Loving The Weather [Open but PM first]

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

God does this place ever stop raining? Urjasz had barely been back a day and already he was fed up with the constant downpour. What brought him back? There was no one here for him to see, there was no jobs going. Life was going well for him. Well as it could be anyway. Perhaps he just liked the familiar surroundings. Perhaps he just wanted to kill time. The Gorchakov hold on the city was less than the one he knew. He didn't even know who was still here. Sure it'd only been a few months, but a lot can happen in a few months. In the space of one month he lost his boss, his home and saw the breakdown of a family. All those people who had died to secure a place for the Gorchakov's to take over, for nothing it seems. Before him was the council chambers, finally finished but without a host to look after it. That would of been Zakhar's job.

Wearing his camouflage jacket and a few basic items of clothing, the rain was already soaking into his clothes, mixing with the dried blood from a previous job. There was no need to hide his nature when using the Gorchakov's plane so he had arrived in New York as he had left Moscow. Dropping his bag to the side of the door, he unlocked the door and made his way inside. From the outside the building looked like an abandoned hotel, but inside it had been made stronger and a whole streets worth of buildings and rooms underneath. Apart from the odd Novosi guard inside, it was pretty much empty. Sorting out his clothes, he made himself a bed in one of the offices and headed back outside. He still had his home in the city, but at the moment he was waiting for a shipment of weapons to arrive. Home delivery may of raised suspicions.

Locking up after himself as he left, he made his way into the deserted street. He knew that immortals liked to pass through here, so he looked for a place to sit and wait. After a brief walk, he found a clearly which he assumed used to be a public square or something. Picking up a crate, he placed it in the middle and sat down on it. The rain wasn't as annoying anymore, he was as wet as he could be already. Even the cold wasn't that annoying anymore. There was a few people he wouldn't mind seeing, but he knew that he couldn't be that picky. Growing bored of waiting, he took a long knife from within his pocket and started cutting bits off some broken wood he picked up off the floor. As he did, he heard his first sign of life...

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

it's hard to see the pain behind the mask bearing the burden
OF A SECRET STORM SOMETIMES SHE WISHES SHE WAS NEVER BORN THROUGH THE WIND AND THE
RAIN SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE BUT HER DREAMS GIVE
HER WINGS AND SHE FLIES TO A PLACE WHERE SHE'S LOVED ---------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------- A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE

Rain. Again. Was it following her? Bad weather just seemed to stalk the poor girl recently. Was it just because of her sour mood that she seemed to be haunted by bad weather, like the rain that fell from the sky? At least now she had an umbrella to shield her from the rain, and she was remaining relatively dry. In fact, the whole area under the shield was dry, as Anastasia had been there since before the rain had started. At least this meant that she wasn’t going to muddy this time. The young hyena was sitting in an abandoned lot, huddled next to a mound of recently disturbed dirt. Sitting at one end of the mild mound was just a couple of rocks, making it easier for the small girl to remember where it was. Dried tears stained her cheeks and fresh ones were welled in her eyes, but they didn’t spill over. Red eyes alluded to how long the girl had just been crying, and it was a rather pathetic site, her sitting there with her knees against her chest and arms around her legs. What made it seem all the more pathetic was that the umbrella was just sitting on the ground, and yet it still managed to shield her slight figure because it was so large and she was so tiny.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” Anastasia muttered quietly to the carcass under the ground, her voice heavy with sadness. Finally the tears fell from her sockets, slowly making their way down her cheeks. She had managed to at least stop from sobbing loudly. It was the first time since Kyla had died that she had come to visit her less than reputable burial ground. Unfortunately it had taken Anastasia a few extra minutes to locate the place she had buried her best—and at the time only—friend in the world, hence the rocks she had opted to mark the grave with. The only thing that made Anastasia feel a little more at ease was the fact that no one ever came to this area. Lots of people visited graveyards and they were even vandalized at times, so at least here Anastasia could tell herself that Kyla was resting peacefully. “It should have been me. . . I fail at this life and you flourished in it. . . I don’t deserve to be here. . . I can’t even control myself. . . you could. . . you were happy, Kyla. It should have been me.” Anastasia considered such miserable chanting, speaking loudly. Perhaps this quite banter was the sound that the wolf in the other lot had heard.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------STATE Done
---------VOCAB 447
---------MUSE It's alright.
---------CHATTER There.
---------COSTAR Urjasz
---------WARDROBE Coming soon.
---------STAGE Abandoned lot, by Kyla's "grave"
---------CREDIT coding/banner by yours truly. lyrics by Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

That was a voice he'd never forget. Anastasia. What was she doing down here? Rising from the crate, he threw the wood aside and placed the knife back inside his coat. He knew what she was like and knew she'd freak out if she saw him coming out of nowhere with a knife. Trying to pick up where she was exactly, he walked slowly at first, stopping briefly to try catch a scent. A sentence of words wasn't enough to locate her, especially as he hadn't been listening out for her. Sure he wanted to see who'd come through, but he didn't expect her of all people. As he located her, he made his way around the building and spotted her by the ground alone. He'd half expected to hear Kyla loudly speaking too, but there was no sign of her.

As he drew near her, her words became more clear and so did what she was by. Whoever it was, he couldn't smell them, the rain and the ground covering the scent. Slowing down, he made his way slowly towards her, trying to hear what she said better. He wasn't sneaking up on her, he was just curious as to who she was speaking about. Reaching her, he quietly spoke. "Hello Anastasia." His words were soft, trying to avoid frightening her. Looking down at the ground beside her, he asked "Who's that?" It could of been anyone. The last time he saw her she was with Trey and Kyla was with Cody. Three people it could be. Not to mention the countless people in the city she could of met over the three months.

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

it's hard to see the pain behind the mask bearing the burden
OF A SECRET STORM SOMETIMES SHE WISHES SHE WAS NEVER BORN THROUGH THE WIND AND THE
RAIN SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE BUT HER DREAMS GIVE
HER WINGS AND SHE FLIES TO A PLACE WHERE SHE'S LOVED ---------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------- A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE

Anastasia didn’t look up. Even in her enhanced state of misery, she had heard someone coming up to her. The faint squish of mud was loud in her ears, but she ignored it, not caring at this point if they were friend or foe. She had no qualms about how she died, as she had always imagined it would be crying, maybe begging for her life, but she was not the type of person who would go down fighting. At least she would be with her friend. It had only weeks before that Kyla had died, and her death stung Anastasia like a broken bone that wasn’t set. She did, however, lift her head a few inches when she recognized the voice of Urjasz. However, any shock at the fact that he had returned from wherever it was he had been was overridden with the overbearing hole in her heart. She didn’t look at him when he asked who she was sitting with—even though technically there was no one there, just a small mound of disturbed dirt and a pile of rocks. The site unmistakably was a grave, but someone Anastasia figured that Urjasz wouldn’t particularly care who was six feet under, even if it was a mutual friend. Without looking up or raising her voice, Anastasia answered with cracked voice, tears falling more concentrated from her eyes. “Kyla.” It came out as a sort of pained squeak.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------STATE Done
---------VOCAB 239
---------MUSE Bipolar
---------CHATTER
---------COSTAR Urjasz
---------WARDROBE I'll find one when I get home.
---------STAGE Abandoned lot, by Kyla's grave
---------CREDIT coding/banner by yours truly. lyrics by Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

Quiet as ever, he got a single word back from her. So it was Kyla's grave. "How long?" he asked briefly, wanting to know just how long things have been bad over here. It was no surprise to him that Kyla eventually got killed. She looked for trouble and it always found her. But other questions came to his mind instead of thoughts about grief. "Where's Trey? Kody? I thought things were happy families over here." Given her current state he didn't expect a detailed answer, but he was left out on what had happened. What did surprise him though was the location of the grave. The side of some street hardly seemed the place Anastasia would put her friend, but no enemy of Kyla's would give her a grave.

Memories of all the times Urjasz had warned them about the world flashed through his mind, the sense of telling them so. But he didn't want to tell them so. Picking up the umbrella, he held it above Anastasia and sat beside her, the mud shifting slightly under his weight. The way she was sat didn't indicate her leaving any time soon. Somehow she was fairly dry from the rain, but the tears on her cheeks were doing as good a job. So many theories of what could of happened. He wanted answers but if she was to flee he would have none. The question he most wanted to ask was how Kyla died, but he would wait a moment. Anastasia looked like she couldn't spare the extra fluids for a hard hitting question like that.

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

it's hard to see the pain behind the mask bearing the burden
OF A SECRET STORM SOMETIMES SHE WISHES SHE WAS NEVER BORN THROUGH THE WIND AND THE
RAIN SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE BUT HER DREAMS GIVE
HER WINGS AND SHE FLIES TO A PLACE WHERE SHE'S LOVED ---------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------- A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE

“How long?” he asked her, probably after the answer had sunk in. Still not looking up at him, just staring at the three stones that marked her best friend’s grave, Anastasia responded with a simple—and still quiet “A week.” She hid her head in her knees and hugged her legs tighter, shoulders just beginning to tremble with more grief. Perhaps had she been in a better mood she would have been a lot more surprised that Urjasz was back, and perhaps even overjoyed that there was still someone in the world who had any sort of feelings for her, but right now she was mourning and there was room for little else in her frail soul at the moment. His next question caught her off-guard, however. Trey and Kody? She hadn’t ever really met Kody, but the subject of Trey made her lower lip quiver and she shook her head, hiding her head further into her knees. “I don’t know,” she responded, trying to speak loud enough so that he could hear her through her legs. “They broke up. Trey left.” Everyone left. Daktari was killed, Zakhar was killed, Urjasz had disappeared, Trey had left, and now Kyla was dead. But Urjasz was back now. She should have been happy. . . . Should have.

The umbrella was lifted off the ground and for an instant the rain pelted her demure stature, but she ignored the sensation, then felt the werewolf come to sit next to her, holding the umbrella up further above her, but from the position it had been in, it had managed to keep her pretty dry. Anastasia assumed that the werewolf would want to be dry as well, so it didn’t really surprise her that he was holding it now for her. Anastasia knew Urjasz and knew that he was the last person to offer her any sort of physical reassurance, an arm around the shoulders, even a comforting hand, so she didn’t even bother to hope. However, he sat lose enough to her and Anastasia couldn’t help but fall slightly to the side, leaning against him like he was a pillar that needed to hold her up. Now her shoulders had started to shake with silent sobs, unable to speak. It had been a week and most immortals might have already gotten over it—some probably would have gotten over it even sooner than that, but Anastasia was mentally unsound and did not have the heart of a killer like the majority of these immortals that ran about.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------STATE Done
---------VOCAB 424
---------MUSE Fine
---------CHATTER
---------COSTAR Urjasz
---------WARDROBE
---------STAGE Abandoned lot
---------CREDIT coding/banner by yours truly. lyrics by Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

This was no time for remarks of how he told her so. He intended to keep it that way. But inside he knew he had been right all that time. Kody was no good and he was glad Kyla had seen that in her final moments. Trey... Urjasz never did like him. No history over a century simply rang alarm bells in his mind. No doubt he got what he wanted and moved onto the next victim. Anastasia's money perhaps? His thoughts were interrupted by her frail body slowly pressing against the side of his. There was no need for words, her actions as good as a welcome home. No one had told him about the events that had unfolded whilst he'd been gone. "Don't you have the Novosi help you anymore? Surely we could give her a better burial. We're not far from the Gorchakov chambers."

Always the talker, Urjasz didn't particularly like silences as this. The longer he didn't know what had happened, the more curious he got. Kyla hadn't been his best friend, but she had been a lover briefly. At this point he wondered if Anastasia even knew about that night. Realising it wasn't the best topic to bring up, he looked back at the grave. "I need names. Who did it? I know you. You won't kill even with a reason. It took my help to kill Daktari. Unless you want her to of died in vain." Anastasia would never kill, she avoided it like the plague. Something Daktari would never of excepted. Perfect fledgling she was not. Good person, yes. Something Daktari had not been. Though in Urjasz's eyes he had been more lost than bad. Looking down at the sobbing girl, it was the first time she had ever reminded him of Daktari.

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

it's hard to see the pain behind the mask bearing the burden
OF A SECRET STORM SOMETIMES SHE WISHES SHE WAS NEVER BORN THROUGH THE WIND AND THE
RAIN SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE BUT HER DREAMS GIVE
HER WINGS AND SHE FLIES TO A PLACE WHERE SHE'S LOVED ---------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------- A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE

“Don't you have the Novosi help you anymore? Surely we could give her a better burial. We're not far from the Gorchakov chambers,” Urjasz pointed out. The thought hadn’t once crossed little Anastasia’s mind. She didn’t look up at him, but she lifted a hand to her eyes, wiping her eyes off on the back of her hand. “I didn’t know what to do. I just. . . I didn’t know. . . ,” she murmured quietly, shaking her head. “This where she died. . . and I didn’t know. . . what else I could. . . .” She stopped, figuring that he got the point. It would have been nice if they could put her somewhere better, but lately she had been feeling so alone and didn’t hadn’t thought about asking the Novosi to help her. The small girl had been an emotion wreck for the longest time now and all she wanted to do was sit around and mope, or crawl under a rock and just disappear. Surely things would be better now that someone else from her life had shown up. But who was to say he wasn’t just going to up and leave again, leaving her alone?

For the first time that night Anastasia looked up at Urjasz when he told her he needed names. She leaned away from him slightly to look at him better, her tears stopping for a minute. “Who did it? I know you. You won't kill even with a reason. It took my help to kill Daktari. Unless you want her to of died in vain,” he said with intensity, making Anastasia feel slightly taken aback. Vain? Kyla hadn’t died for any reason, so for what could she have died in vain? Anastasia had never been a vengeful girl, or even an angry girl. However, she just looked down and spent a few seconds thinking back to that day. The faces were locked in her memory for eternity, but the names? Had they even spoken their names? Her brow furrowed in thought. Yes, the two of them had said each others’ names numerous times. “Calliope and Ra. I don’t think they were very good hunters. They had no sense of surprise and they argued with each other a lot. . . . ,” Anastasia replied, hanging her head again and leaning against Urjasz like the sad sack that she was.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------STATE Done
---------VOCAB numbers
---------MUSE Fine
---------CHATTERUrjasz
---------WARDROBE Finally. Click this.
---------STAGE where you at?
---------CREDIT coding/banner by yours truly. lyrics by Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

Had she been calm and collected, her answer may of been harder to accept, but seeing her as this emotional wreck immediately gave reason to why she wouldn't be thinking straight. "I'll come back later and sort her out with a proper burial. You have an entire mansion's worth of land, I'm sure we can find a spot in the garden for her. That way she finally gets to go home and you don't have to keep coming to the place where it happened. Zakhar used to always be so proud of the views from the mansion, now we can let Kyla get to enjoy them forever." Giving a slight smile, he tried not to stay on the topic of Zakhar for too long. The man had been an inspiration to him, the very reason his dislike of vampires was removed from his soul. Even the wolf inside could not hate Zakhar.

Taking out his phone with his spare hand, he dialled a few things into the phone. "Calliope And Ra. You are right in using past tense about them. I thought you had Novosi protection out here. I wouldn't of left if I knew you were left alone." So much had happened since he left, so much that shouldn't of happened. It wasn't down to Urjasz to look after Anastasia, after all he had no direct links to her anymore, but he knew he had to help her through this. There was only so much death someone her age could take. Her friend. Her sire. Zakhar. The man who gave his life so she could live hers. "When we have laid her to rest, truly and properly, we need to find something for you to do. You can't spend your life looking at the past. You saw what happened when I looked back at mine. You shouldn't have to go through that."

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

it's hard to see the pain behind the mask bearing the burden
OF A SECRET STORM SOMETIMES SHE WISHES SHE WAS NEVER BORN THROUGH THE WIND AND THE
RAIN SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE BUT HER DREAMS GIVE
HER WINGS AND SHE FLIES TO A PLACE WHERE SHE'S LOVED ---------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------- A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE

“I'll come back later and sort her out with a proper burial. You have an entire mansion's worth of land, I'm sure we can find a spot in the garden for her. That way she finally gets to go home and you don't have to keep coming to the place where it happened. Zakhar used to always be so proud of the views from the mansion, now we can let Kyla get to enjoy them forever,” Urjasz vowed helpfully. However, to hear him talk about Kyla like that just made it all the more real. How many times had Anastasia woken up, hoping desperately that it had all just been a dream and that Kyla was in the other room, sleeping off a hangover? How many times had Anastasia walked into Kyla’s room to see if she was there? Thought about dialing her number to call her? Anastasia’s eyes with tears again and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and her arm, then slipped her arms around Urjasz’s one arm, burying her head in his shirt and weeping silently.

She heard the other things that Urjasz said, but they didn’t need responses in her mind. She was too busy crying. When she had buried Kyla, everything had been so unreal and Anastasia had been very numb to it all. The poor girl had been reacting completely out of instinct then, and now that Urjasz was here and talking about lying her to rest, and she held his arm with an iron grip, trying to make sure that he wasn’t going to leave, too, and this was truly the first time that she had ever had anyone with her that would allow such a thing while she was crying and in distress. Aleksei probably would have just smacked her, and no one else she felt comfortable enough around to have this kind of physical contact with. Through her sobs, she found her voice. “We weren’t even—doing anything. . . ! Kyla wanted—to try to help—me with my shifts—and so we came—out here and they—showed up!” she wailed, her voiced muffled by the wolf’s arm.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------STATE Done
---------VOCAB 363
---------MUSE Fine
---------CHATTER
---------COSTAR Urjasz
---------WARDROBE
---------STAGE Abandoned lot
---------CREDIT coding/banner by yours truly. lyrics by Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

She dug her head into his arm and he was unsure of what to do. The situation felt awkward to him as every moment there was silence it felt like he needed to move the topic onto something else. Eventually she spoke and he had a slightly better understanding of what happened. Hunters that simply stumbled across them, hunters who argued with each other, hunters who kill you simply for what you are. "Don't you worry. I'll simply show up for them. They'll know they fucked with the wrong people." His words were more to make himself feel better, but he hoped they helped her feel better slightly. All of a sudden there was a splash to the side of them. Looking up from Anastasia, he looked around the area, trying to use his smell to spot someone.

To the right of them, he spotted someone sat at the top of the building. And then another. And then more. "Ah fuck....scavengers." Putting the umbrella back where it was so it covered Anastasia, he pulled out his phone and dialled the number he knew off by heart. "Novosi. It is Volkova. Get me a 4x4 to the square....ah fuck what's the name....it's around the corner from chambers. Track my phone." Closing it, he knelt by Anastasia and spoke softly. "We're moving Kyla tonight. You might not want to watch. You get in the car and wait when they get here. We'll have her home soon."

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

it's hard to see the pain behind the mask bearing the burden
OF A SECRET STORM SOMETIMES SHE WISHES SHE WAS NEVER BORN THROUGH THE WIND AND THE
RAIN SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE BUT HER DREAMS GIVE
HER WINGS AND SHE FLIES TO A PLACE WHERE SHE'S LOVED ---------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------- A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE

“Don't you worry. I'll simply show up for them. They'll know they fucked with the wrong people,” Urjasz assured the weeping girl. Anastasia simply nodded her head in understand. She wasn’t a vengeful girl, but her best friend was dead simply because they didn’t like the fact that she was anything more than human. Anastasia heard the very same sound that the werewolf did, but she didn’t pay any mind to it. There could have been a shootout and she wouldn’t have cared. Well, for a few minutes she wouldn’t have, anyway. However, she looked up when Urjasz said something about scavengers and Anastasia looked up, following his gaze to some people on the roofs. Her brow furrowed with confusion. It didn’t make any sense that they would show now, after a week. She looked to Urjasz for an answer, then remembered that she hadn’t asked anything yet. “Scavengers?” she repeated with an upward inflection, wanting to know more about what he could mean.

Before he answered, he had called some Novosi for a truck. Anastasia took the umbrella from him and held it up to keep her head dry. “We're moving Kyla tonight. You might not want to watch. You get in the car and wait when they get here. We'll have her home soon,” Urjasz explained. Anastasia felt a little hollow, but she was getting nervous now. Who were these people who had showed up? The small girl got up on her feet as well and looked around, clutching at the handle of the umbrella with both hands. “What do they want?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. She finally let go of the umbrella with one hand and wiped her eyes, finally having stopped crying with this new excitement. She couldn’t stop looking at the people who were circling the place like—ironically enough—hyenas, wondering what they could possibly want. “How are you going to move her?” came another question. The child was starting to get a little panicked, but she was managing to keep her cool for the most part.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------STATE Done
---------VOCAB 345
---------MUSE Steady
---------CHATTER
---------COSTAR Urjasz
---------WARDROBE
---------STAGE Abandoned lot
---------CREDIT coding/banner by yours truly. lyrics by Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

His very own one worded statement was repeated to him and he realised she wouldn't understand. Looking up at the people on the roofs, he answered "When an immortal is too weak to fight for food, too weak to find a stable life, they turn to scavenging. They don't stick to one place, moving from one place to another in search of their next meal. A sobbing girl by a lump in the ground is a sure sign there's something they could get here. So long as we're here, they won't attack. If they were going to, they'd of done it by now. Surprise attack and all that." He hoped if he explained in detail it'd help her understand and more importantly, kill the time it'd take for the Novosi to arrive. But he wanted to avoid saying the obvious. They were here to eat Kyla.

Looking at the ground, he replied to Anastasia's last question, avoiding her second. "We'll have to dig her up and put her in the back. That's why I wanted a 4x4, they tend to have lots of boot space. Are you still living at the mansion? I know there's no other people there now. At least that's the intel I have been given." For now he was just killing time, but knowing the Novosi they wouldn't be that long. Taking out a cigarette, he lit it, covering it from the rain. He took his phone out and sent a quick text. "They'll bring my rifle. Take out these bastards whilst I have the chance. I'm more worried about them after my death than my actual death. Fucking scum don't deserve to feed from me."

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

it's hard to see the pain behind the mask bearing the burden
OF A SECRET STORM SOMETIMES SHE WISHES SHE WAS NEVER BORN THROUGH THE WIND AND THE
RAIN SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE BUT HER DREAMS GIVE
HER WINGS AND SHE FLIES TO A PLACE WHERE SHE'S LOVED ---------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------- A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE

Anastasia looked up at the so-called scavengers when Urjasz explained to her what they were. So they wanted to dig Kyla up? Urjasz had explained why they would want to now, instead of earlier. This was the first time she’d visited Kyla, so they probably hadn’t seen her bury her in the first place. Though not the brightest crayon in the box, Anastasia wasn’t completely stupid, and she figured out on her own why they would want to dig her up. She hunched her shoulder and glanced back at the place she had buried her friend, suddenly extremely glad that Urjasz had showed up. Anastasia never would have been able to know that they were there—well, she would have known they were there, but she definitely wouldn’t have known what they wanted and would have left Kyla there to be scavenged. She shuddered at the idea, then looked up at Urjasz as he explained what they were going to do. She wrapped her free arm around her stomach, just below her chest, and looked around to see if they Novosi were coming yet. “She’s in a tarp. . . I hope that makes things easier,” she offered, leaning the handle of the umbrella against her shoulder so it was angled to better block the rain.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------STATE Done
---------VOCAB 216
---------MUSE Fine
---------CHATTER
---------COSTAR Urjasz
---------WARDROBE
---------STAGE Abandoned lot
---------CREDIT coding/banner by yours truly. lyrics by Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

Anastasia didn't say much other than a single sentence in what Urjasz assumed was an attempt to be helpful. "I guess it would. Ah here they are" he began, taking a few steps closer to the approaching 4x4. They had gone for a black Range Rover and there was only two men inside. The passenger got out holding the rifle Urjasz had asked for and headed for Urjasz to give it. "Anastasia, if you want to get in the Range Rover, we'll only be a moment. Can you two dig up our friend here and put her in the back of the 4x4." The two Novosi headed for the back of the Range Rover and after a moment of going through things came back around with two spades. Checking the magazine in the rifle, Urjasz then pulled the bolt back to load the first round.

There was a loud bang as he took his first shot. Screams of pain came from the rooftops as the scavenger he hit slipped and fell from the roof, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Snarls and barks from the others soon replaced the screams. One by one, they all began to drop down from the rooftops. Shot after shot Urjasz downed them. When he came to have no rounds left, he pulled out his knife and took stance. With one left, it slowed to a halt, eyeing him up and deciding he wasn't worth it. Retreating into the shadows, they were left in peace. Turning around, Urjasz saw the two Novosi making their way to the back of the Range Rover with Kyla's body. Helping them put her in the back, they put everything in the vehicle. "Are you ready to go Anastasia?"

[/color]