peers. Other than this, he did not differ much. However, eventually the scientists forced some changes onto them, in the form of genetic mutations and diseases. What seemed simple at first became barbaric quickly as the first child died. But his family was still getting money, it was all that mattered now; he was in it for the long haul. He endured being infected with vampiricy, though it did not make itself fully known until a few months after the end of the whole ordeal. He endured his very genetics being toyed with like dolls in a playhouse, endured acid, fire, anything and everything. They at least had the heart to stop most testing when he was injured or ill.
After a few years of this, the program abruptly ended. The survivors, perhaps about 9 or so, were all thrust out onto the street and told to find their way back home. Some did, somehow. Others banded together and ran off to "claim" this new land, or so they said. He never thought they did, though. Abel himself called for home.
It was late at night. His father picked up, obviously groggy, and they spoke for a little while. The scientists were true to their word and paid his family--maybe not as much as he had hoped, but it was something. And then he asked for something simple enough. "Can you come pick me up...?" His father said yes, and the conversation ended shortly thereafter.
Abel made his way to the nearest major airport, and waited. It got dark.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited.
But no one ever came for him. Before the night was through, he'd lost hope; not just for returning home, but for humanity. It was all rotten, to be sure. They were either insane scientists or back-stabbers (maybe not exactly, but it was close enough). With deep scars, both physical and mental, he decided none of them mattered anymore and set out. To where? He had no idea. Just...somewhere else.
Eventually, he found his way into a small city, and to its train station. He attempted to buy a ticket, but had none of the local currency. Fortunately, a kind stranger bought a ticket for him, and they boarded the train together. Perhaps there was one person who wasn't corrupt, then. She said she survived a hurricane somewhere in southern America, and instead of waiting on the government to help her, she decided to go north and find somewhere better. That was what brought her here. She never poked into his own business, though.
The train stopped eventually, as all trains must, and they got off. However, she made no signs of stopping here, and instead began walking off along the nearest highway. Curious and perhaps somewhat clingy (though he would never admit to that), Abel followed her, and eventually the pair of them entered Rosewood. Since then, they have gone their separate ways, perhaps hers better than his own, but they still cross paths from time to time in the dark.
Strengths : Having had his very DNA toyed with by the scientist, he has grown many advantages over the average human. He has absolutely superb strength when he taps into his reserves, excellent balance, above average speed (he isn't super fast, but he does move faster than most), a great sense of hearing and smell, and he can see in the dark. He's virtually immune to most diseases and very, very tolerant of most pain--although this much only comes half from the vampiricy and more from what he's been through. When injured, he heals fairly quickly. Unrelated to his mutations, though, he's a fast learner and retains information rather well, which he openly prides himself in.
Weaknesses : Unfortunately, his strengths come with a heavy price. As with any real vampire, the sun burns him. It doesn't quite set him on fire, but it gives a similar sensation just under his skin, and eventually shows on his body if he's exposed long enough. Of course, this is only in direct sunlight, as if he were outside; filtered through a few windows or so only makes him itchy. If he's exposed to direct sunlight for too long, though, he's very aware of the fact that he will die, or at least wish he were dead. Fire has an increased effect on him, burning faster and deeper than it would on the average person. "Blessed" objects don't really do anything to him, but garlic weakens him to a degree (such as leaving him slightly disoriented, not being able to draw on his strength, and making him susceptible to average illnesses). Silver bullets and the like, however, do have an increased effect on him over other things, and a stake to the heart is the only sure-fire way to kill him once and for all. Also, he is rather dependent on blood; he begins acting...differently when he doesn't drink any for a certain amount of time. He might get a little jumpy after a week or so, but nearing two weeks, he simply becomes animalistic with another kind of hunger. Because of this unfortunate mechanism to keep himself from starving, he drinks blood about once a week.
Extra Information :
- Abel read Twilight once. He laughed hysterically and gagged simultaneously, and has not since found it in himself to read any of the other books in the "saga."
- He steals blood from blood banks. It's not something he's proud of, but he would much rather do that than hunt humans and possibly raise a huge fuss.
- Once, he tried stealing blood from the asylum. He doesn't go anywhere near the place anymore.
Sample Post : For most, the park was a nice place to relax. It was quiet, he assumed, it was friendly. The city seemed to have tried its hardest to uphold the relatively small plot of land's quality. They planted things, they made sure the chalk lines in the baseball area were always up to snuff, kept the place clean as they could. There were kids, couples, pets, always going this way or that or not going anywhere at all. It was so nice to just sit back and enjoy the sun and the soft noises that filled the air, and sometimes the music according to the fliers at the gates. He could practically see the children wriggling through the plastic warm-coloured tunnels that were supported by wooden beams, even when they grew red hot in the baking sun but no one seemed to mind. It was all fun. And he could see the sun and the kids swinging on the chained swingsets and sliding down the slide and playing in the sand and couples having picnics and people walking their dogs and birds and the sun and people sitting on this very bench and the sun
And it was not a life for him. It was one he missed out on, and one he wasn't going to get back. He grew up in the baking sun, but it was nothing like here; it was hotter. There was no playground. There was an urban jungle where gangs kicked kids that didn't do what they wanted them to. That was the life he knew, and it clearly wasn't the lifestyle he perceived here. Here it was a quaint suburban place, in spite of the few buildings that seemed to scrape the clouds as they lolled by. It wasn't even on most maps.
He supposed it was a nice enough place to disappear. It might have been nicer if he could walk the day like the people he could imagine being here just about every day as the summer ended. It might have been nicer if food came easier, if he owned the roof over his head instead of practically stealing new structures in the suburbs, if things were normal.
And that was not a life for him. No, his life rested on the night streets of this city and the housing projects that were rather unnecessary. Fortunately, the houses sat empty for months, giving him somewhere to be just a little longer.
He sighed as his bony fingers delicately took hold of the next page and laid it back down on the opposite side. Now that his glowing eyes were satisfied with the emptiness of the park at dusk, he shifted on the curved wooden bench and was serenaded by a cricket somewhere nearby. Now that his mind was satisfied with reminding him of his state of outcast, it could return to the book which was actually of some quality. No, it wasn't the best, but it was certainly much better than that Tritelight teenage girls dared to call a novel, much less a "saga." What stupidity. Now that he was satisfied to some degree, he sank back into the book, effortlessly scanning the page and absorbing the words. Next page, next page, next page...
...And yet something continuously caused him to look back up, like a bad itch somewhere in his head that he couldn't scratch, and the itch made him look up and around. He had to keep looking back at the brightly coloured plastics of the playground, dully illuminated in the pale moonlight, at the cobblestone pathways, at the trees, at the grass, at the sky, at what was there when he was not.
This was what life could have been like, wasn't it? If he hadn't stuck his neck out for the ultimately ungrateful, at least he might be happy. He might have had a chance to go to a playground, or maybe given someone else to go to that playground. He would almost kill for a life like this.
But it was not a life for him, and he didn't care. He shifted several times now, until he layed down completely, with the book held over his face, blocking out the only light he'd been reading by for a while now. The street lamps were just for show here, the park was shut down after dark. But maybe he wouldn't know that, wouldn't care to know that, if he walked in the sun like everyone else in the world. A din of crickets drowned out his growl.
It was for the best that he lived the life he did. Humanity was horrendously obnoxious and back-stabbing. Beside, it didn't matter to him anymore. He didn't matter. This normal life these people lived was gone now, and he didn't care.
He couldn't care.
(from A Walk in the Park)