ethangranger: (Default)
March Character Development Exercise for [livejournal.com profile] tenebrae_nostro 
Video log # 03/2003 [Destroyed in lab explosion]
New Mexico
June, 2003

"Hey honey, lookin' for some fun?"
It was her. The one that I've had my eye on for a while. Funny that she had found me.
"Been lookin' for you a long time." I mumbled because I know she can hear me.The end of my unfinished smoke gets crushed into the ashtray, its gimpy neck smushing into itself as the white lining tears and tobacco spews forward. Pretty sure some of you talented types would get a great metaphor outta that. Like I give a shit. Getting up, I grab my jacket off the back of the wooden stool as I give her a warm smile. I learned a long time ago not to give away the loathing in my eyes. The hate. It isn't always easy, but if you smile and soften the other features around your face they think that its just dangerous enough to give them a thrill. Something that makes them wet enough to want to fuck you, but not trust you. Don't understand it myself, but I'm not gonna start asking questions now. As we move through the bar toward the exit, I put my hand on the back of her neck and give it a soft squeeze. She smiles cause it feels warm against her cold skin. Yeah, it makes me smile too, darlin'. Fuck, it even makes my heart sing. Her blond hair has lost that sheen to it that I remember it having some months ago. Maybe it was a reflection of how lifeless she felt on the inside. I like long hair, it gives me something to pull in the heat of the moment. And I sure as hell like to pack a lot of heat.

What can I say? I'm a realist.  )
ethangranger: (Can't see me)
June Character Building Exercise )

A wooden multi-colored totem pole stuck out of the soft ground where the earth had been recently disturbed and climbed to the sky as if it wanted to reach heaven itself. Much like the souls that had departed from rotted torn flesh that had been buried in a burial vault below. It was done. The werewolves, skin walkers, that had done this were...disassembled, piece by piece, limb by limb. The leader of the pack, Anius, the one who had given the order to attack the reservation, faced an especially lengthly death. It even made Raze cringe. Now for a murderer, that was impressive.

A piece of his boys leather hanging rope was fashioned into a necklace of sorts, with the beast's fang as its center piece. Granger wrapped it around his wrist twice instead.


That was a long time ago. The colors on the totem pole had faded in the hot Arizona sun as it leaned slightly to one side. The muted yellows and reds were sanded by the sandstorms that sometimes made their way through the arid area. It was like they were trying to erase history. It was true though, the desert had a very short memory. The wooden hawk perched at the top with its splayed wings, looked down at the mortals left behind in warning that the afterlife would come sooner to those that desecrate this tomb. Taking his brown and gold handled butterfly knife, he slide it against his palm and watched the canal produce a river of blood that welled up in the groove before it overran the fleshy embankment and dripped through the bottom of his tightly clenched fist like a well. Could say that the motion was the same as pissing on a grave. He was marking it and, also, commemorating it again. Assholes better think twice before passing up on this warning and heading up to the reservation that lay at the end of the sun-baked road. His blood hit the thirsty ground that had cracked in its dryness.

The eagle that circled him high above the bright blue sky squawked loudly in approval. "Oh, shut up." He barked back as if it had offended him. Fucking bird followed him around like a dog. Brown powerful wings batted the wind and it squawked loudly again as if to return the sentiment. Getting up, he smirked at it. Loud mouthed bastard. "Granger? Fuck you doin' man, let's go."  Well, well, finally caught up, did they? Now that he was done, he was not bothered by their presence. Looking behind his shoulder at Raze and Racks, Frick and Fro', whatever, he threw them a dry smile. "Comin." He answered in a grainy voice as if he had swallowed sand that he dribbled through his fingers when he first got there. Granger turned his back to the monument, like he turned his back on his people. Or so he felt. Still, every so often, he'd look back. Just like he looked back over his shoulder to say goodbye to the ghosts that no longer lingered on this earth, but only in his mind.
ethangranger: (Dangerous Mind)
X-posted to Tenebrae Nostro
Ethan Granger, here. I’d say it was nice to meet you but then I’d be lying. Nice to meet you anyway.

I had a choice. I could be afraid for the rest of my short life or I could make them afraid of me. I came to one realisation in my discourse: I was much more terrifying than they are. Oh yes, they are stronger, virulent and completely devoid and ungoverned by any set of rules which makes them inconsolably dangerous, but while they could not help their diseased natures and therefore acted predictably, I could make the choice of how cruel and merciless I wanted to be despite my very human nature. It makes one wonder who is the worse animal, doesn’t it? The one who can’t help themselves or the one who can but does otherwise. Does it matter if it is for the greater good? I’d like to think so. But I'm not sure that it matters anymore.

The sun burns at the end of my coffin nail and when I flick it over the red clay cliff, I watch it flutter to the ground and a send a spray little orange sparks into the air before the light goes out. That's what life feels like nowadays. A glimmer of hope that goes out because there those who don't have the balls to do what's right, even when it's wrong. There are some hunters and, obviously, vampires who don't get that vampires or Skinwalkers are not a race, but a manifestation of a disease which needs to be cured or culled. It matters very little if some of them are 'nice' or 'swell'. The bottom line is that you lock them up in a room long enough and they will have to feed because intrinsically the virus is well....virulent. Its nature is to reproduce itself and it impacts the body in such a way that if you strip away the human face of the vampire there is still a very dangerous infectious disease present.

I see a world without vampires, where humans don't have to worry about the shadows stalking them in the night unless those shadows are human. I see a world where life and death touches everyone and time leaves its mark on the laugh lines around your mouth.

And yes, I am willing to sacrifice you for it if your death will save lives.

I told you once that you won't like me. Did you think that I was lying?
ethangranger: (Jekyll & Hyde)
Occurs in the past

The eagle circled high in the cloudless sky above him, squawking at him as if he was trying to catch his attention. Something his Kunsi, grandmother, said to him over ten years ago bounced around his mind.

"The eagle, my little navezgane, reminds us of courage and spirit. Eagle flies fearlessly, bridging heaven and earth, and courageously face our fear of the unknown in order to fly as high as our heart's joy can take us. The eagle protects you. Never let  dilthith lupan or dithith gode steal you into the night. Always fly with eagle."  Ethan looked down at his grandmother in her sick bed. Her skin was tan and leathery although the circles under her eyes were gray with illness. Yet, her dark brown earth colored eyes were bright like a coyotes and shone like Onyx laying in the sun. The diyi shook his rattle and burned sweet sage around her in circles as he mumbled some prayers to Ga'an, an supernatural spirit that could cure illness. His face was painted in red and yellow, white and brown in a pattern that resembled the compass points of each corners of the earth, like a human map that had no real direction. 

 

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March 2016

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