not the man i thought i'd be.
#11
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:3 Word Count: 327


The furthest thing on Rurik's mind was attempting to hurt this coyote. She was a member of Gabriel's clan, and anyway, Rurik didn't generally stoop to violence. He would not hesitate to protect his family, of course, but when it came down to nastiness... well, he wasn't a fan. He had been known to lose control of himself in the past, of course, but that was when he was quite thoroughly drunk, and someone had provoked him. He was not drunk now, and there was nothing in the tawny female's body language or face that told him she would try to prod at his sore spots. She was more frightened than he was, anyway, but Rurik was determined to make a good impression. He was not normally one wont to machination, and this was no different. He sank down a bit lower, moving slowly still to keep from startling her, and finally settled down with his back against the tree, thinking perhaps lowering himself to her level might help her relax.


“Good to meet you,” he said warmly. He recognized the name, of course—he'd heard of that surname many times, but he wasn't entirely familiar with their structure, naturally. He was no more a Lykoi than Vieira was a Russo. “Have you lived here long?” He was quite aware that Inferni had existed for a long, long time—these coyotes were far more ingrained into this society than his own brief Syemv. The silver-furred werewolf did not desire his pack to come back, however; he was not leadership material and he never had been. Captaining a ship was an entirely different matter from leading a pack; there were similarities here and there, and while Rurik did possess the charisma to rally canines behind him, he lacked tactical knowledge as well as knowledge of how pack society truly worked. He had been raised in Sobirat'sya, after all, and his family's structure was radically different from any pack.



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