10-06-2009, 04:03 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;"> Ohh, we named the monkey Jack. XD But yes, HIS return was completely unexpected, as I fully expected Sparrow to return even when he got eated. But I thought Barbossa was done for. XP If they make more movies, though, I would seriously hope he'd return. Feesh, feesh. XD I had a laugh when I wrote it!.  The Russian was difficult to offend and slow to anger. The only time he'd been angry in recent memory was when Liliya and Anatoliy had slipped away in the dead of night to go exploring. Rurik was quick to track them down and give them both a sound yelling-at, happy that Lizaveta and Silas were at least smart enough not to go meandering off by himself. Though they were in a good part of the neighborhood and one Rurik himself felt quite safe in, he had been quite protective of his children when they were very young, though he had loosened up considerably since they'd passed their adult birthdays. The Russian smiled, and shook his head. "No worries," he responded lightly. For sure, he'd had a giggle at an odd accent or expression in his time. He nodded grimly, but then gestured toward the water. "Thankfully this water, usually it is too cold for their tastes. There are more sharks in warmer water," he said. The Mediterranean had once been devoid of most sharks; now that there were fewer humans and wolves did not overfish the water, they were returning in abundance. Rurik had sailed most of that sea and he knew it intimately, favoring the Adriatic sea during the summer, when the maestral winds would bring the loveliest weather. He had spent some summers fishing those very seas, and he was quite fond of the area in general. He grinned, glad to see someone shared his distaste. It was true; the fish flesh was not as warm as a hot-blooded mammal, and this was only made worse by the slippery, wet texture. He shuddered, remembering it. "Oh yes. That's exactly why I hate feesh, but rabbits are most excellent," he said. They were a favorite food of his, and he preferred the wild ones to the farm-raised types he'd had in some places in Europe. The cities were too big to allow the wolves to rely on the earth alone for their food, so some entreprenurial types had reopened slaughterhouses and farms, though their world was nowhere near as corporate as the humans. There was still no defined money system, and most simply relied on barter of goods and services rather than gold, though some places certainly accepted it as payment. The silvery canine wrinkled his nose at Finn's description of the place. It sounded something like the steppes, though the ones in Russia were cold for most of the year, battered by the great winds that ripped across his country. Prey was rather abundant there, however, as the great grasslands were vivid greenery in the summer, and herds of wild and formerly domesticated animals meandered across the countryside. "That don't sound like much fun at all. I tell you, I am no big fan of real hot weather," he said with a smile. He liked summer, true enough, but he was glad it was a brief season. He could not imagine living in the tropics or in the desert. This made him curious, and her reassurance had made him somewhat more bold on the subject. "No, usually if you are to shift, you begin at seven or eight months of age. Almost never past two years, unless there's a problem," he said, tapping his head to indicate a neurological flaw. Rurik had never knowingly performed any of these rituals, though in a way he had while creating his children, passing along the Luperci genes to the next generation of canines. He had read of them, heard of them, but he had never seen such an act, certainly not performed one. None of the women he'd had sex with had ever been in Lupus form, and he himself had mated only in his regular form. Neither had his blood or bodily fluid had passed into an nonnisi, so Rurik had never granted the gift of werewolfism to anyone. "There are ways to become a Luperci, you know? An ortus is a shifter from birth, but a verto is created," he said, roughly translating the Russian definitions for the Latin words. He cocked his head to the side, considering. Such a question was difficult to answer, for Rurik had been raised in Luperci society, and it was somewhat like asking Finn what life was like as a nonnisi, or a feral as some liked to call it. "It is good to be able to shift, but I am something like you—I do not take my four-legged forms often. It does not hurt or feel strange, not even the very first time I became two legged... but it might be different if you have lived your whole life as you are," he said. "I do not think I could live on just four legs. Hands... the ability to move objects and affect the world around you, that is important to me," he added, finding it difficult to express the thoughts in his head. Such was the difficulty in being able to speak in many languages; there were a great many words in many languages he did not know, and the only one in which he possessed a broad vocabulary was his beloved mothertongue. |