01-06-2010, 12:06 AM
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| 641 SSWM /sob You'll hit 50k easy D: Strel nodded absently at Rurik, gazing at the cracked pavement. The gravel had so much more depth this close, but nature was breaking through the no longer whole surface with yellow-green shoots. "He doesn't seem like a person you wouldn't get along with. He's really interesting, visually and with his...his... personality, that's the word," he finished finally, face relaxing since he had scrunched it up in concentration. The word came rather difficultly, easy as it was to say and understand. The redhead's mind was running in circles around simple things, and while it should have been worrying him, he simply felt mellow about. It felt nice, despite the difficulty in conversing properly and understandable. But the drink was strong against his rather short defensive wall. The booze was like a bull and the defense was a small wall of pebbles; leaps right over. The only problem he could still comprehend with the alcohol was the rise in his body temperature, or the feel of it rising. He began to feel rather warm, mostly in the face and chest. Everywhere else was still the way it was supposed to be. Snorting, the redhead looked back up at Rurik, smirking. "If you mean running, I don't know who'd win there. If you mean drinking, I think I already lost." He blinked, trying to clear his sight a little bit more. The looks he was making were sure to be comical, but he could not tell. They were practical to the tipsy male's mind and that was the important part. Though he could not help but look at Rurik and think the guy was pretty hot for his age. Seven years, the Russian was no spring chicken, but he still looked to be roaring in his prime. He told himself it was the alcohol convincing him to think this way, and he accepted it as that. Strel tried to remind himself to be responsible for his words and actions, but to use the vodka as an excuse for stupidity was terribly tempting; he usually did not have an excuse for that. Strel made a face at the mention of wine, remembering a sip he had tasted with his siblings in an abandoned house. It had tasted really funny and he had not liked it at the time. Though this vodka, it was interesting. Maybe something sweeter, or fruitier, would satisfy the newcomer to alcohol better than higher proof drink? Then, eyes widening at the mention of the places Rurik had been, the redhead wondered what to ask about first. He had heard of none of those, so they all seemed interesting to the wolf who had not traveled far from his pack lands nor had time for sea travel. "Oh, Rome, that sounds pretty. What was it like? Where was it?" A memory of his mother mentioning the origins of their family name came to mind, and Strel asked further of the Russian, "Did you ever go to Germany? I hear that's where my ancestors were from ages ago." The stories his mother had told him seemed so long ago, though it had not been yet a year since he had left his family behind. "Everyone seems to really love the sea around here," he observed, sighing. Strel liked the sea, but it was an average feeling, nothing strong enough for him to risk his hide for months at a time on a boat with no land beneath his feet. The idea was almost scary, truth be told. "Though I guess I should be glad you took the voyage here, elsewise I would never have met a smart, old guy," he grinned, clearly not meaning it in an insulting way. Strelein leaned back and then lay on the ground, arms outspread as violet eyes gazed at the sky. "Do tell me about Rome." |
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