10-01-2009, 04:10 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;"> RIGHT? Oh, man. When I first came up with Rurik, I was playing Zelda: WindWaker, AND it was around the time that one of the Pirates movies came out, and there was some other pirate-relevant activity in my life. I FORGET, but it was like, he HAD to come into existence, hahaha. XD  Her words only broadened the grin on his lips, and he shrugged his broad silver shoulders, a rather sheepish look crossing his monochrome face. He regarded her with his bright blue eyes for a moment before speaking in his deep, accented voice. "Gotta be use'ta water, I came over here in a boat from Russia, and it is very cold there," he said, punctuating it with a rumbling laugh. It was pretty cold, yeah, but Rurik was from Russia, and he was built for the cold. He recalled the long winters fondly, and the ice and the snow—not as good as the hot, sandy summer shore, but a close second nonetheless. The Russian remained kneeling, though he extended a hand and placed it on the ground in front of him to lessen the strain on his leg muscles. His keen eyes studied the she-wolf; she was very scarred and she seemed to have lived quite a tale. Beneath the scars, there was a pleasant face and a rather pleasing color scheme; she was iron gray for the most part, highlighted with darker shadowy colors. Her eyes were a lovely shade of blue-gray, duller than his husky's eyes but in good taste with the rest of her fur. There was blood leaking from her foot, he finally noticed, and he frowned. "Your foot is hurt," he pointed out, as if she did not know it herself. Rurik could be a very simple and blunt man at times, and he could offer her no assistance with the foot. "Yes, let's sit for a minute," he said, joining her in sitting down. The silvery wolf stretched his legs in front of him, his knees slightly bent. He leaned over them, just as Finn was drawing closer to him, and he followed her gaze and listened to her question, taking it rather in strude. "Some calls it a Jolly Roger. A human skull, with the... legs bones crossed in front of it. Or the arms bones," he said, pausing as he was not sure what the lower portion really was. It was a symbol of piracy, though in his lifetime Rurik had been more like a simple pioneer and part missionary of the human world and the civilized way of living than a wicked pirate. One could hardly call him a conquistador, as he'd quickly abandoned the notion of leading a pack. Rurik was not any sort of land-leader, and it was folly for him to have undertaken direction of anything other than a damn boat. Captain, he was good at—only because he knew the ship and the sea so intimately. The she-wolf seemed rather embarrassed after a moment, and the Russian's grin returned in full force, and he shook his head. "Ahh, to hell with manners," he said, a mischevious spin on his smile now. "Ask away," he said. He liked answering questions, and he liked sharing knowledge—not that he was a bountiful wealth of it, not in comparison to some of the scholarly canines here and where he'd come from—but what he had, he liked to share. |