The Path Becomes as the Tongue of a Snake

[Anselm de le Poer]

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» Not like I'm doing any better, sorry about the wait! ;_;       Anselm (in his younger days especially) had been notorious for his loose morals and a long list of vices--drinking, gambling, sex, and rampant drug use were part of his everyday life. Since then he had mellowed out somewhat, though he hardly felt any remorse or shame for his past actions. Even still, he possessed a few boldly marked lines that he dared not to cross, and he even felt compelled to punish those who neglected to obey those few basic tenants of societal decency.       Rape was never justified in his mind--men who took out their frustrations on a female were downright pathetic in his opinion. What, they couldn't attract a willing partner? Were they that unimpressive that they felt obligated to throw their weight around? Were they that stupid that they couldn't come up with some clever scheme to get laid? (Rarely was brute force the most intellectual scheme for dealing with any problem.)       He was also quite opposed to the slaughter of the innocent or defenceless, especially when there was no driving need for such ruthless behaviour. Growing up, there'd barely been enough food or water to sustain the local packs, and such tactics were necessary: even those that did not engage them directly in battle served as competition for the scarce resources available. In 'Souls, though, there was no shortage of food or water. There was really no cause for war that he had seen other than someone's ego getting stepped on.       "We took a hostage of our own. Eventually, the two girls were exchanged and a cease-fire was called," he said simply, figuring there wasn't any need for further detail. Perhaps they would revisit this topic at some point in the future, though as they rose and moved further into the territory, the entire quartet fell silent. As they penetrated deeper into the claimed land, Anselm found himself growing more and more aware of Haku's scent rather than that of any potential prey--it was a good thing Cwmfen and her family seemed to be on top of it. His gaze flitted about endlessly, never in the same place for very long. Though their noses were toward the ground, his was in the air. None of the scent trails seemed awfully fresh, however, and eventually he decided he had to trust that Cwmfen wouldn't just lead him into that monster's jaws.       Despite these internal distractions, his footfalls were remarkably silent. Only the painted woman's voice, hardly above a whisper, drug him from the hellish realm of his imagination and back to reality. His nose twitched and his ears swept forward as he considered the deer up ahead, and at her inquiry he offered a silent nod. Anselm hadn't had such a feast since his initial return to Inferni when he'd hunted with Gabriel, though he had brought down a couple of mountain goats since. Being able to shift into the half-ling form gave them an almost unfair advantage over any of their prey, though for now the hunting team was comprised solely of plain old quadrupeds.       "May I?" His voice came in a hushed whisper, one paw lifted in inquiry as the dew claw began to shift position and the claws to extend. As a wolf that practised the transformation between all three forms at least once or twice daily, he'd learned to shift even on the move--that necessitated some control over which parts went when (more so for the final transition from secui to optime, though the same skill carried over now). He wouldn't be surprised if she followed suit, though he supposed everyone had their own unique preferences when it came to the hunt.

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appending ooc ending: they bring down an animal together, feast, and part ways!