Hands to build a house; Hearts to build a home

Rurik Russo · 08-13-2010, 05:46 AM

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Word Count :: 310

It was rather easy for Rurik to lose his head in the work; it was not particularly mind-taxing, and all he had to do was keep a sharp eye out for his own and others' limbs. He had worked for much of his life on his family's fishing boats, and though the details of the jobs were entirely different, his body was quite attuned to the long hours and harsh physical labor. At seven years old, though, he had begun to feel the creeping beginnings of age; now he knew he could not quite keep pace with his younger self, and he knew he would tire long before his two-year-old counterpart.

Before long, Anann called for a break, for which Rurik was rather appreciative. He had not eaten anything for breakfast, and his stomach gurgled with vague hunger. Thirst bit at his throat and dried out his tongue, but he turned back to the others with a grin nonetheless, settling down near everyone else. Rurik reached for some of the dried meat, taking a small handful. He would wait for the others to make a second pass, and of course, he would have to ask. Manners were not entirely beyond the silver-shaded werewolf; though he easily missed the finer points of etiquette, the basics were well within his comprehension. Absently munching on the meat, the silvery wolf nodded to Anatoliy as he spoke. “Ah, stories,” he said, smiling his approval. He didn't particularly mind their origin; as much as Rurik enjoyed spinning his own tales, he loved hearing those from others, as well.

“Go for it,” Liliya said suddenly, clearly talking toward Niro. Rurik did not quite catch the look and slight smile that followed, but then again, he was mostly oblivious anyway. He rolled his shoulders and tilted his head to either side, stretching his muscles from the work.

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