as long as there is whiskey in the world.

POSTED: Mon Jul 19, 2010 9:38 pm

Rurik had woken many hours ago, but at some point during the afternoon, a strange sleepiness had struck him. He was not normally one to enjoy taking long naps through the afternoon, and even today he had only been sleeping a little over an hour when the soft tones of music awakened him. His baby blue eyes opened slowly, peering up at the ceiling. It was rather hot and stuffy in his room, even with both windows opened wide. There were no screens in them anymore, so of course bugs would get in, but as Rurik was quite used to living around wildlife, this bothered him considerably less than it might have bothered a human.

He stretched and turned, throwing his legs over the side of his bed. It creaked and groaned beneath his weight, and he cocked an ear to listen. He was a pretty heavy man, heavier by far than the average human, and so perhaps sleeping and crashing on his bed so often was weakening it. No matter—he could always get rid of the frame and sleep on the mattresses. Such a thing was not uncommon in the least; it was more comfortable to some to be close to the ground, and others were simply too big for any normal human bed to accommodate. Rurik yawned widely and stretched out once more, tossing his arms upward and leaning into the motion, shaking the sleepiness from his body.

The sound of music was distinctive, floating into his room from the outside world. He meandered forward, lighting a cigarette as he went. He often smoked right after he woke up, and today the fancy had struck him to do so. Opening his front door, he peered about, looking toward the house where his other son lived. Toliy had explained some things to him, but he was altogether confused, and of course, he wanted to meet this new and unknown son for himself. The silver-shaded werewolf had no idea what to expect, but he was not worried or concerned—if this boy truly was his son, they would cherish each other as always. The overgrowth of bushes and various other plants obscured the werewolf's view until he had rounded them, his bright gaze falling on his son for the very first time.

POSTED: Mon Jul 19, 2010 10:56 pm

http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... guitar.png);">
OOC: yey, poppa thread <333 +5
Can't you see?
This Is the land of Confusion!

After a hard morning of Bartholomew taking over the body and actually getting his house to look at least somewhat hospitable, he had finally gotten to sit down, and enjoy himself as himself, Mars. Bartholomew had taken a seat back, and let Mars express his emotions in the form of strums of the white fender guitar he had in his hands. He slowly strummed the chords, ivory fingers of his right hand easily moving over the chords as he slowly sped up and changed the beat to something that was conflicting to the first part of the slow beginning. He wasn't expecting for his counterpart, Bartholomew to walk up to the playing Mars and take him by the shoulder. No, that's not right. Start over from that slow part, and then add another slow part. You had no build-up. the male spoke to the other. Mars glared at the other. Bartholomew was no musician. It was only Mars that knew anything about the work of art that was music composition. Just like Mars wasn't able to draw and paint, and Bartholomew was able to. Don't do that, Bartholomew. I don't tell you how to draw, now do I? the twin spoke to Bartholomew in retaliation. Mars had, however, run his fingers over the guitar again and he started off at the beginning with the slow sunrise that was his music playing. Yuh, but the thing about it is that I don't suck at drawing. Bartholomew argued. Mars ignored him and pushed him away mentally.

Bartholomew was going to say something but the smell of cigarette smoke filled Mars and his own lungs. Someone was close. Bartholomew tilted an ear back while Mars had ignored it for now and continued to play. His fingers sped up into another riff of quick, contradicting chords that made the first calmness of the song turn into a storm of one. Steel eyes were on the white guitar as he hummed along lightly, his ivory and chocolate feet tapping on the wooden deck of his worn down house that still looked like it was going to cave in. He was only two people, he couldn't possibly do all the work by himself in only a few days. It'd probably take him weeks to completely finish fixing up the house. He ignored the scent of the cigarette still, and even closed his mismatched eyelids to concentrate more on his music. It wouldn't be until Vox had whinnied that Mars would finally look up and over to the stallion first and then the man who had been smoking, and closing in on Mars. Steel eyes met icy ones. Bartholomew too looked at the male whom had come on the property. Who was this man? He smelt of the ocean and of the pack. Mars' hands had stopped playing abruptly. Mars took a quick breath in, his shoulders rising lightly as he had taken the breath and once exhales, his shoulders went back to their relaxed position. He swallowed the extra saliva that would collect in his mouth before he pulled an unsure ear back and he finally opened his mouth to speak to the man. Hello, sir?

Mars Speaks Bartholomew Speaks .

POSTED: Tue Jul 20, 2010 7:16 am

http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_bottledrage.jpg); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 245px 0px 0px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#000000; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;">

fsdfsdf

The silver-shaded werewolf did not know how to react in this situation; he was uncertain as to how his son might feel about him. It was a given that Zaets, Zorish, and Vladimir were no fan of their father, but then again, Rurik had been the one to abandon them. He had not even known of this son's existence until very recently! How could he be blamed for that which he did not know? There was a strange sort of nervousness in him; Toliy hadn't been specific at all in mentioning this man, and the silver-shaded werewolf was indeed rather apprehensive about meeting his son. It still sounded strange, but if it was true, then Rurik would not reject him. He knew what the consequences of that particular action involved, and the silver-shaded man was not about to relive that.

The other man's eyes were a reflection of his own, Russo as Rurik had ever known. The silver-shaded werewolf was not taken aback by this, nor seeing his own features reflected back in the face of a stranger. “Allo,” he said, stopping a few feet from the man. He rather uselessly pulled at his cigarette, and then after a moment dug in his pocket to produce the silver case he generally kept them in, fumbling it open and offering one to the other man. “Toliy tells me, he says you are mine son? I am Rurik,” the silver-shaded werewolf began, uncertain how to say what he wanted to say in any other way. There was no beating about the bush; to do so seemed foolish to the silver-shaded man.

POSTED: Wed Jul 21, 2010 3:36 am

http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... guitar.png);">
OOC: feel free to pp mars or vox if need be.

The male in front of him. There was a strange familiar feeling within the chest of the male. It was of course the eyes, the ones he saw every day when he looked at Bartholomew, his twin. Mismatched ears fell back on his chocolate hair. The other had spoken a Russian "allo" to him. His ebon ear had shot up. The other male seemed to be in an awkward position, this other one as well as himself. Mars was nervous possibly because of the other's own nervousness, or because Mars was unsure of what this creature in front of him wanted. It wasn't until the other spoke on was the American Russo was able to understand of could. There was a lump that quickly formed in the mouth of the quiet man. Oh, fuck this shit Mars, you're on your own with you and your family matters man. Bartholomew let the thought pop into the head of mars before he got up from his spot and disappeared from view. Bartholomew wanted nothing to do with the family. Perhaps that was a good thing. Mars' tail wagged gently though, showing that he was at least a little bit happy that the other had been his father. Mars simply looked at his father for a moment, taking in the detail of the massive animal that was in front of him. Mars was tiny compared to his wolven siblings and father. It was almost intimidating. He was offered a cigarette, in which the male took one cooly and slipped it into his mouth. He pulled out a lighter from his jacket pocket and he lit the end of it and inhaled the thick smoke of the cancer stick. He would remove the cigarette and lick his lips out of habit. It's nice to finally meet you. his voice was calm, just like the beginning of his song.

Mars was finally actually able to put a smile on his maw as he looked up at his father. My name is Mars Bartholomew Russo-Cubbins. Son of well, you and Lyndi Cubbins. the male spoke, Mars bowing his head to his father in greeting. He removed the guitar from his lap and he proceeded to stand up, so his father could get a good look at him. I'm sorry that I didn't have time to wash up before you came over.. I was working on the house earlier and it's quite the job I have to say... the American spoke to his father, a small smile still adorning his features. His tail wiggled softly as he stood there, a good two feet smaller than his giant of a father. Mars almost felt like a puppy for a minute as he looked at his father with his big blue eyes. The younger Russo pulled both of his ears to his father before he looked to his stallion. That is Vox. He's the bastard that got me all the way over here. I came from California, America. That's where my mom and half siblings are. the male spoke, nodding his head lightly as he spoke, the stallion catching the sound of his name and reacting by perking his head towards the two males and slowly making his way over to the two males. He's really friendly, and not shy at all. the male spoke, giving a nervous chuckle as Vox had walked over to the silver coated male for a minute, sniffed at the male's chest for a moment and looked hard at the silver wolf before looking over to Mars as if he was seeking approval or something. Mars looked back at his brown eyed stallion. Vox, That's Rurik Russo, my dad. the male spoke to the horse calmly, whom in turn, turned his head back to the silver brute and nudged his head into the male's chest a few times, sniffing the male and rubbing his head on the Russo man.

Mars Speaks Bartholomew Speaks .

POSTED: Tue Jul 27, 2010 8:43 am

Word Count :: 529

And so here was more evidence of his failure as a man; this was a clearly a Russo here before him. A strangely-shaded one, with more dog's blood than most, but a Russo nonetheless, and Rurik had not even known of his existence. A sad smile graced the man's face, and at once he wished to reach out and hug Mars, though he knew such an imposing and demanding action would cause only friction. He did not know if his attention or affection was needed or even wanted; maybe Mars had a father figure to replace Rurik. The silver-shaded wolf did not yet know, and to impose himself as Daddy so late in the game... well, it was just inappropriate, and Rurik knew it.

The black-and-white hybrid took a cigarette from the case and lit it with his own lighter; the silver-shaded elder closed the case slowly, smiling still, though now it was a happier smile—in everything this stranger did, from his movements and expressions, everything—it reminded him of himself, it reminded him of Toliy, it reminded him of Liliya. Zaets, Zorish, Vladimir, even—though Rurik could not remember them quite so clearly, and he had known them only briefly through adulthood. The silvery werewolf nodded at the other canine's sentiment with an even bigger grin. “Aye,” he said simply, nodding to emphasize the statement.

He did not remember Lyndi so well, but he would not admit this to Mars; hopefully the man might give more hints to his maternal ancestry, and something would spark Rurik's memory. He did not want to directly ask about the woman, not yet anyway. “Aye... I'm sorry I did not stay. I did not know... ah. I could not have known. But I am sorry,” he offered lamely, the smile having disappeared; awkwardness now graced his strong Russian features, and the male's sable-tipped ears folded back against his skull. He shook his head firmly at the young man's apology. “I vill tell you, I am not much of a proper man. I curse, I dreenk, I smoke, and sometimes I downright steenk,” he said, punctuating the statement with a laugh. “Happens vhen you are man, eh?” he added, smiling.

“You vant I help build, fix anyzhing, you tell me. It's is very least I can do for you, and I vould zhink eet es good opportunity to learn about each ozher,” the Russian offered quite seriously. He was always willing to help, and he was even more willing when family was involved—anything to get him started on getting to know this canine, this stranger, his son. He smiled again as the man introduced the horse, and gave the animal a look. “Zhat is fine animal,” he commented, knowing very little about horses, but knowing enough to call a beauty when he saw one. The next sentence was quite revealing and helpful to the Russian—he had seen California only once. “Zhat is vhere you born? Caleeforneea?” the Russian said, greeting the friendly horse with a pat on the shoulder and an appreciative hand along the back. “What a back,” the man said, commenting on the musculature of the equine's back.

POSTED: Tue Jul 27, 2010 2:27 pm

http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... guitar.png);">
OOC: <3 +8
I need the song started over, Your crying made me miss my favorite part

The cancer stick was held within the mouth of the tri-colored Russo man, his lungs dragging in the smoke that it gave off. He would blow the smoke to the side, neither towards his father, nor his steed in attempts to not be rude. His father would give out a loose 'aye' to the statements of the younger spawn. He would soon continue on on a schpeel about how he was sorry that he didn't stay, how he didn't even know of Mars' existence. Mars wasn't surprised, his mother gave no warnings, nor did she even try to find the male. In all honesty, Mars was just doomed to be a bastard for as long as he was. It did give him skills that his half-siblings did not have though, so it could be considered something as a blessing if Mars was a optimistic beast. She hated me, you know... the male would mutter the words almost silently, though they were loud enough for an outside to hear if they were listening close enough. Mars was relieved that he was here, now with his father. He hoped, deep down within the back of his mind that he was not as two-faced as his mother was, and this only being a facade of what was to come to him later on. The other would tell him that he was not a proper man. He drank, smoked, fucked, stunk and cursed. Most of the things that Mars did himself, except for the stink part. He tried not to stink, for he was a prince in the way he looked. He liked to spend the time looking at himself and making sure his white fur was just that, and his black fur was not ruffled or nasty looking. His father would ask him about being a man, and Mars smiled and nodded his head. Yeah, being a man does imply those things. voice was still calm, and low in tone. His voice was like an inside voice.

And then his father would offer to help rebuild this broken down shack of a house. Mars would look up at the porch ceiling of the house that he stood under. An ear fell back before his mind thought about his father helping him. They would get things done a lot faster, and if Rurik knew more about building than the younger luperci (he was made for inside jobs and running. He'd never really constructed a house or a building before- though he has patched up holes in a ceiling before, and done small things like that.) then the older Russo would be able to give the younger a few pointers on what to do. The audit that was tilted back had move back up on his head and his steel eyes went back to his father. The male that was his father, the one sharing those same eyes as him. His mother was right about the Russo man being huge, and it was the only explanation of why this Russo was larger than the Cubbins clan. His father would want to learn more about the Multiple Personality Disordered son that his one night fling of a woman had created under her manipulative little paw of hers. I'm no carpenter so it would be extremely helpful if you would help. the male's tone was still calm, soft, a small smile still playing on the actor's lips.

Rurik would tell him that Vox was a beautiful creature and he'd also ask if the male if he was born in California. As far as he knew, he was born in Fresno, but his mother could have given birth to him elsewhere and then brought him over (which wouldn't be a surprise to the dreamer, simply because Lyndi lied more often than she told the truth to Mars. Da, Caleeforneea ees vhere I reign from. the male would mimic his father's accented tongue, almost flawlessly, though he was not doing this in a disrespectful way, more like a pup trying to fit in with his own family, or a person who caught onto speech and would unknowingly make their voice sound like the voices that he was hearing. He would shake his head. He didn't mean to let his voice slip like that. He was American, and his accent should have remained the same. He said nothing more, instead, he looked at his father and Vox interacting. The steed would stand there and get the praises that the man was giving him. His father had spoken about the back of the beast. Mars cocked a head. He guessed that Vox's back was strong since the male had been able to carry himself and the possessions that Mars dragged along. Yuh, Vox has served me well. Served Lyndi well too...until I stole him. voice was still low, the same calm air over it. I was just taking a break from working for a little bit, so do you mind if we chill a little bit longer before we work on the house? the American accent was definitely back.

Mars Speaks Bartholomew Speaks .


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POSTED: Wed Aug 18, 2010 3:43 am

Word Count :: 359

“I did not know her well,” the ash-hued man confessed, his voice dropping low to match Mars' near-whisper. This was absolutely truthful—as he had no idea which of his many flings had given birth to the young man before him, he certainly did not know her well enough. He had not been in California very long, but even so, he would have to think rather hard on it to figure it out. His memory had never been particularly sharp, and there were many, many girls in the silver-shaded man's life, not all of which had made a terribly large impression on him.

“Vell... some men,” Rurik said, laughing nervously once more in an attempt to ease the tension. “Mine grandfather—your great grandfather—Vasil, I never hear him curse, never see heem smoke, and he only dreenk red vine,” the Russian wolf explained, a soft smile on his face. He did not wish to ostracize Mars; however his son was, Rurik would accept him. They had spent too long apart, and Rurik had to make things right between them. “All kinds of man,” he finished, nodding his head to affirm the statement doubly. “Anyt'eeng I can do, you tell me,” the man said, drawing lightly on his cigarette. He held the smoke just a moment before releasing it to the air.

“I saw only once—beautiful, but so very hot,” the werewolf said, smiling again. Of course, he was from the very top of the world; anywhere outside of the Arctic Circle was cold to him. “Ah. You must have had your reasons,” the man said, too curious to know what rift had formed between his son and his mother, but not wishing to pressure the young man. The name didn't even ring a bell—he would have to think hard to determine the identity of the woman. “Yes, of course. Vhatever you vould like,” the man said, smiling at the other canine's fast-swapping accents. He wanted Mars to feel a part of the family, and if taking on a Russian accent helped him do so, Rurik certainly wouldn't object—after all, the motherland was in Mars' blood.


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POSTED: Thu Aug 19, 2010 10:28 am

http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... unktab.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">This is the song i listen to when i use this table fyi +5
Vox Populi
Want to be God, the Devil, like me?

The man would confess that he did not know her well. That was obvious. He probably would have skipped over this drunk fuck if he had known her and her manic depressive ways that would instill his son's own mind with it's own stupid issues. He had to be grateful for Lyndi though, and his father, this Rurik Russo man that stood like a tower in front of him. Mars shook his head. You don't want to know her. Trust me. the American had spoken to the man, his father. Mars still was feeling weird about actually being here in front of his father after almost three years of never meeting him. Maybe things were going to be okay after all. Just maybe. The Russo man would then speak further, of being a man. He would tell him that his great grandfather never cursed or smoked. He only drank red wine. White wine was probably hard to find. He gave a hollow smile to his father, finding the musing to be rather sweet. His father would finish with saying "All kinds of man" which Mars took as that there were all different types of men, not just the ones who cursed and smelt bad. Mars found his father's words to be charming in the stupidest sense. Aye, All kinds of man indeed. Mars spoke, his voice level.

Rurik would go on to tell him that he'd do whatever he wanted. Mars nodded his head and was happy with the flexibility of his father. His father then would go on to speak about California again. It was hot and beautiful and that he had only been there once. The husky's fur was thinner because of the climate that he had come from, and though it had been almost a gradual change of environment from when he was in the mountain areas, his coat had not had enough time to properly fill out. It's cold here.. the man spoke to the other. My fur seems to be still used to California. It hasn't been long enough for me to grow in yet. and there was the reason that he was fully clothed. It was much cooler here than in California around the same time, and the wind feeling on his fur had become weird to him here. Eventually he will get used to it. Dad told him that he must had had his reasons to steal Vox, and Mars agreed. Hell the fuck yeah he had perfectly good reasons. Number one would be the year of hell that she had put him through. While Mars couldn't kill his mother, he definitely could steal her prized steed before she was able to find a mare to breed him with. Mars found that to be his own problem now, but he wouldn't worry about it too soon, since he wasn't in a hurry for a foal.

Dad would also tell him that whatever he wanted to do at the moment goes. So, being the porch monkey that he was, Mars lead his father back to where he was sitting (another chair sitting next to the one he had picked for himself) and he had picked up his guitar. Come and sit, I'll play some music for you. the man spoke to his father as he pointed to the chair next to him, and invited him over. Tell me, Do any of the Russos play music? he asked as he started to run his fingers over the guitar strings, strumming a simple tune at the current moment as he awaited for his father to sit down before he really began to get into the song. He left the tempo loose and quiet so they could easily speak while he was playing (which was a good skill of his) and to not be rude to his father. After all. This was his dad that he was talking to. He didn't know this man as far as just outside looks now. He didn't know the personality behind this Rurik Russo, and to even call him dad was a big step for him that he would take in time he supposed.

Mars Speaks Bartholomew Speaks


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POSTED: Fri Aug 20, 2010 3:44 am

Word Count :: 315 I am in a table-revolt phase. :P Wonder how long it's gonna last.

Mars did not seem at all fond of his mother; Rurik frowned heartily at this, shifting his weight slightly. He did not know what to say—he did not wish to bad-mouth the woman, as he simply did not know her, but he wished for the youth to feel comfortable. “I vish I had known, could have done something,” the werewolf mumbled awkwardly, drawing again from his cigarette. “I can only do my best now,” he said, looking to Mars with a faint smile on his face. He would love and accept this boy as he was; there was no doubt of their relation in Rurik's mind, and even if Mars had looked nothing like him... well, Rurik had rejected his children before, and such a mistake was not one he was willing to repeat—women could probably have foisted off numerous litters onto him and he would have been none the wiser.

“Mmm. Next time I make beeg keell, I vill skin and give you fur,” the man said. “I am no good makeeng t'eengs... but, ah... Strelein? He leeve in hotel, maybe he vill make somet'eeng for you,” the werewolf said. It was awkward thinking of Strel, for sure, but Rurik knew no one better with a needle and thread, and a thick, bear-skin coat would do Mars well for this first cold winter. Rurik settled down into the chair next to Mars, his eyes still glancing over to the horse every now and again—for such a large and magnificent equine, he was incredibly placid and well-mannered. Rurik certainly appreciated that; not every Luperci was able to train horses to this degree. “Ah! Music! I do love eet,” the werewolf laughed. “No—mine brothers and I, we seeng, but ah,” the Duke paused, folding his ears back. “Only drunk seengeeng,” he laughed. One could hardly call their ridiculous trololo song true music.


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