10-03-2009, 11:55 PM
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Maybe they were like ghosts of the past. She pierced and he tattooed, perched out of sight and out of mind atop a garage in the suburban sprawl of a huge Canadian city, it could have easily been a throwback to another time when two teens rested in the very same spot partaking in the very same activity. Perhaps they were a couple, and maybe in their foggy, dream-like mindset they'd made a promise to return one day and smoke in tribute to the old days. Maybe the two wolves were unknowingly fulfilling that strange eternal promise--but maybe they'd gotten there a bit too late. Indeed, she was a mature woman and he a grown man. This was no longer the act of mere teenage rebellion (though his habit had been rooted as such)--they were two independent souls, not afraid to declare a bold "Fuck it!" and kick back to enjoy their afternoon. Inevitably she was destined to fall for another, but for the moment there was nobody but them and the blue sky.
She took the hit expertly, both relieved and impressed that he needn't explain the mechanics of smoking this time. As she handed it back, his left shoulder raised in a shrug, palm up as his head pointed to his right--a casual, dismissive gesture. "No shortage of supply," he reassured her--she obviously would have registered so much already, but in his words was an implicit offer that she could help herself whenever she wished. For now, he accepted his turn and inhaled deeply, the very act causing his head to spin on top of what he'd already consumed before she'd arrived. He watched with interest and curiosity as she rearranged herself and got comfortable, and his ears pricked forward at the sound of her voice. Accents could truly drive him crazy--they were infinitely more intriguing (and therefore attractive) just by merit of being exotic.
Anselm couldn't decide if her wink was intentional or not, though he was leaning towards the latter and he found it absolutely endearing. Part of the fun of getting messed up with other people was just watching them be messed up, after all. A grin had formed on his face, and all at once he released a cloud of smoke in a hiccup of a giggle. It was as over as soon as it started, though his jaws had parted in a lupine grin and smoke was still pouring out. Her laid back, simple explanation was rather welcome, and he nodded with stoned enthusiasm in agreement. "Yea; these things can sometimes help with that," he offered, sparing a glance down to the pipe.
He peered behind her then, considering the base of what was once an antenna (the antenna itself had been snapped off long ago). He shifted just an inch closer to her and leaned forward, extending his arm behind her and gently placing the smouldering bowl with the bright orange lighter on the ledge. Here it would be less likely to be bumped off, he would say if asked, though really he was curious how she'd react to him stretched (somewhat suggestively) past her. Though they did not touch, his eyes found hers and a small, inviting smile flashed briefly before he looked away and leaned back once more.
At her inquiry he responded without missing a beat, first shaking his head and then shrugging as he reconsidered his answer. A fraction of a second later, he replied verbally. "This is my home away from home, so to speak. I live in the clan up north," he stated evenly, figuring it was probably sufficient detail. "But hey, no news is good news, right? I take it things are calm in Crimson Dreams, eh?" Her mention of boredom suggested such a thing, and he truly hoped things had settled down for Savina's sake. When he'd spoken to her last, things had been a little chaotic in the lake-side pack.
It's ok, I've done enough for the both of us. xP You did really well, I thought! :O -Giggled at the moving wink part pretty hardcore.- xDD
Maybe they were like ghosts of the past. She pierced and he tattooed, perched out of sight and out of mind atop a garage in the suburban sprawl of a huge Canadian city, it could have easily been a throwback to another time when two teens rested in the very same spot partaking in the very same activity. Perhaps they were a couple, and maybe in their foggy, dream-like mindset they'd made a promise to return one day and smoke in tribute to the old days. Maybe the two wolves were unknowingly fulfilling that strange eternal promise--but maybe they'd gotten there a bit too late. Indeed, she was a mature woman and he a grown man. This was no longer the act of mere teenage rebellion (though his habit had been rooted as such)--they were two independent souls, not afraid to declare a bold "Fuck it!" and kick back to enjoy their afternoon. Inevitably she was destined to fall for another, but for the moment there was nobody but them and the blue sky.
She took the hit expertly, both relieved and impressed that he needn't explain the mechanics of smoking this time. As she handed it back, his left shoulder raised in a shrug, palm up as his head pointed to his right--a casual, dismissive gesture. "No shortage of supply," he reassured her--she obviously would have registered so much already, but in his words was an implicit offer that she could help herself whenever she wished. For now, he accepted his turn and inhaled deeply, the very act causing his head to spin on top of what he'd already consumed before she'd arrived. He watched with interest and curiosity as she rearranged herself and got comfortable, and his ears pricked forward at the sound of her voice. Accents could truly drive him crazy--they were infinitely more intriguing (and therefore attractive) just by merit of being exotic.
Anselm couldn't decide if her wink was intentional or not, though he was leaning towards the latter and he found it absolutely endearing. Part of the fun of getting messed up with other people was just watching them be messed up, after all. A grin had formed on his face, and all at once he released a cloud of smoke in a hiccup of a giggle. It was as over as soon as it started, though his jaws had parted in a lupine grin and smoke was still pouring out. Her laid back, simple explanation was rather welcome, and he nodded with stoned enthusiasm in agreement. "Yea; these things can sometimes help with that," he offered, sparing a glance down to the pipe.
He peered behind her then, considering the base of what was once an antenna (the antenna itself had been snapped off long ago). He shifted just an inch closer to her and leaned forward, extending his arm behind her and gently placing the smouldering bowl with the bright orange lighter on the ledge. Here it would be less likely to be bumped off, he would say if asked, though really he was curious how she'd react to him stretched (somewhat suggestively) past her. Though they did not touch, his eyes found hers and a small, inviting smile flashed briefly before he looked away and leaned back once more.
At her inquiry he responded without missing a beat, first shaking his head and then shrugging as he reconsidered his answer. A fraction of a second later, he replied verbally. "This is my home away from home, so to speak. I live in the clan up north," he stated evenly, figuring it was probably sufficient detail. "But hey, no news is good news, right? I take it things are calm in Crimson Dreams, eh?" Her mention of boredom suggested such a thing, and he truly hoped things had settled down for Savina's sake. When he'd spoken to her last, things had been a little chaotic in the lake-side pack.
It's ok, I've done enough for the both of us. xP You did really well, I thought! :O -Giggled at the moving wink part pretty hardcore.- xDD