I have a bunch of cute nicknames for Toliy I looked up toooooo. >_> "Tolechka, Tolen’ka, Tolik, Tolunchik, Tolusha, Tolya, Tolyasha." I like Tolik and Tolya. <3333
The silver-furred werewolf was impressed by both of his children's behavior—both seemed to straighten up right when he told them to, and they understood the gravity of the situation, it would seem. Rurik wasn't incredibly nervous—he knew the three of them were worth their weight within the pack, and they would serve it well. The silver-furred wolf's land was gripped in the strong grasp of the other man's hand and they shook, prompting another smile from the Russian wolf. “Aye, good to meet you! I have a friend in your lot—Strelein von Rosnete. He vas kind enough to show me your beautiful coastline some weeks ago,” the werewolf said excitedly. He had truly found the Shattered Coast beautiful—it was real coast, unlike the docks and fences and boatyards of the city.
The cloud-colored man knew that they would have to attend to actual business, though, and at Vigilante's question he appeared thoughtful for a moment, considering how to best present their skills. “Well, I am experienced fisherman. I don't eat feesh, either, so all I catch will be for all the pack,” he declared. “I speak Russian, English, French, and Spanish, with leettle beets of Portuguese, German, and Hungarian,” the werewolf stated. His linguistic skills weren't always useful, but there were rare occurrences when it did come in handy. “And mine brother, he vas much better cook than me, but he taught me one or two t'eengs,” he said, grinning. It was often he missed the excellent cooking of Thorn, among other things. When they were younger, the pair had been nearly inseparable.
“How about you two?” the werewolf said, turning toward both of his children. Anatoliy had been working on his English, but the eldest of the trio was certainly willing to translate if he was too nervous. Liliy sounded something like he did when he first landed here—getting used to the language, but still with some gaps here, and a rather limited vocabulary. “I speak Russian more than English, but I fish with Otets,” she said slowly, laboring over each word to make sure it was perfect, her bright eyes on her father the whole time, searching for his approval. He smiled at her, and then his gaze shifted to Tolik, smiling encouragement toward his son.
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