(--)
Vasiliy is by Raze!
The dark-furred wolf considered her words, wondering. He had taken up the rank of Venditore and was therefore supposed to trade for the pack, but he knew he might also take a co-rank, as well. He thought over this a moment, fingers twirling a particularly long blade of grass. He broke it off and spun it in his fingers, a rumbling noise of thought echoing from deep in his chest as his blue eyes considered the treeline on the horizon and the sky above. Scenery such as that helped when one was thinking.
He answered a moment later, looking back toward the blue-eyed woman with a frown. You have many talent. I do not, the Russian confessed, albeit quietly, as if ashamed of his lacking. Maybe I fish and hunt for the pack? Fish is what I know best. You think this is good? He fretted about how useful he could make himself to Cercatori d'Arte, and feared being deemed too lacking in artistic talent or creative ways for the pack. I do not know many art things, he confessed, ears folding backwards.
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