Let me know if the powerplay isn't alright. ♥ 318
There was a tightness in her features, tension beneath his silver-tinged fingers in the golden-furred flesh of the woman. It was evident in her face, too—the droopy tiredness of her normally brilliant yellow-golden eyes told him what he needed to know. Slowly, he slid his arm about her yellowy shoulders, turning toward her and drawing her close in a half-hug. “I hear of the var zhrough Silas, yes” he said slowly. “I am sorry it touch you in such a way, Rikka,” the silver-furred man said sincerely, his sable-dusted ears folding back against his skull.
He listened to her speak of Gabriel, his opinion of the golden-furred man growing. It was already quite high, of course, but it only increased in hearing how gentle and caring he was with his family. Rurik smiled, the slow thing spreading across his face. He ushered her gently back into the shack, intending to sit and speak with her a while. The cloud-colored man nodded his head, smiling. “Gabriel is good man. Your brozher care for you a lot,” the Russian said. “I am glad you are here—is safer. Not'eeng against Eenfernee, but your family gets into a lot of trouble,” the werewolf said, a grin still playing across his sable-colored lips.
“I come here with my family,” the werewolf nodded sagely. “Liliya and Anatoliy move here wizh me, anyway,” he said, as if that explained everything—it was better for family if they all came here together, and learned and lived and worked together. His sky-colored eyes studied her features, the ample curves that made up her muliebrity, her gentleness—who would want to take that away from her? He directed her to the bed, gently applying pressure to her shoulders to get her to sit. “Do you need me to do anyzhing for you? It looks like you are trying to clean in here,” the silver-furred male asked.
.rurikgiftmarit b {color:#85d2dd;}
.giftmaritliliya {font-weight:bold; color:#218E9D;}
.rurikgiftmarit p {text-indent:25px; margin:0px; padding:0px;}
</style>
[/html]