Contagio Contagium

Contagio Contagium

Postby catch » Fri Sep 07, 2012 8:29 pm

He had first become aware in the midst of the Fight.

His Fights were vague things, haze of memory and spatter and drooling blood, of kill, and kill, and killing, and drip-drip, thick and musty, bone and screams and dull roar of human-noises and human-tongues. The noises were frightful, indeed, but more frightful was the Thinking that came through his nose, a nose that burned with the olfactory register of sweat-slick meat and blood, sour mash and food-smells, the heat of the bitches. It was maddened, frightful chaos, and he fought well. He did not feel pride in his accomplishments, not in a way that could be explained in words. It was dull satisfaction, the dull throb of countless teeth to countless wounds, put to further test with stinging-stuff, and a dark cave with Him-Dog-Smell and steaming Entrails that was Food and sometimes the Bitches would be brought Before Him and it Was Good, was Satisfied.

This was different. As He and the other Foe-Dog circled each-other, then it was that everything WAS and everything became SHARPENED. He stopped to look. His head twisted along his neck, and he Looked at the Men around Him, the Men around the Pit. And he thought, in a way he had not thought before, that they did this for their Pleasure.

No longer was it a thing that he did because it was a Thing he had Always Done. Because it was what he had been trained to do. He looked on these Men, and he realized, That he did this thing for their pleasure.

His bare life's blood had been turned to his Other. Animal cunning is what drove his Dog-foe to leap, but even in the confusion of his Awakening, his thoughts raced beyond his realizations. So he kept his turn, and the Foe-Dog's teeth met against the heard-meat of a bulging shoulder, and not the soft throb of flesh that bore breath and blood, and found his own teeth to the Foe-Dog's neck.

As he had been many times before, he was taken, but he could feel the cries of dismay, the cries of triumph, the deep Animality that ran through the Humanity, and kept his eyes on the Hands that passed money between them. Things he had seen many times before, and had thought nothing of it as crude adrenaline and crude, animal satisfaction burned in him, of doing what he was bred to do, and doing it well. He looked on these things, and he thought of them in a rationale way in the Darkness and the He-Dog-Smell (that is me, he realized) and thought that, with this Knowing, he was Not Satisfied.

He thought of the kennel-door, imagining it, wondering that he had ever thought it an impassable wall, from which men came with the sun in their hands and left. Knowing it was a door, now, a portal that he could pass, it opened easily. The locks moved at his mind, at his very Thinking of it, as if realizing the Door and its Workings was the key to its design. It came apart as nothing, snick, a faint sound in a faint night, and opened at His command. He ate. He waited. This new command of his faculties would not be rushed, and He could feel the cool, gentle command behind them.

He waited, and when nose and ears and New-Brains deemed it right, the muscled behemoth of a fighting-dog slipped out of He-Dog-Cave, past the smells of Foe-Dog-Cave, and his paws met clean dirt as he shouldered his way, with single-minded purpose, to the Place his New-Mind said he should go.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. We Are Waiting.
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