Þ———”I’ve never been to Africa, how am I supposed to know what a giraffe is?”
He huffs dramatically. He hates feeling stupid.
Þ———”I did actually. Looks just like my werewolf form… ” Free answers proudly.
He had always loved being a werewolf since the very second he was turned. He enjoys how he feels in his other form, somehow everything is more fun, as if the air is electrified.
Though, it’s not prudent to go walking about as a hulking monster, so he stays in his human form most of the time.
It’s also not very easy to make paper dolls with claws.
Any sensible person would’ve responded with a calm “a lot of people have never been to Africa”. But when had she been known for being sensible? Two words: basically never.
❝ Hahaha! You must think your werewolf form or whatever is pretty ugly then, huh? ❞
She laughed again, the uproarious noise filling every inch of the air - possibly suffocating the other, but she didn’t care too much. It was true; his “wolf” looked like total bullshit.
Þ———”Why would I want to start over? It looks great!” he says, completely sure of himself.
Þ———”You know, maybe you should fix yours…what is it even supposed to be? A llama?”
Obviously, he has never seen a giraffe before. And obviously, he has not properly looked at his little…what did he say it was, a wolf? She guesses that it doesn’t matter if his sculpture looks like total shit - as long as he’s happy with it, did anything else really matter?
In a way, yes. But in another way, no.
❝ Dumbass, it’s a giraffe! Yanno, they live in Africa with the lions and zebras!
They’re real quiet and they don’t do much but they’re a lot better than hippos.
“What are you talking about? It’s obviously a wolf!” he says confidently.
Free holds up his rather dumpy and indiscernible paper doll for Patti to get a good, proper look at.
To him, it’s worth setting on a display, but, to anyone else, it’s not even good enough to be a door-stopper.
She squeezes her own creation to her chest, guiltily reassured of her own abilities. Of course, this is a feeling that happens involuntarily, and she doesn’t truly doubt that his artistic side is as awful as it actually seems to be.
“Hehe, sorry, I couldn’t tell,” she smiles. "Maybe you could change the ears a little! And the tail! They both look kinda droopy. Do you just wanna start over, actually?“
“Patti! And since I remember yours, I don’t need to ask at all, eheh!”
Really, she can’t believe he would’ve forgotten her name, out of everyone he’d met; he needed to take some ginkgo biloba pills, perhaps she’d take him to buy a bottle. Thank God she’d seen them lined up on the shelves at pharmacies, or else there certainly would’ve been no hope at all for Free. None at all.
“Didja ever think about drawing one on? My sister does that with hers sometimes, even though she doesn’t really need to. But I kinda think you have to.”
Her right hand deftly moved to her back pockets. She knew a there was a Sharpie in either one, she just had to find it before he noticed…
“Sorry, at the time, it didn’t seem relevant to remember your name…”
Free realizes almost instantly that was rude to say, although it was true. When they first met, it wasn’t exactly a meet-n-greet. It was more of a meet-n-beat-the-shit-out-of.
Even so, rude as it was, he continues.
“No, not really. Isn’t that a thing only girls do anyway? I don’t need that crap.”
Free notices Patti reaching into her back pockets. If not for his enhanced werewolf senses, he wouldn’t have even noticed.
“What are you…” he faintly smells the mind-numbing, chemical smell of a marker, “… hey, wait—”
Somehow, this is the beginning of a very strong friendship.
“Of course that’s what she asks about… Not why I stole someone’s eye…” Free thinks to himself.
“I don’t either, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. I just deal with it.”
Free admits to himself that she’s an interesting character, maybe a bit one-tracked, but interesting nonetheless.
He decides he’ll delve into this, even though he has a feeling it will end badly.
“What’s your name again?” he asks.
“Patti! And since I remember yours, I don’t need to ask at all, eheh!”
Really, she can’t believe he would’ve forgotten her name, out of everyone he’d met; he needed to take some ginkgo biloba pills, perhaps she’d take him to buy a bottle. Thank God she’d seen them lined up on the shelves at pharmacies, or else there certainly would’ve been no hope at all for Free. None at all.
“Didja ever think about drawing one on? My sister does that with hers sometimes, even though she doesn’t really need to. But I kinda think you have to.”
Her right hand deftly moved to her back pockets. She knew a there was a Sharpie in either one, she just had to find it before he noticed…
He’s not very well sure why he’s annoyed by her words. It was an innocent enough question, and she was clearly a kid. Kids don’t have much of a filter. Or one at all sometimes.
He sighs subtly before continuing.
“I stole the grand witch Mabaa’s eye, and while transplanting it, my left eyebrow was singed off. When I saw my reflection, I realized this tattoo took its place. I don’t even notice it these days, though.”
A tragic story, truly. Which was probably why she had felt so engrossed in it, even it was only for a passing moment.
☼ —— “Oooo…”
The only thing that she was really able to think about was the fact that he had taken out someone else’s eye, and then his own! It was rather gross, if anything, but still fascinating. How did he even do that without dying? Did anyone help him? How much did it hurt? His short story left quite a few things unanswered.
☼ —— “I still don’t get how it doesn’t grow back though.”
