'cause i lost everything.

Rurik Russo · 04-10-2010, 06:09 AM

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OM NOM NOM

The silver-furred man certainly understood the urge to wander; it had surfaced in him years ago, and it would continue to drive him along throughout the rest of his life. Someday he would leave this place and someday he would return—someday he'd even see home again. He knew these things would happen; it was all a part of being a wanderer. “Oh yes. The whole world, all of it is different and wonderful,” he said, agreeing with her completely. Each different place in the world had its unique and lovely qualities about it, and Rurik had never really been somewhere he didn't truly enjoy. Eventually every place got old and he wanted to move on to see the next, but that could be a matter of days or a matter of months, he knew from experience. He had remained in the same places for more than a year at times, but never more than a year and a half—maybe he was just destined to wander until he dropped dead. Not that it bothered him any, though.

“That is closer! Maybe you get it, maybe you don't. No worries!” he said cheerily, shrugging his coal-dusted shoulders. Some were anal about the pronunciation of their homeland and considered it insulting; Rurik knew from experience the wide array of accents and differences in language sometimes made it impossible. Some sounds just didn't exist in some languages. “Aye! The Atlantic Ocean is big sea between zhis land and our homeland. They call land over there Europe, Asia and Africa. Zhis land is Nort' America and Sout' America,” the werewolf explained, quickly breaking down the world's geography in common terms for her. It might be easier for Cerridwyn to explain to others that she was from a part of the world called Europe, specifically Bhaile. He generally had to simplify it to Sobirat'sya, Russia—and even then he often had to explain that Russia was across the Atlantic and over land (or through the frigid Arctic Seas) in order to be understood.

The silver-furred man placed a hand on his chin, stroking the thicker black hairs there. They grew into a vaguely beardlike pattern, fur growth which was absent from his Lupus form save for a darker coloration along his muzzle—not that he ever bothered to use that four-legged form. He had done so only once recently, and that was to provide “comfort” to another four-legged woman—and bequeath to her the gift of Lupercism. His sky-colored eyes surveyed their surroundings; most of the buildings were time-dilapidated, their fronts showing considerable damage—some even had vegetation taking root. The windows had been blasted from some of the building-fronts, allowing dirt and grime from the outside world to pile up, eventually allowing for the hardy weeds and tiny plants to survive. “Well, maybe we just walk along street here—you see something interesting, we check it out,” he said, baring his pearly whites in a grin.

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