Date: 2017-11-21 08:45 am (UTC)
fight_them_all: (baby)
With his shoes neatly tied, hair carefully combed into something like order (and having used water to carefully arrange the part), Illya was ready. A ruler could have been used to check the seams of his clothes and found no fault. And still, he feels lighter than he has in longer than he could remember.

Had Martin checked the bed he had lent the younger boy he would've found it pin straight, with every corner exact and the pillow perfectly placed.

The prospect of the part and then the market is almost too much to hope for. Is, really. The lightness of it feels as if a balloon had been tied to his back collar, and where he is not free enough to bounce about as other children his age might in this new world, he walks less stiffly beside the older boy as they make their way out into the world. Where the world is too large and still borders on overwhelming, he shies away from the worst of it and moves nearer to Martin.

Only in the park does the world seem to settle, and he risks a smile up at his friend. "Are there parks like this where you live?"
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Illya Kuryakin

November 2020

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