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Ilyana stood on a cracked cement floor, her dark eyes sweeping up to the ceiling. she was so used to being able to reach up and feel what was above her with no problem. Not was not the case. The sagging ceiling looked like it would come down any moment, the middle of it heavy with years of water, mould and decay. The lights still hung down, which to the Russian Amazon was a good sign. She had no intention of poking it to see what would happen.
This room was the reason she loved urban decay so much. the room was so empty. So free. the large windows were still intact for the most part, and were surprisingly clean. Certainly the metal was rusting away, but the double hung sash windows could still be opened, with a little force. It hadn't taken long for Lya to get one open to enjoy the afternoon warmth. The sun trickled in, making the whole room shine and warmed her skin.
She walked to touch the doors that had been taken out from elsewhere in the large building. Probably people coming to scavenge what they could. They were dusty, long forgotten for better treasures. She pulled one out from the wall, looking at the chipping paint, the worn wood. It was a quiet moment, her mind somewhere else as she imagined what the doors might have looked like in a different life, before the building had been left for nature to take over.
Ilyana stood on a cracked cement floor, her dark eyes sweeping up to the ceiling. she was so used to being able to reach up and feel what was above her with no problem. Not was not the case. The sagging ceiling looked like it would come down any moment, the middle of it heavy with years of water, mould and decay. The lights still hung down, which to the Russian Amazon was a good sign. She had no intention of poking it to see what would happen.
This room was the reason she loved urban decay so much. the room was so empty. So free. the large windows were still intact for the most part, and were surprisingly clean. Certainly the metal was rusting away, but the double hung sash windows could still be opened, with a little force. It hadn't taken long for Lya to get one open to enjoy the afternoon warmth. The sun trickled in, making the whole room shine and warmed her skin.
She walked to touch the doors that had been taken out from elsewhere in the large building. Probably people coming to scavenge what they could. They were dusty, long forgotten for better treasures. She pulled one out from the wall, looking at the chipping paint, the worn wood. It was a quiet moment, her mind somewhere else as she imagined what the doors might have looked like in a different life, before the building had been left for nature to take over.
Please ask in PM before joining.
Ilyana stood on a cracked cement floor, her dark eyes sweeping up to the ceiling. she was so used to being able to reach up and feel what was above her with no problem. Not was not the case. The sagging ceiling looked like it would come down any moment, the middle of it heavy with years of water, mould and decay. The lights still hung down, which to the Russian Amazon was a good sign. She had no intention of poking it to see what would happen.
This room was the reason she loved urban decay so much. the room was so empty. So free. the large windows were still intact for the most part, and were surprisingly clean. Certainly the metal was rusting away, but the double hung sash windows could still be opened, with a little force. It hadn't taken long for Lya to get one open to enjoy the afternoon warmth. The sun trickled in, making the whole room shine and warmed her skin.
She walked to touch the doors that had been taken out from elsewhere in the large building. Probably people coming to scavenge what they could. They were dusty, long forgotten for better treasures. She pulled one out from the wall, looking at the chipping paint, the worn wood. It was a quiet moment, her mind somewhere else as she imagined what the doors might have looked like in a different life, before the building had been left for nature to take over.
Ilyana stood on a cracked cement floor, her dark eyes sweeping up to the ceiling. she was so used to being able to reach up and feel what was above her with no problem. Not was not the case. The sagging ceiling looked like it would come down any moment, the middle of it heavy with years of water, mould and decay. The lights still hung down, which to the Russian Amazon was a good sign. She had no intention of poking it to see what would happen.
This room was the reason she loved urban decay so much. the room was so empty. So free. the large windows were still intact for the most part, and were surprisingly clean. Certainly the metal was rusting away, but the double hung sash windows could still be opened, with a little force. It hadn't taken long for Lya to get one open to enjoy the afternoon warmth. The sun trickled in, making the whole room shine and warmed her skin.
She walked to touch the doors that had been taken out from elsewhere in the large building. Probably people coming to scavenge what they could. They were dusty, long forgotten for better treasures. She pulled one out from the wall, looking at the chipping paint, the worn wood. It was a quiet moment, her mind somewhere else as she imagined what the doors might have looked like in a different life, before the building had been left for nature to take over.
It had only taken Grady two weeks to get into his first fight at his new school. It wasn't like the schools back home, sure, and most of the kids were army brats like him, but two weeks was almost a new record, just three days shy of Louisville (where the other kid had actually pulled a knife on him) and a day short of Monterey. He had been the new kid, dressed in his grandfather's old army jacket and dogtags, and he hated to talk to other people, so it wasn't a surprise that he had been in a circle of kids, being jeered against as the other kid was cheered on; he had bloodied the other guy plenty, giving him a black eye with his first strike. That had resulted in him being suspended for a week, which had really resulted in him being given a week to do whatever he wanted.
The next day, one of the kids he had seen lurking around the local smoke spot on campus bumped into him while he was exercising around the base, and after some preliminary glares and threats, Grady was riding a few hours to what the other guy had described as "some old rathole". If there was one thing he loved, it was urban exploration; the lack of other people around, and the lessons you could learn about the past without any meddlesome tour guide, not to mention the risk in some of the old buildings, appealed to him. After some time getting past the rusting chain link fence, the two made their way to the same hallway Ilyana had entered before, but before the American could ask his newfound guide about the place, the other kid ran out of the room at the sight of the tall woman.
Grady's eyes went wide at the tall, shabbily-dressed female; he was used to being around people taller than him at school, but she was really tall. He gritted his teeth, determined not to let his shortness in this situation be perceived as a sign of weakness, and walked towards her, aware that his guide's cowardice at the hobo's appearance was at least making Grady seem more courageous than the other kid. He shifted his field jacket on his shoulders, and extended a hand with a frown.
"Hey, you speak English? Do you live here, like, a squatter or hobo, or something? Why the hell are you so tall, anyway?"
The next day, one of the kids he had seen lurking around the local smoke spot on campus bumped into him while he was exercising around the base, and after some preliminary glares and threats, Grady was riding a few hours to what the other guy had described as "some old rathole". If there was one thing he loved, it was urban exploration; the lack of other people around, and the lessons you could learn about the past without any meddlesome tour guide, not to mention the risk in some of the old buildings, appealed to him. After some time getting past the rusting chain link fence, the two made their way to the same hallway Ilyana had entered before, but before the American could ask his newfound guide about the place, the other kid ran out of the room at the sight of the tall woman.
Grady's eyes went wide at the tall, shabbily-dressed female; he was used to being around people taller than him at school, but she was really tall. He gritted his teeth, determined not to let his shortness in this situation be perceived as a sign of weakness, and walked towards her, aware that his guide's cowardice at the hobo's appearance was at least making Grady seem more courageous than the other kid. He shifted his field jacket on his shoulders, and extended a hand with a frown.
"Hey, you speak English? Do you live here, like, a squatter or hobo, or something? Why the hell are you so tall, anyway?"
Ilyana regarded him carefully, looking him up and down, "I speak English, German, Russian, Italian and Mandarin." Her English was curt, short, well rehearsed. She wasn't a native speaker and her accent was unmistakable. She put her hands on her hips, "This property is owned by the government, it's free land so far as that goes, but I am not a hobo. I am a backpacker. Surely an American would understand that." She carefully put down the door she was looking at, rubbing her fingers together to get the dust and decay off of them. She walked over to him, long, graceful strides.
She wasn't what one would call beautiful. Striking, certainly, but not anything beautiful. She would never grace a magazine cover. She was too thin. Too tall. Her face not angular enough. The outbreak on her forehead was angry and red. Her eyes were a muddy, dull colour. Her hair was cute though, if only it could cover her forehead.
"What are you doing here kid?"
She wasn't what one would call beautiful. Striking, certainly, but not anything beautiful. She would never grace a magazine cover. She was too thin. Too tall. Her face not angular enough. The outbreak on her forehead was angry and red. Her eyes were a muddy, dull colour. Her hair was cute though, if only it could cover her forehead.
"What are you doing here kid?"
Grady gave a start when she spoke; he hadn't expected her to respond in the clear English she had spoken in, and the long steps she took to get over to him reinforced the height difference, not to mention being called "kid", made him simmer with frustration. He clenched and unclenched his fists, but forced himself to look up at her, taking in her features with a set of hard brown eyes, not quite straight brown but more of a dark chestnut color.
"Hey, I'm no kid, alright? I'm 15, and anyway, what are you doing here? Don't backpackers usually hike up mountains and stuff like that?"
He grew silent, aware that he hadn't answered her question, but looked around them to buy some time as he tried to figure out just how he would be responding to her inquiry. The cleaner spots on the windows flanking one side of the hallway caught the light in strange, looping patterns which shimmered as he moved his head back and forth; it was handmade glass, and by the looks of it, mostly intact. His hiking boots shuffled slightly on the cracked concrete floor below him, and Grady couldn't help but wonder if the rest of the building, save for this hallway's ceiling, was in as good of a condition. Finally, he turned his attention back to the Russian.
"Look, I just got here, the country, I mean; some guy from my school told me about this place, and he's the wuss who just ran off about two minutes ago. Figured I'd use my week doing something I care about rather than just sitting around at home, so I came out here with him. So," he said, his frustration having been overpowered by curiosity at the sight of another urban explorer, her height irrelevant (for the moment), "like, if you're a hobo, why do you know so many languages? Oh, um, backpacker, right."
"Hey, I'm no kid, alright? I'm 15, and anyway, what are you doing here? Don't backpackers usually hike up mountains and stuff like that?"
He grew silent, aware that he hadn't answered her question, but looked around them to buy some time as he tried to figure out just how he would be responding to her inquiry. The cleaner spots on the windows flanking one side of the hallway caught the light in strange, looping patterns which shimmered as he moved his head back and forth; it was handmade glass, and by the looks of it, mostly intact. His hiking boots shuffled slightly on the cracked concrete floor below him, and Grady couldn't help but wonder if the rest of the building, save for this hallway's ceiling, was in as good of a condition. Finally, he turned his attention back to the Russian.
"Look, I just got here, the country, I mean; some guy from my school told me about this place, and he's the wuss who just ran off about two minutes ago. Figured I'd use my week doing something I care about rather than just sitting around at home, so I came out here with him. So," he said, his frustration having been overpowered by curiosity at the sight of another urban explorer, her height irrelevant (for the moment), "like, if you're a hobo, why do you know so many languages? Oh, um, backpacker, right."
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