you are not the one [ p, jacob ] you used to be

/ Jacob Wickliff

It hadn't been that long since the most recent mistake of opening his trap and insulting Jacob over stupid flower crowns. He made the poor kid cry. He made Imperia, the clan wallflower, appalled at his venomous words. Sometimes, Pad wondered what it would be like if he was nicer. He wanted to change, honestly. But he couldn't. He couldn't reverse 517 years of complete isolation and brewing hatred for the living. Ever since he joined BlizzardClan, he thought he was getting better, at tolerating people, at controlling his tongue, at being... human. But he was wrong. The ghost would never change, he would never grow up, he would never cross over, he would never get all the people he had wronged to forgive him.

Even with all of this hatred burdening his exhausted mind, Pad was doing his best to move on. He had started staying outside camp for terribly long times, sometimes not coming back for a full day. He wasn't trying to collect his thoughts, he was trying to feel better. And his tactic was even more isolation from the people that seemed set on hating him. He didn't care about them. They could die tomorrow, and he wouldn't even mourn. Except for Ska'arq. Ska'arq was the only damned person who actually tried to know him. But, if Pad wanted to get better, it required distancing himself from everyone, including his single friend.

Currently, Pad was stalking alongside a swampy river bank, eyes peeled for little movements in the mud. Frog hunting was something the demon had used as a pastime to try and waste away so many immortal years. It was fun, and so, he enjoyed it. A croak caught his attention, and he dropped into a pouncing stance, stopping his habitual breathing to keep his presence hidden. From the mud, two buggy eyes surfaced. Thankfully, Pad's pelt was as plain as the silt around him, and he inched forward, before springing onto the toad, claws sheathed. There was a bit of a struggle, but Pad leaned back victorious, squirming and warty toad clutched in his paws. "I'm gonna call ya...Beezlebufo," he giggled, giving the toad a small pat on the gap between its eyes, and in response, it puffed out its chest, the poach deflating as it let out a deep ribbit. For someone who could be classified as a bully, Pad appeared awfully happy at what he thought of as fun. Of course, he would release the toad, but for now, Pad set it gingerly on the ground, forming a barrier with his paws so it couldn't run away just yet, a true smile coming to his maw as he watched it hop around, occasionally croaking in anger.

He stiffened, as soon as he could make out Jacob among the foliage. Pad reared onto his back legs, instinctively hugging the toad closer to his freezing chest. Did this mean Harrison was around? Just waiting for the perfect opportunity for Pad to slip up and have an excuse to kick him into the ground again, probably. His amber eyes flicked around nervously, trying to find the stallion hiding in the undergrowth. He felt a deep frown stretch his features as Jacob began talking. "Psh, no! It's just a toad." the ghost rasped as he dropped the toad back onto the mud, where it quickly sprung out of sight. He was starting to feel embarrassment flush into his cheeks, as he tried to brush off the mud sticking to his chest fur with an equally muddy paw. He looked back up as Jacob continued to stutter, optics narrowing in confusion. What was this kid even rambling on about?

"Listen, kid, I don't hate, uh, you." I just hate everything about you. Pad backed up, trying to find a suitable tree he could retreat into if Jacob tried to sic Harrison or Jerseyboy on him. He tried to pick his words carefully, but he was never good at vocalizing emotions. "I was only trying to help you. But, oh no, you have to cry and carry on every single time you feel sorry for yourself." It wasn't exactly fair, to call out a child on being insecure, but Pad needed to find a way to get Jacob away from him. The ghost had been molded to the world's cruelty through being left for dead. Yet he survived, until his crimes finally caught up to him. Pad was terribly scarred underneath his pelt. Various scratches and scrapes from thorns and brambles that never healed properly, rope burns around his ankles from being strung up in a tree, and especially the hidden fatal wound that marked his death. Having an arrow driven into your lungs wasn't something that just magically disappeared without a trace, even if the boy hadn't died, there would be heavy scarring, especially internally.

He fell down to his paws, giving up on trying to drive the husky away. He didn't say anything else though, instead continuing to back up dangerously close to the rushing river's current. Pad only stopped when he felt the familiar lapping of the water around his legs, giving a faint whimper, but fearing an ambush from Jacob's family more than some H₂O forced him to remain, the mud clinging to his paws quickly washing away as he only glared at Jacob, with more and more frustration gathering in his eyes.

While he struggled to think of how to respond to Jacob's questions, he felt himself shaking in his pelt. Flashbacks of near-drowning flooded into his vision, being battered against sharp rocks, before finally fished out by his would be-murderer. Pad hated water just as much as Jacob hated fire. The ghost was frozen in place, before crying out, an accusing tone weaving into his otherwise pathetic words, "Because you probably have Harrison or Jersey ready to attack me again!" Pad raised a paw, and stomped it against the shallow pebbles, creating a splash as if demonstrating how the stallion would probably go about keeping Pad away from his beloved son.

His voice reached a higher octave as he spoke, reflecting his growing stress about being near Jacob. "And no, even before that, when you were sleepwalking! Or are ya too air-headed to even remember?" That was the first time he had interacted with Jacob. And it had only been a downward spiral from there. With a scoff, Pad shook his head to try and calm him self down. He was exhausted, sore, and being interrogated and scolded by some pup who had everything he never even got a chance to have. "I just don't know why everybody loves you," A growl broke into his sentence. "And hates me."

The ghost cast his eyes downwards. Jacob was supposed to be the good guy, while he was the bad guy. That's how most people saw themselves when it came to him. Pad watched the murky water ripple where a reflection should of been looking back, only half-heartedly relaxing when Jacob confirmed that his guardians weren't present. He didn't fully trust the husky, just yet. At the end of Jacob's first tirade of words, he mumbled out, "I don't know why, either." It had been an awful idea, even before it was put into action. Yet, Pad's philosophy was warped, with his motto being, "any idea is a good idea". A motto which proved itself wrong, time and time again, but Pad just didn't know when to quit.

He glanced up when Jacob began to explain that people didn't hate him, they just hated his behavior. Wasn't that the same? He bit down on his tongue, curious to see where the husky was going with it. He was asking for friendship, even after all the terrible things the demon had done to him. Imperia was right. Jacob really was a creature formed from "love and respect", as the gentle she-wolf put it.

Pad allowed a sigh to escape his maw, releasing stagnant air from his collapsed lungs with a defeated chuckle. "You don't even know, Jacob. Stay like that forever." He gave a thoughtful pause, reaching down to scoop up a smoothed pebble, before flicking it across the water, where it skipped in little arcs among the waves before sinking back to the bottom of the river. "I guess you got your revenge, water ain't exactly my comfort zone." He pointed out, avoiding the topic of friendship for now. "And, you really aren't ugly. Like at all. Who cares about a few scars?" It was a form of apology, taking back what he said, although the next phrases lilted into more of a joke. "You've got to wear scars with pride! I've got one of my own, ya know." The ghost turned around to prove it, fluffing out his fur so that the killing wound could be seen. It was a clean puncture originally, but his killers twisted the arrow out, leading to uneven tendon tears. Not to mention the ebony, oil-like fluid oozing out of it. But Pad didn't seem too bothered by it, pivoting back around with a morbid smile of pride. He had to admit, it was quite a ridiculous way to go. Over the ages, Pad found humor and loathing in his "badge of courage", despite not technically still being alive to show it off.

Again with the friendship offering. At some point, the paranoid spirit would have to give in. Pad rolled his eyes and slouched. "If it will get everyone off my ass, I'll be your friend." When he first came to this clan, all he wanted was a few friends. Sure, eventually all of his friends grew up and died of various reasons, Pad learned his lesson about that long ago, but he was desperate. At this, he slipped past Jacob and back onto the river bank, shaking away water droplets from his paws as he stepped. Now that the husky had gotten what he wanted, maybe, back to what he was doing.

He dropped into a hunting pose, picking his way carefully over mud, dead reeds, and stray pebbles. While he didn't have the best vision, his eyes scanned across the ground, waiting for another frog to show itself. He ignored Jacob, only focus on pinpointing where the distant croaking's source was. Angling his ears about, the ghost looked back at Jacob, as if trying to see if he would be followed. Without any further words, the feline pounced into a cluster of cattails. He backed out a few moments of rustling later, a tiny little frog grasped in one of his paws. He sat back on his haunches, holding the frog out enough for Jacob to see, but kept it from hopping away. It was dreadfully small, as if it had just shed its tadpole tail, but it was still putting up quite the fight. Sometimes animals were so much simpler than the ones evolved enough to form civilizations. Maybe one day, frogs will have clans and be in alliances and trade and wars. That would be the day Pad admitted that he's seen it all.