'cause i lost everything.
#5
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GOD YOU SUCK RAWR ETC /hate also I feel awkward here because you knew oldschool Rurik especially well, and I feel he's changed a ton :| But idk if that's good or bad, hrmmhrmmhrm.


The pale-furred Russian was far too polite to laugh to the woman's face; if he was going to have a chuckle, it would be by himself, later, when he was alone. No need to embarass her further. Kicking her while she was down was just cruel. So he kept his composure, smiling only when it became apparent she was not injured. Her accent was striking and it caught his ears and attention immediately, the sable-furred things swiveling to better catch her voice. He had heard similar but he could not place hers, exactly—to Rurik, it was a sad thing his own particular accent seemed to have faded over the years. Certainly his voice was still coated with Russian, it would always be, but traveling for so long and living in many places had forced some of it from his voice, muddling the motherland from his tongue.


Her lack of knowledge regarding the houses surprised him; from her voice he would have expected she was from across the ocean, where such things were more common. “No? The city is govno-nagruzok of fun,” he commented. There was little else like scavenging the ruins of a dead civilization to Rurik—the many strange implements humans had lived amongst fascinated him, even if he wasn't particularly interested in actually using them. “But it's good to meet you,” he said, tipping his head forward with the greeting. Cerridwyn—simple, yet pretty. She would have a nickname in due time, no doubt—a lot of the canines Rurik became acquainted with had some kind of nickname. He was still thinking on one for Gabriel, some strong Russian word to convey the man's stoic presence and particular manner, but such a word had not come to him yet. “Rurik Russo of Sobirat'sya. Got to ask you, too—where did you pick up this voice?” he inquired, already curious of her origins.


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