Emotions-- A series of vignettes by MisbehavingMaiar

Vicarious Joy, Paranoia

Simple, animal joys versus compounding, spiraling mania; two emotions in two different fortresses. 

VICARIOUS JOY:

He bares his teeth so they may lick his fangs and bearded chin. They show their respect, but they also wag their tails. 

The pack hunts and plays and fights and marks the forest. There is fur and scat and bones; there are pups to feed and rivals to kill. They are more clever than wolves, less convoluted than humans. Their paws are long and finger-like, their legs bend like a man’s when squatting. They have few words in their language, but it is nuanced in scent and sign. Love runs deep in their blood, familial, hierarchal. 

There are nights when throne and tower feel like prison, when he must fly and run and raise his hackles under the moon. He is honored when they carefully bite his jaw, when they move aside for him at a kill. They know he is not a true wolf even when he wears their shape, but he is still one of the pack.

And when they howl together, the whole of Beleriand shivers, and Thû’s heart races.

PARANOIA:

Trust no one who does not fear or love you. Trust them only as far as you can verify their actions when they do not think you are looking. 

All kindness is a veil behind which lies a knifepoint. All pity is condescending. All gifts are gifts to the giver first. All generosity is suspect.

Second-chances serve the judge not the criminal.
Redemption is a poisonous dream.
All hearts are selfish.
Anything worth having must be taken by force. No one gives anything good away freely. 

Run. Run. Keep running. Hide, fight, flee, keep fighting. Kill them first. Take what you need. Give nothing back.

Keep running.