Gunpowder
Pet Name: Gunpowder
Owner: Apache
Theme / Type: Storm Obsideon
Born: April 23, 2014
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Paradise
MisticPal Age: 3855 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 10 / 10
Strength: 20
Defense: 0
Speed: 20
Intellect: 10
Misticpower: 1
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy, when skies are gray.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.
If I could hold you, just one more moment
I would never
let you go,
my dear I love you, I hope you know that
and so I bid you
a fond farewell.
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"In like a firecracker, out like an atomic bomb."
ID No. 58M
Gunpowder; "an explosive consisting of a powdered mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal"
matter-of-fact || sensitive || unsatisfied || excitable
"The Pyrotechnic"
Gunpowder likes to be all over the place. He likes to know what's going on and what everybody is up to. He'll stare over your shoulder, get in your way, and ask about everything. Naturally, he is completely oblivious to exactly just how annoying he is. He is the wears-his-heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy that lets everybody know what he's thinking, what he's feeling, what he knows, and how he figured it out. Surely it must go without saying, he has no reservations about correcting you if you're wrong.
All this obnoxiousness comes with an advantage: he really does know everything about everything. His memory is picture perfect, he's got a keen eye and a sharp mind. Though he lacks delicacy he is almost never wrong, and will do everything in his power to discover the correct answer if he is. Obsessive would be an apt description.
He is the resident demolition expert. He knows his way around a bomb, around structure, around wires and chemicals. Heck, he even makes his own fireworks. He finds the science of it fascinating. He's got a real love-love relationship with science, and it shows.
But everything comes with a price. And Gunpowder's price is his compromised emotional state. It's not clear how he got this way, or why he is the way he is, but every once in a while when he is overwhelmed, he just snaps. He panics, and then becomes so withdrawn into himself that he doesn't know what's going on. He tends to rock, back and forth and back and forth, shaking all the while.
When he gets like this, eventually he will cross a threshold. Remain calm. He can be brought out of it, but only if you can stop what triggered him in the first place. Once he reaches the point of no return, the Other One comes out.
When that happens, my advice? Run.
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From the other side of the valley
came a brown dog
a dog with a mountain on his back,
with heavy paws like iron
but he couldn't stop running.
He saw a cloud on the sun
washed in blues and grays
the color of his eyes when he was young
and he dreamed
of youth again.
The river bowed before him
green and gold and brown
he drank, on and on,
the green and gold and brown
the color of his eyes.
Sitting on a picket fence
a robin chirped and jeered
if only he could be like her
if only he could just
fly away.
But scars catch up with all
no matter how hard you try
and even the youngest souls
have a past.
A dog caught in the jaws of a trap
got a hair-trigger, watch your fingers
careful about that pup there
he's got hair-fire trigger,
keep your eyes on him,
the fuse is short
the fireworks are about to go, watch out.
Any minute now.
-----------~-~-~----------~~-~-~-~~----------~-~-~-----------
From the other side of the valley came a brown dog with a mountain on his back. He bore scars all about him, and his paws were made of lead. He walked up to me and said,
"I am young and wild, would you like to be my friend?"
And he said so to I, the shadows, who surrounded all the glen. My domain was vast and whole and black, but still, he looked at me and asked, with river-colored eyes.
So, though puzzled, I grinned my pointed teeth right back, and spoke,
"Oh, I don't know, what have you to offer me?"
Unknown to him, the mountain dog, the custom's of the valley, he brazenly threw out, ignorant of certain folly,
"I have no items, trinks, or trades, there is nothing I can do. But take what you will of my beautiful self, for I am so full because I am new."
Struck us the deal down to the bone, blooded and redded eyes, the pup knew not what came over him, save for the marks on his beautiful hide.
Scars trailed down, deep and wide, from his ears to his neck to his chest. His hide a rich brown, now streaked with skin, for so deep the wounds were his hair would never grow back.
But there was no pain, no blood, no further ceremony. Curious but not angry, the pup could not care for less, and after shaking his head to regain his balance, he leapt, past the edge of the valley and into the dark, unaware of the fate that was to become of him.
And he was never as happy since, and never as sane.
Flip a coin, that's him.
~
Gunpowder belongs to Apache.
Boxed Storm on 5/7/14!
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