LILICHKA?! I LOVE IT SO HARD. ;____; Also, Gen, did you want to say Rurik and Liliy have been trying to teach poor Toliy some English? :o Rurik's proficient and Liliy's just okay at it. And omg Rurik is such a dweeb. ♥
“самодовольный?!” the tawny-furred woman yelped, swiveling her head toward Anatoliy, a dangerous gleam of playfulness and aznd competition in her eye. Liliy might have been Rurik's only living daughter, but damned if she did not act and run with the best of the boys. She would have put up quite the fight against any of her uncles in terms of rowdiness and her ability to compete—though one never would have looked at her twice when she'd first arrived on these lands. She had been spoiled; Liliya's mother and father provided her with virtually anything she could ever have wanted. Now, though, Rurik saw it was not the time for play, and he placed one frying-pan sized hand on the girl's shoulder, squeezing gently. “Не сейчас, ребята,” he said, grinning to both his children. They could try to beat each other up later—for now, there was real business to attend to!
The last time Rurik had tried to join a pack, it had been Aremys. He had returned in time to see it shoved back toward the woods—and perhaps it was the utter lack of an oceanic view that had driven him so quickly from their midst again—so he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with these processes. After all, they were partially instinctual—joining a pack was part of wolfkind's life, and Rurik was, after all, a wolf. Before long, the sounds of an approach caught Rurik's attention, and he turned to his kids quickly. “Вот они. Выпрямиться,” the werewolf warned, trying to make sure his kids were on their best behavior—they were old enough to know better, but Rurik wasn't exactly what one would call a strict parent. Before long, the canine who was to greet them came forward. Rurik was not sure what exactly it was that this canine was—he appeared rather wolfish, but there was a particular quality about him which simply suggested he was not. Rurik was not so bold as to inquire; instead he returned the stranger's smile and tipped his head forward at the greeting, nudging Liliy, who stood next to him, to do the same, and hoping Anatoliy might catch on.
“Hello, Constable Haskel!” the werewolf said, attempting perfect politeness by using the man's title and surname, as well as extending one paw forth to shake, as was common greeting in his more familiar parts of the world. He used to do so often, with nearly everyone he met, but he now preferred to keep such formal greetings to formal situations. “I am Rurik Russo, and this is my daughter Liliya and my son Anatoliy, all of Sobirat'sya, Russia,” he said, indicating each of them with a sweep of his large hand. “If your pack is interested in having us, we'd like to join your ranks,” Rurik added, falling silent with a smile still on his face, hoping to make a good impression. He had more to say, of course, but he refrained from flooding the Constable's ears with speech.
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