Vasiliy is by me!
Vasi was not so concerned with the landscape around him -- land was all the same, water was all the same. The people were what interested him. He knew they'd speak English; he knew his Russian was nigh on useless, and his broken Norwegian even more so. Beyond language, however, he knew little -- he did not trust his father's ramblings, for they were lacking in any semblance of sense. As he entered into deeper city, a familiar scent entered his nose. The storm-colored wolf paused, inhaling deeply and huffing the breath out a moment later, once he'd identified it as horse -- and Luperci.
Vasi was eager to meet someone -- anyone. He hadn't had a proper conversation since leaving Freetown. Perhaps he ought to have accompanied one of the traders north, but he wasn't one to wait sensibly by. He wanted to see the world, and it was right there waiting. The thought of remaining in Freetown longer than a night therefore passed completely from his mind, soundly dismissed by the call for adventure and unknown lands. This call wasn't quite something he heard, but rather something he felt.
The dusky wolf was not expecting the Luperci he'd scented previously to nearly walk into him, of course; the gray male appeared before Vasi, ducking out of a ruined storefront. The wolfdog jumped back, yipping a garbled curse in Russian -- his surprise was short-lived, however, for the man spoke shortly thereafter. To Vasiliy, the words were thickly accented but perfectly intelligible, and he grinned. No, it's okay -- I was not watching where I was going, the man said, trying his English out. It was probably as thickly accented to the stranger as his voice was to Vasiliy, but the gray male hoped they would be able to communicate nonetheless.
I am Vasiliy, and I am just arrive from Russia. Is good to meet you, the wolf declared, extending a dark paw toward the other canine, hoping for a shake. You live here?
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