and now, we burgle.

Rurik Russo · 04-07-2010, 09:19 AM

[html]

307

“Aha. We have lots of snow, like rain but colder,” he said, laughing at the absurdity and obviousness of his statement. He was likening their homelands, as he felt a particular kinship with creatures from the other side of the world—they were strangers on this feral land. Listening to the other canine rattling off the names of ports, the werewolf nodded and made murmurs of approval several times, having definitely seen London before. He had passed through Liverpool once or twice, of course, but he had never stayed—the silver-furred werewolf was either eager to head on toward London or eager to get away from it, heading back into the relative wild of mainland Europe. There was claustrophobia in cities after a while, and Rurik was always eventually eager to leave them again.

“London, of course—everybody's seen London. Ain't lived if you haven't,” he responded, nodding. “I have not been as far south as Barbados, myself—I sail, so I chose where we land,” he explained, giving reasoning for why he avoided most of the more major ports between this continent and the far one. As the man began to shift, the silver-furred werewolf watched with interest as the grizzled man grew even larger, his stature even more intimidating. “Oy, I bet you'd take down loads of cash fighting in the cities,” he said, tapping the man on a muscular arm. ”Half the guys you set out to fight'd shit themseles and run from the ring,” the werewolf said, grinning broadly. He certainly wasn't about to take on Kian—he pitied the person who did.

“What's that mean?” the werewolf asked, clearly interested in the language. He did not recognize it, which was a strange thing—usually he could guess at least a similar language, but this one was entirely unfamiliar to him was rare.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?