11-06-2009, 04:09 PM
[html]
| http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_angel.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:10px; padding-left:12px; padding-right:12px; padding-bottom:286px;"> OMG, I am watching a crazy show about Russians right now and it makes me want to plays a Rurik. XD The silvery wolf nodded rather numbly, trying not to let the gloom show on his face. He might see them, yet—someday, maybe. It was his own damn fault they didn't care about him, anyway. His elder sons must have felt pretty rotten, anyway, after their father rejected them and their mother disappeared from the face of the earth. Rurik hurt over Kiska still, but this had translated to a rare, dull ache in his chest, and he did not think of her often. She would have returned to Arkhangel'sk and Sobirat'sya, she would have returned to her family—but they had not seen her, either, and they were rather upset when Rurik had showed up on his own, looking for her. Perhaps she was dead. Gabriel ate very quickly, and Rurik, too, fell into silence, nibbling on his food and contemplating his sons' fate. They had never so much as seen the motherland, and Rurik hadn't been surprised to hear nothing of them upon his return. Smiling faintly, the Russian wolf took another bite of his meal, chewing it and thinking over what he could possibly do. He could only hope—Rurik hadn't wandered too far through these lands, and he had remained at 'Souls for the entirety of both previous stints spent on the North American continent. He wouldn't know where to begin searching for his children except for here, and that was rather disheartening. Still, here he was with good company—there was no need to let a sour mood dampen his reunion with Gabriel. True, they didn't know each other too well, but Rurik was always game for company, and according to memory Gabriel was a friend. "I have more to spare," he said with a smile, shoving the darker thoughts from his head. "No friend of mine will leave this table without satisfaction," the wolf added. As almost an afterthought, he stood back up, moving toward a green canvas bag of sorts, hung on a nail beneath a slight overhang so the rain wouldn't soak it through and through. He rummaged for a moment, and withdrew two small wooden cups, simple and whittled from a thick branch. There was a bottle of vodka there, too, and though Rurik had been keen on keeping this Russian-brewed firewater for his own use, an opportunity to share had presented itself, and he was quite willing. "And what's a good meal without a toast?" he asked almost rhetorically as he returned, setting the cups down and pouring out a half-dose in each of the cups, capping the bottle with a twist of his wrist and a grin. |