Sleepless In Market Street

[Rovang]

Mismatched eyes held an almost dozy look, half-lidded and seemingly unfocused as the young male simply sat and stared out at this place he called a home. Tonight, he was fortunate enough to not have to stare blankly at a derelict wall through black iron bars. Tonight, he was fortunate enough to stare blankly at anything he damn well pleased. Tonight, he was fortunate enough to be alive. One more day, and hopefully, if he used his fangs right, many more to come.

Rovang stood stiffly, well-excersized muscles shifting visibly beneath less-than-glossy fawn fur as he stretched his thick legs, a low groan rumbling from his broad chest as he worked his limbs. He had grown tired of sitting still, letting the night's cool air brush through his wiry, short fur. He needed to move; his paws were restless. But he could never think of what to do when he wasn't training. Sleep seemed to no longer come as easily as it once had, eluding the mix almost completely some nights. Rovang knew that wasn't healthy.

Well-muscled legs carried his stout form down the abandoned street, blue and brown eyes searching for something of interest and finding nothing in this void, decrepit part of town. That was to be expected, of course. After all, this was the fighting district, they were supposed to be alienated, unknown to any other beings.

Still though, it made for a pretty damn boring night. Boring enough, in fact, to drive the male to actually seek out company. And that was certainly saying something.

The boxerbull, a cross between a boxer and a pitbull, heaved a sigh at this realization. He hated socializing because really, he failed miserably at it. Other canines made him uncomfortable, especially when he was so used to them going for his throat. He knew not all of them would do so, especially when outside the ring, but it was still a sharp nagging idea in the back of his mind. And it was mentally draining to be constantly on guard when simply trying to hold a meager conversation.

Rovang usually just wasn't up for that sort of thing.

Tonight was different though. Sleep had eluded him yet again, and there were no cats to chase, no rats to find for a midnight snack, nothing. Even the rest of the fighters had all gone to rest. They'd completed their training, as had he, and had curled up in their respective cages or other 'abodes' and gone to sleep. If only he could be so fortunate.

And so, the mix's light feet carried him without any particular direction. He would, as he did most nights, continue along until he found something of interest, or he wore himself out, whichever came first. Part of him hoped, however, that he might find some member of the Gang that he did not have to be too wary with, someone who might exchange just a few words with him.

After all, even a creature of stone, set in his ways, could stand a little change in his life.

[Squeeji]

Training, had not been pleasant. Not one bit. It wasn't for a seasoned fighter, or for the trainee...a punching bag. Will shook himself, bruised and wounded, he'd have to play the game again. But he'd be tired....a crack he got on his side wasn't going to let him get comfortable tonight...so he had given up the idea of sleep.

Months a go, the pain would have made the pup whine. But know it was only another sign that he was still alive, so he didn't cry about it anymore. He was at least, alive. Which was more than what he could say for a lot of other dogs in his position. So he did what he could do, he wandered, just a little...a bit closer to a limp.

There was a mess of things on the pup's mind as he went. Most of which were pipe dreams of getting out of here, and living a better life. Some of them were just idle musings on how he was gonna make it tomorrow. Will shuddered at that, shaking his head at the alien concept of looking down at his body after he died. It was morbid.

But he couldn't quite keep himself from thinking about it momentarily. He knew what happened to dead fighters, there was no Ring-Dog Valhalla, just a dumpster in back where they dumped the bodies. He had seen it once, when he was little. Back then, the death made him cry. Now, no so much.

After going too far for awhile, Will plopped down, cleaning his paw pads, waiting for dawn to come, and bring the fighters back to life, and to start the day a new. A pup could only wish to stop the sun, and bring the world to an endless night, where all the fighters slept for eternity. He smiled lightly at that, a slight wag to his tail.

That would be wonderful. It would be just him. Just him and that other guy...Other guy? Will did a double-take on that. There was another dog running around. And by the looks of him, he was another fit and lean fighter. Had he followed him? Thinking he was gonna make a run from the gang territory? He hoped not.

He could have been whipped up to a panic, until he took a good look at the other male, he seemed more thoughtful than on business. Besides, by the look of him, if that fellow wanted him dead...he'd have been dead by now. The pup stood, it would be unwise to run or to hide, or he'd only make himself look suspicious. Maybe he wouldn't notice him?

[Rovang]

Though Rovang was more of an introverted creature when it came to his own species, he was not one to be easily distracted from his thoughts; in this sort of environment, he couldn't afford to be. It could cost him his life after all, and so he was constantly on the alert for any hints of another's presence nearby. Keen nose caught the faintest scent of another canine, more-so, the blood of another. Not that it was something unusual, oh gods no, but it was fresh and incredibly close by.

Nostrils flaring to sample the air more extensively, the cross' short-cropped ears perked, their tattered edges making for a slightly eerie silhouette in the moonlight. As he brought his mismatched eyes level with the horizon, Rovang began searching the skyline, the shadows, everything, for another sign of life. If the other creature was hiding, that could bode ill for him. Hiding meant ulterior motives... like trying to rip the boxerpull's throat out. And that was not an idea Rovang was too keen on.

Wiry hair bristling along spine and neck, Rovang's steps slowed to a stiff, almost threatening creep. Nails clicking hauntingly upon the worn and eroded concrete, the larger dog continued to sniff around warily, keeping his eyes peeled for even the slightest sign of movement. And eventually, he was rewarded by the sight of a very small shadow rising to all fours at his approach. When Rovang's carmel and crystal eyes took in the size of the silhouette, the young male paused, the low growl that had been growing in his throat slowly dying away. Lowering his raised jowls, the cross sheilded his fangs in a moment of curiosity.

It was... a pup. Pups did not belong in a place like Market Street. Most of the time they were killed, before they'd even begun to live their lives. Even Rovang knew, deep down, that Market Street was hell-on-earth for young canines, and he knew that there was something wrong with them having to endure such a place.

"You're hurt." Rovang's gravely voice came out bluntly, as if id had not been used in years. And in truth, the male rarely talked. In fact, he lacked any social skills at all; he was something akin to a well-spoken caveman. Conversation was not his forte, and so he avoided it at almost all costs. But this... this was different. This was a pup. And though he was gruff, and callous and stony, it was a very unusual gesture of kindness on his part, and probably was not bound to happen until the next blue moon.

[Squeeji]

The male had smelled him before he saw him. And Will was horrified that he looked all sorts of angry. Maybe he had been wrong to think the boxer mix had been just out on on a thoughtful stroll. The pup wilted under the fear of Rovang's bared teeth and frightful appearance.

Curled tightly with his eyes sealed shut the little mutt shivered waiting for the beasts jaws to close around his throat. Though he did not whimper or whine, for a pup he took the prospect of death rather well.

Except death didn't come with Rovang's sharp fangs.

"You're hurt."

The older male's coarse voice made the pup uncover one of his eyes and look up at the pit fighter. Will pulled himself up some, and licked his wound protectively. He didn't talk much, and rarely found words to express himself. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeer." a sound crackled out of his throat, he was out of practice. Words may be powerful, but they didn't win battles. So they were out of place in ring.

Will sighed and shook his head, he wasn't hurt overmuch, he'd survive. He was only sore, and now a little frustrated with himself. "F-f-f-fine." He sputtered out finally, with a little bit of confidence. It occurred to the pup that Rovang was strange in some way. He did say something about his injuries...which was more consideration than any other fighter had given him. Which gave Will just the tiniest bit of hope, that there was someone decent in this hellhole, he gave the adult a shaky smile, and gave his nubby tail a tentative wag of his tail. It was best to encourage this behavior anyways...

"H-h-hi."

[Rovang]

"Eeeeeeeeer."

At that strange sound emenating from the quivering pup's form, Rovang's head tilted fractionally to the side, an unnaturally innocent looking gesture coming from the scarred fighter. Bicolored eyes stared at this smaller canine before him curiously, and with almost a glint of concern flickering in his gaze. That wasn't a normal response, regardless of the situation a creature was in.

"F-f-f-fine."

That was a little better. At least the pup's vocal chords had managed to make a distinguishable word. It took Rovang a short moment before he realized that this pup standing in front of him was about as social as he was. Blinking slowly, Rovang began inching forward, trying to appear as unobtrusive and non-threatening as he possibly could, which for a canine of his appearance and stature, was quite a feat, and also, incredibly difficult.

"H-h-hi."

Scarred nose creeping ever closer to the pup, Rovang soon found himself almost nose to nose with terrier, honey and sky colored eyes peering at him in an inquiring fashion. He couldn't help but be curious about this smaller, much younger hound in front of him. It had been a long time since he had seen anyone so young on Market Street. Surely, this pup had a decent amount of fight in him, to be alive for so long.

Biting back the urge to demand answers from the seemingly frightened youngster, such as his name, his age, how long he'd been around the Gang, if he was a fighter, Rovang's ear gave a soft twitch, the only sign of the turmoil within his head as he fought for a reasoning. Instead of gruffly demanding answers the way he usually would have, the boxerbull continued to stand nose to nose with the pup, continued to stare.

"Hello..."

[Squeeji]

Nose to nose with the big boxer mix and Will got a little more self conscious than he normally was. There was something wrong with him. The bigger male noticed it right away. For a long moment he said nothing, his ears down, his eyes not look directly at him until he quickly glanced up at Rovang's mismatched eyes with his own dark blue ones. He had to say something...the terrier sighed, and mustered up his confidence as he could.

"W-will. I'm...Will." He spoke slowly, which fixed some of his stuttering, but there was no wonder why most of the Market street mutts considered the pup mentally disabled. He just couldn't make his mouth move as fast as his mind wanted it to. Funny, because he could move the rest of him around just fine. Another pause and he smacked his lips dryly waiting to say something more.

"N-nice..to meet...you. Don't kill me?" He ended that last sentence with a smile, and a light wag of the tail. A joke. He had made a joke.

Hopefully the fighter would get it. As he just stood there, staring at him in curiosity. It was starting to wig him out a little, he couldn't figure out if the big male was playing games with him or not. Another shiver ran though his body, was this mutt gonna kill him?

[Rovang]

Blue eyes stared up at him as the two canines stayed almost nose to nose, seemingly frozen in time. The only thing that kept them looking like some sort of strange statue being the pup's nervous shaking and shifting, and of course, Rovang's breathing.

Taking a small step back as he realized that his close proximity was making the youngster nervous, Rovang continued to stare at the little terrier in front of him. Blue eyes that didn't have the innocence that they should have were deep, concerned, and somewhat fearful. Rovang knew he looked something akin to a monster, but he had grown to accept that. At least, he had until he saw what it reflected in the eyes of a pup.

"W-will. I'm...Will."

The pup's slow speech actually eased Rovang's own nerves a little, leading the male to simply sit down before the little guy, an action of comfort and deep-lying trust, despite the fact that he knew nothing about this small creature before him. He did not want to be the one to scare the life out of a pup who had probably already struggled with every ounce of strength to survive as long as he had.

"Will..." A small, very rare grin appeared on Rovang's features as he settled back on his haunches, testing the pup's name on his ill-used voice. "I'm Rovang."

One question was answered and he had not even had to ask. That was a sort of relief to the male, the less he had to ask, the less he had to talk, and the less likely he was to scare this little Will. Usually, he could care less about scaring someone, but then again, tonight was turning out to be quite full of unusual things for Rovang.

"N-nice..to meet... you. Don't kill me?"

The grin and wag Will gave Rovang struck the larger male hard. A sense of humor, though morbied as it was, hit home with Rovang for some reason. The pup's request eased a warm, good-natured chuckle from the mix's barrel-chest, mismatched eyes shining with mirth as he tilted his head to the side again in curiousity.

"Nice to meet you too, Little William." He wasn't sure why he had dubbed the pup with such a 'nicname,' but it seemed to fit. It had a sort of regal sound to it, and though the pup was fearful and seemed shy and wary, Rovang could not help but respect the pup for surviving so far through this life that had only just begun for him.

"And don't be afraid... I'd shame myself in killing one so young...." It was not that Rovang would be ashamed of killing; no, he'd done it before. And it was not that he prided himself too much to kill a pup, as if he would only be a waste of time. No, Will had to have fight in him and no fight for survival was a waste of time... But Rovang did not want to be the one to bring out the monstrosity in Will, that had already been birthed inside himself.

"You're... all right then?" He said shortly, eyeing the wound on the pup's side, "There are no other wounds?"

[Squeeji]

The pup seemed to ease as Rovang grew more comfortable around him. He even sat down himself when the big male took a seat. Or course whether he wanted to actually sit, or if he was just pantomiming the boxer mix was in question. Will wagged his tail some, this was good,

"R-ro-rovang?" He tested the name out with alittle bit of difficulty, mostly because he had never heard it. He smiled, it was a funny name, one that put a little glee into a young pup, he would have giggled, but he still was testing the adult, and certainly didn't want to over step any boundaries. The fighter seemed kinder than most, but he still may have had triggers the terrier could never fathom....after all, even he had a trigger, he slumped a little, looking almost guilty for a moment before Rovang started laughing.

Laughing at what? What was he laughing at? Will didn't understand completely, but it was infectious at least, and soon the pup was giggling. It never occurred to him that his joke had been funny. But still the chance to laugh wasn't wasted on the pup. It took Will several tries to catch his breath, panting, and still smiling widely. Usually the only time anyone laughed was at his expense, usually in the ring. It was nice to lighten up a little, not to be so serious...

"Nice to meet you too, Little William."

Will stopped laughing when he heard that, cocking his head to the side curiously. William? Was that his full name? His mother had called him Willem when he had been very very little, before his eyes had opened. It was very close. "Will-llem...." he wagged his tail, seriously, Rovang could call him whatever he liked so long as it was in good nature. He had no idea what respect was, but he felt almost like he wasn't a complete scab for once in Old market.

"And don't be afraid... I'd shame myself in killing one so young...."

The pup stretched, and rolled his eyes lightly at Rovang's claim to not trying to kill him. Sure, right not now the adult wouldn't. But Will had grown accustomed to that not being the case, after all, if Rovang was thrown into the pit with Will, neither male would have a choice. There was no honor in Market Street, nothing that held value in the outside world survived here. Just fleeting moments of what seemed to be normal life misfiled among the pain and misery that typically sweltered in this cesspool.

"Y-you would. If-if you had to." he said simply, but the message was clear, he just couldn't believe such a claim. Not now, not ever. "I would....If I had to." Will shook his head, this was even depressing to think of.

"You're... all right then?" "There are no other wounds?"

Will stood and gave Rovang a insincere smile, as though just trying to ease the adult's mind. "I-I'll sur-survive." He smacked his jaws, tail down, ears drooped. He would make it tonight, but tonight wasn't what he was really worried about. It was tomorrow, and the day after, and then the day after that....would he survive those?

[Rovang]

He listened to the pup test his name, Will's soft stuttering leading the boxer mix to watch the pup carefully. Will spoke softly, slowly, and on occasion, he stuttered, and though his sentences were short and too the point, Rovang knew he was intelligent. A pup his size had to be intelligent to survive in the ring while so young; pups lacked the strength to overpower their opponents. Perhaps he was just not confident enough in himself.

After all, a Fighter's life was always full of doubts and questions. Always.

"Will-llem...."

Head straightening from his curious tilting, Rovang's mismatched eyes stared evenly at the pup. Willem. He could remember that, as it was just different enough to stick in his mind, along with the pup the name belonged to.

"Ah, forgive me. Little Willem, then..." Rovang chanced another rare, brief grin as he lightly bowed his head toward the young canine. That was the first time he had been given a name, save for when he first came to Market Street. And even then, introductions had been sparse.

"Y-you would. If-if you had to. I would... if I had to."

Canine brow quirking, Rovang found himself staring at Willem yet again, this time in a thoughtful silence. Morbid though the pup's statement was, Ro could not get over the fact that someone so young could fathom such a fate. To learn at his age, that there was no such thing as companionship, as trust... Well, Will had taken on a slightly new light in the older fighter's eyes.

"Very true... But, for now we are outside of the ring... Let us focus on that, for now."

The mix watched the youngster's posture closely as Will spoke of his injuries. Though Will seemed meek and mild-mannered, as many pups his age did, Ro picked up on the following dejected slump in the boy's form. He was thinking. Rovang could tell that from a mile away, primarily being a thinker himself. And whatever Will was thinking about, Rovang could tell it was not something positive.

"Don't worry about the future until it becomes your present, Will. One day at a time." That was, of course, an almost negative thing to say. Even Rovang, on the rare occasion, would find himself thinking far ahead in the future, of a better life than the one he had now. But he could not keep his head in the clouds if he wanted to live in the here-and-now.

"Survive tomorrow, and the day after... And so on. Eventually, your future will come to you. You can make of it what you will."

[Squeeji]

The sullen pup was getting used to the way Rovang stared at him, but he didn't understand why he stared at him, empathy was lost on Will. He wouldn't understand even if it had been explained to him in the simplest of terms.

"Very true... But, for now we are outside of the ring... Let us focus on that, for now."

Will scoffed, puffing a little as he did so. He was giving up, he knew he couldn't trust the fighter, but it wasn't as though a pup could just hide from everything and everyone. Even though it was just for survival. "I-I guess." He had to interact with somebody, especially somebody that wasn't calling him a punching bag and treating him like one.

"They...they're gonna kill me." This didn't sound like an accusation, but a matter of fact. Like how one would say: Its nighttime or I think i might be a little hungry. "In-inside or ou-ooowww-out. They don't...don't care." He already felt something angry inside of him, it made him feel estranged from his everyday thoughts and emotions. If it took over, he knew he'd be lost...but if it didn't...he'd just be dead. "I'll....survive...th-thats nothing. But...but I'm so...angry."

He wasn't well-spoken and he couldn't just explain how he felt to Rovang, it perplexed and frightened him. "I get...get..get so angry...I can't think..."he woofled slightly in frustration, getting up to pace some. "I wish...wish they'd all just go away..." his hackles raised some, his voice a little growly.

Suffice to say, he wasn't a happy pup.