10-02-2009, 02:37 AM
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http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_top.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:200px; padding-left:25px; padding-right:25px; padding-bottom:10px;"> Of course, the day you are around all day I am not around until after midnight (typical Sie ; . ARGH. XD Owells. <3 But, uh, I was thinking, too—we could actually post Verusha and Anatoliy in the Open Characters list, too—just throw a feeler out there and see if anyone would like to play them? I hadn't any plans for Anatoliy (except lurving the name) and we'd be spared having to come up with her specifics if we just said "ohay here's a coyote" and let someone else do the legwork. ;D  Liliya peered at her brother rather anxiously, her wide eyes glancing furtively around them. She was not used to abandoned places like these, so haunting and ancient, and in general she was the least explorative of the four youths born to Rurik and Verusha. Lily hardly remembered her other sister, but since her death of illness she had drawn herself even closer to her siblings and her immediate family, tending to scorn outsiders of their quaint little clan. She smiled at her brother, and remained close to him. "Yes, but I do like the boat," she said rather softly. Rurik stopped by his children, setting his hands on his hips. Being here had awakened numerous memories within the silver werewolf. He was thinking of Kiska again for the first time in years, but he did not consider her in a dark way, he merely thought of her as someone who had passed from his life. There was only a little sliver of pain attached to her memory now, and Rurik was eager to see that pass along with the rest of it. Perhaps it never would. She had been a good woman, and it was his fault they got all screwed up, but the Russian was rather hoping he'd learned his damn lesson there. And anyway, for whatever had happened between him and the minty green werewolf, she had given Rurik his elder sons, which he was now desperate to find. Rurik often got the aching feeling he was not meant to be an old man, and he had always had the sneaking suspicion he would be cut down unexpectedly. It was a shock he'd made it this far, just two months away from his seventh birthday. The thought struck him rather harshly. Seven years was a long time to live, he thought. Some Luperci where they were from lived to be very old, indeed—but generally they were pampered types who hardly set food outdoors, not the rough-and-tumble outdoorsy and half-feral types like Rurik. The Russian wolf laughed at his son's joke, though it resonated in him. He was getting on in years now, though just by looking at him, one could hardly tell. "Aye," he responded, wondering where to go from here. Certainly he could not appear lost to his children, but he really had no idea what the hell to do now. Hesitating for just a moment, he churned their predicament. "Maybe we should look around here first, n'look for others tomorrow?" he said, his bright eyes regarding both of his children for a moment, appreciative of their opinion in the matter. |