Casey wouldn't ever put words to the reasons for his choices. He didn't even fully understand all of them himself, and he didn't try to. A lot of it was instinct and subconscious decisions that kept him alive and moving forward, but sometimes he forgot himself and his personality bled into the cracks of his carefully built rules and altered his path and choices just so.
He did like animals. He liked people, too. He just didn't trust people near as much as he trusted animals. The world he lived in didn't have many predatory animals left. Scavengers, human and animal alike. The real threats were starvation, thirst, or the earth and sky themselves. And then there were those humans who saw survival of the individual as the only law. The ones who would kill for rations, for territory, or for meat of the unsettling, stomach-turning variety.
Animals had never chased after him with a blood-crazed look in their eyes. He had never had to pry an animal's tooth from his shoulder. An occasional scratch or rat bite were the worst he had ever had from them.
He stroked the cat's fur, eyes half closed, the purr lulling and rumbling against and through him in a comfortable, calming effect. She was soft and warm, and she was letting him pet her without darting away into the shadows. He smiled, watching her squint back at him, and let his thoughts shift to warmth at his side and on his chest, and a too soft bed under his back.
"Animals make sense." He answered, his hand gently shifting to the back of her neck and shoulders. "They speak their minds." Maybe the phrasing was off, it doesn't fully occur to him. Dog always spoke without a filter. If the dog was upset, there was barking and growling. Sad, a tucked tail and flattened ears with a soft whine. Happy, a wag, and a lick at his hand. People were complicated, and their emotional cues were mixed, varied, and sometimes concealed, but animals were honest.
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He did like animals. He liked people, too. He just didn't trust people near as much as he trusted animals. The world he lived in didn't have many predatory animals left. Scavengers, human and animal alike. The real threats were starvation, thirst, or the earth and sky themselves. And then there were those humans who saw survival of the individual as the only law. The ones who would kill for rations, for territory, or for meat of the unsettling, stomach-turning variety.
Animals had never chased after him with a blood-crazed look in their eyes. He had never had to pry an animal's tooth from his shoulder. An occasional scratch or rat bite were the worst he had ever had from them.
He stroked the cat's fur, eyes half closed, the purr lulling and rumbling against and through him in a comfortable, calming effect. She was soft and warm, and she was letting him pet her without darting away into the shadows. He smiled, watching her squint back at him, and let his thoughts shift to warmth at his side and on his chest, and a too soft bed under his back.
"Animals make sense." He answered, his hand gently shifting to the back of her neck and shoulders. "They speak their minds." Maybe the phrasing was off, it doesn't fully occur to him. Dog always spoke without a filter. If the dog was upset, there was barking and growling. Sad, a tucked tail and flattened ears with a soft whine. Happy, a wag, and a lick at his hand. People were complicated, and their emotional cues were mixed, varied, and sometimes concealed, but animals were honest.