Adam Milligan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
halfwinchester) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2014-04-17 11:30 am
halfwinchester) wrote in entranceway2014-04-17 11:30 am
003 ♟ text/action
[By the looks of the network, there's something wrong again, something about missing people, but when isn't something going wrong in Wonderland?
Adam has more immediate concerns, ones that, in comparison, are far more innocuous. In opposition to missing someone, if anything Adam is still trying to adjust to an addition to his one-man family. Getting a dog had seemed like a great plan when the event had been in full swing and encouraging him to ignore the oh my god, I can't be responsible for another living thing panic, but now the event's long over and the dog's still around with no humane society in sight. The destruction the dog wreaks around his apartment spurs him to write a text message he figures can't do any harm. It's not the weirdest thing he's ever asked on the network, anyway, and if nothing comes of it, no loss.]
Anyone have any dog training tips? For a larger kind of dog if it won't listen.
[The warm and fuzzy honeymoon feeling has worn off and cold, heard reality has set in in the form of one barking, grunting, chewing, drooling, messy, smelly, furry giant.]
And if it won't stop chewing everything it's not supposed to.
[At the end of the message, he adds:]
Any good names for a guy dog?
[Not long after he posts his message, Adam takes his new responsibility out for his daily walk, phone in his jacket pocket and gun tucked into the back of his pants (hey, it's not like anyone's around to report him missing, but he's not about to become another statistic if he can help it). The mastiff, a soft fawn-colored dog nearing two hundred pounds and pretty much as tall as his owner standing on his rear legs, trots ahead of Adam, collar jingling merrily. Adam follows behind, rubbing his face tiredly. For once the redness around his eyes isn't just due to night terrors; lately, having a pet padding around his room and bumping him with its nose keeps drawing him out of nightmares and into the perils of having a dog that won't stop trying to crawl onto your bed.
It's a strange thing, having something there with him at all hours. Really strange. And comforting.
After a while, they end up on a patch of grass beyond the gardens. There, Adam tries once again to teach it the "stay" trick like he's been doing all week. He might not have picked a name for the bastard yet, but actually listening to him when he needs it to stay put is kind of important, and a command that has yet to stick in any meaningful way.
Housebreaking? Not really a problem. Sitting? Not too hard with enough commanding and maybe a beer to calm his nerves. But the staying...]
Okay, stay. Stay there.
[He leaves the dog lying down at a point in the field and tries to back away. The routine almost always ends the same way: by the fifth step or so, the dog seems to think the distance means "green light, go!" and launches forward to paw his legs and nip his bootlaces, tail wagging, where he has to push it back to the start again.
At one point, the dog rips his laces undone completely and bending down results in a dog frantically trying to lick his face from top to bottom.]
I'm starting to think you're just doing this on purpose. [Adam pushes its big head away, acting annoyed but not feeling it.] Take a pill. You want one? I have one. Might kill you, but at least you won't be able to get up and follow me. Now get over there and stay.
[Back to the starting point.]
Adam has more immediate concerns, ones that, in comparison, are far more innocuous. In opposition to missing someone, if anything Adam is still trying to adjust to an addition to his one-man family. Getting a dog had seemed like a great plan when the event had been in full swing and encouraging him to ignore the oh my god, I can't be responsible for another living thing panic, but now the event's long over and the dog's still around with no humane society in sight. The destruction the dog wreaks around his apartment spurs him to write a text message he figures can't do any harm. It's not the weirdest thing he's ever asked on the network, anyway, and if nothing comes of it, no loss.]
Anyone have any dog training tips? For a larger kind of dog if it won't listen.
[The warm and fuzzy honeymoon feeling has worn off and cold, heard reality has set in in the form of one barking, grunting, chewing, drooling, messy, smelly, furry giant.]
And if it won't stop chewing everything it's not supposed to.
[At the end of the message, he adds:]
Any good names for a guy dog?
[Not long after he posts his message, Adam takes his new responsibility out for his daily walk, phone in his jacket pocket and gun tucked into the back of his pants (hey, it's not like anyone's around to report him missing, but he's not about to become another statistic if he can help it). The mastiff, a soft fawn-colored dog nearing two hundred pounds and pretty much as tall as his owner standing on his rear legs, trots ahead of Adam, collar jingling merrily. Adam follows behind, rubbing his face tiredly. For once the redness around his eyes isn't just due to night terrors; lately, having a pet padding around his room and bumping him with its nose keeps drawing him out of nightmares and into the perils of having a dog that won't stop trying to crawl onto your bed.
It's a strange thing, having something there with him at all hours. Really strange. And comforting.
After a while, they end up on a patch of grass beyond the gardens. There, Adam tries once again to teach it the "stay" trick like he's been doing all week. He might not have picked a name for the bastard yet, but actually listening to him when he needs it to stay put is kind of important, and a command that has yet to stick in any meaningful way.
Housebreaking? Not really a problem. Sitting? Not too hard with enough commanding and maybe a beer to calm his nerves. But the staying...]
Okay, stay. Stay there.
[He leaves the dog lying down at a point in the field and tries to back away. The routine almost always ends the same way: by the fifth step or so, the dog seems to think the distance means "green light, go!" and launches forward to paw his legs and nip his bootlaces, tail wagging, where he has to push it back to the start again.
At one point, the dog rips his laces undone completely and bending down results in a dog frantically trying to lick his face from top to bottom.]
I'm starting to think you're just doing this on purpose. [Adam pushes its big head away, acting annoyed but not feeling it.] Take a pill. You want one? I have one. Might kill you, but at least you won't be able to get up and follow me. Now get over there and stay.
[Back to the starting point.]
no subject
Try as he might, though, Adam doesn't really get that vibe off of her. The cold, dead vibe a person is likely to get when they look into Michael's eyes, for instance. It's easy to separate the vessel from the archangel possessing it because Michael isn't John, he doesn't feel. He wouldn't know friendship if it bit him on the tail feathers.
Adam, for lack of a better response, makes an exaggerated expression of relief.]
Glad to know you accept reasons.
[Other kinds of non-humans... not so much. The majority don't seem to need a reason to use the advantage of their strength, and magic powers, and whatever else to act out against mankind.
Or so it looks from where he's standing.]
no subject
[ There isn't anything demanding in her question, only gentle curiosity and genuine concern.
What has he been through, this boy, to make him so suspicious of everything? ]
no subject
It's true, but hearing it said aloud still somehow makes him feel abashed, like the feelings he's carrying around are still just as inconsequential as they'd been in light of the angels' schemes. Superficial. Babyish. A kid stood up for a date, or always waiting around for a dad who will never spend time with him. A human who'd scared to their wits end up things less than human, and now won't ever stop looking under the bed.
Instinctively, he glances away. His bitter defenses don't hold up under close scrutiny. If they break, then all that's left is the truth, that he's all of these things.]
I died plenty of times. Before ever coming here. Mostly because of monsters who wanted to hurt people.
[And the second time, a pair of brothers who hadn't cared about hurting him, but... well.]
If I'd found out there were good ones before all of that, maybe things would've been different. It didn't work out that way.
no subject
[ Her tone is warm and full of compassion. There is much about Tauriel that might seem harsh and forbidding, but underneath it she really is quite sweet, in some ways almost gentle. ]
no subject
Oddly abashed, he kept his gaze diverted.]
... You and me both. But I was born human, that changes things.
[Elves probably have other things to worry about. Being cannibalized by ghouls that look like people and possessed by angels who need human sausages to wear probably aren't part of them.]
no subject
[ Their worries were indeed quite different, the cares that might weigh on the heart of one of the Eldar not always the same as that which burdens a mortal man, not to mention the fact that they are from entirely different worlds. ]
no subject
[He trails off. How to finish? Not even Adam's sure how to put the food chain into words when he's still grappling with his place on it.
Reaching for the dog, he gets its attention again and rubs its head. Humans are to non-humans what dogs probably are to people, he supposes. Lesser than.]
I just mean people aren't that important to some people who aren't human. What happens to us isn't important.
no subject
[ His life is important.
Tauriel comes from a world that is in many ways quite harsh, and if Adam ever saw her mercilessly cutting down orcs like it's her job (which it... is) then he might have a harder time believing that she means what she is saying right now, but she really does. ]