Hide and Seek, alcohol style - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: Hide and Seek, alcohol style (/showthread.php?tid=8528) Pages:
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- Strelein von Rosnete - 11-15-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... star-2.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ I apologize if I have butchered the location. The temperature had been steadily dropping, and the truth was that it had been a minor reason for returning to Cour des Miracles. Somehow, surviving through a winter alone did not seem remotely like an attractive thing. Being chilled to the bone in some shaky old hut in the middle of the wood was not exactly an ideal New Years. It seemed more like an appropriate tomb, frostbite and all. However, this reason paled in Strel's need for socializing. This youth was certainly not a wall flower. Social butterfly, was it not? The chances of ever meeting new souls was more appealing than being assured a meal, however meager, for every day of his life. Besides, how was he supposed to enjoy life to its fullest while huddling near a small fire against some cold wall? Though he was supposed to be enjoying his time getting back into the groove of things at Cour, Strel had left the territory again, albeit significantly briefly this time. At least he hoped this would be the case. The mission for his outing was simple; he needed to find an appropriate gift for Jacquez. The redhead had deemed it appropriate to get the King an apologetic present to show the gratefulness of being allowed to return. Naturally, Strel decided alcohol had to be the only proper thing to give the monarch. What else was he honestly going to give that man? A box of chocolates and flowers? Certainly one day to someone, but not to him. What an absurd idea. It had to be booze. Blinking away some afternoon light, Strelein figured it was high time to actually search well. For the past two hours he had only wandered around, simply taking in the sites of it all. He had been careful to follow the water lest he get lost in the maze of the city. Now, surrounding on one side by an inlet and block buildings on the other, it was probably the best time to 'hop to it'. It seemed Strelein was struggling to let himself into these complexes for he simple eyed the buildings. He told himself he would go in if something caught his attention or if he could see any alcohol lying around. Wandering further, past some docks, the redhead glimpsed some bigger letters adorning the side of a seemingly average place. Striding down the deserted street, he paused at the edge of the cement parking lot, staring at the sign. It seemed different and maybe they would have booze lying around. Times like this made Strel wish he could understand the written human language better. All he could do was read sheet music. A book with the notes on a piano labeled taught him how to read that, and there had been no need for words when the pictures explained it all. At first he had been agog over it, but after he found that learning sheet music did not mean the world of the humans would open up to him. True, he had been significantly disappointed. In the end he realized his happiness did not depend on the left over scribbles of an almost extinct race. - Rurik Russo - 11-15-2009 [html]
- Strelein von Rosnete - 11-15-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... star-2.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 300+ Strelein had been so caught up in his own little world that he had never bothered to watch out for others. Truthfully, he never did in Halifax. He felt it was a territory neutral enough to warrant freedom. Well, to a certain degree of course. So the voice, closer than he thought possible, sent a shock through him. Strel's hair on the nape of his neck felt like it was standing up as his body stiffened. He wasn't about to be attacked, but he had been living without such surprises for long enough to become accustomed to the lack of them. Mentally, he reprimanded himself for not remembering a cardinal rule of his youth; always be alert. Not only had he not been alert, but he had clearly been very sloppy. He hadn't even smelled this stranger! Cursing slightly, he searched for the source of the greeting. He found a wolf in optime form that looked as though he could easily blend in the city. His coloration certainly fit the grayness that the city, in some parts, was full of. Why humans did things in tones instead of colors, he never understood. At least they sometimes got it right and made colorful lodgings and places of business. Maybe morale would have been better if they had painted more places bright colors? Or perhaps it was a tad too late to question their judgment, especially from his very vibrantly biased point of view. "H-hey," he stuttered slightly, still a bit bothered. Recovering, he let his look of surprise fall. He even waved back quickly. This time, Strel wouldn't be so distracted. "Way to scare a guy." Sheepishly he grinned back at the caller. A few steps later and the redhead was several feet away from the stranger. "Mind company?" he questioned, asking for permission. For all he knew, he could be stepping in dangerous territory. Strel's over imaginative mind told him there was a possibility that some pack now controlled the city. Even though it made little sense, there was some genuine fear in his voice. Ugh, what's wrong with me? Me? Worried? Strel was almost disgusted with himself. This was not how he acted! Not at all! - Rurik Russo - 11-15-2009 [html] http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/erin_ruriktable.jpg); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Rurik was still not absolutely used to some of the canines here, and he had forgotten that their world was an entirely different place from the one from which he had emerged. It would have been common to see canines filtering down the streets of human cities in Europe; here the cities were as deserted as they had been the moment the last human had perished. Rurik could hardly look down his nose at the more feral creatures roaming the globe, though some canines back home certainly did. When he'd first come here, it had been his intent to spread the civilized culture to these creatures. Now, he wasn't quite so presumptuous—he saw the definite benefit in living in a manner closer to their ancestors, and there was something far more visceral and lively on this side of the ocean. To each his own, the Russian wolf figured. The oddly-colored stranger looked more than a bit frightened, and the silvery wolf's ears folded back against his head apologetically, his bright blue gaze widening just so. He hoped the other wolf wasn't particularly aggressive; being scared would certainly evoke that quality in him. His response was shaky at first, but he quickly seemed to grow more confident, and he wasn't angry that Rurik had scared him. That was good. "Mine apologies! Sure didn't mean it," he said, dipping his head in an apology. "Company is always welcome," the wolf said warmly, grinning broadly at the multicolored wolf. The red across his top didn't seem natural, but it was pretty nonetheless, a deep shade of burgundy-crimson that spread across his head and mane. It was rather intriguing, and coupled with the brightly-colored necklace adorning the wolf's neck, Rurik was certain this stranger would make for interesting company. - Strelein von Rosnete - 11-15-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... star-2.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 300+ Brows furrowed for a moment at the accent that the voice claimed. It was certainly not one that was familiar to the youth, but it was far from unpleasant. The way this male spoke was difficult to dislike simply because Strel had never really heard many varied accents. He doubted he had his own among other natives to the continent, though the way this one spoke, it was probable he were from wherever Jacquez took his own random phrases. However, the way the King had spoken them seemed far different from the accent that the gray creature had. They did not fit well enough, so that simply confused Strel slightly. What kind of an accent was that? "No pain, no gain, I guess," he shrugged, smoothing back the fur on his neck. It was not a motto that the redhead remotely supported. The words simply screamed masochist to him. Why suffer to gain? Surely, there were more pleasurable ways to attain things. "I'm Strelein von Rosnete, though Strel is enough if you like not wasting ten seconds of your life," he introduced himself, grinning wryly up at the other. If he were older, he would have jutted his hand up to shake, but in his youth, he thought it silly. If this silver male offered his hand, though, he would have no choice but to shake. He was not rude, he just had less formal ideas of greetings. The redhead attempted a charming smile, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. "Say, where did you pick up that rather sexy accent? I haven't heard it before, and I wonder if there would be any chance for me to find myself a catch with such a tone of voice." Shifting his gaze briefly to the entrance to the hotel, Strel let his mind wander back to the thought of searching for booze. He wondered if this guy knew where the alcohol was hidden. Or maybe even help? - Rurik Russo - 11-15-2009 [html]
- Strelein von Rosnete - 11-15-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... star-2.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 300+ I gotta say, that was one hell of a quote right there 'Practically waving the rainbow flag'. <3 Chuckling slightly back at Rurik, he gave a slight nod as though he were bowing with only his head. "Well better that than Ik, right? Given the chance, I would have called you that from now on." Strel's rather bad joke fell flat from his tongue, and he almost cringed at it himself. That was not up to his old standards, and it needed a remedy, fast. Clearing his throat after his internal shaming, the redhead focused on the way the older wolf spoke. That accent was simply divine and so exotic compared to the common lilt of the beasts he'd always known. Where had this guy been hiding? The name of the country did not ring any bells, but it sounded different enough to be across the big blue puddle of salty water. All the strangeness was from there, like his own surname. It had been from an older family and Strel always assumed his mother had either claimed it as her own or the redhead was truly descended from European wolves. Strel was strange, no doubt about that, but this bit of historical difference would have made him even more of an outcast in his old home. It seemed significantly less special here. "I have never heard of such a place, I'm sorry." Then, laughing at Rurik's assumption, Strel rubbed at the bridge of his nose lightly. The very thought of taking a woman to be his mate was something on the verge of hysterical. "Don't fret, I won't be taking daughters any time soon. Just gotta warn mothers to hide their sons," he smirked, eyebrow rising once more. Strelein felt his confidence return in leaps and bounds. It helped that this man seemed to have no issue with his vibrancy. A second quick glance at the hotel heralded Strel's increased desire to find the gift and be done with it. Sending a pleading look the silver male's way, he questioned, "Say, you wouldn't know where a guy can find some alcohol? I want to make my King a gift." There was no need to lie. This guy seemed fairly trustworthy no matter how Strel looked at it. After all, that country of origin seemed too absurd to be made up and accents like that don't appear overnight. - Rurik Russo - 11-25-2009 [html]
- Strelein von Rosnete - 11-25-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... star-2.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 300+ It's understandable. Don't worry There was just something about that accent that Strel liked to listen to. It was probably just the fascination with the exotic that led him to actually listen to what it was the other male was saying to him rather than half listen and figure out the rest. However, he had not a single desire to find out where the male's hometown, birthplace, what have you, was. It was irrelevant. What was relevant was the now and the here. No preoccupation with the past would do anyone any good at all. They would be stuck in that which had happened already and they would fail to see the future slam into them like an enraged mother bear. Strel had almost been surprised at the reaction the other gave over his declaration, or rather, lack there of. Sometimes other wolves were simply perplexed by his preferences; sometimes they did not care; and other times, they were simply disgusted and bothered by it. They claimed it unnatural. Well his retort had always been "if you're walking on two legs, then you are an unnatural wolf. I walk on two legs, so I am unnatural. Simple as that". It usually shut them up pretty damn fast. However, here, it seemed to get fewer and fewer strange looks and questioning glances in his vivid direction. It was very nice to know that those who knew did not really care, and if they did, they did not bother to tell him to 'convert' him. At the mention of the booze, Strel's eyes lit up. He knew it! He knew it was a good idea to have asked! Now he could give his King a proper gift of some foreign brewed alcohol to add to his pile. He practically danced on the spot. "Oh! Well that's great! I don't have to go looking much further for some then," he stated, nodding his head with a smile. Though the look faltered a bit when the other had asked for a trade. Trade? Strel had not brought anything to trade for it, having thought he would simply find the booze. Looking down, thinking, Strel bit his lip slightly. What could I possibly give of equal value? A sigh escaped him and he uttered a few words he hoped would not be turned harshly against him, "I have nothing on me. What would you like for a bottle of each? " - Rurik Russo - 12-01-2009 [html]
- Strelein von Rosnete - 12-01-2009 [html]
[/html] - Rurik Russo - 12-02-2009 [html] http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/erin_ruriktable.jpg); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> I was going @_@ near the end thanks to sleep deprivation. XD The werewolf's assumption was natural, as his icy eyes were drawn to the colorful things strung around the other canine's neck, but he was gently corrected, and apologetically he looked to the other canine, nodding his head. "You patch up stuff?" he asked, curiosity showing on his sharp-featured face. His own cutoff denim shorts had been patched countless times, and these patches showed in random places on them, splotches of pattern or color disgusing larger holes. The silver werewolf lifted them off his hips slightly with two pinched fingers and grinned. "These been mine a long, long time, they needs it sometimes," he explained. The silver-furred werewolf nodded, finding this suitable. No sense in having the bottle fall and smash open somewhere before it reached its destination and was enjoyed. "Right on. Glass ain't too durable," the wolf said with a grin. The city surrounding them was evidence enough of that; most of the windows of the buildings were smashed to pieces, the bits of shattered glass long swept away by the wind. The tone of the conversation once more went serious, though the Russian wolf listened with clear interest, his coal-dusted ears perking forward to catch the other man's words. He was not absolutely certain his own affinity for his own sex extended back quite so far. When he was a kid he could remember liking girls, but not boys—yet he did not know if that was because he was afraid of admitting it or he simply ignored the impulses. These things had only flourished when he'd left home and traveled. "Sorry, I am just a curious old man," the wolf said, laughing casually. "It is no big thing. I am not stupid, I know... some people gotta be nasty to you just 'cause what you like, but... ain't no issue of mine what gets your jollies," the ash-colored wolf said gently. He hadn't meant to put the other man on the spot like that, but it was something that had been bothering him for some time, and he hadn't met anyone quite so open as Strel was. The other man asked a question which Rurik was happy to answer, and he grinned, nodding emphatically as he began to speak of his family. "Aye, I have Silas and Anatoliy, mine young sons, and Liliya, my daughter. Their mother's Verusha. She lives with Anatoliy back near home. There are mine three older sons, Zaets, Zorish, and Vladimir... they lived around here at some point. Maybe you heard of 'em?" the werewolf asked, ever hopeful in the search for his children. - Strelein von Rosnete - 12-03-2009 [html]
[/html] - Rurik Russo - 12-12-2009 [html] http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_bottledrage.jpg); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 245px 0px 0px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#000000; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;"> That surprised Rurik quite a bit to learn that the man could make clothing. As far as Rurik knew, clothing was a total mystery—he had his own shorts and that was it. They had served him well for many years, as they were made of a durable type of material and they were unlikely to deteriorate, even as he wore them thin. He considered for a minute, wondering if perhaps it might do to have a backup pair. He smiled at the wolf's offer, and nodded his head. "Thanks much. Where might I go to seek you out?" he wondered. Rurik didn't have too much knowledge of any of the packs around here. He found AniWaya and Crimson Dreams, and he knew the city was surrounded on both sides by different groups, but he'd met no one of the other group, and only Jantus had spoken of Phoenix Valley, although oddly, as if he was not a full-fledged member there himself. The ash-furred werewolf settled back onto a chair and offered one to Strel, figuring to crack open one of his own bottles and kick it in for the night. He did just that, turning his coal ears to the other werewolf while he cracked open his flask. It was filled with clear liquid, some of the very same Chekov-brewed vodka that he'd given the man in the bottle. He held it in his hand for a moment, speaking with the other man before he drank any. "Seven years old is kinda old," he admitted with a shrug. "Gotta be light about getting older, though," he said casually. The man's next question gave him definite pause, and Rurik looked over at him sheepishly, and finally: "I don't mind either way, actually." That was as close as he could get, and even that made him laugh aloud, a giddy sort of feeling flooding through him. "That'll be the first time I've even said somethin' like that aloud," he added, kicking the ground with a still-sheepish grin. The wolf nodded his head, a frown crossing his face. He worried about his children, and he still wanted to find them, though it would seem the search would end soon. They were not here, he was realizing with a dimming hope. He would have smelled them or seen them or heard of them. "Thanks anyways, my friend," the Russian wolf said with a shake of his head. The conversation shifted once more and the werewolf grinned broadly, tossing back a little of the strong liquor in the flask, passing it over to the other wolf immediately after. "Have a sample now?" he offered. "Tastes like it was brewed at home," he said nostalgically, finding no other way to describe the liquor. <style type="text/css"> .rurik-bottledrage b{font-weight:bold; color:#BC2B26; letter-spacing:1px; font-family:trebuchet ms, sans-serif; font-size:13px;} .rurik-bottledrage p{text-indent:35px; padding:0px 15px 15px 15px; margin:0px;} </style> [/html] - Strelein von Rosnete - 12-16-2009 [html]
[/html] - Rurik Russo - 12-28-2009 [html] Shush, you are a dear for dealing with my slow butt. ;____; <3 Rurik would have enjoyed the laid-back attitude of Cour des Miracles. His own home in Sobirat'sya did not think too much of rank, though his grandmother Zinoviya was unquestionably their leader, and she received a great deal of respect, her position was not exactly an alphaship or a monarchy over the rest of the Russo family, for although she held the position of the most respect as the eldest woman of the family, she did not make the decisions regarding their finances, nor did she decide anything based on other clans or families aggressions, if they ever came. Rurik was born into a time of peace, but his grandparents certainly remembered the early years in Sobirat'sya, anarchy reigning supreme over the streets and permeating all folds of their society. There were surreptitious sources of danger, too—Rurik had recalled a story his grandfather told him once, that one of his very cousins had fought on an opposing side of the strife that had crippled the area long before Rurik's parents were even born. "Cour des Miracles," the Russian repeated, nodding his silvery head and memorizing the words. He'd be sure to check that place out; if the rest of them were as nice as Strel he would have to. "Sounds maybe French to me," the werewolf said with a grin, though he didn't know for certain. It was pronounced strangely, perhaps because it had been filtered through the more Cajun-type dialects of the southern part of the country, and then through Strelein's voice. Strel didn't seem particularly interested in what it meant, and though Rurik was intrigued, he didn't comment further on the pack's name, instead nodding at the other wolf's notice to call at the borders. He'd almost forgotten; the wolves of these lands were generally protective of a whole area as their territory, rather than an individual dwelling as in his homeland. In Sobirat'sya, the Russo family owned a "square" of the city, and they were rather like humans in that the individual homes in the square were off-limits to outsiders without invitation, but the open territory between the houses was open to outsiders passing through for a visit. "Aye, I'd hope I still got a few good years left in me," the werewolf said with a broad grin. The other canine commented again, but Rurik did not respond, instead letting his smile sit there a little longer instead, expressing agreement and approval of the statement without continuing the conversation. Relieving as it was to admit to another living being that he was attracted to men, it was still an uncomfortable subject for the Russian wolf, and he was glad when the conversation moved onto another subject, the alcohol. Rurik grinned as the other took a sip, immediately launching into a fit of coughing. "Apologies, I shoulda warned you first," the wolf said with a sheepish smile, shaking his head. It was easy for him to forget that others were not so used to drinking liquor. "Sip little bits, slow," the wolf advised. To the question, the werewolf smiled once again, shrugging his shoulders. "I grew up sippin' on this, I guess," he mused, figuring a lifetime of becoming acclimated to liquor had helped him immensely. .rurik-angel {width:400px; background-color:#E1E3D8; border:1px solid #000000; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_angel.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:10px; padding-bottom:286px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#000000; letter-spacing:.2px; word-spacing:1px; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;} .rurik-angel b {color:#2A5784;} .rurik-angel strong {color:#0A3966;} .rurik-angel p {text-indent:40px; padding:0px 12px 0px 12px; margin:1px 0px 10px 0px; } </style> [/html] - Strelein von Rosnete - 12-29-2009 [html]
[/html] - Rurik Russo - 01-02-2010 [html] http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_bottledrage.jpg); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 245px 0px 0px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#000000; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;"> 337. The silver-furred werewolf was quite used to introducing others to the drink. He was particular fond of sharing his alcohol with others; it often made for a great story. He should've known by now that the first time drinking it rarely ever turned out well; he should've expected the sputtering coughs by now, but Rurik was slow to catch on, and it wasn't as if Strel had come right out and said he was a virgin where alcohol was concerned. Still, he didn't exactly have a canteen handy to hand Strel as he coughed, so the Russian wolf could only look on in sympathy, smiling apologetically at the multi-hued canine. "Oy, you figure someone hands ya something, usually it don't need a warning label," the werewolf said, laughing. His English pronunciation had improved remarkably the very first time he'd lived on this coast and immersed himself in speakers of the language. Hearing Silas speak now reminded him of himself; it was not so many years ago that Rurik himself had such a voice, laced with rumbles and inconsistencies. No matter how good he got at actually speaking English, though, Rurik doubted he'd ever lose his accent. He didn't want to—there was a certain amount of homeland pride within the Russian wolf, and he felt quite strongly about Sobirat'sya and his family back home. The other canine took another sip, slower and smaller this time, and he did not react nearly as negatively. Indeed, the other canine seemed to enjoy this second sip, perhaps because the alcohol was taking root in his head. The silver-furred werewolf reached out to the other canine as he extended the flask and took it back, taking another sip before replacing the cap to it, setting it down on the ground, well within reach of the other canine. "It's good though, innit?" the silver-furred wolf responded with a grin. He was enjoying the other canine's company, and he was quite glad Strelein had decided to take a constitutional about the city today. <style type="text/css"> .rurik-bottledrage b{font-weight:bold; color:#BC2B26; letter-spacing:1px; font-family:trebuchet ms, sans-serif; font-size:13px;} .rurik-bottledrage p{text-indent:35px; padding:0px 15px 15px 15px; margin:0px;} </style> [/html] - Strelein von Rosnete - 01-03-2010 [html]
[/html] - Rurik Russo - 01-05-2010 [html] This one or the next one will put me at 30k. XD Don't cry, though! Use it as fuel! SIE WILL INSPIRE YOU TO DO EEET. <3 Word Count: 635 The silver-furred werewolf's grin broaded at the other's slight whine, and he rolled his shoulders in a shrug. He couldn't help his own amusement; it did not arise from cruelty and enjoyment of seeing another canine suffer, certainly not. He didn't ever mean to hurt anybody—that was the basic thing in being (mostly) a pacifist. The ash-furred canine wouldn't have ever described himself in such a way, for certainly he wouldn't have hesitated to protect and defend where necessary, but he was very much against violence. "Aye, aye—I'm sorry. You won't feel it in a minute, I promise," the pale-furred wolf said, a playful smile appearing on his lips. "Your king sounds like somebody I could get along with," the Russian wolf added, thinking perhaps he ought to consider this Cour des Miracles place as somewhere to settle down. From what Strelein told him, Rurik gathered it was not terribly far away. It would be good to still have close access to the city and the sea, both very important things to the grizzled werewolf. The liquor was beginning to take effect on both of him, and Rurik felt the world begin to slow, the slight fuzziness setting in around the edges of his vision. The Russian werewolf did not drink to excess anymore, and he did not drink to drown away his pain—now liquor was a far purer pleasure to him. The other wolf spoke again, and the werewolf's head swung over to look at him, mock indignation on his face. "Oy, I am not that old," he said, giving the red-haired wolf a big smile to show his anger was fake. "I could still keep up with you. Right now I could, anyway," he joked as the other wolf attempted to stand, promptly reclining back on his rear. "Comes with the territory, aye," he said in response to the wolf's comment about his balance. It did tend to go out the window with alcohol involved. The werewolf smiled at the other canine's question. "There are plenty of different drinks in the world, more than even I've seen. This would be called vodka. I have a darker, brown liquor that is called rum. There is also wine—that is specifically a type made from grapes," the Russian wolf said. He wasn't a particularly big fan of wine, but he did know where it came from. Canines in France were particularly fond of that stuff, as their land was pristine for growing grapes. "Other places around the world?" the silvery wolf asked, grinning broadly. "I been lots of places. London, Rome, Budapest... what would you like to know?" he asked. Rurik liked talking about the many different places he'd been, but without a clear starting point he could ramble on forever and bore the hell out of the other wolf, something he certainly didn't wish to do. The Miracles wolf asked another question, finding it to be too vague, elaborating a fair bit. Rurik had understood what he meant the first time, and it was almost cute the way the other wolf held his liquor—which was probably not very well. Still smiling, the werewolf indicated the docks down the street, the ocean beyond the buildings just barely visible there. The edge of the water could just be seen between a two-story building and a low-slung warehouse. "I walked from Sobirat'sya and ended up in Lisbon, and we set off from there on a boat. It was many weeks on the ocean, but I do love the sea," the werewolf confessed, sighing softly as he thought of the ocean. There was nothing quite like the steady rolling of the waves beneath his feet, the sea breeze in his fur, the smell of salt on the air. His maritime memories were invariably positive. .rurik-bones b{font-weight:bold; color:#B44100; letter-spacing:1px; font-family:trebuchet ms, sans-serif; font-size:13px;} .rurik-bones strong{font-weight:bold; color:#B88060; letter-spacing:1px; font-family:trebuchet ms, sans-serif; font-size:13px;} .rurik-bones p{text-indent:35px; padding:0px 15px 15px 15px; margin:0px;} .rurik-bones{width:400px; background-color:#DED2C2; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_bones.jpg); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 252px 0px 0px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#000000; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] |