Figures in black, Marching to Reunion

Rurik Russo · 05-02-2010, 02:54 AM

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The silver-furred wolf was so proud of his little family—he wondered how he could have ever abandoned the chance for something like this with Kiska. It was true, Rurik did not love Verusha. They were never meant to be—they were friendly purely because of their children, and the cloud-colored werewolf wondered if maybe she was happier with Rurik gone. He had no doubt she loved their children, of course, but she had never been close with Rurik himself. Maybe she was happier all by her lonesome—Rurik wasn't sure, and though he thought of her sometimes, Verusha did not occupy much of his thoughts.

He was quiet as Anatoliy spoke of the superiority race between the species. Rurik hadn't grown up around coyotes, he didn't know anything about them before coming here, and he could care less about any supposed differences between their two species—to him, coyotes were just their smaller cousins. There was nothing inherently wrong with either species, and his hybrid children could attest to that. It hadn't given him pause when he noticed Verusha was a coyote. Rurik's standards hardly discriminated by species. Still, he looked approvingly in Toliy's direction as he spoke, thankful his son had no qualms about blurring the line between the two species. The talk of war was disturbing, true, but he trusted that Gabriel would protect his son as he would any other member of his Inferni clan. “Нет, я ожидать, он был занят с войной.” The werewolf's bright blue eyes were concerned, but he added rather lightly: “Только не делать мне, чтобы попросить его принять дополнительные заботиться о вас, да?”

Liliya wrinkled her nose and firmly shook her head at Anatoliy's question. “Гросс, нет. Есть нет милый них тут в любом случае.” After a pause, she looked at both her brothers slyly, and added: “Особенно не сейчас!” As she fiddled with the grill, her ears turned back to listen to Silas speak of war and someone named Gabriel, finding the subject still interesting, of course. Turning to the deer, Liliy shouldered Rurik out of the way and set to cutting it up herself, wanting her father to take some time with his sons. She could handle this—Rurik lacked a natural talent for cooking, but it seemed the talent that had manifested in their uncle Thorn had also taken root in her.

Within a few moments there were several large slabs of meat roasting over the fire, already peppered with a few choice spices by Liliy. She remained where she was by the fire, prodding at the meat every few moments with a rather large, crudely-made fork. Dinner would be ready shortly.

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