Chapter 2: Old Blood
Another watches the scene a few desks away, fascinated with the kill. He eyes
the struggle and eventual bloodshed unflinchingly behind thin gold rimmed frames, an
indifferent and clinical gaze. Others are staring with slack jawed horror, pencils
forgotten in weak grips, but his steady paw produces a stream of detached observations
and annotations on a college ruled notebook. The Onyx pen flows lazily, smoothly
without hitch or pause. Apathy incarnate, his indifference seems complete, but his
refined feline features betray him subtly. As the events on the 14-mm research film
climax, a delicate tension builds around his luminous green eyes and a shift in the jaw
makes his profile somehow harder. The panther's craving shows dimly, like a flicker in
the grass or a murky outline of a predator in shadow. He clasps the pen tightly in his
black grasp, holding back the mounting urges. Deathly still, he hopes he still looks
bored.
Predation had been strictly outlawed long before he was born by the rule of the
Domesticated, but Wilfen Lepon of House Lepon, that influential line stretching back
on Fortuna centuries before the Taming movement, burned with resentment of these
limits that kept him sheathed in apathy despite the stirring in his blood. He was in no
way alone. The rest of his kindred resented these _unnatural_ restrictions, these inane
restrictions that interfered with the _natural_ laws. The relationship between predator
and prey stands forever sacred, an article immutable under any flimsy law or superficial
rule. Wilfen's paternal grandfather Lars explained in his deep genial tones that unlike
Nature, the rules of the mob -of the herd as he called it- were only temporal and easily
sidestepped. Outside of the family's estate one simply had to 'strive for indifference.'
The stately gray lion always had a tone of contempt on anything concerning the
Domesticated Party, but the patriarch of the Lepon Clan was not a fool. Advisories, often
half-hidden in his oblique insults, measured out of his burring voice, "those Domestic
become so nervous about any Carnivora that seem too interested." Words strangely both
dismissive and cautionary at the same time. Wil's frail elitist grandmother was just as
proud, but in a keenly senile way he found utterly annoying. The constant nagging or
bragging about tradition as Wil saw her out -leading Silent Hans her 'bodyguard,'
actually more of a nursemaid, to wheel her down the hallways to the waiting car- could
be met stoically with his well cultivated patience, but her lectures were unfailingly the
worst.
Plying her driveling lectures upon flocks of hapless grandchildren, torn between ensuring
large sums of inheritance and bearing the brain aching drone, seemed to be one of the few
pleasures left in her no-sugar filtered-air non-fat anti-bacterial pre- chewed out-of-direct-
sunlight lifestyle. Will remembered the very last time he had to listen to her faltering
invalid voice, it's decrepit croaking an appalling reminder of mortality to the huddle of
hale youths visiting. He sat through, as he had many times before, "We Remember A
History Before The Domestication", which dragged into "Our Memory Persists, Even If
Others Have Forgotten", but finally even his patience wore out when at "We Have
Traditions Of Our Own, No Matter What Law The Land Is Under." she broke into a fit
of flemy wheezing. In desperation, he finished the speech, heard so many agonizing
times, for her ".And Tradition Is Well Kept Within This Family." He almost added
an enthusiastic "Damn Tradition" afterward, but though better of it when Grandmamar
Lara, rendered pleasantly speechless from her ails and the surprise, finally recovered. In
the same breath, she drizzled honey dipped language upon him for being 'such a clever
child' possessing 'such a sharp memory' and 'such a fine orator" and then ordered him
out of the room for being 'such a loudmouth'. When he finished relating the story to
Grandpapar Lars afterwards, the lion was laughing loud enough to flatten Wil's ears
back. Lars went on to explain that Grandmamar couldn't stand a smart-aleck because she
had married one, which made him laugh all the harder. Wil smiled graciously despite the
temporary damage to his ears. It was only temporary. Besides, he was certainly
Grandpapar's favorite after that; Wil's share of the inheritance was assured. No more
visits to Grandmamar. Hunts with Grandpapar began.
Another watches the scene a few desks away, fascinated with the kill. He eyes
the struggle and eventual bloodshed unflinchingly behind thin gold rimmed frames, an
indifferent and clinical gaze. Others are staring with slack jawed horror, pencils
forgotten in weak grips, but his steady paw produces a stream of detached observations
and annotations on a college ruled notebook. The Onyx pen flows lazily, smoothly
without hitch or pause. Apathy incarnate, his indifference seems complete, but his
refined feline features betray him subtly. As the events on the 14-mm research film
climax, a delicate tension builds around his luminous green eyes and a shift in the jaw
makes his profile somehow harder. The panther's craving shows dimly, like a flicker in
the grass or a murky outline of a predator in shadow. He clasps the pen tightly in his
black grasp, holding back the mounting urges. Deathly still, he hopes he still looks
bored.
Predation had been strictly outlawed long before he was born by the rule of the
Domesticated, but Wilfen Lepon of House Lepon, that influential line stretching back
on Fortuna centuries before the Taming movement, burned with resentment of these
limits that kept him sheathed in apathy despite the stirring in his blood. He was in no
way alone. The rest of his kindred resented these _unnatural_ restrictions, these inane
restrictions that interfered with the _natural_ laws. The relationship between predator
and prey stands forever sacred, an article immutable under any flimsy law or superficial
rule. Wilfen's paternal grandfather Lars explained in his deep genial tones that unlike
Nature, the rules of the mob -of the herd as he called it- were only temporal and easily
sidestepped. Outside of the family's estate one simply had to 'strive for indifference.'
The stately gray lion always had a tone of contempt on anything concerning the
Domesticated Party, but the patriarch of the Lepon Clan was not a fool. Advisories, often
half-hidden in his oblique insults, measured out of his burring voice, "those Domestic
become so nervous about any Carnivora that seem too interested." Words strangely both
dismissive and cautionary at the same time. Wil's frail elitist grandmother was just as
proud, but in a keenly senile way he found utterly annoying. The constant nagging or
bragging about tradition as Wil saw her out -leading Silent Hans her 'bodyguard,'
actually more of a nursemaid, to wheel her down the hallways to the waiting car- could
be met stoically with his well cultivated patience, but her lectures were unfailingly the
worst.
Plying her driveling lectures upon flocks of hapless grandchildren, torn between ensuring
large sums of inheritance and bearing the brain aching drone, seemed to be one of the few
pleasures left in her no-sugar filtered-air non-fat anti-bacterial pre- chewed out-of-direct-
sunlight lifestyle. Will remembered the very last time he had to listen to her faltering
invalid voice, it's decrepit croaking an appalling reminder of mortality to the huddle of
hale youths visiting. He sat through, as he had many times before, "We Remember A
History Before The Domestication", which dragged into "Our Memory Persists, Even If
Others Have Forgotten", but finally even his patience wore out when at "We Have
Traditions Of Our Own, No Matter What Law The Land Is Under." she broke into a fit
of flemy wheezing. In desperation, he finished the speech, heard so many agonizing
times, for her ".And Tradition Is Well Kept Within This Family." He almost added
an enthusiastic "Damn Tradition" afterward, but though better of it when Grandmamar
Lara, rendered pleasantly speechless from her ails and the surprise, finally recovered. In
the same breath, she drizzled honey dipped language upon him for being 'such a clever
child' possessing 'such a sharp memory' and 'such a fine orator" and then ordered him
out of the room for being 'such a loudmouth'. When he finished relating the story to
Grandpapar Lars afterwards, the lion was laughing loud enough to flatten Wil's ears
back. Lars went on to explain that Grandmamar couldn't stand a smart-aleck because she
had married one, which made him laugh all the harder. Wil smiled graciously despite the
temporary damage to his ears. It was only temporary. Besides, he was certainly
Grandpapar's favorite after that; Wil's share of the inheritance was assured. No more
visits to Grandmamar. Hunts with Grandpapar began.