Coming back [Jinxer]

"Talk."
Gawk.
Walk.

One year. It had been one entire year since he had dared to set a single paw in this God-forsaken city. He didn't miss it - the sights, the smells, the trash that floated about the streets, the carcasses of innocent creatures in gutters and littered all across the roads. He didn't miss the cries of war that pierced the empty night sky or the wails of grieving mothers as they sat hunched over their dead cubs. Murderers. Everyone was a murderer, and he was included in the ranks; he had participated in the massacre. His soul and his fading white paws were stained with as much blood as others of his kind, if not more. He was guilty, just as guilty as the Iris Pride and the Tempest Pack. Even Lexis wasn't entirely of pure intentions.

A fool could see that all peace that could have once possibly existed was crumbling like the statues that perched atop buildings... crumbling like the decaying bodies in the streets. Hell, he had only returned to Hexasol a few days ago and already he swore that he had more decaying flesh in his lungs than there was on the street. The smell of dead bodies lingered in the air; that was all the city smelled like - to him, at least. Maybe he was just hyper-sensitive to smell... he had been up in the mountains for a bit over a year. The air up there was clear... it was beautiful. The clouds touched the tips of your fur and dewdrops collected on your whiskers; the higher you went, the thicker of a cloud your breath became as the air chilled.

That was the beauty of life in the mountains. It was calm. It was peaceful. It was beautiful and clean. It was a fresh new slate - a brand new start - for a snow leopard who had once devoured canines for his own pleasure and tormented pregnant bitches in churches. He had killed innocent canines with no regard for their families and friends or what their lives meant to their packs. He had paid the price, though... maybe they'd let him at least glance at heaven when at last he died. He'd changed. Meeting a dalmatian by the name of Pongo had changed him significantly; it had seemed slow and uncertain at first, but there'd been no denying what Pongo could make the leopard feel: guilt.

Never before in the beast's life had he felt guilt for striking canine "scum" to the ground or taking the life of a bitch or her puppies. He'd relished the taste of their metallic blood on his lips and the feel of their blood gushing out of their broken bodies and between his toes, soaking his fur. Each drop of blood that had touched his skin was just one more step he'd taken to the path of hell. To right the wrongs he'd done, he'd had to give up his pride and his roaring ego, his pack, his entire life, and his brother; he didn't want to admit it, but he knew in his heart that the canine who had turned his life around was dead and gone. I never should have left him.

Jinxer moved slowly through the town; his fur that had once been so white as snow and so sleek and clean as a pampered pet was now stained with ashes and dirt. The white had become a very pale, light gray color, yet the spots along his body still remained black as coal and shining like oil. The fur on his chest was divided from his shoulder down to the base of his chest; the individual clawmarks which had torn his flesh like paper were no longer visible as his dingy fur stuck out every which way in a pathetic attempt to cover the smaller marks, but the scarred pale skin was exposed right on the centermost part of his chest. Other smaller and less significant scars littered his emaciated but still strong and faintly muscular body.

The most prominent scar lay on the left side of his face; it began at the peak of his brow and split the fur down to his jaw. His eyelid, too, was cut by the mark. The icy blue eye that had once laid as a beacon of defiance beneath the white fur was now sightless and gray, also destroyed by the claws that had cut his chest and face. The other blue eye still shone with defiance, but it was a new defiance that wasn't laced with hatred, but with hope and, also, with fear. Jinxerbee, formerly of the Iris Pride, hadn't been in Hexasol for over a year. Surely the Pride assumed he was dead by now. If they saw him, would they recognize him? If they caught him, would they care? Perhaps he was just a distant memory now. That would be best for him.

The male snow leopard pressed his left side gently against the buildings as he walked through the city. He had once lived here - he and his family had. He could feel the weight of the diamond-studded chain around his neck beginning to weigh his head down as he thought about it. He'd once been a pampered, pompous, arrogant asshole. He hadn't cared when his mother, Bonnie, and his owners had all died. What he'd give to have them back now, though. He was unlucky; what a name Jinxer was. Was it a promise or a warning? He didn't know. At this point, he was leaning more towards promise. Jinxerbee knew this place like he knew the pad of his paw, so why was it that he moved through it so hesitantly, pressing against buildings like a kit? Because he was vulnerable.

Unable to see through his left eye now, anything could happen were he to just walk with empty space on his left. He was not a coward, nor was he afraid of death, but he didn't want to die. Not yet. He'd only just returned. So he kept close to the buildings; nothing would get onto his blind side. Every time he came to an alley, he sped up until his shoulder hit the corner of the next building, and then he'd slow and look around once more. He grew tired. He'd been moving through here since yesterday. He needed to rest, but there was only one place he wanted to go: home. He was hungry, too, but he didn't know if there'd be food at home. Maybe... just maybe.

However, as he moved past another alley, he happened to turn his head to look down it with his good eye; he saw a canine walking past - a handsome-looking white wolf - and one thought came to mind. Rikki? That was impossible for many reasons. Obviously this arctic wolf was taller and longer and more muscular than Rikki... it had a more masculine frame than Rikki. Of course, the last time he'd seen her, she'd been even worse off than Jinxer was now; she'd practically been a skeleton with mangled white fur. This canine looked a bit better off, but still... it could be. He hoped it was. At the very least, he hoped it wasn't some uptight Tempest scout or something. Jinxer didn't want to get to ass kicked today.

He had to find out, regardless. Quickly Jinxer began to move along, turning down the alley, his one working eyes flickering with worry as it darted about the alley. He didn't want to have any surprises while he was--SLAM. He let out a startled yowl as suddenly the left side of his head smacked into a tall green dumpster; it echoed loudly, a reverberating metallic sound, and he staggered backwards. "Shit! Oww... fuck." Head hanging with shame, he looked down the end of the alley and, to his misfortune, the wolf seemed to have heard the sound. The arctic wolf looked around curiously, and then they made eye contact. Jinxer's fur bristled and he went rigid. What would the canine do?

"Talk."
Gawk.
Walk.

Their eyes had locked as soon as they had met just that once; Jinxer felt paralyzed by them, but he could read no aggression or aggravation in the canine's expression, nor in the canine's stance. He knew simply by looking in those eyes that this was not Rikki. Though disappointed, he would not turn and run. There was still his curiosity to satisfy. If not Rikki, then who was this canine, this arctic wolf who seemed so keen on looking over Jinxer with his cool eyes as though looking at one's own reflection? It's not like Jinxer was a particularly interesting character. If someone wanted to see black and white together, they could go find some newspaper littering the streets.

The canine took a few steps forward and Jinxer felt an instinctive growl starting to bubble up; before it could escape his lips, however, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to convince his fur to lie flat. The canine seemed to see that Jinxer was no threat, and the feline, himself, was rather relieved to find that the canine's pose wasn't threatening, either. The silence that had spread between them made Jinxer a bit anxious. What was going through the wolf's head? What did he think about Jinxer? What was he plotting and planning? Maybe his posture and curious glances were intentionally misleading the leopard on his intentions... It was rather stressful.

He could see the wolf lifting his nose up a bit, sniffing the air. Jinx knew what that was about; he was trying to figure out what Jinxer was, to a more face-value extent. Was he Iris? Lexis? It would be impossible for him to be Tempest - no. Maybe not. He had met Brooke, the Warden of the Tempest Pack, and warned her of the danger she was in before the Iris Pride had struck. Perhaps she was not so sore about him as with other felines. At the canines sniffs, Jinxer lifted his head up a bit, his own curiosity starting to get to him and affect how he stood. Jinxer himself sniffed at the air once the canine had finished trying to figure Jinxer out, and he found easily that the canine was homeless, a traveler like Jinx.

The wolf's white tail waved and Jinxer blinked the one eye that he could, the tip of his own thick tail twitching in response to the canine. The arctic wolf began to advance again and Jinxer remained motionless, slowly letting his head lower itself once more as his blue eye gazed even at the canine. The wolf hadn't gotten much closer, as several meters still separated them, but apparently the dog had gotten close enough to see more of Jinxer than he wanted to see: the scars. The wolf's face twisted in a slight grimace, a look that was actually rather complicated to read. The complexity of it brought a broad grin onto Jinxer's face, a look that he'd not sported in a year.

The canine then spoke to Jinxer, calling out in a rather soft voice that seemed concerned and careful, ”What have they done to you my friend?” Jinxer's response was a mixture between cheerful and sad - it could, perhaps, have been called a bittersweet tone. "More than I'd ever imagined, less than I've ever feared, and everything I deserved." A deep chuckle followed, a little rumbling sound in his throat, and then he shook his head, the sadness now overwhelming the chipper tone and he said. "Still, less than others who've deserved none of it."

The leopard waved his long tail out behind him and began to trot towards the canine, swinging his head from left to right trying to make sure that he wouldn't smack into a dumpster again. When he arrived a foot or two away from the canine, he stopped, planting all four feet on the ground and letting his tail wag slightly behind him in a dog-like fashion. "Isn't it ironic," the feline began with a much cheerier tone, "that my favorite place in the world to lay is the first thing I smacked my face on when I returned to Hexasol?" He snickered. "Stupid dumpster."

"Talk."
Gawk.
Walk.

At his own words, Jinxer couldn't help but think upon the truth of them. More than I'd ever imagined... As a young, naive cub, he had never thought that he could ever become a target of the pride. Never, in his wildest dreams, had he ever imagined that he would be fighting alongside canines - against his own pride, the place where he'd spent a significant amount of time in his life, no less. He had never once thought that, perhaps, he would one day be on the side of the canines that hated his kind most. To fight with the canines to save them and their home was a thought that was unthinkable, a dream that was undreamable, and a life that was unliveable, yet here the snow leopard was, a victim of what he once cared for the most: the Iris Pride.

Less than I'd ever feared. Jinx had experienced firsthand what the Iris Pride was capable of. They were manipulative, cold, calculating, cunning, heartless, thoughtless, cannibalistic, tempermental, cut-throat, murderous, blood-thirsty, twisted, psychotic killing machines. He had seen the way that the canine scum were treated. He'd sat in on his far share of tortures and torments. Not only did they break the body - cut the skin, peel off the fur, break the bones, steal away claws, mangle faces - but they broke the mind. They were sadistic bastards who didn't just take your freedom; they took your sanity. He was lucky to have never had to go through that, but he'd seen it enough to know that he would've been dead long ago had they captured him.

This particular portion of the statement had been the most true of all. The moment he'd begun to shy away from the ways of the Pride, he'd known what he was stepping into. The Pride knew him - they knew all about him. They knew his strengths and his weaknesses, his hopes and dreams, his goals and fears. They would know how to break him - snap him like a twig between their teeth. They would crush him under their paws. Jinxer had never been particularly liked. He was one of the lowest of the Pride - a bit above scum, but not exactly a required member. His death and betrayal would not have shaken the Pride in the slightest had he not gone against them at a crucial time in the war against the Tempest Pack. It may well have been that his warning the Tempest Pack had saved them that day, but he would never know.

Everything I deserved. That was also true. Had he been leader of Iris Pride and found that one of the lowest of the low members had betrayed them, he personally would've hunted that cat down and taken great pleasure in tearing the life and sanity out of them thread by thread. The thought almost amused him; Florence had to be pretty pathetic to not take him out herself for his bold act of betrayal. Still, another side of that thought made him feel as though his pain had been for nothing. Perhaps if he'd been of more use to the Pack, they would have found him a greater threat and hunted him down... It didn't matter now.

At Jinxer's arrival just in front of the canine, he couldn't help but remember that, at one point in time, he'd been this close to a timber wolf named Jacy's face, threatening and cursing him and his bitch with no justification at all. He'd been bored, so he'd attacked. Her name was still burned into his head: September. She'd been a flawless Australian Shepherd before Jinxer had gotten his bloodstained paws on her, but it wasn't just Jinxer who'd fucked her up; Jacy had done so quite literally. But that was a story for another time... The leopard was merely impressed by how far he'd come. In fact, he felt no shame - not even a prick of anxiety or aggression - at approaching this arctic wolf. Even their conversation seemed so... what was the word? Natural.

The wolf gave Jinxerbee a slightly twisted grin at his remark about the dumpster. “Quite ironic it is indeed. I’m sorry to hear as well as see your scars, that I am. Much bad have happened to you, so I hope not you’ll suffer more than you already have. Though, of course, it is hard to avoid trouble when walking the streets of Hexasol.” Jinxer dipped his head in acknowledgment of the canine's response; again the comment of "less than I deserved" came into his head. He should have been captured and tortured. He shouldn't have run from the Iris Pride after the battle. He should have been captured. He should have been in the same position as Rikki... he should have been scum. I should be dead.

”You returned to Hexasol you say," the wolf began. Jinxerbee nodded, and the wolf continued. "Sorry for my question, but curiosity I have; Why come back to a place like this when you’ve already left? It’s not like it’s a secret that a war is going on.” Jinxer wrinkled his nose in a thoughtful fashion. "I suppose... I missed the place." Jinxer hesitated for several moments; a breeze picked up, kicking through uptown Hexasol. Down the street, several old newspapers rustled and fluttered across the cement. Jinxer watched them flit along the ground for a moment before looking back with his one good eye to the wolf, murmuring, "I had friends I wanted to see again and promises to keep, but... my friends - the few friends I had - are likely gone, and I doubt I'll be able to fulfill my promise, either..."