11-15-2008, 01:03 PM
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Rain was gently falling, turning the horizon into a misty blur. Perched on the edge of a pier, lying on his belly and staring cat-like into the water, Luka peered at the bright flashes of fish as they darted beneath the surface, rising toward the sky to search for insects knocked into the water. His stomach contracted painfully, growling dully in the morning silence. He frowned, pouting softly to himself as he rose and seated himself cross-legged on the edge. Fishing. The dock was raised too high to reach the creatures from here, but he'd been taught a technique by Zaets, taught to him by Rurik, involving a stick, string, and bait to trick the fish into his grasp. But where would he find all the tools to make himself a worthwhile fishing rod? Again, a noticeable frown marred his features.
Gaze scanned the harbor, finally rising to his feet and heading for a building. Somewhere in a place like this there had to be a fishing pole. After twenty minutes or so of rummaging through the abandon warehouse he found in the office a small fishing rod stowed away in a back closet. Suppressing an expression of his relief and satisfaction, he grabbed the metal stick, tested the line lightly and plucked a large, hairy spider from it's web in a dark corner. Returning to his perch on the edge of the dock, he pierced the arachnid through with the metal hook and dropped the line into the water, twitching the line with careful movements, hoping a fish would take his bait.[/html]
Gaze scanned the harbor, finally rising to his feet and heading for a building. Somewhere in a place like this there had to be a fishing pole. After twenty minutes or so of rummaging through the abandon warehouse he found in the office a small fishing rod stowed away in a back closet. Suppressing an expression of his relief and satisfaction, he grabbed the metal stick, tested the line lightly and plucked a large, hairy spider from it's web in a dark corner. Returning to his perch on the edge of the dock, he pierced the arachnid through with the metal hook and dropped the line into the water, twitching the line with careful movements, hoping a fish would take his bait.[/html]
11-17-2008, 09:26 PM
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It did not surprise him that he might find a lone fisherman here (for indeed, he had found much stranger things in the world), but that the familiarity was there. He couldn’t pinpoint it, not at first. Still, it drew him in and he walked through the misting rain, feeling but not feeling the cold on his coat. The darkness in his hair was spreading, though only slightly. If he had lived to be much older his coat might have followed suit. If that had been the case, Ahren might have blinded himself simply because he could not stand to be his father.
Of course, he was half-blind as it was. This did not impair him as much as much as he had imagined. Then again, others had lived like this and gone on. He was not unique. That much gave him some sense of comfort. He watched the fisherman for several minutes, approaching at an easy pace, and only when the wind gave away the scent did he flash through a long-faded memory. Struggling, he stumbled over a word that had long been forgotten. “Привет,” he said, mangling the pronunciation with his German tongue.
It did not surprise him that he might find a lone fisherman here (for indeed, he had found much stranger things in the world), but that the familiarity was there. He couldn’t pinpoint it, not at first. Still, it drew him in and he walked through the misting rain, feeling but not feeling the cold on his coat. The darkness in his hair was spreading, though only slightly. If he had lived to be much older his coat might have followed suit. If that had been the case, Ahren might have blinded himself simply because he could not stand to be his father.
Of course, he was half-blind as it was. This did not impair him as much as much as he had imagined. Then again, others had lived like this and gone on. He was not unique. That much gave him some sense of comfort. He watched the fisherman for several minutes, approaching at an easy pace, and only when the wind gave away the scent did he flash through a long-faded memory. Struggling, he stumbled over a word that had long been forgotten. “Привет,” he said, mangling the pronunciation with his German tongue.
11-18-2008, 08:43 AM
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His fishing wasn't going well at all. He could see the fish darting beneath the water, surface broken by the falling rain, but they refused to bite onto his hook. The spider was since drown, hanging limp in the water, legs drifting vaguely with the current and the occasional twitch of his rod. A few times a fish tugged on the arachnid, pulling off a leg or two, but otherwise leaving his bait intact. There had to be a better technique--that, or his hook was too obvious. Fish must be smarter then he'd given them credit for. He drew his line back in, catching the water-logged spider in his hand and examining what was left of it from the fish's nibbles and the water's pull. It wasn't much. No wonder they weren't biting anymore. Annoyed, he tugged it from the end of the hook and tossed it into the water, laying the pole on the dock beside him. To his even greater aggravation the spider vanished as a fish leapt from the water, swallowing his bait in a single bite. "Stupid fish," he muttered darkly to himself, stomach again twisting with a dull rumble, reminding him it was empty.
The wind changed, blowing the rain into his face and he blinked back droplets. His scent was carried in another direction now, and with it came a blond male with a single eye. He turned his head at the poorly spoken, deeply familiar word that struck a sense of nostalgia within the young wolf. Regarding the stranger with a mild expression, he smiled brightly, flashing the edges of snow-white teeth with the small expression. Russian, the tongue of his father, and many of the gypsies from the band he'd spent much of his youth traveling with. "Eh, Russki!" he proclaimed in a pleased manner. "Privet! Ty govoriš po-russki?" he inquired, noting the male's difficult accent that marred the flow of the single word. His fishing had been forgotten now as intrigue grew for the other wolf, curious on many levels. He had been told not many wolves spoke his family's language here, and for a complete stranger to come up to him and automatically greet him in Russian struck a distinct note of interest.[/html]
The wind changed, blowing the rain into his face and he blinked back droplets. His scent was carried in another direction now, and with it came a blond male with a single eye. He turned his head at the poorly spoken, deeply familiar word that struck a sense of nostalgia within the young wolf. Regarding the stranger with a mild expression, he smiled brightly, flashing the edges of snow-white teeth with the small expression. Russian, the tongue of his father, and many of the gypsies from the band he'd spent much of his youth traveling with. "Eh, Russki!" he proclaimed in a pleased manner. "Privet! Ty govoriš po-russki?" he inquired, noting the male's difficult accent that marred the flow of the single word. His fishing had been forgotten now as intrigue grew for the other wolf, curious on many levels. He had been told not many wolves spoke his family's language here, and for a complete stranger to come up to him and automatically greet him in Russian struck a distinct note of interest.[/html]
11-19-2008, 01:33 AM
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His suspicions confirmed, Ahren smiled faintly and shook his head. “That’s all I know,” he said, assuming the other had indeed asked him about the language (at least, he recognized the word ‘russki’). Coming up to the dock, he felt the wood under his feet and walked over the shallow water, remembering vaguely a time he had found his son doing the same thing. Of course, Jasper’s method was quite different. Different, and also very ineffective. “You’re a Russo, aren’t you?”
His suspicions confirmed, Ahren smiled faintly and shook his head. “That’s all I know,” he said, assuming the other had indeed asked him about the language (at least, he recognized the word ‘russki’). Coming up to the dock, he felt the wood under his feet and walked over the shallow water, remembering vaguely a time he had found his son doing the same thing. Of course, Jasper’s method was quite different. Different, and also very ineffective. “You’re a Russo, aren’t you?”
11-29-2008, 12:58 PM
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There was a mild disappointment that the male could only converse a single word, yet intrigue still remained. The stranger approached and Luka turned his entire body around now to regard the male with full interest. Attention perked further at the simple question he asked. "Da, I am." Many questions bubbled beneath the surface, but the boy finally settled on: "Who are you?" tinged with his peculiar accent that was partially Russian, and partly marred with many other dialects. "Zorry," he said, immediately apologizing for his forwardness, ears sliding back briefly in evidence. "I mean, I am Luka. How you know Russo?"[/html]
12-03-2008, 02:36 PM
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Taking a seat on the edge, Ahren folded his legs under his body and drew a cigarette from his pouch. A match struck, filled the world with a sulfur scent, and was then tossed into the cold water.
“I knew Rurik,” he offered, inhaling.
“And Kiska,” he added, exhaling. As the smoke flew up around his head, he spared a glance towards the young man.
“I’m Ahren.”
Taking a seat on the edge, Ahren folded his legs under his body and drew a cigarette from his pouch. A match struck, filled the world with a sulfur scent, and was then tossed into the cold water.
“I knew Rurik,” he offered, inhaling.
“And Kiska,” he added, exhaling. As the smoke flew up around his head, he spared a glance towards the young man.
“I’m Ahren.”
12-11-2008, 08:38 AM
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Luka watched the stranger light a cigarette after he'd taken a seat on the edge near him, nose wrinkling faintly at the acrid, sulfuric scent that possessed the air when the match was struck. "Zhey are my fazzer's parents," he said, familiarity struck at the names the wolf spoke. Zaets had told him about Kiska and Rurik--how his father had captained the crew that first became Syemv in Bleeding Souls and how he'd only known Kiska for a short time, truly remembering only her green-dyed hair. Zaets' mother and father had both abandoned their children for a time in his life. First Rurik the moment they were born, believing the children to not be his, and then Kiska, vanishing one day into the world and never returning. Rurik he had reconciled with, but Kiska had never been seen again, and this had torn him as a small child, so used to shadowing his mother.
Luka had been luckier, his mother fiercely protective of her children, holding them tightly within her grasp and threatening murder on anything that dared touch them. Her sons never as much as her daughters, but it was all the same to Luka. But he had begun to see her darker side as he grew, and so thus followed after Zaets when he'd been chased away, forced to abandon his own children not by choice, but by situation. Luka still loved his mother, but the intrigue of the world beyond, even from the nomad's life, and the longing to see what else there was caused him to leave her side, chancing fate that he'd never see her again in this lifetime. False beliefs shown in their true light turned the boy against the being that bore him, and the desire for truth and a greater reality. "Ahren," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue to ensure he properly learned it. A respectful gesture, as though the wolf's presence honestly mattered to him. "Zheir son Zaets was my fazzer. Did you know him too?" he chanced, making conversation to derive further knowledge of his own origins from the creature.[/html]
Luka had been luckier, his mother fiercely protective of her children, holding them tightly within her grasp and threatening murder on anything that dared touch them. Her sons never as much as her daughters, but it was all the same to Luka. But he had begun to see her darker side as he grew, and so thus followed after Zaets when he'd been chased away, forced to abandon his own children not by choice, but by situation. Luka still loved his mother, but the intrigue of the world beyond, even from the nomad's life, and the longing to see what else there was caused him to leave her side, chancing fate that he'd never see her again in this lifetime. False beliefs shown in their true light turned the boy against the being that bore him, and the desire for truth and a greater reality. "Ahren," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue to ensure he properly learned it. A respectful gesture, as though the wolf's presence honestly mattered to him. "Zheir son Zaets was my fazzer. Did you know him too?" he chanced, making conversation to derive further knowledge of his own origins from the creature.[/html]
12-12-2008, 11:36 AM
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Ahren had rarely talked to his children about his own parents, both mad and long dead. It was as if they had never existed now, with all trace of their work burnt up in the fire (except for perhaps Ahren, though he could taste the days on his tongue). Exhaling smoke into the cold, and breathing in the ice deeply, he spared a glance to the gray wolf. This was the grandson, which he should have guessed from his age. Not that he didn’t put it past either of them (and Rurik least of all) to have more children. Kaena had proven that age was little barrier to continuing her bloodline.
Zaets was a name he recognized, but not because of any personal connection. A shake of the head sent his black-streaked hair into his face. “No,” he conceded, brushing his bangs back. “I only met your grandparents a few times, and that was before they had children.”
Ahren had rarely talked to his children about his own parents, both mad and long dead. It was as if they had never existed now, with all trace of their work burnt up in the fire (except for perhaps Ahren, though he could taste the days on his tongue). Exhaling smoke into the cold, and breathing in the ice deeply, he spared a glance to the gray wolf. This was the grandson, which he should have guessed from his age. Not that he didn’t put it past either of them (and Rurik least of all) to have more children. Kaena had proven that age was little barrier to continuing her bloodline.
Zaets was a name he recognized, but not because of any personal connection. A shake of the head sent his black-streaked hair into his face. “No,” he conceded, brushing his bangs back. “I only met your grandparents a few times, and that was before they had children.”
12-28-2008, 04:22 PM
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Zaets had loved his mother, a fierce sadness growing from the moment she had abandoned him. His father he hadn't cared for until the moment they had reconciled--just a name and a presence that had helped in the creation of his life, but nothing more. But it had been mutual, as Rurik himself had disregarded the existence of his own children, believing them not to be his. Once harmony had been reunited, and a friendliness instilled, Zaets could speak more freely and willingly about the man who'd sired him. He had been a broken man the last he'd seen of him, no longer the indomitable alpha he'd known as a child. The reasoning behind this he could only guess, but never know unless he asked; and that was something he'd never yet been in a position to do.
"Ah," Luka said, giving a small nod of his head in understanding. This creature was of his grandparent's generation, and only an associate of their's. But it didn't matter much as he wasn't seeking knowledge regarding some ghostly parent he'd never met. Luka knew Zaets fairly well, and knew the general area he lurked in the city as living, breathing flesh. "So, Meezzter Ahren, ezz zheir anyzhing I should know about zhese eluseeve grandparents of mine?" he asked, making conversation.[/html]
"Ah," Luka said, giving a small nod of his head in understanding. This creature was of his grandparent's generation, and only an associate of their's. But it didn't matter much as he wasn't seeking knowledge regarding some ghostly parent he'd never met. Luka knew Zaets fairly well, and knew the general area he lurked in the city as living, breathing flesh. "So, Meezzter Ahren, ezz zheir anyzhing I should know about zhese eluseeve grandparents of mine?" he asked, making conversation.[/html]
12-30-2008, 06:01 PM
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The age in his bones was the same length of time that belonged to his father. In many ways they were parallels, however opposite Ahren wanted them to be. His blonde hair fluttered in the wind, obscuring what was left of his vision, and he shut his left eye against the strands of black and gold. “Your grandmother dyed her fur green,” he said automatically. That much he could remember from what Damian told him. She had been gray to him, but apparently the color was remarkable. “She liked exploring. She was very friendly.”
He paused, took a drag on the cigarette, and then coughed again. “Rurik drank a lot. He was always smiling when I saw him, though.” Long before Ahren and Inferni had crossed paths, long before the smiles stopped. “Do you now what happened with them?”
The age in his bones was the same length of time that belonged to his father. In many ways they were parallels, however opposite Ahren wanted them to be. His blonde hair fluttered in the wind, obscuring what was left of his vision, and he shut his left eye against the strands of black and gold. “Your grandmother dyed her fur green,” he said automatically. That much he could remember from what Damian told him. She had been gray to him, but apparently the color was remarkable. “She liked exploring. She was very friendly.”
He paused, took a drag on the cigarette, and then coughed again. “Rurik drank a lot. He was always smiling when I saw him, though.” Long before Ahren and Inferni had crossed paths, long before the smiles stopped. “Do you now what happened with them?”
01-01-2009, 01:19 AM
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He smiled faintly, remembering how Zaets had told him of her dyed-green hair. Of course, Ahren seemed to have known the woman better than the small child his father had been when he'd last seen his mother--which was more than could be said for Luka, who'd never even met her. A pause for a drag and a cough before the wolf continued without any further interruption. He shook his head after Rurik's description, unknowing any further of their fates than Zaets did. "No," he replied. "I 'ave never even met zhem, and zee last my fazzer saw of zhem zee old land was not yet burned." Here conversation shifted, drawn to curiosity further by his own response. "Do you know vhat 'appened to cause such a fire?" he asked, own eyes the color of fire and flame as they drifted back toward the wolf from where they'd slipped briefly back out to sea.[/html]
01-05-2009, 07:06 AM
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Ahren inhaled on the smoke, heard the faint crackle of tobacco burning, and hesitated. He knew the source of the fire; it lived under God’s eye and with God’s vengeance. It had spawned two children and kept a long-gone woman alive. It had never once asked him for anything, and because of this, Ahren had given what he could. Smiling faintly, he eyed the boy as a cat might a plaything. “I did, actually,” he said suddenly, and then laughed. “The voice of the apocalypse spoke to me, you could say.” Pushing himself up, the blonde turned, and began to walk off.
Ahren inhaled on the smoke, heard the faint crackle of tobacco burning, and hesitated. He knew the source of the fire; it lived under God’s eye and with God’s vengeance. It had spawned two children and kept a long-gone woman alive. It had never once asked him for anything, and because of this, Ahren had given what he could. Smiling faintly, he eyed the boy as a cat might a plaything. “I did, actually,” he said suddenly, and then laughed. “The voice of the apocalypse spoke to me, you could say.” Pushing himself up, the blonde turned, and began to walk off.
01-05-2009, 08:43 AM
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Ahren's response threw Luka off guard, watching as the pale wolf turned and began to walk away. Then he grinned, laughing as he allowed it to sink in. Rather than being afraid or remaining confused as to his cryptic reply, the yearling was simply amused. He turned back to the sea, lifting his fishing rod back into his hand and casting it back out onto the steely waters. He would remain there for a while longer, attempting to catch something and thinking about his strange encounter before packing up and returning to somewhere he yet did not know. If anything, it sounded as though he had just meet the cause of the great fire that burned Bleeding Souls to ash, or at least, someone who knew the exact source. And whatever the source was, it was probably just as mad as their little conversation had been.[/html]