[Freddy's always had a love for trains, their back and forth sway, their rumble, their scream. Never has much of everywhere to go, 'cept for Up. So he let's it pick him up deep underground, enjoys the rattling ride on up to the surface, hangs on a while in third class, watching all the folks.
Never the most civilized, even at his best, he lights a cigarette inside the closed up car, leans back, arm stretching out over the back of this bench in the back he's claimed as his own.
He watches. This one arguing with her husband, that one asleep against the window, another pale knowing he'll be late for his morning classes. Freddy taps his fingernails on the glass absentmindedly, playing chorus to the roar of the train. Click. Click click click.]
hopefully this is okay let me know if it's not and i'll change it :VeveryblackdogDecember 3 2009, 21:47:33 UTC
[ The black dog has never had much use for trains. In the past, his four legs would take him wherever he wished. Nowadays, however, he must travel by more human means. Until he finds another master, he is earthbound by his own two feet; a tedious exercise, but necessary.
As he pushes his way through one car to the next, the smell of cigarette smoke catches his attention. Turning towards it, he almost smiles. There is a familiar soul -- or lack of one. The hound of death and hell and the crossroads remembers every one he comes across. Very few, in turn, remember him. Or at least recognize him, in this body.
Once he's approached Blackie drops down onto the bench situated across from the man. Tilts his head and looks at him for a moment with black eyes. But says nothing. ]
IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL I CAN'T EVEN SPEAK BBpackof_liesDecember 3 2009, 21:56:53 UTC
[Freddy's so used to drawing attention when he don't rightly want it that he almost dismisses it entirely. S'what he does, plants the seeds, reaps the sow, but there's rules to it, gotta get 'em interested first, open up to him.
But hell. Might as well get an early start to his day, huh? He turns and looks, eyes narrowing slightly at who he actually sees there. Hard to forget it when the hellhounds run you down, even if he can't put words to it. Still, doesn't do no one no good to fuss. He drawls out a polite greeting, South'n slow,]
OH GOOD orz /t-touches him.everyblackdogDecember 3 2009, 22:18:35 UTC
[ Lifting his head, he gives the man a nod. His smile spreads slightly. Although Blackie remembers the face and that voice -- how could one forget it, honestly -- the details to this soul's specific story are lost to him in a sea of memory. He does, however, recall a name. ]
I suppose you could say that. [ He settles back in his chair again. ] Still not one for formalities, are you, Frederick?
[Freddy gives a nasty little smile. Sometimes, rare sometimes, he misses the good boy he used to be. Mostly, the Devil's done beat that bad habit out of him. He accepts that discontinuity of all this, got used to that too over time.]
No, sir, you know me, you know why.
[Don't even need the full story, Mary and Satan and Anti-christ, fact that he's soulless motherfucker does enough, he thinks.]
Re: -licks.-everyblackdogDecember 4 2009, 00:37:28 UTC
[ Freddy's smile is indeed nasty and earns him a sneering grin from Blackie in kind. Even though the margay is far from prim and proper company, there is still an air of pleasantness to all of their continued meetings. The black dog is not -- by nature -- a pleasant creature. So he welcomes the change. It reminds him of what he used to be. ]
Yes, I do. [ He nods towards the man's hands with a tick of his chin. ] Do you come to collect?
[ Blackie finds irony in Freddy's use of the word 'brother'. In a way -- not lost to the black dog -- they are. He wonders idly if Freddy thinks the same, though he imagines it is simply what he calls everybody. A hand begins to rifle through his coat pockets, ultimately producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. ]
I am inbetween masters at the moment. So it is possible that I am almost envious.
[That Freddy does not find amusing, he chews on the paper of his cigarette contemptuous. He's lived his whole life answering to masters. Still got those goddamn whip scars on his back from way back when. Has the Devil's brand across his chest. Blackie boy's bite marks across his abdomen.]
[ Blackie's hands still as he attempts to tap out a cigarette into his fingers. When he speaks, his expression smooths out uncharacteristically. He stares at his hands for a while before ducking his head to bring the cigarette to this lips. ]
Despite this face, I am what I am. And what I am is a dog. I was brought into being for a purpose and without a master I cannot serve it.
Never the most civilized, even at his best, he lights a cigarette inside the closed up car, leans back, arm stretching out over the back of this bench in the back he's claimed as his own.
He watches. This one arguing with her husband, that one asleep against the window, another pale knowing he'll be late for his morning classes. Freddy taps his fingernails on the glass absentmindedly, playing chorus to the roar of the train. Click. Click click click.]
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As he pushes his way through one car to the next, the smell of cigarette smoke catches his attention. Turning towards it, he almost smiles. There is a familiar soul -- or lack of one. The hound of death and hell and the crossroads remembers every one he comes across. Very few, in turn, remember him. Or at least recognize him, in this body.
Once he's approached Blackie drops down onto the bench situated across from the man. Tilts his head and looks at him for a moment with black eyes. But says nothing. ]
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But hell. Might as well get an early start to his day, huh? He turns and looks, eyes narrowing slightly at who he actually sees there. Hard to forget it when the hellhounds run you down, even if he can't put words to it. Still, doesn't do no one no good to fuss. He drawls out a polite greeting, South'n slow,]
Mighty fine day, innit, sirrah?
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I suppose you could say that. [ He settles back in his chair again. ] Still not one for formalities, are you, Frederick?
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No, sir, you know me, you know why.
[Don't even need the full story, Mary and Satan and Anti-christ, fact that he's soulless motherfucker does enough, he thinks.]
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Yes, I do. [ He nods towards the man's hands with a tick of his chin. ] Do you come to collect?
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Always, brother, always.
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I am inbetween masters at the moment. So it is possible that I am almost envious.
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Fuckin' hope you aren't.
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Despite this face, I am what I am. And what I am is a dog. I was brought into being for a purpose and without a master I cannot serve it.
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Devil's always lookin' for bitches to leash.
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