Figures in black, Marching to Reunion
#11
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You are forgiven this time, secret lover. <3 (352)


Hurt him? Oh, no—the silver-furred Russian shook his head firmly at the thought. “Нет, конечно, нет.” It was the truth, though—maybe Anatoliy's elder siblings simply did not want anything to do with their father, and they would remain as far away from this place and their father as possible. Rurik would not have been surprised—he deserved no less. For all the good he had enjoyed in his life, he had inflicted a terrible hurt on four souls: Kiska had been abandoned, his three sons had been rejected. He did not deserve all of the joy and happiness he was privileged to in life. “Я рад, что вы здесь, и все.” He punctuated the statement with a smile.


“Это мальчик! Всегда с аппетитом,” the man said approvingly. The question brought a shrug from his coal-dusted shoulders. “Надеюсь, в ближайшее время. он падает иногда.” Rurik wondered how it was going in Inferni these days; it had been some time since he had even seen Gabriel. The silver-furred man trusted in his old friend to take care of his son. Perhaps that was somewhat misplaced, but Rurik was a trusting person in general, and he valued all of his friendships. With the deer draped over his shoulder, the silver-furred man plodded toward the hotel complex, his ears cocked back to hear Liliy eagerly chattering to Anatoliy about his journey, rapid-firing questions about the boat ride and how he'd managed to get away, how their mother was.


The last thing Rurik expected as he rounded the bend was to see Silas's smiling face standing there, ready and waiting—what luck! “SILAS?” Liliy yowled from somewhere behind him, skipping forward and practically dragging Anatoliy along behind her. She was too excited to be reuinted with both her brothers, and it showed—everywhere she was wild and writhing with energy, her tail wagging and slapping at the air with almost unnatural speed. “Таким образом, вся семья находится здесь!” Rurik exclaimed, plunking the deer's carcass down on one of the long tables they'd yanked up. It was rotting near the end but in otherwise good condition, and it worked well for their purposes. “Как Inferni, Silas?” the Russian male asked, genuinely curious about the coyote clan's well-being and how his son was fitting in there.



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