When he realized that he was being tailed, Anselm slowed and stopped rather quickly, willing to help the poor, blazed
When it came to birthdays, he didn't really remember his own. When was his birthday? He'd have to ask his mother about that one; they'd always celebrated the day he was accepted into Juniper Peace back when he'd traveled with the peace-loving smokers, but they'd never celebrated birthdays. They'd been too busy celebrating other things, like the glorious colors of autumn or the fresh April rain. "My birthday's flown the coop, man," the prince gurgled, swaying a bit in place. "Besides, birthdays just mean you're older. Nothin' worth celebratin' but the less time until we become one with Mother Earth, man." He flashed the peace sign with his fingers, twirled a little, and then looked stupidly at the gathering crowd where Anselm had turned his eyes. It was at this point, finally, that Razekiel began to pull the white cloth off of his body, gathering it in his arms before shaking the thick dreadlocks from his eyes without a word.