10-06-2009, 04:24 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;"> Ohay, I r slow. D: Sorries. <3 P.S., is it OK if we post-date this to October 7th? Only because I did start another Ruru thread tonight. <3  Rurik meandered along through the hills, cheerfully whistling as he walked. It was a strange thing to do, and a thing few Luperci could master due to their oddly shaped lips. Rurik himself simply curled his tongue in an odd way against the roof of his mouth and directed his exhaling breath through that; his brother Schlast had taught him that particular trick when they were both young. Rurik smiled at the memory of his scattered and distant family, thinking of his pale brother Thorn. It had been some years since they'd last encountered one another, and Rurik missed his cooking and his presence more than anything. The sun was brightly shining, as it was very early in the morning. Rurik was not generally an early riser, but rarely he woke with the first whisper of dawn, blazing with energy and ready to go. These days were growing fewer in number as he aged, though he was certainly still within the prime of his extended Luperci life. There were many scents of wolves in the air, and the clothed werewolf at once headed for them, knowing he was coming to the first of the packs. He had not wandered north or along the coast, otherwise he certainly would have run into any of the three that were closer. He had headed inland and to the west, missing Cour des Miracles and heading right for the hills, and now he found himself on an unknown border. The wolf hesitated for a moment, his bright blue eyes blinking in the sunlight. It was still rather early in the day, though by now the dew had dried and the sun was out in full force. Perhaps there was no one awake yet, and he was wasting his time here? Besides, what were the chances anyone had heard of his lost sons? Frowning, the Russian settled to his rear, crossing his legs to sit indian-style, hunching down to prop his elbows on his knees and wait a while. If no one came, no one came—it was alright with him. At least now he knew where this place was, and he could return at a more convenient time. |