zg_shadows | Garou flavour tat (Reply)

This is my city.

Some of it I can see from here; the big old houses and tree-lined avenues, the places I've scoured clean of any trace of evil (except what remains in the hearts of its residents, and I know that is no small thing). Some of it I can see only in my mind's eye; the cracked tarmac in the streets where the drunks and the druggies lie in their own piss and vomit, where the shadows have knives and only the experienced or the stupid walk. And me, of course. This is my city.

This is my city, this rotting rose whose blackened petals curl in to rob the sun from its still-beating heart. Whose ways are as tangled as my metaphors, as dangerous as the barbed spear with which I rip the guts from my enemies. They are out there, hiding among the pollution-blackened buildings and the stink and refuse of the receding floodwater, sheltered and cherished as I am not. It won't make any difference.

This is my city. I stand here at its heart and I know it for what it is.

I knew it when I took the charge of defending this damn Caern against everything vile and vicious that the Scab can send against it. I knew it when Grey Fur abdicated his responsibility and gave me the job of hunting enemies through its fetid streets. I knew it when I challenged Pierce. I know it now.

This is my city, this foul, cancerous Scab, and this is the place, I feel increasingly sure, that will finally kill me.

I love this place.