11-25-2009, 07:31 PM
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| 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;"> I never bitch about muse or inspiration, but holy shit, I haven't been able to write for Rurik in what feels like days. o_O Sorry for the delay. ♥ Also, I am an idiot and I made that table and cannot really read the text. DURFDURFDURF. XD But it's probably just my darkass monitor. Despite the rain, Rurik was out again. He had plenty of reason to venture from his comfortable home. This was a new land which required exploring, just as the former lands had, and he needed to hunt continually to feed his family. It wasn't quite so easy as heading to market and trading or bumming some smoked fish and dried meat from a neighbor, who was generally more than willing to help out. The silvery Russian had been unsuccessful in his hunting, and it had started to rain, so he decided to turn back. The Russos certainly wouldn't starve on this night—they had plenty of dried jerky, which Rurik had been diligently stockpiling. It wasn't as good as fresh, lightly-seared meat, but it was a hell of a lot better than an empty, rumbling belly. As the silvery werewolf continued down the long, narrow city streets, his eyes floated to the Brobdingnagian buildings around him. Rurik was hardly a philosophical type, but he often considered the fate of the previous dominant species on this earth. The virus that had granted wolves with Lupercism had also been the fatal knife in humanity's back, at once ushering out the prior species and insuring that the new species would be there to take its place. Some canines in Europe chose to study this very thing, but the scientific types generally used all kinds of technical jargon and words Rurik didn't understand, even if they tried to communicate their ideas in Russian. Cells and DNA, all of that biology stuff he could hardly begin to comprehend. Rurik was a simpler type of creature, and as that familiar scent of cannabis floated over the wind, he took note, altering his course through the winding streets to follow that scent. The misty rain came down on his shoulders, beading into tiny droplets and eventually forming miniature streamlets coursing down his back to the earth. It was not a terrible day, though Rurik certainly would have preferred a nice, sunny afternoon. Heading forward, he eventually came upon a sort of low-slung building, the door hanging wide open, the smoke trail headed right out of the door. There was a canine inside, seated on a couch and toking merrily away at a sort of bowlpiece. The Russian hesitated in the door, grinning sheepishly at the wolf. Rurik was familiar with coyotes, but he couldn't smell Inferni on the stranger, nor could he identify overt coyote characteristics about him, so Rurik assumed Anselm was a wolf. "Got any to share?" he asked, speaking in his usual rumbly and accented voice. |