(--)
Vasiliy is by me!
In truth, Vasi agreed -- drowning seemed a kinder death than being eaten by a bear, of course. But dying at sea was also a great honor in Vasiliy's mind -- it meant he had served his pack and his fellows well, dying in a practical venture. If one stumbled on a bear in the woods, it wasn't necessarily any use at all. An attacking bear -- now that was something they'd talk about. His dark muzzle split into a grin, though it faded as she prostrated herself. Dark ears flicked back and he tilted his head, appraising her with sharp blue eyes.
It is fine, he said, perhaps more coldly than he should have, and reached in attempt to lift her muzzle away from his wound. He did not seek to yank her away from him, but he wanted to look on her face and eyes and beauty, not the top of her head. You... he trailed off, half-turned, and turned back toward her, something akin to a grimace on his face. You want trade for more livestock? Or -- not trade? Just... do?
He liked her for her -- or, at least, he liked most of what she'd shown him thus far, and found her physically attractive. Yet it sat wrong in his belly to think she would engage him only for want of the things he'd trade -- there was nothing like that in Vasiliy, or so he thought. It was hopeless to try and express such a thing to her, however -- he did not have the words in English, and even in Russian it would have been something difficult to speak and hard to phrase.
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