all of the places i ain't ever been to [open]

[makism vandik tarasov]

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Makism was the absolute only one with anything left. He was the only one that hadn’t been entirely destroyed… that was a lie. He had been destroyed… but differently. The Russian man had a different way of putting himself back together each and every time he found himself pulled to shreds. It’s a mechanism, like a starfish regrows legs. Makism may have regrown a heart.

The thing is, for a starfish to regrow his legs he needs a body to grow them around. Makism needs something to repair himself around. What’s he got? A dog. A dog that loves him more than life itself. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe it’s not. He couldn’t tell you.

Dimitri had gone for his run. He was asleep, curled up all snug in Makism’s bed. It kept the room from getting so cold. The funny thing about the cold was that it no longer seemed so bad. It wasn’t. His body was generating cold more easily than it generated heat now. He’d have frozen himself a few times already if it wasn’t for the dog. They’d keep each other safe, it was official. The man now needed a dog to take care of him.

But he wouldn’t let himself be pathetic. No. He’d continue to run, this time through the cold. Still, it wasn’t so much a run when he left his room in jeans and a t-shirt. Kaden’s sweatshirt wrapped around his shoulders, comfortable and warm. Marine Corps… he’d been fighting the big fight. Makism didn’t care about him any more… no use digging out that skeleton.

It was a wander through the grounds, feet needing to hit the grass and the dirt. He followed the fence line absently, trying to figure out where all this place went. Talk about sprawling… it was huge.

[kira shain romonov]

Kira was wandering aimlessly around the grounds, picking arguments with people and being obnoxious. He climbed down from the wall of a building, wondering where his brother's were before shrugging it off. He would find them when he actually felt like dealing with Zakk'ri. America was an interesting place, interesting people, even here. But they were just as fun to fuck with.

And then there was the male outside running. "Hey sugar," He sneered as the guy approached where Kira was lounging against the fence. "Your snot frozen yet?" He rose an eyebrow in challenge.

[makism vandik tarasov]

Leave it to this place to make Makism feel like a freak in his own skin. What was cool, clean confidence on the outside happened to be a shattered creature on the inside. His heart had broken, fallen apart, gone to shit. Everything in this godforsaken place had gone to shit and he was still going. Makism couldn't tell you why. This place put the idea in his head that he'd live, he'd continue to live, just to spite them. He'd spite them all, and he'd do it with grace and poise. Or... well, peace through superior firepower.

The man's green eyes twitch to the side, bristling at the interruption of an inner monologue that was nothing more than bitching and moaning. He didn't need that shit. What he needed was a distraction. Gaze shifting to the face of the creature that had appeared he decided that it would have to do. "No more than that smirk will be on your face in a second, заяц." The word that rolls off his lips is technically sweet, but there's a bite to it. Sarcasm hangs around the word... like the Americans would use their coarse versions, so would he.

[kira shain romonov]

Kira sneered. "You're Russian, yes?" He smirked faintly and got up. "One, I can climb far better than you. Two, if I can't fight against you, my brother will snap your neck." He shrugged, eyes sparking with challenge. But it's who Kira was. Perverted, picking fights. He licked his lips. This guy might just be
"Hm." Fingers danced across the other male's shoulder. "Say, why're you out running in the cold anyway? There's a track." He rose an eyebrow.

[makism vandik tarasov]

Makism bristles, eyes setting upon the other man's face, burning. A growl holds deep in his throat, posture putting him on the offensive. "Climbing is for those without fight... flight.." His accent is a sort of musicality, but there's something acidic about the way the words roll off his tongue. "Hiding behind big brother, awfully brave one, aren't you?" If this man was going for a name drop, Makism wasn't buying it. He always had been the big brother in the situation. He'd always been the one to come to the rescue.

The man reaches out to touch him, and Makism tenses visibly. "I am the cold, little rabbit." If someone didn't know Makism, he'd look like he was flirting. The game he played was deadly, though, and no one could mistake the eyes of a predator. Cold lives in his skin now, and he's so very alive.

[kira shain romonov]

Kira smirked. To him, flirting was exactly what this male was doing; dangerous. "And I'm you modern fucking day spiderman. What gives?" He laughed. Fingertips danced along the male's jaw. Perhaos he was asking for a fight. There wasn't anything better to do anyway.
Eyes glimmered tauntingly when he finally stepped back to look the other male ever. "For the record, I can stand up for myseof. My brother just does all the killing." He shrugged. The matter didn't bother him anymore, nor did the fact that his brother lived in a cell because he couldn't be put in a ward with others.
Kira hummed obnoxiously.b"What's got you panties in a bunch anyway?"

[makism vandik tarasov]

Playing with fire. Flirting. It's something that the man knows needs to happen... he feels alive again. It's interesting the way this works-- the flirting. The firing off at rapid speed, the general grabassery... maybe he'd been missing something. This creature wasn't particularly good looking, but a good (read, badass) attitude was something Makism could appreciate. "Modern day super zero, hmm?" It could have been brushed off as the language barrier, but the Russian man was adopted-- he'd been fluent since age six.

"Lucky for you I'm that brother." The man rolls his eyes, raking a hand through his hair. The man was close, he was touching... strange. It was weird having skin to skin contact. Without thinking he reaches up, fingers closing around the other man's wrist. "They were put through the dryer, apparently some people are too stupid to read the 'line dry only' tags." The man rolled his eyes, a slight bristle in his posture.

[kira shain romonov]

"I suppose that means I expect no surprises," He challenged. After growing up with his brother, nothing was all that startling anymore. And then the male retorted to Kira's snide remark, and he just grinned. "Mm. Does that mean your ass looks nicer then?" He smacked it and laughed, dancing just out of reach. While topping out a little shorter than most, Kira's attitude made up for it. He was far too arrogant and boastful, and didn't always care to pay attention to when he was pushing his limits.

[makism vandik tarasov]

Makism rolls his eyes, snorts audibly as the man speaks. "Expect then unexpected, my dear." The words roll of his tongue, hang in the air with their own bite. "And yes, I am Russian." He answers the man's previous question with a certain chill, green eyes dancing across his face. "What's it to you?" the man moves swiftly, but not swiftly enough as a smack is landed across his ass. It's something he can usually appreciate, but from a random and complete stranger? Not so much. He reaches for the man's wrists, gathering one in each hand and moving to slam the man against the nearest tree. "Who the fuck are you, anyway?"

[kira shain romonov]

Kira smirked. "Just curious," He drawled, thinking back on their own very similar origins. He huffed when his wrists were grabbed and hewas pressed to the tree, laughing. "Kira," He taunted snidely, arching forward with his hips. "Play rough do you?" Kira lived in his own messed up world and didn't care how others looked at him or how badly he pissed people off. A reaction was good enough for him. He stuck his tongue out, then drove his leg up between the other's woth a snicker. As soon as he was able, he pulled his wrists free and climbed up thw tree trunk with the ease of a lizard.

[makism vandik tarasov]

Family meant very little to Makism. Er. Well. Blood family at least. He had been adopted by the most kid people he'd ever known existed and that was enough. They had raised him right. They didn't have any sea how fucked up he really was, and Makism would rather keep it that way. Wouldn't want them thinking their son was one sick puppy, right? Right.

The man offers his name, but Makism doesn't go for the formalities. Instead, he growls in reply. "What fun is there in ring gentle? Human beings aren't made of glass." The words come lowly, tensely. He ducks out of the way before the man can hit anything vital, but his grip is lost. "See. Flight response." Te Russian man bends his knees and leaps, taking hold of the lowest branch and hanging there.

[kira shain romonov]

Kira shrugged. "Easier to do this." He waited for the male to grab the lowest branch, then reached and pulled his shorts lower, mooning the guy with a laugh. The muscles in his legs flexed and he pulled himself higher, sticking his tongue out between a V of fingers. Kira had no limit when it came to being perverted. Sexual harassment was his specialty.

[makism vandik tarasov]

Makism watches the boy with mild interest. It's funny, the way he's attracted not by looks-- totally not his type. Still, the other man is something...strange. Trouble. Hell on wheels. His glance at the creature is sidelong, still clinging to the tree limb. The Russian boy's trousers found his ankles, feeling a chill in the back door. He rolls his eyes at Kira's gesture, sighing heavily. "You go from wanting my ass to being a lesbian. Pick one, bro." he kicks his legs, trying to swing himself into the tree, scraping his thigh in the process. "Fuck." 

[kira shain romonov]

"I'm attention-sexual, duh," Kira complained. He knew a woman would never interest him though. Kira inched up a little higher until he found a nice cozy place to hang out. "Besides. If I'm a lesbian, I still like the same sex." He stuck his tongue out childishly. "Tell that to the guy I stripped on the dining hall table the other day." A wink and grin. He grimaced as the male scraped his thigh on the way up. "Battle scars, no?" He teased, kicking his shoes and socks off and watching them fall to the ground below. With his 'ability', it was far easier to use both hands and feet.
A rooftop might have been less hazardous." He studied the other bottom-lessale with appraisal.

[makism vandik tarasov]

"Clearly, big gay freak." But Makism speaks with a glimmering hint of mischief. It's not like he's picking out the gay bit as derogatory-- that would be silly. He's willing to pick out his own sexuality as something to giggle over, as something to use as an identifying feature. The Russian man will never deny that he kisses boys-- it's far too much fun. Nothing to be ashamed of when you're having fun, right?

The man swung about on the tree limb, not bothering to fret about the fact he wasn't wearing pants. Hell, he'd worn shorts shorter than the boxers that clung to his ass now. A matter of taste based on the day, and today hadn't been a short shorts day to start with... oh well. If you've got it, flaunt it, right? Right. "Got 'em everywhere." And that was the truth. Scars criscrossed his body, his arms and his abs. Self harm wasn't his schtick-- fighting was.