11-13-2009, 06:51 AM
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| http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_tide.jpg);"> Sorry for the draaaaag in reply. D: Ah, the inlet. Rurik definitely enjoyed the Halifax port and the docks; that area was great. However, it was almost industrial—there were no sandy beaches, just manmade walls meant to keep the ocean back. Rurik craved the sand between his toes on this particular day, even if it was particularly windy and a little bit cold. He was built for these temperatures, and his thick winter coat protected him from the bite of the wind. Humming to himself as he walked, the Russian contemplated his day. It was still relatively early, and though he knew he ought to hunt now, he could not help but feel entitled to a little bit of relaxation first. While in Lisbon, Rurik had managed to trade off a particularly expensive bottle of Chekov-made vodka for a rather large portion of marijuana, and he had been itching to smoke some again since his encounter with Lolita. The silvery male had rolled up a joint the night prior, though he did not feel proper smoking around the children. He didn't know how much they knew about this stuff, and he didn't want to be the one to introduce it to them, though if they asked, he'd certainly share his past with the stuff. Sighing heavily, the blue-eyed wolf reminisced on times before parenthood, when he hadn't had to worry about what his children were getting into—true, he should have been around to worry about what Zaets, Zor, and Vlad were getting into, but he'd failed miserably on that end, hadn't he? The ash-colored wolf paused briefly to strike a match and take it to the end of his joint, puffing heartily to goad the smoke from the end of it. Inhaling sharply, the wolf held it in as he continued to walk. The beach breeze kept it lit for his second hit, and by the third he was already starting to feel a bit dizzy. The wolf had a higher tolerance for these things than many he knew, so he was still walking slowly and puffing his smoke when he saw her; golden-furred and all kinds of wet. Concerned, for the Russian knew the waters were a bit cold for a recreational swim, he increased pace, tapping out the joint on his finger as he drew closer. "Hello," he said boldly, his accented voice rumbling from his chest, tilting his big head to the side as he looked the female over with his ice-colored eyes. She was rather pretty, all tawny-gold eyes and striking lavender fur, womanly curves with girlish resilience. Appreciative, the Russian raised an eyebrow, the beginnings of a grin showing at the corners of his coal lips. |