two miles beyond.

[Anselm de le Poer]

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Powerplay, let me know if it should be changed! Feel free to powerplay whatever in your next post, too... the sunset, a fade to black if she accepts his vague offer, etc. :]

@&#&$"Live today, forget the past," he mused dreamily, all too content to heed his own advice in the heat of the moment. The cumulus clouds that were once white puff-balls of cotton against a cerulean backdrop were now pink and orange, swirling and dissolving into the painted evening sky. Ah, how quickly time went when everything moved slow. It would still be another hour before the sun actually set, but Anselm was willing to gamble they might just witness the spectacle together--perhaps it would prove a fitting conclusion to their playful, hazy afternoon. As it was only September, it was easy to forget that the length of daylight was already on the decline as each day grew shorter than the last. The winter belonged to the night--this was merely part of the slow, subtle descent into darkness. Why not embrace it?

@&#&$He scooted along the roof on his rump, closer to her again with a similar objective, though this time his movements were more fluid and natural. He plucked the bowl from the ledge and breathed a puff of air into the chamber, causing the spent grey ashes to fly into the air and scatter nearby. He then plunked another wad of the leafy, green material into the pipe, and here he offered it to her first before returning to his original position. "The first hit is always the best," he added; it seemed likely that most smokers fashioned cigarette-like joints to smoke, rather than carrying around fragile glassware. The joints required one initial burst of flame to stay lit, too, whereas the pipes had to be relit near constantly. He wouldn't assume she had already considered the finer details of ingesting the substance in such a fashion.

@&#&$With this task complete, he was content to return to their earlier conversation. Her words hinted at some sort of sadness or turmoil, but he wished not to draw on such negativity. "Surely you don't give yourself enough credit; I don't think anyone would get me onto one of those boats without a fight," he offered with a small, genuine laugh. "I can't imagine being at the mercy of the waves--though I suppose without risk there is no opportunity for gain. I'm glad to hear that things worked out for you--guess they did for both of us." Anselm could hardly complain about his current position, and somehow that made the past all the more bearable. Perhaps he wouldn't appreciate being a respected member in a stable pack if he hadn't had to serve as a Mafia-esque grunt in the war-torn land of his youth.
@&#&$Lost in thought he just vaguely became aware of her eyes upon him, and his head swivelled to peer at her curiously--sexual tension had run thick throughout their entire encounter, though only now did his cheeks burn hot: he hadn't expected her to be so direct. She was returning the bowl to him and he took it from her carefully, as if it were some sacred sacrament. Any tension or uncertainty diminished, seemingly leaving his body in the same cloud of smoke that hung in the air around them. "I do believe," he stated in an even, good-natured tone, "that I am much too high to be tethered to anything at the moment." A grin, as he handed the pipe back to her for another hit: "And how about you, mi belleza de plata--do you care to fly?"

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