01-08-2010, 01:14 PM
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 Jantus laughed alongside his foreign companion as they approached the "home near the water." Jantus had nothing against the coast, really, other than its strategic value, something he'd needed to learn to appreciate since joining such an organized fighting group as the Pine. Coasts obviously had the advantage of providing a direction from which you could not be attacked...or at least from where you couldn't have neighbors. That was good barring an actual raging battle, when you really couldn't afford to have your back up against a wall. The idea of choosing a home near the water because you were a sailor made sense to Jantus, but at the same time, it wasn't something he'd ever thought about, so it seemed a bit strange...not that someone in Rurik's situation would do so, just the thought of being a person who derived comfort from the sea and the ever-open choice of getting in one's boat and sailing away from here. It was a bit romantic in a sense, though such ideas were usually over his head. He studied Rurik's home with his one eye and considered it. Anselm lived out here too, and at least one gang of wolves, besides. It seemed strange, but on the other hand, cities were more sheltered most of the time, and it might be that Tanya and Nikolov--who lived in a human house to avoid trouble with roving wolf packs--had the right idea. If he was ever out on his again, he might look into living the way his friends did, rather than out in the open as was his custom. That said...he wasn't sure what he'd do about the passageways the humans built...they clearly weren't built for someone his size. He couldn't fit through most of them horizontally or vertically, and he usually had to turn so that his width could squeeze through. On second thought, maybe it was better that he'd never given this lifestyle a try. He smiled at Rurik's return, and--taking the formidable bottle, which was much larger than any human one he'd ever seen--followed the pirate to what he considered was a safe distance away from home. Humans clearly didn't need as much of the stuff as werewolves did, considering how small their bottle usually were, but wherever Russia was, apparently they knew how it was done. For the first time, Jantus felt like he was being accommodated. He took a swig before gritting his teeth. It was true that alcohol didn't taste all that good to him, but it was the effect that he liked. If he hadn't been terribly thirsty the day he'd given it a try, he probably wouldn't have figured out what awaited at the bottom of the bottle. "Wish I could tell you more about Phoenix Valley," he said, wiping moisture from his lips. "My group and I were only there long enough to attend the funeral. The alpha's an interesting piece of work, name's Jefferson. Scarred from head to toe, missing pieces...also, not very reverent, though that bothered the others more than me. Skoll was just a wolf, not sure I believe his spirit's lingerin' around to offend." He laughed at that. He thought anyone who fought for the good of others left a legacy worth respecting, but people didn't become sacred after they died. He'd buried too many to think otherwise. Skoll had enjoyed enough fame during his life, there was no reason to heap on more after his death. Jantus still didn't forgive him for not being sensible enough to seek help in a situation where he was fighting a younger wolf of his own skill. "It's a pretty place, though," he went on. "They've got a cabin we saw, and lakes. A lot nicer than the places we passed to find it, which is saying something, as no part of this area has looked ugly, so far. Wouldn't have minded sticking around, but most members of my company were armed and scarred and we figured we were pushing our luck even asking for permission." Again, he laughed, a little more shallowly this time. It probably didn't do much for his friend's reputation that they were the ones to show up, but what the hell: they were a rough and tumble crowd, who else was a lifetime warrior supposed to associate with? "Anyway, Jefferson's a bit strange, but the pack members we met were friendly enough. A yearling named Ty kept coming out and training with us. Even though he's a bit messed up, I got the impression Jefferson can defend himself, too. Pretty, friendly and defended? You could definitely find worse places." He took another deep gulp of the stuff he'd been offered. He had no doubt that the brew Rurik provided would be very satisfying once it took hold. |