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.


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March 2016

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