(this is Vincent's first Change. Vinctnt, tell us where you are this evening; location is important.)
Moon is Gibbous.
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(this is Vincent's first Change. Vinctnt, tell us where you are this evening; location is important.)
Moon is Gibbous.
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Vincent leaves the Sac Bee's offices late, frustrated and in a world of hurt. He hasn't seen his editor-in-chief since their blazing argument and felt that he was being screwed over. In the last week, Vincent has been simply doing run of the mill photos of these murder scenes, his heart filled with melancholy.
Pulling his beanie hat over his hair with his work satchel over his shoulder, Vincent sparks up a cigarette and walks the streets in no particular direction, looking for inspiration.
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He spots a squirrel, and has an inescabable urge to stalk it, follow it, hunt it.
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Seeing the small bushy tailed rodent, Vincent pulls out his camera with a strange sense of hunting this critter. Not particularly one for nature shots, the photojournalist can't help but track the squirrel and finds himself dropping low like some kind of hunter, his long lens his scope.
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The squirrel seems to have noticed you hunting it, and it squeaks before heading off down the street. You find your legs chasing after it.
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"Damn," Vincent breathes, his heart begins pumping hard as he gives chase, his camera trying to take shots of the fleeing rodent. However, instead of focusing on the perfect picture, all Vincent can think of is the taste of its flesh.
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The squirrel scampers up a tree at a local park, and sits in the green tree, taunting you.
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[color=#3399FF]"You little fucker," he aims at the taunting squirrel, a wry grin touching his lips. He slowly begins to raise his camera but stops mid-way as a really dumb thought drifts slowly into his mind..
I wanna climb that tree, Vincent thinks and grins, cocking his eyebrows to the rodent.
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As Vincent looks up at the sky, he catches sight of the gibbous moon. And something inside him clicks. He has to tell EVERYONE to have hope, to have faith, that things will be better. And he needs to do it right now. Subconciously, he shifts into Urshul form.
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Vincent looks at the moon, fat bellied yet full of passion, and is overwhelmed by the wrongs in the world, in the country, in the the city, even in himself. And he vows to put them right.
He stares at the moon and years of frustration boil up through his gut to his throat. The howl is the release he has been searching for and it is long and it is hopeful.
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