oceans and full moons
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310. Is okay if this happened yesterday? Big Grin 4/19?


The silver-furred werewolf approached the Aniwayan borders for the second time since he joined Cour des Miracles. He enjoyed his own packlands, sure, but he had fun the last time he was here—Nayati had been really nice, and that cougar was just gorgeous, though he didn't quite know what to make of it at first. The silver-furred werewolf eventually got over his initial shock at seeing the big cat, and it had ended up a rather enjoyable night. He figured such things strengthened relations between the packs, anyway—no one had told him anything different, anyway, and it didn't seem like his pack really kept to itself anyway. This was quite alright with him—the better his packs' relations with the rest of the world, the easier the silver-furred werewolf could make friends.


Rurik padded forward happily, his tail swinging from side to side as he walked. It was late afternoon, just like the last time he'd visited—though now, of course, the sun was still up. There was still a good hour or two of daylight left, and the Russian werewolf intended to use it to his advantage. He stopped outside of the actual packlands, of course, hesitating and waiting. He never knew whether or not to howl anyone; it wasn't like he was here on official business. The last thing he wanted to do was give off the wrong idea—but then again, it was kind of creepy to just hang about the borders. Then again again, he did have a gift—a brand new bottle of liquor, clutched beneath his left arm. He was intending to share it with whoever happened upon him first and leave whatever was left with the pack. Even if they didn't drink it, it still made a decent antiseptic in a pinch. It was, after all, high-grade Russian vodka—Rurik's favorite.



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