(--)
Vasiliy is by me!
Aye. In Sobirat'sya, where we are from, all Russos fish. Is lifestyle, is trade. Sometimes, food is not so much in Russia. Then, everyone is glad for fish, the dark-furred Russian said, grinning. Everyone except for his father, maybe -- it was no secret Rurik was not fond of fish. Vasiliy, on the other hand, rather liked the taste of their flesh. It wasn't quite as good as a deer or a rabbit or something like that, but it was definitely edible. You will have to make me fish, sometime -- I will make for you, too. Vasi was no gourmet chef, but he had spent enough time in the kitchen with his aunts and cousins to know how to make something quite tasty. Maybe they will taste same. That will be funny, he said, grinning broadly at the thought already.
The dusky-furred Russian frowned to hear her pack had disintegrated and her friends and family were scattered. Dark-tipped ears flicked backwards and bright blue eyes were averted a moment, staring toward the horses solemnly. Gods give, gods take away, he said, frowning. I am sorry for what you lose, all the same. Maybe some good come to you later in life for loss, yeah? he added, brightening with the thought. It was difficult to keep Vasi down for long; he was an optimistic sort of thinker when it came to the world and karma.
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