--

Something about her drew him in. Maybe there was just something about a pretty girl in distress that captivated him, although he certainly was no knight in shining armour dedicated to sweeping her off of her feet or solving all of her problems. It just tickled his imagination and sparked his curiosity--what could possibly be so wrong in her life?
The signs were plenty and easily suggested that something was amiss. The distant look, that foetal position, the endless movements of her hands--it reminded him somewhat of Bleach fiddling with the grass, though this lady had a rock and her own fur. Did she know that she could be read so easily? Would she act the same if she knew someone was watching?
He padded closer, trying to get a better look. The rolling waves that perpetually crashed against the earth drowned out the sound of his footsteps, and the ocean breeze favoured him at the moment. He drank in her scent, which was mingled heavily with salt and slightly with blood. To Anselm, this was not horribly surprising--it could just as easily be the blood of a deer or rabbit and there was no reason to assume it was that of another wolf (or even coyote).
Regardless, she was not from Dahlia de Mai (or Iskata's stupid new pack), but Twilight Vale. They were ok in his book--he'd met Naniko before, albeit under a different name. He rounded off to the side somewhat and then approached the shoreline. From a few metres away, he'd enter her peripheral vision. Not shifted at all, he doubted that she'd freak out and take him to be a threat--beyond that, his body language was completely neutral.
For a few more moments he was silent, and he regarded the expanse of ocean before them, before finally turning his head to face her. "You look like you've got a boulder on your shoulders," he commented before turning his blood red eyes back to the sea. He didn't bother to elaborate--the metaphor was clear enough.

--

During his teenage years (months?), he'd done quite a bit of that "spraying anger in every which direction" thing. While the numerous fights that resulted had gotten him a lot of invaluable experience when it came to fighting, he'd eventually come to realise that it was largely senseless. Unfortunately, this had nothing to do with Anselm changing--it had to do with the environment. In his birth pack (and the surrounding region), it was not impractical to assume that everyone you encountered was an enemy--most were. If he had to guess, he'd say about 95%, with the remainder made up of blood relatives.
Here, things were quite a bit different. The odds of someone attacking you if you didn't attack first dropped down considerably; he responded accordingly. Less time was spent actually fighting--it was replaced by vigorous training and sparring with his cousin. He had to admit that he liked that hunting here involved the bloodshed of one animal (the prey) and not several more (those that it had to be defended against). Unlike some of the others in Inferni, Anselm had a tendency to judge individuals and individual situations more than a species. Perhaps it was because of his mixed blood, which rendered him less of a target in this culture? Maybe; but he'd take whatever he could get.
And here came a surprise--the black beauty spoke with a lovely accent. Something about foreigners captivated him, if only because he'd heard rumours that they cared less about the whole species difference. Weren't things supposedly more sophisticated overseas? Maybe some other wolves from here would be upset to be deemed barbarians, but given the way his life had gone so far, he found it delightfully accurate. Delightful, of course, only because that meant something better might exist somewhere else. A half-smirk, half-smile tugged at the corners of his mouth in response to the content of her question, and he rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Sometimes it's easier to recognise in others what we know to exist in ourselves," he replied. Indeed, he had plenty of weight on his back: trying to protect Inferni, the hostage from their war, etc. Besides, he figured it sounded better than "you look like hell."
Unlike her, however, he was far less inclined to spill his woes to a complete stranger (or maybe anybody at all). Vocalising his concerns and doubts, to him, meant that they were manifesting themselves more fully--something he did not want. In the true spirit of the manly man he was, he'd beat his emotions down and lock them away until he could barely feel them at all. That was how it was supposed to work, right? Regardless, he was fine letting this little meeting be all about her. From the corner of his eye he watched as she stretched out some, following the muscles as they moved and generally appreciating the curves of her body. "So what's troubling you?" he wondered aloud.

Yeah, I was pretty worried with the splint, typing one handed was hard. But at least with that off it isn't too bad, I just have to angle the keyboard a certain way and all. :x

Anselm would forever reject the idea of fate or destiny. Even so, his imagination ran rampant--it was so easy to think this some fictitious god's masterpiece. It was just too perfect. Essentially, she couldn't have found a better person to talk to about this problem. Could she see it the same way that he did? Hopefully he'd help her to open her eyes and see the light; hopefully, she'd learn to embrace the logic and instinct that she was clearly denying herself.
"It is our duty and instinct to protect those we care about," he assured her. "Conversely, it goes against our honour to slay the weak or defenceless. A 'monster' would have continued anyway, but you stopped yourself. I don't see how you can consider yourself a monster at all." He certainly didn't think her crazy, either; he knew plenty of folks who were truly mad. They were ruthless and would attack without good reason at all. She was about as justified in her actions as she could be, assuming he wasn't missing some key part of the story.
"Anyway, it won't do to deny yourself like that. Don't tell me that you've done things you'd never do, because you've obviously done them. Trying to beat that down will only drive you mad. Trust your own instincts. As far as I'm concerned, they haven't led you astray so far. There's no reason to think they would in the future." Savina seemed sensible enough, just maybe a bit in denial... maybe a bit naive. These were lessons that were beaten into him practically since day one, and it felt borderline ridiculous to explain them to an intelligent adult. What different worlds they came from.

Yeah, it's getting there. I imagine it'll be kinda crummy for awhile, but it's definitely much better than it was the first couple of days already, which is plenty for me to work with. >_>

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth--maybe it left everyone blind and bleeding, but it was essentially how he functioned. They lived in a lawless town and if the friends and family of victims didn't seek retribution, everything would descend into chaos. There were few criminals, though, that he thought deserved a death sentence--murderers, repeated rapists, traitors. Certainly, though, plenty of other felonies worthy a good beating. He didn't know who Conri was or what he had done, but he wasn't about to ask. If he had known, he'd find Savina's reaction completely acceptable.
"Eh? You certainly don't seem mentally unstable," he remarked matter-of-factly. Nobody with a modicum of self-control ought to be concerned about things like these, he thought. "It sounds like this guy had it coming to him. If someone you care about gives you that good of a reason to be ticked off, they probably need some sense beaten into them." He shrugged a little. To him, though, fighting was just another part of life. He sparred regularly with one of his closest friends and relatives, after all. His own parents had given quite a bit of "tough love" growing up, until they realised that Anselm would fight back. It didn't mean they hated each other or didn't care--it was more of a "get over yourself" or a "oh, you fucked up BIG this time!" thing.
"Ultimately, you know yourself better than I do. You don't think you'll do it? Then listen to that part of you. Repeat it over and over again until it sticks. If you're really that worried about it, just tell yourself to walk away from situations like those. If you can't, you'll know you're justified in fighting. If you can, you'll be able to reflect on it and maybe figure out an alternative route." All he figured was that she really shouldn't be afraid of herself in a world like this one--he couldn't imagine that sort of thinking. There were plenty of better things to worry about--bears, cougars, other wolves. Never himself. At least he had that, he decided.

Well, Savina's so sweet, he couldn't possibly be mean to her. XD. -Ruffles his hair.- He really isn't that bad of a guy. XD

Emotions, so far as he was concerned, served only to complicate life. Usually he was pretty good about beating his own into submission, although arguably he was a little too good at it. Maybe a man that never trusts can never be betrayed, but he can never really feel the warmth or true beauty of love or even friendship, either. Furthermore, when confronted with the emotions of others, he often found himself confused. He certainly lacked empathy; no doubt it was a consequence of his rather emotionally desolate childhood. He was never encouraged to feel, only to fight and to calculate--by both his parents and his environment. Even so, he slipped up once in awhile, and he hated himself for it. He viewed it as weakness--and there he was being irrational, for any truly sentient being was doomed to question life and their own feelings. It was natural, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
He did like this encounter, though. She'd earned some respect in his book--despite her worries, she hadn't rejected his logic. It was almost frightful how emotions could do that to a creature; they could lead perfectly intelligent beings to disregard things that were slapping them in the face. It also felt strangely nice to help somebody else to feel better even without getting anything in return. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he remarked, his tone a degree warmer than usual and strangely genuine. All the while, he found himself inwardly laughing at the prospect of someone taking his advice so seriously. He decided he ought to come with a warning label; this thought brought a grin to his face, although he allowed it to fade away before it looked unnatural.
Her title was foreign and had a lovely ring to it; it was smooth and rolled off the tongue nicely, plus it just sounded pretty. He decided that it suited her quite well. "I'm Anselm," he offered in return.

Likewise! Good thread.

He nodded as she bade her farewell--he thought this was a decent time to end things, too. Parting on a good note was always desirable, and although he wasn't sure what might go wrong he had a feeling something might get fucked up if he chose to linger for any great amount of time. Her offer was sort of touching, but he wasn't sure if he'd take her up on it. It would be awkward if Anselm ran into Savina and "Joule" ran into Naniko all at once--now that he'd taken root here so strongly, he wasn't sure that lying about his name to Twilight Vale's alpha was such a good idea or not. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it, though, which was hopefully never. Obviously, he couldn't extend a similar invite to her, either--if anybody from Inferni found her, he didn't even want to think about what he'd have to do to punish them if they laid a hand on her. Still, he hoped to see her around elsewhere where it was less risky.
"I frequent the old human city a lot. If you do, too, maybe I'll see you there," he offered. He didn't want to mislead her by promising to come and visit, but he was sure to leave her with some idea of where he could be found, as well. Hopefully she'd understand. Without waiting around to find out, he cast a quick smile her way before rising to his feet. Turning about along the ledge, he began to move away at a comfortable pace in the direction of Inferni. As he moved there was a bit of a spring in his step, which was certainly unusual. It was time to go home, he thought, perhaps to reflect on things and at least to check in on the clan. This whole little adventure had turned into a very nice escape from the war (much like his visit to Esper Hollow), but business and duty were always knocking on the door.