01-09-2010, 07:00 PM
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@&#&$Anselm wondered what sort of environment would forbid the practise of play amongst children. Even amidst the never ending battle in the mountains he'd been encouraged to play with the other youths--at least up until a certain age, at which point things became more serious and combat specific training increased in both intensity and frequency, leaving less time for silly games. It was around that time his drug habits had started up, too, which was hardly coincidental even though he'd never given it much thought until just now. It simply seemed so critical to proper development that he couldn't help but boggle over her confession. Play taught puppies how to socialise and enabled them to establish stronger bonds with their peers. It helped their growing bodies to strengthen physically and some games promoted their sense of cunning. Still, as his earlier questioning had caused them both a fair level of distress, he could only wonder in silence. Maybe he'd talk to Kaena about it later--surely she had some insight into her roommate's strange behaviour?
@&#&$"Guess you've got some catching up to do then, eh?" he wondered simply, his tone gentle and inviting. In adulthood Anselm still enjoyed a good game with the proper company--none too surprising, perhaps, as regression was a recognised coping mechanism for stress (and perhaps by his bad genetics alone, his life destined to be filled with plenty). He only hoped it would work the same for her since here it was something new, not something comfortable and familiar. Fortunately, she seemed to have found her own vision in the sky; his gaze drifted to the cloud in question and he gave an enthusiastic nod, his tail flopping behind him twice. "Ah, yea, I see it!" he said, before poking his nose in the direction of the cloud immediately adjacent to the flower. "And that one looks a bee, coming to land on it!" he added, before frowning. "Well, maybe a really fat bee." A shrug; after all, they could hardly expect a perfect rendition of anything from real life.
@&#&$Now that their little "crisis" had passed, he found himself slouching into a lazier and lazier sit. He was no longer so intensely focused on Vieira's skittish and anxious mannerisms. Before much longer he was on the ground again, this time sprawled on his side more so than flipped on his back. "Ah, yea; here's another one: I spy. You look around, find some object or thing to look at, then tell the other person the colour. Then they try to guess what you originally saw. Like... 'I spy something white!' Then you could guess either the snow, a cloud, or something else! Sometimes it's tricky... see that piece of quartz over there? That could've been it, too," he said, gesturing toward the whitish rock tucked subtly away amongst the snow and dry grass. "You pick something," he suggested, figuring this way she'd feel less put on the spot. It was easier to find an object than to guess, he supposed.
mall-caps;font-weight:bold;text-align:right; border-top:1px solid #AB360D">SoSuWriMo +507
@&#&$"Guess you've got some catching up to do then, eh?" he wondered simply, his tone gentle and inviting. In adulthood Anselm still enjoyed a good game with the proper company--none too surprising, perhaps, as regression was a recognised coping mechanism for stress (and perhaps by his bad genetics alone, his life destined to be filled with plenty). He only hoped it would work the same for her since here it was something new, not something comfortable and familiar. Fortunately, she seemed to have found her own vision in the sky; his gaze drifted to the cloud in question and he gave an enthusiastic nod, his tail flopping behind him twice. "Ah, yea, I see it!" he said, before poking his nose in the direction of the cloud immediately adjacent to the flower. "And that one looks a bee, coming to land on it!" he added, before frowning. "Well, maybe a really fat bee." A shrug; after all, they could hardly expect a perfect rendition of anything from real life.
@&#&$Now that their little "crisis" had passed, he found himself slouching into a lazier and lazier sit. He was no longer so intensely focused on Vieira's skittish and anxious mannerisms. Before much longer he was on the ground again, this time sprawled on his side more so than flipped on his back. "Ah, yea; here's another one: I spy. You look around, find some object or thing to look at, then tell the other person the colour. Then they try to guess what you originally saw. Like... 'I spy something white!' Then you could guess either the snow, a cloud, or something else! Sometimes it's tricky... see that piece of quartz over there? That could've been it, too," he said, gesturing toward the whitish rock tucked subtly away amongst the snow and dry grass. "You pick something," he suggested, figuring this way she'd feel less put on the spot. It was easier to find an object than to guess, he supposed.
mall-caps;font-weight:bold;text-align:right; border-top:1px solid #AB360D">SoSuWriMo +507