Post by MONICA DIONE YOUNGER on Mar 11, 2013 9:08:17 GMT
if we're still alive my regrets are few
if my life is mine, what shouldn't i do?
One would have thought that the change into a werewolf would have you become more aware of your surroundings, but it hadn't made much difference to Monica. Sure, you had enhanced hearing and all that, but when your attention span is that of a duck's, it almost didn't matter. In fact, the only time when Monica actually used her newfound gifts was the time when she was aware of them, and needed and wanted to use them. They were passive skills indeed and gifts, but the girl's alertness level when it came to matters like this was almost zero. She was almost, always distracted by everything she came across, often finding it difficult to focus on any particular object, and this also included conversations. It was why her pack was so overly protective of her, though she had yet to realize it herself. Monica wasn't a complete airhead, there were brains in there, but whether those brains are working or not, well, let's just say that the dinosaur in the window was way more interesting. It was big, and it was fluffy...fluffy!
With a loud clatter and an even louder squeal, the young girl scampered over to the window. Twenty-two or not, she could have passed off for someone much more younger due to her looks, and as such, was often able to escape when it came to her occasional immature tendencies. Monica didn't believe in growing up too soon, and the chances of her doing so would be lower than that of going to the moon without any sort of spacecraft. She wasn't completely immature in the head; she did have her moments like now, but yes, she was very innocent. No sex, no drugs, no alcohol. And she intended to keep it that way. There was simply no need to be like 'the rest of the pack' who were badass and all, Momo liked being herself.
On her way to meet the dinosaurs, she tripped, which was no surprise to those that knew her. Nobody would be foolish enough to run in heels but her, and even had she not made the attempt to run, she would have still tripped anyway in her hurry. "Fudgemuffin!" Monica cried out as she fell, landing on the hard ground with a thud. She couldn't even swear properly for crying out loud, the word 'fuck' was never used in the daily Monica dictionary. God, she wondered how Indy did it, it was just...blargh. It just seemed so wrong. "Firetrucking, bamboozle, kablooey fudgemuff-" The werewolf trailed off when she found out that she couldn't get up like she usually did after a fall. A sharp pain spread through her body when she tried to move her ankle, and she flinched, grimacing in pain.
"Oh, snap." mumbled Monica at the thought of having to wait it out. She knew that she would be able to move within a few minutes for her ankle to heal, but it would look bizarrely weird to the passing humans if she was suddenly back on her feet within that time. No human recovered from an injury so fast, and most certainly not from a sprained ankle. They needed ice and shit, and at the very least, it would take a day or two. And she was wearing heels.
With a loud clatter and an even louder squeal, the young girl scampered over to the window. Twenty-two or not, she could have passed off for someone much more younger due to her looks, and as such, was often able to escape when it came to her occasional immature tendencies. Monica didn't believe in growing up too soon, and the chances of her doing so would be lower than that of going to the moon without any sort of spacecraft. She wasn't completely immature in the head; she did have her moments like now, but yes, she was very innocent. No sex, no drugs, no alcohol. And she intended to keep it that way. There was simply no need to be like 'the rest of the pack' who were badass and all, Momo liked being herself.
On her way to meet the dinosaurs, she tripped, which was no surprise to those that knew her. Nobody would be foolish enough to run in heels but her, and even had she not made the attempt to run, she would have still tripped anyway in her hurry. "Fudgemuffin!" Monica cried out as she fell, landing on the hard ground with a thud. She couldn't even swear properly for crying out loud, the word 'fuck' was never used in the daily Monica dictionary. God, she wondered how Indy did it, it was just...blargh. It just seemed so wrong. "Firetrucking, bamboozle, kablooey fudgemuff-" The werewolf trailed off when she found out that she couldn't get up like she usually did after a fall. A sharp pain spread through her body when she tried to move her ankle, and she flinched, grimacing in pain.
"Oh, snap." mumbled Monica at the thought of having to wait it out. She knew that she would be able to move within a few minutes for her ankle to heal, but it would look bizarrely weird to the passing humans if she was suddenly back on her feet within that time. No human recovered from an injury so fast, and most certainly not from a sprained ankle. They needed ice and shit, and at the very least, it would take a day or two. And she was wearing heels.
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