12-20-2009, 10:00 PM
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 Jantus nodded at Anselm's sympathy, but he wasn't one to dwell on sad thoughts; it just wasn't his way. His spirits quickly lifted at words of home. Apparently, Anselm's mother had come from much further south than the Pine, as the deserts weren't for many hundreds of miles beyond his own home, though he had heard of them (having abstained from ever traveling so far south...being a big wolf, such heat and lack of big game wouldn't have suited him, anyway). "It can be," he replied, smiling. "It's been nice traveling with my little sisters again, I missed the days when it was just the three of us. The kids of the deceased are with us, too, and the brother. Some old family friends came along too...all in all, two coyotes, five wolves, and three who fall somewhere between." He shrugged. "I hear all of those don't get along so well here, but as I see it, everyone likes leaf and everyone likes drink. Don't draw much distinction, myself." It was true that when it came to canine-on-canine violence, it was usually wolves who 'started' it (barring the stories he'd heard of this place, of course). As it stood, though, he believed that was a function of size and pack-protection, more than anything. Every group had its bad eggs, but bad eggs rarely attacked people big or numerous enough to fight back...it just happened that wolves were the biggest and (oddly) tended to organize the most easily into large groups. The most successful troublemakers were bound to belong to their race. The stories he'd heard about Inferni seemed to turn that belief on its head, though. After a moment, Jantus reached over and took the tube from its owner and did as he'd seen Anselm do, closing his one eye as the burn pervaded his lungs. He nodded about the woods, but wouldn't answer for several seconds as he waited for the effects to wash over him. The couch groaned as he slowly eased back, letting some of the fight-tenseness go. His expression relaxed as he began slowly expelling the smoke...yes, it had been a while, far too long, he supposed, since he'd had any of this. He returned the bong while preparing his answer. "That's where we're staying now," he coughed. Like it or no, he didn't have much experience cannabis, or alcohol either, for that matter. Drugs were fun, but with no conception of growing or brewing, he would ever depend on others for them. "Right outside of Phoenix Valley." |