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PostPosted: Sat Jul 25, 2015 3:56 pm 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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"Tell me a story, Vlad!"

Guarding is boring. Like, really boring. Театральная1 is just by the Red Line, but that does not make life any more exciting. Mostly, their jobs consist of denying people entry to the route to Полис2. Ivan has never been there himself, being only eighteen years old. It is only two stations away, and a long time ago, the trip would have taken him mere minutes. In the world Ivan has been born and raised in, however, functioning trains are a luxury, and other, far more dangerous things prowl the tunnels. And Vlad, the grizzled guard and father figure standing next to him, has survived all of it so far.

Ivan shifts his gun onto his other shoulder. He cannot recall a time it has ever been fully loaded. He shoot another of his innumerable admiring glances at Vlad. The man is incredible. "Pleeeeeaaaase, Vlad?"
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1 - Teatral'naya
2 - Polis


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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Jul 25, 2015 4:18 pm 
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Vlad sighs heavily at the pleading request coming from the kid. He never understood why he ended up in this situation. He never saw himself as father material, and he certainly never thought another person would see him as a father figure. Obviously that all changed when Ivan was suddenly thrown into his life. It was supposed to be a simple patrol in the tunnel.
“Alright, alright,” he sighs before he rubs his forehead. He looks at the fire on the floor, making the shadows look alive and dance on the walls. He sits down on something that has probably been a box once. Old age is catching up to him, despite him not even having passed fifty yet. Life in the metro is harsh and unforgiving.
He removes his kalash from his back, positioning it next to the box, so he can easily grab it if the need arises. He doubts it, though. It’s usually a very, very quiet patrol. Nothing ever happens this close to home, and he prefers it that way.
“What story do you want to hear this time?” he asks with a soft smile. Despite everything, he likes this routine he has with Ivan. It’s nice and familiar.

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PostPosted: Sat Jul 25, 2015 4:36 pm 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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Ivan positions himself on the grimy floor on the other side of the fire. "I dunno," he replies vaguely. He lifts his hands to make a shadow puppet. A dog, a butterfly, and a swan all maka their appearance on the stage of the metro tunnel wall; his slender hands changing positions much more elegantly than any man's ever have. Truth be told, Ivan far prefers knives to guns. The few times he has held one, he has practiced doing tricks with it in secret, flipping it in the air and catching it again. It has littered his hands and lower arms with small cuts. Guns are too clunky and make too much noise, and he often dreams of the luxury they have to have in Полис. Maybe there is quiet there. A different quiet; one that doesn't require you to stay on your toes, lest you should meet the untimely end that is undoubtedly in stock for all the people of the Metro.

"What about the worm people? Tell me about the worm people!" The words are accompanied by a delighted shudder at the prospect of the horror stories to come. He knows it is all very real - but at the fire, it is too far away to worry too much about.


Last edited by Fearless Sissy on Mon Jul 27, 2015 5:26 pm, edited 2 times in total.
/casually goes through all posts and changes past tense to present


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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Jul 25, 2015 5:15 pm 
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Vlad lets out a soft hum, and looks at the younger kid in front of him sitting there making shadow puppets with his hands. He sits for a moment and appreciate the shadow show. "The worm people you say.." he echoes. He knows about the worm people - most people do down here. Usually it's just stories people tell to their kids, that the worm people would come and kidnap them during the night if they didn't behave.
"They say that the worm people take up resident in Парк Победы*, that the station was cut of from the others shortly after the war, because the tunnel between Парк Победы and Ки́евская* collapsed." He shifts his weight a bit, trying to get somewhat comfortable. His back isn't what it used to be anymore. ”They worship the Great Worm. They say he dug the tunnels we live in – that he is the reason for all life under the surface and the reason that humans are still alive.”
He pokes at the fire with a metal rod, trying to keep it alive. “Children started to disappear from Ки́евская in the night. Nobody knew where, only that they never returned or found any trace of them. People patrolling the tunnels said they heard scratching noises and whispering from inside the walls. Some even claimed they heard children sobbing and found remains of the missing children in the tunnel itself.”

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* Park Pobedy
* Kievskaya

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PostPosted: Sat Jul 25, 2015 5:23 pm 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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"Do you think the Great Worm ate the children?"

Ivan's eyes are huge with the excited fear you feel when hearing a particularly scary story. It all sounds like fanatical nonsense, and yet... He knows that humans have lived above the ground before, that they weren't always confined to the narrow darkness of the Moscow Metro. But he has never known the time before that, and if Vlad had been the only one to mention The Time Before, Ivan would have dismissed it as crazy talk.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest, staring into the slowly dying fire, uncomfortable. "We should put some more on." The only flammable thing Ivan can see, however, are the remnants of the box Vlad is sitting on, and if what he knows from the past ten or so years with the man proves consistent, Vlad will not be so quick to give up the tiny bits of comfort they have before the very last minute.


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PostPosted: Sat Jul 25, 2015 5:36 pm 
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Vlad shrugs at the question. He never put much thought into it, to be honest. Of course he has heard the horror stories about the worm people. He doesn't know how much of it is actually nonsense and how much is true, but he does know that most of what you hear of bizarre stories in the metro, are usually true. "I don't know," he replies. Cannibalism seems more likely, but that is a topic for another time. While he knows that Ivan is already burdened with things an eighteen year old shouldn't be, cannibalism doesn't seem like a thing he should introduce in a casual manner.

He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Ivan and the comment about the fire. He is well aware that they should put more on, but they've used what fuel they had brought with them. He knows he has to sacrifice his box sooner rather than later, but for now he will enjoy the comfort of his makeshift chair. "It can last a little longer," he replies. The fire should be able to stay alive for a while longer without any problems.

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PostPosted: Sat Jul 25, 2015 6:03 pm 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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Vlad saying he doesn't know anything always comes as a mild shock to Ivan. It might be childish idolization, but he's as close to being a hero as Ivan can imagine. Even when he was younger and worried about bleeding, he felt like he could have told Vlad, and he would have done something about it. Because Vlad solves problems; stops it before it even is a problem, and Ivan admires him endlessly for that.

A sudden, hollow noise coming from Ivan's left side sends him scrambling to his feet, kalashnikov in his arms and ready to fire in the matter of seconds. He peers into the black, endless abyss in front of him. Unexplained noises are not uncommon at all, but every single one of them is always cause for alarm. Ivan's light green eyes flicker from side to side, terrified of missing even the slightest movement. "Do you think there's someone out there?"


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View Likes PostPosted: Sun Sep 06, 2015 6:01 am 
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Vlad stays seated, turning his head to look into the endless darkness that stretches out in front of them. It sounded like nothing. Usually nothing comes this close to a station, especially in a place like this with such tight security. “There is always something out there,” he replies offhandedly, not seeming to worry too much about it.

The most exciting thing to happen on guard posts are the occasionally people who has somehow managed to get lost, and manages to wander to another station. While the tunnels here are considered a high traffic place, it is very rare to see people come through here who are not from another Red Line station. “It was probably just an echo from Ploshchad Revolyustii.” Maybe somebody dropped something on the other station, sending an echo ripped through the tunnel. He considers them to be relatively safe here. Maybe it is a mistake, a foolish thing to feel, but he is an old man.

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PostPosted: Wed Dec 02, 2015 6:58 am 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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"Right. Right."

If Vlad is not concerned, then neither is Ivan. He relaxes, letting the muzzle of the gun drop and sits back down on the box he previously occupied. It's still a little warm; a small thing for which he is disproportionately grateful. He runs a hand across his chin. It's perfectly smooth. A little pang of sadness and disgust stabs at him from somewhere in the back of his mind, as it always does whenever this particular, thoughtful gesture is performed.

They sit in silence for a while. Nothing more dramatic happens. The fire is beginning to burn a little lower than Ivan likes. He wonders where the men, who are supposed to come soon (he thinks; it feels like it should be soon) to relieve them of duty, are. He remembers that Vlad told him about these devices that allowed you to talk to other people on the other side of the Earth at the press of a button. The thought of news being able to travel so fast is a marvel to him. Ivan isn't sure how big the world is, exactly, but he knows it's a lot bigger than the tunnel system they live in.

"Vlad..." He asks, hesitantly, remembering the last thing the other said. "Have you ever been outside the Red Line?"


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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Jan 23, 2016 12:52 pm 
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Vlad doesn’t mind the silence, quite the contrary – he likes it. It means nothing dangerous is happening and that the tunnels are safe. A rare thing here in Metro. The biggest threat here on Red Line is the Nazis living almost next door, but despite of that they usually leave each other alone. He likes to think that they’ve other things to worry about than killing each other, though he knows that is wrong.

He hums softly at Ivan’s question before he nods. “A few times, yes,” he replies as he looks over at the younger man. He didn’t end up on a Red Line station when the bombs fell over Moscow. It took him a while to find a place to settle down, but Red Line had seemed like a better alternative than so much else happening in Metro.

“I didn’t end up here at Red Line when I entered Metro. I spend some time trying to find a place to stay, and see if I could find any people down here I knew," he explains. He doesn't think much about his life when the bombs fell over Moscow. It's memories full of life and happiness that haunts him.

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PostPosted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 4:47 pm 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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"Did you? Find any people you know, I mean?"

Ivan leans in, the somewhat moldy cardboard box folding dangerously beneath his weight. He is light, but not that light. "People used to travel a lot, didn't they?" He asks, curious as always about the mythical life before the Metro; before radiation and worse chased them all underground. However many questions Ivan has, he will never be able to truly understand what came before. He's a tunnel rat like all the youngsters down here, used to little food and constant danger. The idea that Vlad's masterful sketches, made with coal and whatever else they can find, used to be a way for someone to make a living is absurd to him. Ivan thinks about the drawing currently lying in one of his pockets, very carefully folded so the edges always stay neat. It's a 'tree', Vlad says, but Ivan has never seen such a thing. He can imagine it because Vlad made the drawing for him, and because he has seen dead leaves that used to be the same color of a plastic container he has near his bunk. Vlad told him so himself. He has also told Ivan that trees grow together, many of them, for thousands of kilometers, and that's called a forest.

Ivan's eyes cloud over as he thinks of the tree, and he hastily looks away from Vlad. He doesn't want to cry. But it seems so unfair that the world used to be so beautiful, and still no one knew when to stop destroying it.

"I want to leave, Vlad," he says, and his voice is shrill. He hates himself for getting so upset over nothing. All he knows is that he doesn't want to guard, and he doesn't want to be here anymore. He wants to see trees, and fireworks, and hear Vlad play something called a 'guitar', because it's a funny word and must make funny sounds. But he can't do any of that if he stays in Tetralnaya - and he can't leave Tetralnaya if Vladimir doesn't come with him.


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View Likes PostPosted: Mon Jun 06, 2016 2:40 pm 
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Vlad is quiet for a few moments, eyes not focusing on anything in particular. The memories feels like a faded dream – something too out of reach for him to even hold on to. It’s like sand running through his fingers and he is trying to catch all of the sand with nothing.

“No,” he says slowly. “No, I didn’t.”

It was simply the reality of things. He didn’t find the people he was looking for, like many others down here. His faith was one shared by many. Families were separated, and whoever made it underground were on their own. The first years in Metro were dominated by chaos and people desperately trying to reunite with friends and family – people who were most likely dead, but clinging onto the hope that they were down here was something most people needed. Even Vlad himself.

He nods to the next question Ivan asks. “We did, yes. We used to fly high up in the skies and go to other countries far, far away from Moscow,” he says as he watches Ivan. He left Russia a few times in his younger years. He liked it, being outside of Russia, seeing new places and meeting new people. He remembers the joy of travelling.

It’s a short laugh that leaves Vlad when Ivan tells him he wants to leave before he shakes his head to that. “And go where, Ivan?” he asks as he looks over at the younger man. “There is no life out there. It’s no-man’s land, not to talk about the outside.”

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PostPosted: Mon Jun 06, 2016 3:23 pm 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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"There is Полис1," says Ivan. The legendary city state is not two stations away from them. If they can get to Охотный ряд2 on the red line, Библиотека им. ленина3 is right there. He has heard that people eat in the light there and live as kings, not in tents, but in small houses! Ivan knows that he will likely never achieve such luxury, but he buries it within his slight frame, pushing the harsh reality of it all behind his dreams.

A steady thump echoes behind them and he smiles. It's the change of the guard. Ivan rises and stretches like a cat, somehow finding the peace of mind to shoot the two newly arrived men a grin, too. There is not much joy in the Metro; he'll take it where he can find it. The men look at him like he's mad, but that's nothing new. Ivan turns his head, waiting for Vlad to get up.

"Do we have anything to eat at home?" He asks, hoping for perhaps a bit of meat tonight. He moved into Vlad's tent when he was little and uncertain of so many things, and Vlad never told him to leave. Sometimes, it strikes Ivan that maybe he's luckier than anybody in the whole Metro. Vlad was there with him the first time he bled, the first time he held a gun, the first time he shot one, and the time he realized that he would never grow a beard or hear his voice deepen. Ivan's head is filled with plans of convincing Vlad to go with him to Polis as they walk back to театральная4 station. Maybe if there is something extra special to cook that will put him in a good mood?
____________________________________________
1 Polis
2 Okhotny Ryad
3 Biblioteka Im. Lenina
4 Teatral'naya


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View Likes PostPosted: Mon Jun 06, 2016 3:50 pm 
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"Polis," Vlad echoes. He has been there a few times, but he never had much of a reason to go back. He likes it at Teatral'naya. It's nice, it's warm and he has a tent. He doesn't have to fight anyone to keep his spot as long as he contributes to the station. He can't help but shake his head to the suggestion.

He looks up when he hears the next shift of guards approach them. He lets out a soft sigh as he gets up from the box he has been sitting on, his knees giving off a cracking sound. He can't run from old age. He looks at the two men and greets them with a nod and a very short rapport of Ivan's and his uneventful shift. It's how he likes it to be. Uneventful and quiet.

"We have vegetables," he says as he follows Ivan through the tunnel. He buys meat every now and then, but mostly they live of off vegetables and mushrooms. It's what he can afford for two people. He know he can kick Ivan out - the kid was just there one day but he doesn't have the heart to do so. Somebody has to take care of him, and he doesn't mind the company in the end. He can't even imagine what would have happened to Ivan if he had decided to kick him out the moment he had crept into his tent and made himself at home.

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PostPosted: Sun Jun 19, 2016 2:08 pm 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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"Vegetables," sighs Ivan. He has only the most vague idea of how to turn that into a gourmet meal that might put Vlad in better spirits, meaning it'll be a thin stew/soup hybrid - like it usually is.
- = - = - = - = - = - = - = -
Ivan sets his kalash down on the floor, near the thin blanket he sleeps on. Always keenly aware that death could come at any moment, it none the less is slightly safer at the station. The ugly, gray-white, cracked tiles of the floor have been here since before the war, and will stick around even after Ivan is long gone. You need to find some sense of permanence and normalcy down here.

He finds the only pot they have; small and with one ear missing, but it can be used for what it needs to be. He shreds some thin, yellow-leafed cabbage into the pot, cutting mushrooms in half with a knife that wasn't made for cooking. Water, mostly collected through a complicated communal condensation system of Teatral'naya, is added to the soon-to-be meal. Ivan sniffs at the light steam rising from the pot and fishes out his only spoon from a pocket in his jacket.

"Maybe we could get a new pot in Polis," he says, wondering how on Earth to get Vlad to agree with him to go there. He just wants to see it. And maybe stay. And get a better life where he doesn't have to be on guard duty all the time.


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PostPosted: Fri Jun 24, 2016 3:41 pm 
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Vlad listens to the sound of Ivan chopping the mushrooms. The rhythmical sound of the knife harmonizes with the other sounds coming from the station. Children crying, men and women yelling at each other or at animals, old machinery screaming for new spare parts. Sounds that always fills Teatral'naya to the brim, evidence that the station is humming with life. The music of Teatral'naya had long ago turned into white noise for Vlad.

"We could also wait for a caravan to come through," Vlad replies, turning a page in the book he is reading. The pages had turned a somewhat muddy grey. Who knows where the book had been found. Nevertheless, a book was a book, and it was important to escape from reality every occasionally. He does look up from the book when he reaches the end of a paragraph and eyes Ivan for a few seconds.

"What is it with you and this.. foolish obsession you are getting with Polis, boy?" he asks. He knows he is too old to start travelling around in Metro again. He understands where Ivan's urge to explore, see more than just the walls of Teatral'naya, comes from but he certainly doesn't approve of it.

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PostPosted: Fri Jul 15, 2016 5:12 am 

eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...

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"But you never know when a caravan is going to come," says Ivan. He's whining, and he knows it, but he feels justified at least in this situation. Caravans are irregular at best, the chances of them having what you need even slimmer, and even then, there is no guarantee that someone won't get to it before you. He stirs the soup absentmindedly, watching Vlad read. Ivan only barely knows how to. Vlad patiently taught him the letters and how to write his own name, but Ivan never much saw the point in learning how to read. For one thing, books are rare, for another, Vlad already tells him the most amazing stories all the time. Why would he need to know how to read well, much less write himself?

Ivan squirms. Vlad doesn't sound irritated, just a little tired. "I just want to see if it's as good as they say," he mumbles, licking the soup from his spoon. It tastes like nothing as always. "You've seen everything already, Vlad. I haven't. I've only seen театральная." He turns to him, his grey eyes large and pleading. "Please can we go? We don't have to stay there if you don't want to. We can come back to театральная again when we're done seeing. We can find more people to travel with. Come on, Vlaaaad."

His voice is breaking and he clears his throat in disgust at the even lighter notes it's taking on. Damn. Maybe Vlad wouldn't be so stubborn if I were a real man, Ivan thinks bitterly, even if he knows that it is completely unfair of him. Vlad has accepted him, time and time again, in ways he never would have dared hope for.


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PostPosted: Mon Aug 29, 2016 1:17 pm 
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“A caravan will be here sooner or later,” Vlad counters. When Ivan keeps pressing the issue, he closes the book and eyes Ivan in silence for a few seconds. He sighs heavily, rubbing his face gently before pinching the bridge of his nose. He is too old and too tired to leave for longer periods of time. He doubts he has the energy to even make the trip to Polis anymore. Age has caught up with him too long time ago.

“Ivan..” he starts tiredly, “I am too old to travel to Polis.” He watches Ivan, idly scratching the cover of the book. Life here in Metro is harsh and unforgiving. The constant stress of living under these conditions are taking their toll on everyone.

“If you really wish to leave, you can sign up with a caravan as protection. I am sure there are somebody who are always looking for an extra gun,” he ends up suggesting. It does leave a bitter taste in his mouth, but in the end he can’t stop Ivan from leaving if he really doesn’t wish to stay here any longer.

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