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@$%&The trek home had been uneventful, perhaps the universe's way of compensating for all of the chaos and activity he'd experienced during his stay in the city. Quite the busy fellow, he never considered his life boring per se, but getting into a gang fight, running into an old friend, and making a drug deal all in the same week was a bit more excitement than he was used to. Like a school boy giddy and impatient with tales of a teacher letting a cuss slip in class or how the bad kids had set off stink bombs in the bathroom, he was all too eager to tell somebody about it.
@$%&Not surprisingly, then, he didn't bother to pit stop at his own den--he went straight to Gabriel's. His satchel full of goodies was still at his side and the two heads he'd claimed dangled freely and proudly from one hand as if he'd picked them up on a successful shopping trip. By the time he closed in on his cousin's den, he could hardly contain himself. Everything that had happened was too weird to go unsaid. He scratched absently at one of the rocky walls at the den's mouth--a canine knock, perhaps--with a broad grin spread across his face.
@$%&"Gabe, you home?" he called into the darkness after a moment's pause. "You will not believe the fucked up shit that's gone down," he added, hoping such tantalising words would rouse the Aquila's interest. The gash from the broken glass bottle flung at his arm was temporarily forgotten, and the general excitement in his tone made it obvious that it was nothing too serious--now. Shifting one of the heads to his other hand, he simply held one on each side, beaming as he waited for Gabriel to materialise out of the den.
waaah, okay. in my timelines i figured it made most sense if this took place before Alacrity's joining thread. i saw you started your thread with Jantus/Trigger, so... yeah. -doesn't know.- D: i don't care about raw dates as much as chronological order, i guess net effect would be more of a forward dating of Alacrity's thread than anything. -hopes this is okay.- X: [/html]
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The way Gabriel slept was typical of all wolves. After an hour or two of activity, he would sleep for ten to fifteen minutes, and then resume his work schedule. Hunting often took up much more time then this, and was not always successful—luckily, there was a cache of meat stored from other successes, and they could be harvested if necessary. He had been lucky the previous night, and managed to take down a small deer. It wasn’t a lot, but the meat kept his belly full and the carcass had been deposited near the cache (kept in a small shed by the mansion).
A scratch at the door woke him, and both ears fluttered forward. Almost instantly he was awake, greeted by his cousin’s voice. Sure enough, the vocabulary used stirred him to his feet, and Gabriel made his way to the entrance. The grin on Anselm’s face was what he noticed first; followed by the wound on his arm, and the prizes in his hands. To say the least, the look on Gabriel’s face was priceless.
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whatever works for you, man o: i mostly figured it make sense they meet up again before he introduces alacrity in her joining thread. :]
[html] Although he had smoked before his journey home, the amusement he experienced now was due to a different chemical that may just as well be considered a drug--adrenaline. Replaying the scenes in his mind so he'd have the story right and getting pumped up about it left him feeling downright giddy, and Gabriel's expression was almost enough to push him over the edge. Instead of raucous laughter he managed to squeak by with an even wider grin before nonchalantly tossing the skulls down before the leader's feet. They were in effect presents for Inferni--the circumstances of their acquisition hardly mattered to those dumbly bold few that chose to linger on their border and gawk. Sometimes imagination was a more powerful weapon than the truth.
"So you know that Maserati had that garage in Halifax I basically took over, yea?" (Anselm wasn't entirely sure if Gabriel knew or not--for obvious reasons the doggish male was bound to Inferni's turf moreso than the tattooed hybrid, so he certainly hadn't been there. Whether or not he'd mentioned it in conversation before he could not recall--regardless, even if the Aquila hadn't been aware, he was now.) "Some burro was trying to bust into the joint, so I clocked 'im and he ran off. Maybe it should've been the end of it, but I wanted to make sure, so I trail the guy," he continued on, with a light shrug--things by all rights should have been simple and straightforward enough, that shrug seemed to convey. Until...
"So the trail stops at this alley. And all of a sudden, there are SIX wolves. Five of 'em were pretty young and punkish, but this other one was like... a fucking mountain made out of wolf. For some reason, three of the younger ones were goin' at him, too, but he basically just plowed through them like water." The whole story was pretty fantastical--made even more so by the fact that none was particularly exaggerated. "Anyway, that left me to grapple with these two," a gesture toward the heads, "and by some stroke of luck the giant stopped by the time he would've gotten to me." A pause. "Actually hit it off just fine afterwards, even." Here for the first time he stopped for long enough to catch his breath and to gage some reaction from his cousin. Hopefully it was as amusing to him as it was to the bronze de le Poer. [/html]
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Two heads, presented to him like an aboriginal leader, told Gabriel that Anselm had indeed had an experience. One ear swiveled and flicked, as if a fly had buzzed by his ear. What in the world had his cousin run into? So the expression on Gabriel’s face turned towards bemusement, entertained by the notion of Anselm running after a ‘burro’ (which, in Gabriel’s mental vision, was a donkey). As expected, he had gotten into a fight—and envisioning a wolf as large as Anselm explained to him seemed a little too spectacular. Furthermore, the fact that the two had ‘hit it off’, something that Gabriel had never experienced after fighting wolves, turned his bemused smile into one more familiar to that after hearing a story too good to be true.
“Sounds like you had quite a day,” he offered, eyes glimmering impishly. He had no doubt that Anselm would see that. “Where was the dragon?” A doggish grin broke across his face, showing his teeth in a way that was the same as a friendly jab on the arm.
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There was more to his story, of course, though the excitement melted away into a look of pure puzzlement. "Dragon?" he repeated, mostly to himself, before he realised Gabriel was pulling his leg. (Or maybe... Gabriel thought he was pulling his leg.) "Nah, man, I'm serious!" he exclaimed lightly. "That's the fucked up part," he added with a grin that could have mirrored Gabriel's. Although the words that spewed from his mouth on foreign turf were often less than the (whole) truth, he obviously had no reason to lie to his cousin; as he was pretty down to earth, the odds of him sensationalising a story just for kicks were kind of slim, too. It was all pretty ridiculous, however, and he could hardly blame the Aquila for being sceptical.
"He must've been about average height," he said, holding one hand up to indicate the level above the earth to which the werewolf had stood, "but the tricky part is he was practically as wide as he was tall!" At least it had seemed that way; obviously a square wolf made no sense, but another gesture using both hands probably got the point across. At this point, he shooed the heads away with his foot and plopped to the ground. He began to rummage through his bag as he spoke.
"Anyway, after all that was over I wanted to hang tight to make sure those punks didn't have any friends... but it seems like that was the start and end of it. While I was there, I ran into an old friend of mine, and one of yours too, actually," he added, taking a pause from his riffling to grin at the leader. "Rurik. 'n he gave me these." He produced a small transparent packet filled with seeds, failing to register that on the surface the spoils of his trade seemed so painfully unimpressive. Though next year he'd get maybe a small opium yield, it wouldn't be until those flowers produced seeds themselves that he'd really be able to expand on that front. http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... bottom.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top:140px; background-position:top center; line-height:12px; ">
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Well, it seemed like there was no doubt truth in the outrageous story. At least enough to justify the skulls Anselm carried. While Gabriel certainly had no reason to doubt that what happened was true, the embellishment (as he saw it) was something that was just enough out of character for his normally mathematical cousin that it seemed fanciful. Still, he nodded at the gesture, picturing the image as something very bizarre indeed.
The mention of one of his friends made Gabriel’s ears lift, puzzled. Until, of course, the pirate was mentioned. A secret wave of shame rushed through him, having intended to keep his relationship with the graying wolf a secret. He did not think it wise to befriend his enemies (but then again, his mother had bed with them), and intended to set an example to his clan. Still, there was nothing he could do at this point but admit it. Anselm then lifted his hand, displaying a packet of what Gabriel recognized as seeds. Puzzled, one side of his mouth turned down, causing his left eye to narrow slightly. “What the hell is that?”
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@&#&$Anselm was (un)remarkably indifferent to those that kept the company of wolves; maybe a year ago things would have been different, but by now he was forced to recognise that most of his own children were indistinguishable from pure-breds. Maserati and Detroit didn't appear to have a lick of coyote in them and he just barely did himself. Some of his better friends--the Marinos, for instance--were literal wolves. His enemies, decidedly, were not determined by blood alone. His enemies were simply those that took issue with Inferni. The coyotes and mongrels had every right to land, resources, and peace... just as they (generally) gave their neighbours. Those that infringed upon these basic rights were the hypocritical monsters who deserved no mercy.
@&#&$Needless to say, his mind was far from thoughts of prejudice and hatred. Warm feelings and hazy afternoons were more his style as of late, though it was worth remembering that it was simply a choice he made in this time of peace. Nobody could argue Anselm's priorities weren't straight... he just liked to get away with what he could. In some sense, he was like a teenager that never grew up. "Seeds," he replied simply, a grin illuminating his face. "Poppy seeds, to be precise. I'm expanding the business." Tucking the packet away carefully, he shrugged. "I've seen wolves waste away on opium, but what business is that of mine? If they're willing to trade for it, I'm willing to provide." Simple. [/html]
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Poppy seeds. Opium. Gabriel’s mind struggled with this for a moment, aware of, but unable to, make the connection. Though he was aware his father had been an alcoholic (the smell was unmistakable) he knew little of the drugs. Then again, Ahren had not fallen to his own dragon until his children were long gone. The scent of opium would be one he would not recognize. His long-dead grandfather had been the last de le Poer to smoke that vile substance, and it had torn him asunder.
This did not interest Gabriel, who had abandoned the need for substances (save the occasional draught of whiskey on those long, dark nights). What interested him was the idea his cousin had provided him. “Trading, hm? Seems like you found yourself a way to make friends.” There was the slightest hint of humor in his voice, but his eyes had turned predatorily sharp. Gabriel was no fool; Anselm had found himself a key, and the Aquila intended to see it used to the full extent.
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@&#&$"Friends..." he trailed off knowingly, the same glint showing in his eye, mirroring the Aquila's. "Machinists, blacksmiths, tailors. Guards, assassins, spies." He exhaled through a grin. "The possibilities are endless, my friend. Even those uninterested in personal consumption might be clever enough to run with it and use it as currency toward their own ends." More than anything, that was what his business was about: the acquisition of skills and information he simply didn't have time to go find on his own. That he could enjoy the spoils of the harvest on a recreational basis was only a lucky side effect.
@&#&$There were also less obvious consequences that would work to Inferni's benefit. From his bag, he produced a small stack of books: two field guides, one entitled A Field Guide to Medicinal Plants and Herbs: Of Eastern and Central North America and another A Field Guide to Mushrooms: North America. The final book, the one which sat on top, was more general in nature (and what he'd been most interested in initially): Plant Propagation A to Z: Growing Plants for Free. He'd never been one for fucking around; if he had a job to do, he intended to do it right. With this fresh interest in herbology, he saw no reason not to expand his knowledge base beyond intoxicants into the realm of the useful or poisonous. As always with knowledge, there was power. [/html]
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The two men were very much alike, and Gabriel was glad to have his cousin back at his side. Anselm had been the singular pillar of stability in Inferni’s early months, and having him now doubling his work by befriending and exploiting regular herbs was something Gabriel appreciated. This did not need to be voiced beyond the wicked smile on his face, something which few people had seen much of. Around average folks, Gabriel had never allowed himself to relax.
“Corona had set up some sort of garden near the mansion,” Gabriel suddenly recalled. “Maybe in the spring you can make use of that. I don’t know much about plants, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some healing tools at our disposal.” Because it had been far too quiet. There was something under the surface stirring, and Gabriel could sense this, but he had no way to touch and soothe that unease.
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Work and play were separate. Anselm had shied away from even using the drugs on Inferni soil until the night Razekiel had been accepted. Then he understood that Kaena was tolerant, and following the night of Samhain he saw no reason to think Gabriel would be any different. He didn't suspect anyone would take kindly to him growing into a useless bump on a log, but so long as he kept up with his rounds and training, he figured nobody would give two shits if he settled down at night by taking a couple tokes.
He would never deal from their borders; they might draw too much unwanted attention or inadvertently beckon the crazies into their fortress. Although it was more troublesome to keep the garage secure (especially with the stench permeating damn near the entire neighbourhood), he would figure something else out. Unless Gabriel gave him specific instruction to set up base here, he wouldn't even think of it as an option. Still, the idea of growing the more useful plants on their home turf was appealing. They'd be more accessible, more guarded.
By why wait? he questioned slyly, opening one of the books and paging through it quickly. When he reached the page of interest, he turned it so that the Aquila could see. Pictured was a small greenhouse, constructed from plastic sheets and PVC pipes. I can find the materials we'd need to build this in the city. We might need to keep a small stove for warmth in the coldest months, but there's one in the mansion. I'd need someone to help with the clumsier parts and the stove, but I think I could have something adequate put together within a month. As for some seeds to get started, he knew where to find those in the city, too. Abandoned gardening stores, hardware stores--they would be their gold mines.
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[html] 300. I think we need to have a followup! 
In his youth, Gabriel had learned of many of these things from former Inferni members and the Russian wolf whom had known his grandfather. Even last year, he had still smoked tobacco occasionally, stopping only when his lungs had begun to show signs of weakness. Since then, he had not picked up the habit. His drug of choice was whiskey’s fire-water, finding the heat and comfortable sleep that came with it less damaging on his body. It was the only thing that quieted nightmares when they came, and the only thing that had silenced his desperate worry after both of his children had vanished.
A book was opened, and Gabriel craned his neck in order to eye the picture. It was a structure that resembled a small house, but the plants inside suggested it was something further—which, after letting his eyes trail over a few small notes and title, made its purpose clear. Anselm continued speaking, explaining his intention, and Gabriel felt a small rush of excitement. If they had plants at their disposal, specifically those whose singular purpose was medicine, they would be prepared for anything. Salt-water had served as a healing tool for only so many things, and Gabriel knew that it would be best to have further aid at their disposal.
“I like it,” he said approvingly, tail wagging once behind him. “If you can get what we need I’ll help you set it up.” That was a promise, one that he wanted to keep. Anselm was always full of wonderful ideas, and this was one that Gabriel was intending to use both for the clan and his own knowledge—if Anselm knew more about plants, Gabriel wanted to learn from him. It did them no good if they were a bunch of thickheaded ignorant warriors.
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@&#&$For a creature that thrived on routine, he could still become bored of them rather quickly. Some things were unavoidable--there were only so many exercises one could do, only so many decent sparring partners one could find. Anselm had acquired a wealth of knowledge of the years, but more often than not he'd study up until his comprehension was "adequate" and move on to something else. That was why he could identify basic processes involved in the weather and navigation, but he didn't know the name of every damn cloud under the sun or all of the constellations. This project was a multifaceted one more likely to hold his attention for longer. He'd need the right tools for construction; he'd need to use them properly if the greenhouse was to sustain the rough Canadian blizzards or windy summer storms. Following structural assembly, he could dive into working with the plants themselves. He would be learning much along the way and he was honestly flattered that Gabriel took as much of an interest in the project as he did, evinced by a few quick wags of his tail.
@&#&$And so with a nod it was settled. "Sure. I'll make a dedicated trip down to Halifax for these supplies when I have time," he said. They would be awkward to carry all at once and quite possibly tiresome in their bulk. It would be a trip made easier with decent snow cover, oddly enough, though having to travel through the forest might make transport by sleigh impossible. Nonetheless, he wouldn't want to do it at the same time he had anything else to do--at the moment there was no pressing urgency anyway. He'd probably gather them up within his next three trips to the city. If he had assistance, he didn't think construction would take longer than a fortnight, allowing some time for hiccups whereby he'd have to travel back to Halifax to pick up some odds and ends he'd overlooked the first time. Right now, he knew he'd need a lot of the plastic sheeting, pipes, and timbre. He'd need screws, nails, hammers, screwdrivers, and the old hand drill he'd found in one of the nearby farmhouses. It was mostly the stove's exhaust he was unsure about.
@&#&$Nonetheless, it would all come together in due time. Anselm began to pack his things back into the bag, placing them in neatly such that they all fit. With the seeds he was extra gentle. "Anyway, man, keep in touch!" he offered, not having anything further to comment or discuss. They would always find each other when they needed to. With a dip of his head and nothing more he was off.
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