(--)
Vasiliy is by me!
Vasiliy had experienced only a few sorts of authority prior to Cercatori d'Arte. His uncle was a kindly sort, but neither did he tolerate any interference with the family's business. His iron-clad methods were part of the reason for Vasi's departure, even if the granite-furred hybrid himself was not consciously aware of this. The captain of the seafaring vessel had been intimidating, too -- he'd barely spoken a word to Vasi after the dusky Russian bartered passage with him. Then again -- perhaps being ignored by that man was a sign of good will, for he, too, screamed and stomped and yelled when the crew slacked. He'd even whipped an especially bad slacker.
Skye did not seem the sort to whip her packmembers, however -- she invited his company with a smile. Vasi returned it broadly, his tail sweeping a few times in thanks. He settled on the ground a few feet away and studied her with bright blue eyes. She seemed bigger than when he'd last met her, but it had been a brief meeting and he'd seen little of her since then. It was not something he would comment on, in any case. Her question was received with a mirrored grin, and he looked down, plucking at the grass absently. He separated the blades rather than plucking them, almost combing them with his fingers.
I think Cercatori great when I first join, he said. But now I find boat, and boat crew? He made a half-bark noise, unable to find the words of approval and happiness in English or Russian to describe it. You make good pack, good place for Vasiliy.
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