[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 1px solid white; height: 175px; width: 450px; background: url(http://i.imgur.com/203ns.gif); background-position: right; background-size: 100%]
[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:550px; color: #cccccc; margin-left:-20px; margin-top:-1px; text-shadow: 3px 3px 10px black; text-transform: uppercase;]
|
[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:450px; height:auto; word-spacing: 1px; font-size: 10px;]It wasn't just John who craved certain things in life. Mycroft often found himself longing for his brother's competition in wits, something, someone above these goldfish. Everyone here was so bland, so easy to read. They all made no account to try and be different. Everyone was either too good or too bad, there was only anti-clans and pro-clans, as well as the people trying to be neutral. Even those who claimed to be neutral were swayed to one side, a little biased. Life had molded them into who they were, and they often brought emotions into decisions. That's what made them so boring, so predictable, they all were emotionally driven by the same things. Ego, glory and love in whatever form it took, they all shaped people to have the same mold, to want and crave the same thing. Mycroft had grown tired of it.
His last encounter with someone who had truly been different was with Moriarty. Though Mycroft had always tiptoed around the smaller male, they had grown up together in Blizzardclan. Forged by the same clan, they had shared experiences which had bonded them as much as Mycroft had been comfortable with. Of course, their relationship was anything but normal and healthy, insults were stated with snarky looks and they were usually accompanied by a roll of the eyes. Though all of this happened whilst they were both young, as the pair had grown older, Mycroft often found himself being thankful for Moriarty's company. He had been a breath of fresh air against all these dull, suffocating minds. Alas, Mycroft hadn't seen Moriarty in over a year, and as much as he hated admitting it to himself, somewhere, locked away deep in his heart, he was lonely.
It had been some times since he had last felt like this, he cared not to think about when the last time was. Instead Mycroft had merely pushed away the feeling as he always did, and instead he wandered. The tall, lean brown tabby would often stay with another feline, night after night. With a few flutters of his watery grey eyes, he'd be allowed anywhere's. Though it never seemed to last due to the fact that he spoke the truth and often people couldn't handle it. Some found it terrifying that he could read them so easily, within a few moments he had more information than he liked sometimes. Of course, this would come in handy when people tried to attack him. Sure he didn't like fighting one on one, but when it came to certain occasions, his wits came handy. Like that one times where a lone male had tried to attack him, and then Mycroft had talked him so low that the male left in tears. It was always a game with Mycroft, life was a game, and he was winning.
Somehow he found himself within the swelling territory of god knows where. The male had vaguely heard of the clans, though he paid no mind to them. It wasn't like he was ever going to join, clan life wasn't for him. Settling down with other animals would never be in his cards. It just wasn't Mycroft. Yet here he was, watching someone clearly affected by a highly traumatic event. War, he would have guessed by the limp the male had. It was all there, all of the signs, one just had to pay attention. Stepping forwards, Mycroft would open his maw to speak. His watery grey eyes focused on the other male.
"Gardening to help with the affects of the war? Typical. Is it truly as relaxing as everyone says it is?"
[/fancypost][align=center][size=6pt]▲ polaroid
