Jupiter

Four sets of claws click rhythmically on the stone surface of the prison’s exterior. The wind howls about his figure, echoing ominously throughout the deserted territory – snowfall chilling him to the bone through his think layers of fur, yet he marches ever onward.

Back and Forth. Back. Forth.

Another lap of the perimeter completed – another (steps) steps walked as Jupiter keeps his endless vigil. He squints up at the barely-there sun, cold and white in these bleak conditions. By his count he had approximately four more hours of his patrol left before he would be allowed a rest.

Well then.

Perhaps it was inappropriate for a Sentry to wish the hours by in the way he did, he was tasked with a very important duty after-all – “the first and last line of defence” his superiors had emphasised.

This was the life he had chosen, and he would be expected remain here, no ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’ on the matter. Despite this, he couldn’t help but daydream – wondering what a life not dictated by an endlessly repeated routine was like. His tail curled swiftly to-and-fro in frustration, really, he was being rather selfish, he thought.

This was his duty. A job he took so that the other inhabitants of Sornieth could live peacefully and free of worry. At least, as far he understood. From what he’d heard there’d been increasing amounts of conflicts between the elemental flights – it confused him to no end. They had peace and safety, why could they not cherish it, instead of falling headlong into further combat? (Of course, Jupiter wasn’t exactly known for his intelligence, so many things confused him; in fact, he often had difficulty telling the differences between the flights at all.)
If you asked him though, he didn’t need to know the differences between flights in order to know that they were fools for throwing away their hard-won peace in such a callous manner. Although it was odd, some small part of him, speaking from the back of his mind, envied them for having the luxury of making that choice at all.

He shook his head viciously, as if to forcibly remove this train of thought from his mind – resentment was a dangerous emotion – one that would surely take root and fester if he gave it the time of day.

A huff and the sound of something stomping toward him through the snow breaks him out of his uncharacteristically philosophical reverie. He blanches for a moment, worrying that an intruder had snuck past while he was lost in thought, before his eyes spot the familiar visage of one of Dripcave Deputies returning from its post further away from the prison – its eyes stood out against the foggy gloom and its antlers cast an ominous silhouette. Frankly, as far as Jupiter knew, the creatures weren’t nearly as intimidating as they appeared. He vaguely remembers someone once telling him that, as a species, they are collectively fond of physical affection – though he has not risked getting close enough to one to test this theory just yet.

Well, he had a few more hours to kill. One or two (or several) laps around the vicinity probably couldn’t hurt. Still, he couldn’t help but muse aloud, glancing bitterly up at the cloudy skies. “Wish they’d built this prison somewhere warmer. This bloody cold will claim me yet.”