Matching the Twilight

Anatoliy Russo · 09-21-2010, 09:34 PM

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sorry, it's a tad short, especially after your pretty post

Leaning against of the large outcroppings of stone boulders, the Russo examined his arm, glad to see that the bandages were not bloody. When he had first bandaged it, the cloth had sported blood stains. True, his injury there had not been great, but he had taken no risks with blood loss. But the pain was still there and it ached with every beat of his heart. Anatoliy deserved the wound, even if he still believed his actions justified, even a little bit. Every time his cuts throbbed with that dull discomforting sensation, he frowned, remembering the fight and he berated himself for not doing better to keep his skin whole. Then again, Anatoliy was not a fighter; he was just another fisherman landlocked without a boat of his own or a family of his own.

That was why the greeting, sounding out of no where, made his ears swivel in the sources direction. Then, the Russian turned to face whoever it was calling to him. He eyed the woman - for that was obvious enough to see - upon her horse coming up to him. It reminded him of Anann, who usually had her beloved Rem nearby. Who was this stranger? She posed no threat, not when she seemed smaller than him by more than a head. "Yes?" he called, eyebrow going up. Obviously, it was the eyebrow with the piercing, as the other side still bothered him. "Can I help you?" he asked, words slightly thick with his Russian accent. Hopefully she understood. But, so many did regardless.

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