01-04-2010, 04:05 PM
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http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... s/truc.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top:187px; background-position:top center; background-color:#F8BB4D; text-align:justify; font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; color:#AB360D; line-height:15px;padding-bottom:10px;">Shhh, don't tell anyone, he's secretly just a big kid. XD
@&#&$He caught a smudge of gold-brown in his peripheral, just in time to hear it inquire, somewhat incredulously, as to the purpose behind this task. Anselm swung his rear end around, and the transfer of linear to angular momentum caused his body to swing about in a large arc until come to a halt on the ice. Ah; Mason! As for what he was doing he felt it should be obvious, but he forgot not all were so strongly in touch with their baser instincts. To play was built into their blood--it was good for morale, bonding, exercise, and in most cases training. When puppies pounced on each other or played tug of war with a pelt, they were honing their future hunting skills all the while. These forms of play had obvious applications in adult life, but if he was creative enough, he'd think up something for this, too. "So whatcya gonna do," he wondered, "when the big bad wolf backs you right on up to a frozen lake or river?"
@&#&$Judging by the Halloween party, Mason was one of those more serious youths--he'd present his case in the context of survival skills and just hope that the poor kid could learn to be a pup along the way. So far as he knew, all work and no play turned a coyote into Hybrid or Samael; clearly that wasn't good for anybody. "Are you going to let him corner you? Are you gonna run out here, flail around, and become a sittin' duck?" As if to drive the point home, he began to trot forward as if on land, scrambled a bit, and barely managed to keep himself from sprawling out on the ice. "You gonna walk so slow that he can catch up to you anyway? Or, you gonna skate away and laugh your ass off when he falls on his?" he asked somewhat mystically, before smoothly shifting his weight from one paw to the next, never actually lifting any of them but still managing to make his way back over to the snowy bank.
@&#&$He shrugged a little bit, hardly expecting a response to any of these highly rhetorical questions. He backed up several paces through the snow, shot Mason an impish wink, and took off again, rocketing quickly across the glassy surface. As he reached the other side he lifted his front legs up first, using these paws to hoist himself up onto the opposite side's shore. He continued to dash a little further on before whirling about in the snow and falling to his front limbs in a characteristic play bow: butt high in the air, tail waving, ears pressed forward on a dare. Catch me if you can! Try as he might, he couldn't deny the pure fun of this nonsense any longer. With that he pivoted and began to run along the bank to the right. If Mason just tried to walk around to catch him, he'd either keep changing direction to keep an equal distance between them or he'd wait then fly across the ice himself.
mall-caps;font-weight:bold;text-align:right; border-top:1px solid #AB360D">SoSuWriMo +515
@&#&$Judging by the Halloween party, Mason was one of those more serious youths--he'd present his case in the context of survival skills and just hope that the poor kid could learn to be a pup along the way. So far as he knew, all work and no play turned a coyote into Hybrid or Samael; clearly that wasn't good for anybody. "Are you going to let him corner you? Are you gonna run out here, flail around, and become a sittin' duck?" As if to drive the point home, he began to trot forward as if on land, scrambled a bit, and barely managed to keep himself from sprawling out on the ice. "You gonna walk so slow that he can catch up to you anyway? Or, you gonna skate away and laugh your ass off when he falls on his?" he asked somewhat mystically, before smoothly shifting his weight from one paw to the next, never actually lifting any of them but still managing to make his way back over to the snowy bank.
@&#&$He shrugged a little bit, hardly expecting a response to any of these highly rhetorical questions. He backed up several paces through the snow, shot Mason an impish wink, and took off again, rocketing quickly across the glassy surface. As he reached the other side he lifted his front legs up first, using these paws to hoist himself up onto the opposite side's shore. He continued to dash a little further on before whirling about in the snow and falling to his front limbs in a characteristic play bow: butt high in the air, tail waving, ears pressed forward on a dare. Catch me if you can! Try as he might, he couldn't deny the pure fun of this nonsense any longer. With that he pivoted and began to run along the bank to the right. If Mason just tried to walk around to catch him, he'd either keep changing direction to keep an equal distance between them or he'd wait then fly across the ice himself.
mall-caps;font-weight:bold;text-align:right; border-top:1px solid #AB360D">SoSuWriMo +515