03-28-2010, 03:34 AM
ooc: God it seems like every time I reply to a thread it's with an OMG I AM NOT DEAD I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER. So, yeah. That XD. As far as old-school vs. new-school Rurik, no need to feel awkward. One would expect that he be a completely different character after so long and so much that has happened to him :3.
ALSO I AM ANTI-TABLE NOW. I HAVE DECIDED THIS AND SO IT SHALL BE.
word count: 307
ic: He was rogue-ish, in a weathered way, this wolf. Cerridwyn hadn't ever seen anyone like him, she was sure -- which wasn't saying much, really, considering that she'd not seen anyone outside of her tribe before coming here, and while she'd met a few wolves after her arrival, it wasn't as though she saw throngs of them every day. But still, he was... different. A sort of chivalry, she was used to; chivalry for no reason at all she was not. The wolves back home had a reason to be polite, to offer assistance. They had been scared of her. Not wracked with terror, obviously, but there had been an undercurrent of fear in all their dealings with the priestess. There was no fear here.
"Rurik Russo," she repeated carefully, feeling around the unfamiliar syllables with her tongue. She smiled; she wasn't even going to attempt to say that last name; whether it was a family name or where he was from, it was completely unpronounceable either way. "'Sgood t'meet ye, 'swell," she said. "I came frae 'cross the sea, an isle called Bhaile." The collie mix shrugged her trim shoulders in apology. "Tha's wot we called it, anyhoo. Ne'er met ennyone else ootside me own tribe, so I dunnae wot others may 'ave called it." Her chocolate eyes studied him quizzically. "Ye've got a 'voice' o'yer own, y'know. Where may this Sob... Sobry... where'd ye pick yers up?"
Her gaze left the grey male -- a little reluctantly -- and settled on one of the human structures for a moment before returning to the easy sight of Rurik. "P'raps y'can show me where the fun lies in th'... city? It intimidates me jus' a bit." She looked down sheepishly before returning her gaze to his under long eyelashes as she admitted her ignorance of the area.
ALSO I AM ANTI-TABLE NOW. I HAVE DECIDED THIS AND SO IT SHALL BE.
word count: 307
ic: He was rogue-ish, in a weathered way, this wolf. Cerridwyn hadn't ever seen anyone like him, she was sure -- which wasn't saying much, really, considering that she'd not seen anyone outside of her tribe before coming here, and while she'd met a few wolves after her arrival, it wasn't as though she saw throngs of them every day. But still, he was... different. A sort of chivalry, she was used to; chivalry for no reason at all she was not. The wolves back home had a reason to be polite, to offer assistance. They had been scared of her. Not wracked with terror, obviously, but there had been an undercurrent of fear in all their dealings with the priestess. There was no fear here.
"Rurik Russo," she repeated carefully, feeling around the unfamiliar syllables with her tongue. She smiled; she wasn't even going to attempt to say that last name; whether it was a family name or where he was from, it was completely unpronounceable either way. "'Sgood t'meet ye, 'swell," she said. "I came frae 'cross the sea, an isle called Bhaile." The collie mix shrugged her trim shoulders in apology. "Tha's wot we called it, anyhoo. Ne'er met ennyone else ootside me own tribe, so I dunnae wot others may 'ave called it." Her chocolate eyes studied him quizzically. "Ye've got a 'voice' o'yer own, y'know. Where may this Sob... Sobry... where'd ye pick yers up?"
Her gaze left the grey male -- a little reluctantly -- and settled on one of the human structures for a moment before returning to the easy sight of Rurik. "P'raps y'can show me where the fun lies in th'... city? It intimidates me jus' a bit." She looked down sheepishly before returning her gaze to his under long eyelashes as she admitted her ignorance of the area.