Break You To Pieces, Smash You To Shards [OPEN]

[Brave]

The walk of the wanderer was the only one that Tybalt had ever known, so it was subjective that it would be the only one he ever walked. The giant dog had been walking for some time now, longer than he usually would, and he was displeased to have found a slight twinge of displeasure spreading throughout the muscle of his front right shoulder. It was not often that the dog faced discomfort, his body had been condition years ago for the perfect physical condition his style of  life required, and the fact that his own anatomy was now beginning to betray him sat uneasily atop his broad shoulders. However, it had been raining for the past three days and now continued to pour, so Tybalt allowed slight room for error and succumbed to his will to seek out shelter and continue on with his wanderings later when the sky's tears had dried up.

His mighty paws struck out against the rough dirt road as the giant began to move with speed and force, his head held high with poise as he he moved with purpose through the streets. His muscles rippled with power beneath his rugged coat, which had become quite shaggy and unruly with the summer months. Tybalt had never really cared much for regularly grooming his coat and he really had no one to groom it for, so he didn't bother. While solitude might have depressed other canines, Tybalt was quite at peace with his singleness. Alone was what he had. Alone protected him. For if he had no one to walk beside him how could they ever leave him? Yes, Tybalt was quite content.

The Great Dane ambled down the dirt road for a good deal of time before he finally came across the junkyard, and satisfaction swelled within his heavy bones as he lumbered up to the rusted chain link fence and inhaled. A rush of scents overcame his sensitive nose then, alerting him of who and what had passed in and out of the iron fence within the past day and whether or not he wanted to join them in their trek. There was a strong presence of human, but it was faded and washed out by the rain and so Tybalt promptly ignored it. Humans had never bothered Tybalt since he was a pup, they tended to avoid him and any that strayed too close received a sharp warning to not take another step. No, what Tybalt focused on was the scent of dog. It was seemingly everywhere, it's scent strong and fresh and numerous. Of course, Tybalt was a newcomer to this town, yet it seemed slightly preposterous that the humans would allow their stray population to spiral so completely out of control.

Tybalt's thoughts only lingered on his findings for a few fractions of a second before he simply reared up gracefully onto his powerful hind legs and came down on the chained fence, knocking the latch off the hinge with a satisfying ping before he forcefully shoved the rest of the worn metal out of the way. He then proceeded to pad elegantly into the dirt junkyard, his ears pricked and his mug to the wind as he assessed his situation. He knew there would probably be other dogs around, but the thought of them bothering him made him want to laugh. In his mind, he was the dominant force over everyone and everything, anyone who dared to deny it was asking for a beating. And Tybalt didn't care if that made him an egotistical and self-centered brute, it was the truth and he wasn't afraid to let anyone know. And so he strode forward with confidence, his paws clacking against the junkyard debris  as he searched for an adequate vehicle to escape the rain in.

He found it eventually in a large blue van with the front doors torn off and the engine missing, yet the seats were only a little ripped and the roof was intact, so the Great Dane relented immediately to the opportunity of rest. He sprung lithely up a small pile of electronic waste before he propelled himself through the car door and up into the passenger seat of the van before he scrambled into the backseat and shook out his spotted coat, providing the front seats with a muddy spray of rain water and dirt. After removing the offensive obscurities from his coat he curled up on the  plush seat and released a long breath before he allowed his lids to flicker closed over his sky blue eyes. It was the first time he had rested in days, and he had to admit it was nice. He had just gotten comfortable when he heard scrabbling from the outside of the car, and after a quick sniff of the air he confirmed that it was another canine. Immediately his muscles bunched and coiled under him before they released and propelled him into the passenger seat of the car again. He turned to face the intruder then, a loud and menacing growl escaping from his mouth before he drew himself to his full height and glared down at the invader, snarls continuing to break free from his throat. " This ones taken." Were the only words that escaped his maw before he allowed another warning snarl. Then he simply waited, muscles tensed and ready to spring, for the opposing canine to react.

Count: 905
Notes: First post with Tybalt :3
Tagged: Open
Table: Made by Brave No taking/stealing/holding against it's will.

[fizzeh]

Should have stayed in the caves The thought was unbidden and rather unwelcome, the response was a deep throated growl, angry and irritated. He didn’t want to listen to his thoughts on the rain any longer. He had made the trip towards town to see what the dogs were like- the strays, not the house pets; he had already met one house pet that seemed oblivious to any sort of threat from another dog, it was quite comical. However, today, he had wanted to go and find some more strays to share his home with, as it was far too large to only be occupied by one dog, and a one-dog pack was rather ridiculous, wasn’t it?

Still, he had not expected to be caught in a torrential downpour. The summer was hot, but the storm and the chilled rain was enough for the mastiff, there had been a shiver that coursed through his muscles, but it had long since past that point and had gone to make his movements stiff and frustratingly sluggish. Get out of the rain. His mind hissed, the response was a snort as he turned grudgingly towards the back of the junkyard, while one was going through the front, Klaus was going through the back. While beggars could not be choosers, Klaus was a large dog, not nearly the largest but still he was big enough to have humans back away without him even glancing at them.

His eyes quickly found the van he needed, something large and spacious. The front doors had been ripped off, but he assumed that the back would not be soggy or moldy and that was all that mattered to him. Of course, when he started to enter, the low growl- or rather bear like rumble- of a dog hit his ears. Klaus did not bat an eye, he just pushed himself further in, the snarl did not fall on deaf ears, but he could hold his own, he wanted out of the rain and he wanted this van and so, he would have it.

Lips were drawn back in the beginnings of snarl, a warning to the large spotted dane he now found in the back seat, comfy and agitated that his resting place had been found out- apparently not long after it had been claimed in the first place. “Well, now it’s taken by someone else.” His own snarl ripped from his chest, sharp, dark eyes fell heavy on the Dane as he forced the rest of his large body into the front cavity of the van, muddy paws flexing on the front seat and the floorboard. He doubted either would budge without a fight, the travel weary Dane seemed content to hold his place and Klaus was more determined than ever to see what the Dane was made of.

It was not often anyone snarled at him, while it could have been a reflexive reaction, one that was now no longer intended seeing as the mastiff did not immediately run away or show any hint of fright or compromise. The fact that someone in town had shown him any sort of attitude interested Klaus, perhaps he had found the member he was looking for. See, even others like you are smart enough to find shelter. The thought was silenced with a shake of his head, clearing off some of the rain that had yet to roll off his coat. Unfortunately, the droplets of water went in several directions, finding a new place on the seats and other surfaces, perhaps even the Dane himself not too far away. “Leave.” His tone was not polite, nor was it a suggestion. It was firm and laced with cruel intent. The growl that accompanied it said he meant business, but if the dog before him was what he thought, it would hardly warrant anything more than a batting of the spotted hound’s eyes.