"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
-Robert Frost
[ Glory and Gore | Lorde ]
Dɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✦ DE9250 || Tʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✧ #C29C7A
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
-Robert Frost
[ Glory and Gore | Lorde ]
Dɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✦ DE9250 || Tʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✧ #C29C7A
Atticus didn't feel alive. He knew that he was, though, because he was breathing and living things breathed, but he didn't feel it. His eyes felt closed when they were open and his brain felt asleep when he was awake. Atticus felt very... foggy. He didn't have the word that explained it.
Mornings, Atticus was finding, tended to be like this. Maybe he just wasn't fully used to his current situation yet, or maybe he just wasn't getting much sleep. It could have been either one, really. Or both. Simple things slipped past him and even simpler things angered him, like how he was supposed to pick out his own clothes or how he had to live around so many people and was expected to not scream at any one of them.
People, he thought. Are what you call humans. Beings aren't humans. Beings were monsters and killers and could maybe look like humans, but Atticus didn't consider them to be people. They weren't, after all. They were so much worse.
He was captive-born and captive-raised, meaning he had been around Beings his entire life. He had seen them through fences and he had seen them up close, and never once had they given him a reason to like them. They had stuck him in a cage since the day he was born, and now they had traded that cage for a slightly bigger one. The only real difference was that instead of being part of an exhibit to look at, Atticus had become someones pet. Someones property.
Atticus wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was freedom in a way, because he could walk where he wanted and eat when he wanted, and he was pretty sure that he could walk and eat at the same time if he wanted to (though he hadn't gotten around to trying that yet), but he still felt... trapped. Atticus didn't have the word that explained that one, either.
He wished that he had a larger vocabulary.
White shirt or brown shirt? Atticus thought, staring at himself in the mirror while holding the two shirts close to him. He glanced over at the rest of his clothes, neatly organized in a mess spewed across the floor. Blue shirt, maybe. Choosing clothes still seemed like an impossible task to him. How everyone else seemed to do it with so much ease seemed even more impossible. How did they know what colours went with what? How did they not end up wearing their pants backward or their shirts inside out? Atticus scowled. His pajamas looked like they matched fairly well, didn't they? It wouldn't be too bad if he just kept wearing them.
He left the two shirts on the floor behind him and walked out into the hall. The house was big, to say the least. Big enough that Atticus rarely found himself running into anyone. Still, he was finally beginning to remember which hallways led where and which doors led to what rooms. Fuko, his 'owner's room, was... Atticus paused. He didn't fully remember where that one was yet. He began walking in the general direction of it anyway, and then after a few moments of walking his feet seemed to remember where to go.
"FUKO! HEY, GUESS WHAT TIME IT IS!" Atticus shouted, knocking heavily on her bedroom door. Fuko Atarashi wasn't the nicest of Beings, and Atticus wasn't the politest of humans. Suffice to say, they did not get along too well. "IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO GET UP! STOP BEING LAZY." The last part wasn't too necessary, Atticus thought, but it felt good to say it to her nonetheless.