01-17-2010, 02:39 PM
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I did not know where you wanted this to be, so if you need me to change it, please, let me know
Somehow, wondering in an area that reminded him of home, only made the earthen hued male feel to be in a far more foreign land then he was. He had crossed the mighty ocean separating his home continent of Europe and this one, which he assumed was North America. It was cold, much like home in Sobirat'sya, Russia. Here, though, it was so much more developed than back home in the regard to the human ruins. Back home, they had taken over old warehouses and added on their own additions. But the humans here had built something huge and monstrous, much like the major cities the Russian humans had made. There was something so much cozier about the fishing village that his many relatives inhabited, thousands of miles away.
Anatoliy's throat clenched at the thought of his family so far away. His sudden departure had not been intended and he knew his mother was suffering not knowing what happened to him. The boy could not do much to get back home, so he figured he might as well find a way to learn to sail or perhaps find people to give him passage back to Europe. After that he would have been able to make his way back to Sobirat'sya. But now that he was here, in a place he did not know the name of, he might as well make the most of it. He had heard aboard the ship that this area spoke English, so he relaxed there a bit. His father had taught him some of the language before he had left the boy with his mother, taking his brother and two sister on a trip to Amsterdam and onwards. Anatoliy had felt no bitterness about staying with Verusha for it had been his own choice to stay with her. Though he certainly wanted to go with Rurik, Silas, Liliya, and Lizaveta. The earth-toned male wondered how they were doing wherever they were. He truly believed that there would be no chance of finding his father and his siblings. How long had it been? Almost half his life since Rurik returned the once New World?
Now, wondering in a nameless city, with signs in a language that had almost no meaning to him. The letters were the same sometimes, but they were missing so many of them that the Russian knew he was in an English speaking area. Rurik had shown him some of the English letters and that was the only reason he knew what it was. But it did not matter to Anatoliy; it was all Greek to him. His nature of a fisherman in training pushed him to stay to the edge of the city, with a frothing winter sea to his right side. The wind blew, running through his thick fur. He was glad for the wolf blood that his father provided. Verusha had a bit of a harder time in winter than the rest of the Russo family. Anatoliy only began to worry about his mother more, but his curiosity as to where he was got the better of him. The thought of his mother would probably never leave his mind, always there in the back right before the rest of the Russo family.
Sighing, rather melancholy, he stopped on the edge of a huge stretch of concrete, most likely a road. He crossed over the curb, letting himself sit down on the mildly less cold sand. Anatoliy hunched over, trying to keep his body tucked into him to keep warm. The weather was not new to him, but he was like his mother sometimes, disliking the cold. But other times he reveled in it, loving the feel of the cold winter in his pelt. The sea churned before his eyes in the Halifax bay. The boy did not know how he was going to get home and his future certainly looked forlorn.
I did not know where you wanted this to be, so if you need me to change it, please, let me know
Somehow, wondering in an area that reminded him of home, only made the earthen hued male feel to be in a far more foreign land then he was. He had crossed the mighty ocean separating his home continent of Europe and this one, which he assumed was North America. It was cold, much like home in Sobirat'sya, Russia. Here, though, it was so much more developed than back home in the regard to the human ruins. Back home, they had taken over old warehouses and added on their own additions. But the humans here had built something huge and monstrous, much like the major cities the Russian humans had made. There was something so much cozier about the fishing village that his many relatives inhabited, thousands of miles away.
Anatoliy's throat clenched at the thought of his family so far away. His sudden departure had not been intended and he knew his mother was suffering not knowing what happened to him. The boy could not do much to get back home, so he figured he might as well find a way to learn to sail or perhaps find people to give him passage back to Europe. After that he would have been able to make his way back to Sobirat'sya. But now that he was here, in a place he did not know the name of, he might as well make the most of it. He had heard aboard the ship that this area spoke English, so he relaxed there a bit. His father had taught him some of the language before he had left the boy with his mother, taking his brother and two sister on a trip to Amsterdam and onwards. Anatoliy had felt no bitterness about staying with Verusha for it had been his own choice to stay with her. Though he certainly wanted to go with Rurik, Silas, Liliya, and Lizaveta. The earth-toned male wondered how they were doing wherever they were. He truly believed that there would be no chance of finding his father and his siblings. How long had it been? Almost half his life since Rurik returned the once New World?
Now, wondering in a nameless city, with signs in a language that had almost no meaning to him. The letters were the same sometimes, but they were missing so many of them that the Russian knew he was in an English speaking area. Rurik had shown him some of the English letters and that was the only reason he knew what it was. But it did not matter to Anatoliy; it was all Greek to him. His nature of a fisherman in training pushed him to stay to the edge of the city, with a frothing winter sea to his right side. The wind blew, running through his thick fur. He was glad for the wolf blood that his father provided. Verusha had a bit of a harder time in winter than the rest of the Russo family. Anatoliy only began to worry about his mother more, but his curiosity as to where he was got the better of him. The thought of his mother would probably never leave his mind, always there in the back right before the rest of the Russo family.
Sighing, rather melancholy, he stopped on the edge of a huge stretch of concrete, most likely a road. He crossed over the curb, letting himself sit down on the mildly less cold sand. Anatoliy hunched over, trying to keep his body tucked into him to keep warm. The weather was not new to him, but he was like his mother sometimes, disliking the cold. But other times he reveled in it, loving the feel of the cold winter in his pelt. The sea churned before his eyes in the Halifax bay. The boy did not know how he was going to get home and his future certainly looked forlorn.