01-22-2010, 11:10 PM
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@&#&$Although the men could relate on many things, he would never be able to empathise with his cousin on the subject of Faolin. All of the women in his life had been easy come, easy go; he'd toss the idea out there and if they were interested, he'd have a merry old time--if they refused, he'd continue on his way. Rejection was merely a part of the game, nothing to fuss or trouble himself over... and throughout life he'd had more takers than not. He'd laid with all sorts of women; petite coyotes, proud wolves, stray dogs, some near his age, some a few years older, and some younger. They'd been black, white, gold, brown, and everywhere in between--some were random loners, some were pack wolves, some were even mated already, though for whatever reason they were dissatisfied and accepted his offer. He couldn't remember all of their names, especially those who'd crossed his path but once; some, like Lene, he'd stayed with for nearly a fortnight and remembered more clearly.
@&#&$Love or devotion had never been factored into the equation. Perhaps Alacrity would break the record? His infatuation with her was different--here he not only wanted to put his best foot forward, he also respected her space. He was content to take it slow. She didn't seem like the sort of woman to rush into things on a whim and though in the past he'd pass these ladies by without a second thought, here he was willing to put in a modest amount of effort. He found, strangely, that he'd been thinking less of the other random females he met in day to day life as well. They just didn't strike his fancy to the extent that they might have before he met the exotic African beauty--they really couldn't compare to her allure and charm. Even so, Rome was not built in a day; it was unlikely he'd truly changed in any lasting, meaningful way. She would continue to captivate him so long as she was around, but supposing she ever left, it was no mystery that he'd quickly revert back to his old ways.
@&#&$As he crunched through the numbers in his head and listened to Gabriel, however, thoughts of the painted woman were far from his mind. He finished his calculations and decided he'd have to scale it back--technically he had just barely enough to erect a structure with the original dimensions he'd anticipated, but that didn't allow for a safety factor (or in his mind, "wiggle room"). Just in case something fucked up, he wanted spare supplies on hand--gathering these the first time had proven to be quite an ordeal. He resolved, then, to cut a metre off each side. He rearranged his markers and nodded once he was satisfied with their position, his tattooed ear flicking gently as Gabriel finished talking. "Well, it's one thing to charge in hungerin' for blood, 'n quite another to hold down your own fort. I'm sure they'll all rise to the occasion when he decides to attack," he said, his word choice making it clear he thought this would happen.
@&#&$He looked up from the future footprint of their grow house and caught Gabriel's gold with his red and a grimace. "He thinks he's invincible. Sooner or later he'll grow too confident and come after us himself--when that happens, we will win," he clarified, though his tone was quiet and dark. His justifications for such a statement were a thousand fold, but it was clear he had no intention of elaborating further. He figured Gabriel understand from the knowing glint in the new Optio's eye alone. "If we want to minimise causalities, we'd do best to keep everyone close to home. That said, he may take some more instigation and prodding to decide his minions aren't cutting it and take matters into his own hands," he said, feeling completely at ease as he voiced his opinion to his leader, cousin, and friend. They'd jumped through these fiery hoops together a dozen times over in the past, and for everything, Anselm felt comfortable and relaxed.
@&#&$
"Want to give me a hand with a few of these?" he wondered absently, the sharpness in his tone and gaze fading ever so quickly, replaced by a dutiful weariness. He picked up a small plastic bag filled with several joints for the pipes and tugged on the encasement absently. It put up more resistance than anticipated so he pulled harder, and when it gave, the half dozen or so fittings flew up into the air and scattered on the ground with a clatter, leaving Anselm wide-eyed and blinking. Maybe this operation wouldn't be very graceful, and maybe the weight of the times was bearing down on all of them, but none of this stopped him from offering a soft what are you gonna do? laugh as he bent to pick them up. Anselm passed them off to the Aquila and grabbed some of the larger lengths of pipe himself.
mall-caps;font-weight:bold;text-align:right; border-top:1px solid #AB360D">SoSuWriMo +843
@&#&$Love or devotion had never been factored into the equation. Perhaps Alacrity would break the record? His infatuation with her was different--here he not only wanted to put his best foot forward, he also respected her space. He was content to take it slow. She didn't seem like the sort of woman to rush into things on a whim and though in the past he'd pass these ladies by without a second thought, here he was willing to put in a modest amount of effort. He found, strangely, that he'd been thinking less of the other random females he met in day to day life as well. They just didn't strike his fancy to the extent that they might have before he met the exotic African beauty--they really couldn't compare to her allure and charm. Even so, Rome was not built in a day; it was unlikely he'd truly changed in any lasting, meaningful way. She would continue to captivate him so long as she was around, but supposing she ever left, it was no mystery that he'd quickly revert back to his old ways.
@&#&$As he crunched through the numbers in his head and listened to Gabriel, however, thoughts of the painted woman were far from his mind. He finished his calculations and decided he'd have to scale it back--technically he had just barely enough to erect a structure with the original dimensions he'd anticipated, but that didn't allow for a safety factor (or in his mind, "wiggle room"). Just in case something fucked up, he wanted spare supplies on hand--gathering these the first time had proven to be quite an ordeal. He resolved, then, to cut a metre off each side. He rearranged his markers and nodded once he was satisfied with their position, his tattooed ear flicking gently as Gabriel finished talking. "Well, it's one thing to charge in hungerin' for blood, 'n quite another to hold down your own fort. I'm sure they'll all rise to the occasion when he decides to attack," he said, his word choice making it clear he thought this would happen.
@&#&$He looked up from the future footprint of their grow house and caught Gabriel's gold with his red and a grimace. "He thinks he's invincible. Sooner or later he'll grow too confident and come after us himself--when that happens, we will win," he clarified, though his tone was quiet and dark. His justifications for such a statement were a thousand fold, but it was clear he had no intention of elaborating further. He figured Gabriel understand from the knowing glint in the new Optio's eye alone. "If we want to minimise causalities, we'd do best to keep everyone close to home. That said, he may take some more instigation and prodding to decide his minions aren't cutting it and take matters into his own hands," he said, feeling completely at ease as he voiced his opinion to his leader, cousin, and friend. They'd jumped through these fiery hoops together a dozen times over in the past, and for everything, Anselm felt comfortable and relaxed.
@&#&$
"Want to give me a hand with a few of these?" he wondered absently, the sharpness in his tone and gaze fading ever so quickly, replaced by a dutiful weariness. He picked up a small plastic bag filled with several joints for the pipes and tugged on the encasement absently. It put up more resistance than anticipated so he pulled harder, and when it gave, the half dozen or so fittings flew up into the air and scattered on the ground with a clatter, leaving Anselm wide-eyed and blinking. Maybe this operation wouldn't be very graceful, and maybe the weight of the times was bearing down on all of them, but none of this stopped him from offering a soft what are you gonna do? laugh as he bent to pick them up. Anselm passed them off to the Aquila and grabbed some of the larger lengths of pipe himself.
mall-caps;font-weight:bold;text-align:right; border-top:1px solid #AB360D">SoSuWriMo +843