Illya gives a little nod of agreement. Although it is sharp and decisive (or would be, if not for his rounded face and large eyes), it is as much for thinking of the need for parade routes as wanting to agree with the older boy.
The wide paved avenues of Gorky Park are not in this place. No massive fountain stands as a backdrop to the marching men in uniform, although he has the small, almost traitorous thought that such marches would not fit this other city. This other world. He does not leap to answer Martin's invitation as one his age might otherwise have, for all that he felt his heart lodge a second in his throat at the prospect.
"I would like to see your Berlin," he says, carefully, before finding himself distracted by a woman who seems to move like one of the Valkyries of his mother's stories. He stops. Watches with wide eyes. To a child raised among the military-aligned and the careful frailty of the upper classes, she stands out from among those civilians he has seen thus far.
He reaches out to tug the sleeve of the older boy. "Martin," he whispers hurriedly, louder than he means to. "Look!"
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Date: 2017-11-30 04:16 am (UTC)The wide paved avenues of Gorky Park are not in this place. No massive fountain stands as a backdrop to the marching men in uniform, although he has the small, almost traitorous thought that such marches would not fit this other city. This other world. He does not leap to answer Martin's invitation as one his age might otherwise have, for all that he felt his heart lodge a second in his throat at the prospect.
"I would like to see your Berlin," he says, carefully, before finding himself distracted by a woman who seems to move like one of the Valkyries of his mother's stories. He stops. Watches with wide eyes. To a child raised among the military-aligned and the careful frailty of the upper classes, she stands out from among those civilians he has seen thus far.
He reaches out to tug the sleeve of the older boy. "Martin," he whispers hurriedly, louder than he means to. "Look!"