[html] http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... s/truc.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top:187px; background-position:top center; background-color:#F8BB4D; text-align:justify; font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; color:#AB360D; line-height:15px;padding-bottom:10px;"> i know we didn't talk about this, but these two have never really had a thread together  if you don't want it, shoot me a PM and i'll change it ^^
@&#&$As night turned to dawn, the white blanket of snow dumped the previous night began to glow warm orange. So dramatic was the effect that it nearly masked the bronze coloured hybrid that ploughed along through it. Unlike his unfortunate companion Alacrity, the cold weather was not enough to send him diving under cover or keep him huddled around the fire, otherwise too miserable from the stinging numbness. Anselm truthfully loved snow, as was all too evident by the way he moved through it: he went in leaps and bounds, burying his snout in it as he dove in, then rising and shaking so that it settled upon his back. By the time he'd cleared the breadth of their territory, he was as much white as gold.
@&#&$The lupus moved with no particular direction, his convoluted path through the snow indicative that he was having his own private party. Although he was usually militant and structured in his processions, sometimes it was necessarily to cut loose and live a little. He could always do his rounds later--for now he just wanted to run and release some pent up energy that felt too random to channel. These moods were rare for him, but when they struck he refused to resist; Anselm was always a sucker for temptation. As time wore on and the sun cleared the horizon, however, he supposed it might be time to get on to real work. His romp had brought him to the fringes of Inferni's forest and he decided he could go to the Mansion to do his exercises.
@&#&$He wove his way through the icy forest, which seemed largely devoid of sound other than those generated by him crashing along. The snow cover seemed thinner here, but on top of the fallen leaves it made for some slippery situations. More than once he skidded to a halt just in time to narrowly miss a head-on collision a tree trunk, and once while leaping over a fallen bough, he managed to do a complete 360 upon landing. By the time he reached the mansion's gate, he could hardly contain himself. He went full throttle through the opening, literally laughing aloud as he slammed on the brakes and went skidding a full two yards... three yards... four... what the hell?!
@&#&$The patch of ice was unexpected to say the least, and here his toes flared out wildly as his dark nails grasped ineffectively at the ice. He hit the edge of the pond and the sudden increase in friction caused his body to lurch forward, causing him to land face first in a pile of drifted snow with a soft oof! He rose quickly to his feet and cast a quick glance around before casually striding along the frozen pond's perimeter. "Screw you, pond, I dare you to try that twice!" he exclaimed before dashing at it again. He wasn't really sure what anyone who saw him might think--so far as he knew he was alone, but he hadn't exactly been paying much attention, either.
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[html] Anselm frolicking is truthfully one of the cutest things ever. WC: 400
Despite himself, Mason was warming up to the cold weather, so to speak. He did not particularly care for it at first. He remembered when autumn had faded into winter, and there had been only a thin layer of white on the ground. Frost, he had found out it was called. His first brush with it had not been the most pleasant experience. The sensitive pads of his paws had not adapted well to the cold. However, now that the ground was covered in white snow, he was better able to deal with it. The boy was usually so dignified, or at least he tried to be, and so he did not often explore snow like other pups.
The first time he had stuck his snout in it, his nose had gone numb. He had tried to get a hint of its scent, but it just smelled like water. Mason had also found out that the coldness did not end there. He had taken to fishing in nearby streams and ponds. But the winter had hardened the surfaces of the bodies of water. And so the boy had not been able fish. He had gotten brave and had broken through a thinner patch of ice, but he had found the water beneath unpleasantly cold.
Only the sea seemed to be untouched by the strange hardening cold effect. But it was raging now and he did not want to be near it at the moment. It was just too much of a fight. But Mason knew that there were some small streams behind the mansion. That had been a place that he had been mostly avoiding as well, due to the strange events that had happened on Halloween. However, he did not see the harm in going back there. Perhaps the winter had left those bodies of water untouched, but only time would tell.
Mason made his way toward the streams as gracefully as possible. At this point in time, the Tirones Minor was growing and so his form was taller and his limbs were lankier. He made his way forward awkwardly, picking his way through snow drifts and snuffling the white stuff out of his face. Eventually he made his way to the streams, just in time to see one of his clan mates whiz by quickly. "What...are you doing?" Mason asked with some concern, yellow eyes narrowed slightly.
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[html] http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... s/truc.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top:187px; background-position:top center; background-color:#F8BB4D; text-align:justify; font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; color:#AB360D; line-height:15px;padding-bottom:10px;"> Shhh, don't tell anyone, he's secretly just a big kid. XD
@&#&$He caught a smudge of gold-brown in his peripheral, just in time to hear it inquire, somewhat incredulously, as to the purpose behind this task. Anselm swung his rear end around, and the transfer of linear to angular momentum caused his body to swing about in a large arc until come to a halt on the ice. Ah; Mason! As for what he was doing he felt it should be obvious, but he forgot not all were so strongly in touch with their baser instincts. To play was built into their blood--it was good for morale, bonding, exercise, and in most cases training. When puppies pounced on each other or played tug of war with a pelt, they were honing their future hunting skills all the while. These forms of play had obvious applications in adult life, but if he was creative enough, he'd think up something for this, too. "So whatcya gonna do," he wondered, "when the big bad wolf backs you right on up to a frozen lake or river?"
@&#&$Judging by the Halloween party, Mason was one of those more serious youths--he'd present his case in the context of survival skills and just hope that the poor kid could learn to be a pup along the way. So far as he knew, all work and no play turned a coyote into Hybrid or Samael; clearly that wasn't good for anybody. "Are you going to let him corner you? Are you gonna run out here, flail around, and become a sittin' duck?" As if to drive the point home, he began to trot forward as if on land, scrambled a bit, and barely managed to keep himself from sprawling out on the ice. "You gonna walk so slow that he can catch up to you anyway? Or, you gonna skate away and laugh your ass off when he falls on his?" he asked somewhat mystically, before smoothly shifting his weight from one paw to the next, never actually lifting any of them but still managing to make his way back over to the snowy bank.
@&#&$He shrugged a little bit, hardly expecting a response to any of these highly rhetorical questions. He backed up several paces through the snow, shot Mason an impish wink, and took off again, rocketing quickly across the glassy surface. As he reached the other side he lifted his front legs up first, using these paws to hoist himself up onto the opposite side's shore. He continued to dash a little further on before whirling about in the snow and falling to his front limbs in a characteristic play bow: butt high in the air, tail waving, ears pressed forward on a dare. Catch me if you can! Try as he might, he couldn't deny the pure fun of this nonsense any longer. With that he pivoted and began to run along the bank to the right. If Mason just tried to walk around to catch him, he'd either keep changing direction to keep an equal distance between them or he'd wait then fly across the ice himself.
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Table by Jenny.
Sorry for the wait! I am back for keeps. WC 383. Yaaay Mason the grump.
It became very clear to the hybrid boy that Anselm had lost his mind. There was no other explanation that Mason could come up with; he had never seen an adult act in this manner before. He understood that Anselm was playing, scrambling about on the ice and plowing through the snow, but the Tirones Minor could not find a reason that would make him do such a thing. He wondered why as he studied the male critically, his yellow-gold eyes speculative as they followed his figure across the ice. Mason was not daft; he knew that Anselm was playing, for whatever reason. But what in the world could have possessed him to do such a thing? Weren’t there other things to be done at this point?
As Anselm began to speak then, presenting the Tirones Minor with imaginary scenarios, understanding dawned in Mason’s expression. Clearly, the stress of his responsibilities as an adult and protector of the Clan had contributed to his departure from sanity. Mason raked his pearly teeth across his thin black lip. Hopefully Anselm’s condition would clear up shortly. He watched with indecision clear on his features as the male skittered away. Mason toyed with the idea of going to get help, but watching the tan colored male, he decided that he could watch him for a while. In his current state, he probably needed looking after.
Mason recognized the kind of behavior that Anselm was displaying. He was not that far removed from this part of life. It was obvious to him that Anselm was playing. However, he could not see how this behavior fulfilled a constructive purpose. It was something that Mason had struggled with. Even a month ago, he had been filled with a restless energy that had caused him to run about in nonsensical circles and foolish looping paths.
That had been the first day that he had met Samael. He remembered the look of consternation on the males face and balked. It was obvious to him that that sort of behavior was not only useless, but foolish. Sighing heavily, the Tirones Minor stepped on to the ice with some hesitance, his dew claws scrambling on the slippery surface before he unsteadily shot after the other male. ”Anselm, slow down. You’re gonna hurt yourself!”
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@&#&$That anyone might value Samael's opinion frankly horrified him. The wolfish hybrid had less respect for that man than he had for a rock. Both could be effective weapons when used properly, but at least the rock wouldn't fuck up his day by raping the then subleader's prisoner of war. That single deed placed him roughly on par with Haku; he just didn't get half as worked up over it. It all came down to the level of relative risk. Samael was putty in Kaena's paws and he would generally cave under pressure from Gabriel, too. Just because Samael was not a threat to him or the clan as much as the Dahlian leader, it did not make him any more worthy of emulation. (Granted, if he'd known of the atrocious crime Samael committed against his own niece, he'd probably go berserk and demand his expulsion--or at least castration.)
@&#&$If he stopped to consider it long enough, he might see why someone like Samael (or god forbid Hybrid) seemed respectable to a younger member of the clan. They were both militant and fearsome soldiers who came off as unwaveringly confident in their madness. That was all fine and dandy (maybe), but Anselm's preference in warriors ran more along the lines of canines like Snake (or even Cwmfen, wherever she was). Snake was equally confident, capable, and obedient (so far as he could tell from their limited interaction), but he went about it in a calm, judicious manner. He couldn't see the olive-eyed Hasati mistakenly (much less intentionally) attacking someone who didn't deserve it, thereby jeopardising the clan's political standing with neighbouring packs.
@&#&$Needless to say, there was a lot more to life than just fighting. While Samael or Hybrid might excel in that one area, he considered them failures everywhere else. (So far as he knew, Hybrid didn't even have sex down right.) As Mason voiced his concerns, Anselm couldn't help but roll his eyes and offer a chiding: "Mason, speed up! You're gonna turn into a grumpy old man!" The tan youth stepped uncertainly onto the ice and Anselm grinned like a madman. He paused briefly where he was, giving the younger boy time to close in before taking off once more. Anselm was certainly a bit nuts in his own right, but there was a legitimate purpose somewhere in this game, regardless of whether the golden-eyed boy could see it or not.
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