11-11-2009, 06:29 PM
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| http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/anselm_table.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:225px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; padding-bottom:10px;"> lulz, I think she's short-circuiting his brain XD He'd always enjoyed heights; though they lived in a decidedly three dimensional world he felt it was all too easy to neglect the third when planted on the ground constantly. Typical canine travels brought them right or left, north or south or anywhere in between--barring extreme circumstances, they were not sent scaling great heights or descending into steep ravines. Even still, the view of a valley from a mountaintop, the panoramic view of the decaying urban sprawl seen from a tall building--all of these simple things fascinated and captivated him in a way that may not have been anticipated for such a "down to earth" fellow. On more than one occasion he had yearned to see the world as the birds did. That they scattered and took to the skies any time he came near was their own way of mocking him, he was sure--not that he could blame them. Aerial views, however, were things of stratagem as much as philosophy. Most folks really didn't anticipate a tornado of golden fur and fury descending on them from the treetops, and unfortunately most of his experience climbing the woody specimens stemmed from the days of war in his youth. Fortunately, however, his mind was far from such a thing now--it was much more enjoyable to simply enjoy the different perspective and watch the story of the world unfolding down below, as if on some other plane. As he was scarcely concerned with stealth, he supposed it was not surprising then that he soon found himself in the company of another. His head inclined slightly as he regarded the creamy female, and the sweet, cloudy haze that hung about her like an aura. The first thing to register, of course, was her extravagant appearance; he'd never witnessed such bold, distinct colours on a wolf before and it took a moment to register the bright magenta-red mark on her forehead as a tattoo. It seemed only a fraction of a second had passed from the moment his ears swept forward to drink in her merry call to the moment he was swinging rather easily from the limb to the ground. As he landed in a crouch on the leaf-littered floor, he gingerly plucked up a fallen bough, used it to prod the bottom of his satchel once, and reached out to catch it as it fell. All of this, naturally, was some kind of subconscious effort to impress--an excuse for his muscles to show as he swung down, a chance to strut around and show his coordination; ah, how he did like to impress the ladies. It seems I've made a friend for the afternoon, he said smoothly as he turned to get a better look at her. Only now did his cheeks turn hot as he faltered ever so briefly; christ, she looked even younger than Ryan or Maserati! A fleeting frown graced his features as he considered the predicament--he knew what he had been doing by her age, but something about the situation just didn't compute. Without missing a beat, he fished one of the bottles from his bag and held it up to her in offer--at the very least, he certainly doubted he was corrupting anybody; at best, perhaps she'd like to share. With that, he offered an uneasy smile and took a step back, placing what he felt was an appropriate amount of distance between them. |