11-09-2009, 02:45 PM
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YOU ARE ALL STICKS IN THE MUD. No, really, you're making Anselm emo.
Someone fix it. Also, sorry for going out of order, Sie, but I figured this "outburst" of his made more sense before anything else was said. XD;
@&#&$Despite what anybody else may have thought, Anselm had really only had three or four drinks over the past couple hours. Though it was enough loosen his tongue and warm him to the prospect of company, in all honesty it was just enough to counterbalance the introverted tendencies brought on by the second drug. Initially it worked like a charm--though as more and more filtered in, he couldn't help but get caught up on their sour expressions and negative energy. The effect was instantaneous--his demeanour lost all of its former playful silliness and rather than freely "mingling" with the crowd (despite the fact he'd remained seated the entire time), he fell into an agitated (though reflective) silence. It was truly amazing how much of intoxication was mind over matter.
@&#&$He supposed it was his own fault; how dare he assume that they could come together for something fun--for something not rooted in sacrifice or the spilling of blood. Was that really all the members of Inferni had in common? One ear flicked as Halo dropped her hose, and he rolled his eyes in the darkness--only now did he catch a glimpse of the moon's position. It sat high in the evening sky: midnight. A million spiteful and angry words threatened to spill from his lips, but even now he knew it was best to bite his tongue and keep silent.
@&#&$The hose he'd held in offer to Hybrid now lowered again as if to plug up the hole those hurt and offensive words should come from, and he took a long, hard drag while miraculously finding empty space to stare into despite the crowded nature of the balcony. It seemed as if the bubbles of smoke percolating through the spring water were making the only sounds to be heard--depressing. He rose rather unceremoniously with a sigh, the smoke expelling from his lungs in a small cloud around his head. He wished for a minute he could disappear with it, but what was the point? A short laugh, though this one was more ironic than mirthful: "Happy fucking birthday to me," he rumbled under his breath, scarcely concerned now if anyone heard him or not (and moreover, whether or not they cared). Maybe they'd be surprised he had feelings at all.
@&#&$Ears back and gaze still on absolutely nobody, he managed to excuse himself through the gap left by Hybrid for Gabriel. He made it as far as the top of the stairwell before slouching in a dejected sit, mind spinning as he considered all of the atrocious birthdays of his past--maybe it was a curse. He'd been forced to do battle on his first, the second had passed in complete and utter solitude, and by the third he was knee-deep in that wild goose chase searching for his lost children. And here he was now, supposedly with the folks who understood him and got him; his family, his friends. It was bad enough that Ryan and Valkyrie were missing... and now it seemed as if it were too much to ask that they drink and make merry on this holiday night.
YOU ARE ALL STICKS IN THE MUD. No, really, you're making Anselm emo.
Someone fix it. Also, sorry for going out of order, Sie, but I figured this "outburst" of his made more sense before anything else was said. XD;@&#&$Despite what anybody else may have thought, Anselm had really only had three or four drinks over the past couple hours. Though it was enough loosen his tongue and warm him to the prospect of company, in all honesty it was just enough to counterbalance the introverted tendencies brought on by the second drug. Initially it worked like a charm--though as more and more filtered in, he couldn't help but get caught up on their sour expressions and negative energy. The effect was instantaneous--his demeanour lost all of its former playful silliness and rather than freely "mingling" with the crowd (despite the fact he'd remained seated the entire time), he fell into an agitated (though reflective) silence. It was truly amazing how much of intoxication was mind over matter.
@&#&$He supposed it was his own fault; how dare he assume that they could come together for something fun--for something not rooted in sacrifice or the spilling of blood. Was that really all the members of Inferni had in common? One ear flicked as Halo dropped her hose, and he rolled his eyes in the darkness--only now did he catch a glimpse of the moon's position. It sat high in the evening sky: midnight. A million spiteful and angry words threatened to spill from his lips, but even now he knew it was best to bite his tongue and keep silent.
@&#&$The hose he'd held in offer to Hybrid now lowered again as if to plug up the hole those hurt and offensive words should come from, and he took a long, hard drag while miraculously finding empty space to stare into despite the crowded nature of the balcony. It seemed as if the bubbles of smoke percolating through the spring water were making the only sounds to be heard--depressing. He rose rather unceremoniously with a sigh, the smoke expelling from his lungs in a small cloud around his head. He wished for a minute he could disappear with it, but what was the point? A short laugh, though this one was more ironic than mirthful: "Happy fucking birthday to me," he rumbled under his breath, scarcely concerned now if anyone heard him or not (and moreover, whether or not they cared). Maybe they'd be surprised he had feelings at all.
@&#&$Ears back and gaze still on absolutely nobody, he managed to excuse himself through the gap left by Hybrid for Gabriel. He made it as far as the top of the stairwell before slouching in a dejected sit, mind spinning as he considered all of the atrocious birthdays of his past--maybe it was a curse. He'd been forced to do battle on his first, the second had passed in complete and utter solitude, and by the third he was knee-deep in that wild goose chase searching for his lost children. And here he was now, supposedly with the folks who understood him and got him; his family, his friends. It was bad enough that Ryan and Valkyrie were missing... and now it seemed as if it were too much to ask that they drink and make merry on this holiday night.