08-04-2009, 05:10 PM
[html]
http://i155.photobucket.com/albums/s304 ... wicked.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:185px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#000000; text-align:justify; font-family:tahoma; font-size:11px; color:#C2A52C; line-height:16px">Apologies for the length/quality. Things have been super crazy, and I figured a half-arsed post was better than none at all. D: -Needs more time in the day.-
------Anselm had sampled nearly every drug under the sun at some point in his life, and most he had disliked right off the bat. They made him too uncoordinated and indecisive--many made it more difficult to interact with others, which was already work itself for the introverted (if not antisocial) male. He seemed to misinterpret bodily signals more while intoxicated and this perturbed him greatly. The caramel hybrid was a creature who always liked to be on top of the ball, and when he wasn't, it inspired anxiety and discomfort. Maybe facing this discomfort while under the influence of Boomer's mushrooms was good for him... and who knew, the time he'd done LSD with Poe he'd enjoyed himself, although it bothered him now that the memory was more dreamlike than realistic (he occasionally faltered and wondered whether or not he had imagined it, which was--again--bad).
------Cocaine, the presumed powder of his friend's unfortunate accident, had heightened the senses rather than dulled them. This effect may have been desirable, but the crash that followed left him feeling worse than where he had started. Sedatives were just as bad, for though he felt completely relaxed under their influence, he also recognised his total vulnerability should anyone with ill intentions stumble across him while he was thus intoxicated. Even alcohol he only enjoyed in modest quantities; he would drink to get a slight buzz and no further. This was still something he enjoyed doing alone. The only other drug he did with any regularity at all was marijuana, as it seemed to him a completely harmless, natural, easy to obtain plant. He felt no worse when he didn't have it, and although it calmed his nerves it didn't render him useless. If he could still hunt while high and do any other number of things, he could still defend himself, too (though at that point he probably wouldn't want to).
------"Yea; I'm not sure what the best route would be myself," he admitted. Anselm could obviously never claim to be parent of the year. "It's hard to say what would make her more curious: just telling her that it's bad and to stay away, or explaining exactly why." He shrugged a little; he could conjecture all day, but at the end of it, Savina knew her own daughter better than he did. "Or maybe saying nothing more at all.. I don't know. Once kids get curious about something, it seems like they just run with it." He certainly had when he was younger, thus why he could speak so confidently on that matter now. He shook his head as the mother continued, pausing a moment to give her a reassuring nudge of support with his pointed muzzle. "Alphas must take responsibility for their own actions and choices--the good and the bad. She dug her own grave and now she can sleep in it," he firmly resolved. A playful grin flashed across his face as he sought to lighten the mood a bit: "Why do you think I've never had that ambition?", he laughed, "I don't want to be cleaning up other people's messes, I can barely keep track of myself!" Though said in jest, there was more than a grain of truth to the statement. Able-bodied, keen, and commanding, Anselm may have made a very effective leader in another life. He simply lacked the will, and that was what ultimately mattered the most.
------Anselm had sampled nearly every drug under the sun at some point in his life, and most he had disliked right off the bat. They made him too uncoordinated and indecisive--many made it more difficult to interact with others, which was already work itself for the introverted (if not antisocial) male. He seemed to misinterpret bodily signals more while intoxicated and this perturbed him greatly. The caramel hybrid was a creature who always liked to be on top of the ball, and when he wasn't, it inspired anxiety and discomfort. Maybe facing this discomfort while under the influence of Boomer's mushrooms was good for him... and who knew, the time he'd done LSD with Poe he'd enjoyed himself, although it bothered him now that the memory was more dreamlike than realistic (he occasionally faltered and wondered whether or not he had imagined it, which was--again--bad).
------Cocaine, the presumed powder of his friend's unfortunate accident, had heightened the senses rather than dulled them. This effect may have been desirable, but the crash that followed left him feeling worse than where he had started. Sedatives were just as bad, for though he felt completely relaxed under their influence, he also recognised his total vulnerability should anyone with ill intentions stumble across him while he was thus intoxicated. Even alcohol he only enjoyed in modest quantities; he would drink to get a slight buzz and no further. This was still something he enjoyed doing alone. The only other drug he did with any regularity at all was marijuana, as it seemed to him a completely harmless, natural, easy to obtain plant. He felt no worse when he didn't have it, and although it calmed his nerves it didn't render him useless. If he could still hunt while high and do any other number of things, he could still defend himself, too (though at that point he probably wouldn't want to).
------"Yea; I'm not sure what the best route would be myself," he admitted. Anselm could obviously never claim to be parent of the year. "It's hard to say what would make her more curious: just telling her that it's bad and to stay away, or explaining exactly why." He shrugged a little; he could conjecture all day, but at the end of it, Savina knew her own daughter better than he did. "Or maybe saying nothing more at all.. I don't know. Once kids get curious about something, it seems like they just run with it." He certainly had when he was younger, thus why he could speak so confidently on that matter now. He shook his head as the mother continued, pausing a moment to give her a reassuring nudge of support with his pointed muzzle. "Alphas must take responsibility for their own actions and choices--the good and the bad. She dug her own grave and now she can sleep in it," he firmly resolved. A playful grin flashed across his face as he sought to lighten the mood a bit: "Why do you think I've never had that ambition?", he laughed, "I don't want to be cleaning up other people's messes, I can barely keep track of myself!" Though said in jest, there was more than a grain of truth to the statement. Able-bodied, keen, and commanding, Anselm may have made a very effective leader in another life. He simply lacked the will, and that was what ultimately mattered the most.