When you watch the stars, what do you see?

Kostya Arsov · 10-22-2011, 05:24 PM

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Out of Character

Kostya isn't being cocky with the "little lass" comment. Alright well he is but with reason, he does have a good two foot of height on Samantha >_>.

In Character

Kostya nodded happily, fully relaxing for the first time since he had sensed Samanthas's presence. A friendly face, reason to have a rest and a bowl of hot soup; his day was certainly looking up. "Don't mind if I do, been walking for a fair distance today and ain't had much time to hunt yet." That said he sat down nearby the fire, back against a boulder and using a smaller rock to prop his feet in the air, giving the sore pads a rest.

He inclined his head as he listened to Samantha talking, chiming in at the appropriate times. "I know what ya' mean. Ya' wouldn' know it from my accent but I'm actually from Russia. Ma and Pa left the country when I was young, spent most of my life travelling across Europe and up America ta' get here." Kostya's accent was generally neutral aside from his laid back style of speech, having developed his talking skills while in a variety of countries. "S'where my name comes from actually; Kostya, short for Konstantin, though I usually prefer plain ol' Kostya from most folks."

Her last statement and question seemed a bit odd to Kostya. So far he had only had experience with the Salsola and Inferni packs, and this woman didn't seem particularly bloodthirsty or secretive Presumably some of the others packs down south had less... severe behavior.

"Not really had much contact with any packs. I live up north around Drifter Bay. Closest packs ta' me 're Salsola an' Inferni, neither of which have much love fer strangers like me." Joining a pack wasn't really something that Kostya had particularly thought about so far, though it was something that had passed into his mind on occasion. "I suppose I might look into gettin' myself into Salsola's good books sometime in the future, I 'ave some…. Business up north I gotta take care of an its lookin' less an less likely tha' I'm gonna be able ta' do it myself." Kostya rubbed the scars on his muzzle uncomfortably, thinking about the bear that had killed his mother and put the scars there. He sat looking down for a moment before shaking his head, as though to clear the sadness from it, and changing the subject.

"Anyway enough a that. What brings a little lass like yer'self to these parts?"

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