09-08-2009, 06:49 PM
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 » -Loves how Anselm teeters just on the fine line of hypocrisy.- XD If Anselm's parents had been as useless as Princess', he would not be alive. Period. Unsupervised or neglected children were usually picked off within a week in his birth pack, and though at the time his parents had seemed somewhat overbearing and strict, he knew now that their harsh discipline was necessary. For that he loved them, although he decidedly wanted nothing more to do with them. When he had left, he'd resolved to never look back--and so far it had been easy to keep that promise. He couldn't even give a reasonable guess as to whether they were still kicking or not, as the average life expectancy there was maybe five or six at best, and he was already going on four himself. He kind of hoped they were well--hell, he hoped they had jumped ship entirely and gone to live somewhere better, but if they had stayed and fallen, at least they would know peace in death. If he took a stab at empathy he might appreciate what all of the females he'd left behind had to deal with--being a parent was a full-time job filled with new challenges, and being a single mother must've been even worse. Still, he couldn't feel guilt for his actions--he'd made it clear enough he was a transient with no intention of sticking around for the long haul. Regardless, he certainly appreciated that the women he'd bedded with had bothered to raise his bastard children or found them suitable homes... well, at least some of them. Who knew? Maybe some had met the same fate as Princess' litter mates, but it wasn't as if either of the two wolves would ever know the difference, anyway. Those things were in the past and this was the present. "She's a friend of mine," he answered simply, tone genuine and matter-of-fact. It was obvious, however, that he didn't think any more detail was necessary. They were nothing more, nothing less--the origin of their friendship may be considered peculiar to some, but he'd always had a hunch the friendships forged in hardship lasted longer than the "fair weather friends" that were always around when they wanted something, yet never when there was an actual issue. Anselm didn't invest a lot of faith in those outside of his clan, but he honestly believed if he needed her for some reason, the Italian woman would be at his side (within reason, of course--she wouldn't endanger Crimson Dreams, just as he'd never intentionally endanger Inferni). As for her explanation, he quirked a brow. "And why would that be?" he mused, wondering what the stupid wolf had done to incite her aggression. Deciding, then, that maybe she still didn't want to talk about it, he rolled his shoulders in a shrug--if she wanted it to be more than a hypothetical question, it was her call. Anselm was surprisingly perceptive about these things, and he could act on them if he only chose to do so. "Either way, men don't attack girls," he reaffirmed with a snort. That was something Haku would do--he'd already proven he had no qualms slaying a defenceless mother and her son. Haku clearly wasn't a man; he was a monster. Anselm had fought with females before, but in his mind that was different: they'd instigated, and he always gave them a chance to run. |