12-02-2009, 05:42 AM
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I was going @_@ near the end thanks to sleep deprivation. XD
The werewolf's assumption was natural, as his icy eyes were drawn to the colorful things strung around the other canine's neck, but he was gently corrected, and apologetically he looked to the other canine, nodding his head. "You patch up stuff?" he asked, curiosity showing on his sharp-featured face. His own cutoff denim shorts had been patched countless times, and these patches showed in random places on them, splotches of pattern or color disgusing larger holes. The silver werewolf lifted them off his hips slightly with two pinched fingers and grinned. "These been mine a long, long time, they needs it sometimes," he explained.
The silver-furred werewolf nodded, finding this suitable. No sense in having the bottle fall and smash open somewhere before it reached its destination and was enjoyed. "Right on. Glass ain't too durable," the wolf said with a grin. The city surrounding them was evidence enough of that; most of the windows of the buildings were smashed to pieces, the bits of shattered glass long swept away by the wind. The tone of the conversation once more went serious, though the Russian wolf listened with clear interest, his coal-dusted ears perking forward to catch the other man's words.
He was not absolutely certain his own affinity for his own sex extended back quite so far. When he was a kid he could remember liking girls, but not boys—yet he did not know if that was because he was afraid of admitting it or he simply ignored the impulses. These things had only flourished when he'd left home and traveled. "Sorry, I am just a curious old man," the wolf said, laughing casually. "It is no big thing. I am not stupid, I know... some people gotta be nasty to you just 'cause what you like, but... ain't no issue of mine what gets your jollies," the ash-colored wolf said gently. He hadn't meant to put the other man on the spot like that, but it was something that had been bothering him for some time, and he hadn't met anyone quite so open as Strel was.
The other man asked a question which Rurik was happy to answer, and he grinned, nodding emphatically as he began to speak of his family. "Aye, I have Silas and Anatoliy, mine young sons, and Liliya, my daughter. Their mother's Verusha. She lives with Anatoliy back near home. There are mine three older sons, Zaets, Zorish, and Vladimir... they lived around here at some point. Maybe you heard of 'em?" the werewolf asked, ever hopeful in the search for his children.
The werewolf's assumption was natural, as his icy eyes were drawn to the colorful things strung around the other canine's neck, but he was gently corrected, and apologetically he looked to the other canine, nodding his head. "You patch up stuff?" he asked, curiosity showing on his sharp-featured face. His own cutoff denim shorts had been patched countless times, and these patches showed in random places on them, splotches of pattern or color disgusing larger holes. The silver werewolf lifted them off his hips slightly with two pinched fingers and grinned. "These been mine a long, long time, they needs it sometimes," he explained.
The silver-furred werewolf nodded, finding this suitable. No sense in having the bottle fall and smash open somewhere before it reached its destination and was enjoyed. "Right on. Glass ain't too durable," the wolf said with a grin. The city surrounding them was evidence enough of that; most of the windows of the buildings were smashed to pieces, the bits of shattered glass long swept away by the wind. The tone of the conversation once more went serious, though the Russian wolf listened with clear interest, his coal-dusted ears perking forward to catch the other man's words.
He was not absolutely certain his own affinity for his own sex extended back quite so far. When he was a kid he could remember liking girls, but not boys—yet he did not know if that was because he was afraid of admitting it or he simply ignored the impulses. These things had only flourished when he'd left home and traveled. "Sorry, I am just a curious old man," the wolf said, laughing casually. "It is no big thing. I am not stupid, I know... some people gotta be nasty to you just 'cause what you like, but... ain't no issue of mine what gets your jollies," the ash-colored wolf said gently. He hadn't meant to put the other man on the spot like that, but it was something that had been bothering him for some time, and he hadn't met anyone quite so open as Strel was.
The other man asked a question which Rurik was happy to answer, and he grinned, nodding emphatically as he began to speak of his family. "Aye, I have Silas and Anatoliy, mine young sons, and Liliya, my daughter. Their mother's Verusha. She lives with Anatoliy back near home. There are mine three older sons, Zaets, Zorish, and Vladimir... they lived around here at some point. Maybe you heard of 'em?" the werewolf asked, ever hopeful in the search for his children.