and now, we burgle.

Rurik Russo · 04-04-2010, 03:24 AM

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“Ireland, eh? I pass through there once—very green, very nice! Mine homeland is pretty cold, and we have either long days or long nights, depending in the time of year.” Arkhangel'sk found itself shrouded in long darkness or never-breaking day for long months, and strange as it was, Rurik actually missed that about his homeland sometimes. There was nothing like a long, cold Russian night. “What ports you have seen on the other side? Maybe we have seen ourselves at the same places before,” the werewolf said, laughing at the thought. It was always possible they'd passed one another in the street before and not even noticed, though with the other canine's particularly unique appearance, the cloud-colored male doubted it. He thought he would notice and remember someone such as this if he had seen him before—Kian was definitely a rarity, and it was unlikely he enjoyed a whole lot of quiet time if he went out in a busy place. He probably drew looks, though most of them were probably simply impressed with his size. Rurik sure was, after all. The grizzled canine easily towered over the seated Russian even in his Lupus form.

Rurik's voice would always have that peculiar quality, the one that declared him a Russian, perhaps upkept by his continual trips to return home to the motherland. He had spent many months there speaking Russian almost exclusively, using his English only where he educated his children in it. The silver-furred man tilted his head to the side, grinning at the other canine's statement. He found himself in complete agreement, of course. The Russian tapped open his bottle of rum, taking a short swig of it. Though the other man was not shifted, he still felt compelled to offer over the bottle sheepishly. “I dunno if y'got hands or what,” he murmured.

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