12-19-2009, 05:47 PM
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@&#&$Anselm, too, preferred to keep things cordial with the other packs. He'd grown up in war and understood it to be good for nobody. Scarcity of resources had necessitated such actions back in the day, but here in Nova Scotia they faced neither drought nor famine. Egos and madness were the only things preventing them all from getting along; it was enough to churn his stomach if he dwelt on the matter for too long, but he rarely shared these thoughts with anybody. Too many members of Inferni were all too gung-ho about the slaughter of innocents, but in them he saw hypocrisy and short-sightedness. To act in defence or target your oppressors was one thing--to lash out at those that had never set foot near the clan or threatened her well-being was quite another. Then they became what they allegedly- hated most; they became like Haku.
@&#&$Perhaps the two Infernians weren't so different. It was rare for Anselm to find someone he just clicked with (especially outside of the context of family or drugs). Then again, perhaps he'd dismissed some subconscious, underlying thing too quickly. "The best kind," he purred simply: "Sweet Mary Jane." Anselm hardly cared for cigarettes either; they seemed to clog up his nose and the unpleasant odour clung to his coat much longer. Marijuana was more of a piny, pleasant perfume and he never experienced bad side effects (or in this case, allergies). In fact, there probably wasn't a single drug he preferred more--even alcohol. If he smoked too much he took a nap and woke up feeling peaceful; if he drank too much and "took a nap," he woke up with a headache and a sour stomach.
@&#&$At Cotl's next outburst he couldn't help but giggle: "That's one hell of a mental image, man." A pause; Anselm couldn't help but be immensely curious about such a peculiar quirk, and he hoped the other man wouldn't be terribly offended if he asked. "So is there any rhyme or reason to these exclamations? Like, did you actually catch some worthless SOB masturbating on a log once?" Scientific and analytical, he couldn't help but try to pick at Cotl's brain somewhat--he wanted to understand, on some level, what caused the outbursts. There had to be some trigger, right?
@&#&$As they came up on the garage, he fished the key from around his neck and threw open the door. The pungent scent of marijuana was strong here; it could practically be smelled along the entire block. One ear fell back as he regarded the large horse, which would obviously not fit inside. He offered a silent shrug to Cotl, who he figured could either turn him loose to graze out back or tie him up to a fence post if he didn't wish to wait outside (not that the horse wouldn't be able to rip the post away, but the Caelum doubted that such an action was even necessary--presumably the beasts had some level of mutual loyalty). "Your call; you can either come in and have a free sample or I'll just grab a couple jars and we can split."
@&#&$Perhaps the two Infernians weren't so different. It was rare for Anselm to find someone he just clicked with (especially outside of the context of family or drugs). Then again, perhaps he'd dismissed some subconscious, underlying thing too quickly. "The best kind," he purred simply: "Sweet Mary Jane." Anselm hardly cared for cigarettes either; they seemed to clog up his nose and the unpleasant odour clung to his coat much longer. Marijuana was more of a piny, pleasant perfume and he never experienced bad side effects (or in this case, allergies). In fact, there probably wasn't a single drug he preferred more--even alcohol. If he smoked too much he took a nap and woke up feeling peaceful; if he drank too much and "took a nap," he woke up with a headache and a sour stomach.
@&#&$At Cotl's next outburst he couldn't help but giggle: "That's one hell of a mental image, man." A pause; Anselm couldn't help but be immensely curious about such a peculiar quirk, and he hoped the other man wouldn't be terribly offended if he asked. "So is there any rhyme or reason to these exclamations? Like, did you actually catch some worthless SOB masturbating on a log once?" Scientific and analytical, he couldn't help but try to pick at Cotl's brain somewhat--he wanted to understand, on some level, what caused the outbursts. There had to be some trigger, right?
@&#&$As they came up on the garage, he fished the key from around his neck and threw open the door. The pungent scent of marijuana was strong here; it could practically be smelled along the entire block. One ear fell back as he regarded the large horse, which would obviously not fit inside. He offered a silent shrug to Cotl, who he figured could either turn him loose to graze out back or tie him up to a fence post if he didn't wish to wait outside (not that the horse wouldn't be able to rip the post away, but the Caelum doubted that such an action was even necessary--presumably the beasts had some level of mutual loyalty). "Your call; you can either come in and have a free sample or I'll just grab a couple jars and we can split."