10-05-2009, 04:51 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;"> Lmfao. S/he (DEAD LESBIAN LOVERS WHAT? Holy shiz, now I am actually seriously contemplating this idear >D) might say UNdead, but hay, close enough. X3 PS, this post will prolly suck because I R DELIRIOUS. <3  The Russian wolf simply could not help himself; he was a drunkard at heart and he truly enjoyed illicit substances, though he'd kept his damn nose clean for the past year and a half, drinking far less and only messing with marijuana on the rarest occasion. He hadn't even touched anything else, even—the Russian wolf was quite proud of himself for keeping so well to a solemn vow upon the birth of his new children. Perhaps it was because he had not sworn off of anything altogether, and only swore to moderate himself and keep everything away from the children until they were of age... but still. It was a realistic goal, and he'd managed quite well. Now he was ready to break loose a little bit. So, it was with eager fingers that he took the rolled cigar from the pallid woman's fingers, admiring its craftsmanship. It was twisted quite well and fat too boot, the round, darker gray ash sitting at the end of it. He tapped it delicately and brought it to his lips, inhaling the familiar taste and a more exotic, fruity one which he could not identify at first. Their manners of smoking were quite similar, as one new to smoking is wont to take short puffs, while both the Russian and the silvery woman drawled their hits, held them deeply for a moment, and exhaled. Rurik hadn't trusted himself to speak while he'd held the smoke, and he was quite glad he hadn't, for as soon as he had exhaled the final tendril of smoke, he coughed loudly for several seconds, his icy eyes watering. "Just couldn't help myself, love," he crooned, his voice far raspier than before. He grinned a dizzy grin over at his instant friend, toking it again and passing it back to her, adhering to the universal rule. There was less coughing this time, and the Russian's grin did not fade. As he had expected, the grasping fingers of the high were already reaching for his brain, making him slow and silly. "Good, good kosiak," he breathed, complimenting her handiwork composing himself. Rurik's gaze focused on the younger canid's face, noticing the odd marking she herself carried. He wondered what it meant, watching as the woman sipped from his flask. "And yourself," the Russian said graciously, that warm smile remaining on his silvery face. "I'm Rurik Russo. Pleased t'meet you," he said in his thick accent, smiling once again. It seemed the sunny wolf never stopped smiling, there was almost always a grin on his face. |