[/html]Anselm de le Poer He'd been lurking around outside of Esper Hollow, although the term "lurking" had to be taken lightly. Anselm had practically been invited there--it wasn't fear of being discovered that kept him at bay. It was that damnable disease. Was it still around? Had they been cured? Had they fallen and been buried or burned? When nobody showed up to address his presence, he'd decided to simply move on. A strange mood had gripped him for the past few days and he'd been keeping a distance from Inferni. It felt like he wasn't needed there at the moment, although he knew he'd have to get back sooner rather than later. For now, he'd just decided to see if anything productive might come out of his absence... checking up on Esper Hollow's condition, for instance.
Beck "Boomer" O'Malley Esper Hollow had managed to capture the fancy of more than just the locals. Rather ignorant to the distemper "outbreak," Boomer was in the area for a completely different reason--he'd heard interesting things about this group. Although he'd become rather attached to the foothills further north, he wondered if a band of like-minded individuals might help him feel less out of place. Who knew--maybe they'd act as the anchor that kept him grounded here. Otherwise, he was entirely likely to drift away once more... 'Souls really wasn't that interesting compared to the other places he'd been. When he noticed somebody walking around, he decided to call out.
Anselm de le Poer Anselm's head whipped around once he realised somebody else was very nearby. Perhaps he'd overlooked something--something that now stuck out like a sore thumb. Sandy gold, marked with white and numerous tattoos--the dingo was unlike anything he'd seen before. He remained where he was, red eyes simply boring into the cheerful looking fellow as the smaller male approached. Was this guy from Esper Hollow? He certainly seemed like he might fit in here, if anywhere. What the fuck are you? he demanded, ever so tactfully.
Beck "Boomer" O'Malley Boomer was slightly surprised by the other's rough attitude and appearance--he paused when the other male addressed him, figuring that the red-eyed stranger preferred his space. Still, not one to be put off by much, he decided to press on with the budding "conversation" anyway. Just a dingo... 'nother subspecies of wolf, he offered. I'm Boomer. Do you live 'round here? he asked, strange accent evident.
Anselm de le Poer Anselm offered a lazy shrug. I would've guessed you did, if anyone, he admitted, eyeing the dingo warily. The other had stopped at a safe distance and looked far from intimidating--he just might have been weird enough that Anselm was genuinely intrigued. You've got a lot of tattoos, he remarked flatly; pointing out the obvious was simple enough. I've always wanted one, but I never found any artists.
Beck "Boomer" O'Malley The dingo's ears twitched slightly as the strange hybrid talked--although his slightly puzzled expression morphed into one of amusement and delight at the mention of the art that covered his body. You bet, he said with a smile. Each one has a story, if you'd like to hear. And if yeh give me your name, maybe I can help you out in the future with getting some work done.
Anselm de le Poer Anselm stared long and hard at the stranger as he considered the offers he was presented. He'd still been half facing away, but now he turned fully and took a seat. His eyes encouraged the tattooed canine to continue--and that Boomer did. An articulate fellow and a great speaker, Boomer painted pictures for Anselm so detailed and beautiful as he described what of the world he'd seen. Anselm was positively floored by it, too--he'd been so caught up in his own little world that he'd practically forgotten the rest of the world existed. Once the dingos tales came to an end, the wolfish hybrid sighed and offered two mere syllables in response: Anselm.
Beck "Boomer" O'Malley The wolf was so quiet and careful, the way he watched him! Boomer felt as though he were being placed on a pedestal to be judged--but as critical as Anselm was, the dingo could also read others. He saw the wonder and delight in Anselm's red eyes, and he knew once the other had sacrificed his name they'd made a connection. A soft smile tugged at his lips again as he nodded. Why don't we go for a walk, Anselm? You seem discontent.
Anselm de le Poer Anselm tipped his head to one side as Boomer spoke. His instinct was to become defensive and aloof--how dare this stranger try to tell him how he felt?? How dare he be so careless as to let himself be so obvious. Still, there was something about the Australian that put him at ease. There was genuine concern and interest in the other's voice and eyes--the empathy that he always supposed he lacked himself. Rather confused and strangely willing to let somebody else call the shots, he nodded in consent and rose to his feet, ready to follow.
