03-22-2014, 12:28 PM
The tunnel downward was lined with tiles surprisingly clean compared to the streets above. The Russian train system was immaculately kept. Russian. He would continue to think of the city as Russian despite the inlay of Dominance symbolism everywhere. In fact, as he rounded a corner to swipe his metro card and so gain admittance, he passed a scrubber, a man working a buffing machine like a lawn-mower with a DI patch on his jumpsuit. He looked up and received a tranquil nod in acknowledgement as Elias passed by.
The metro station itself was a hollow dome beneath the street. Chandeliers illuminated the vault's crown, but the light mingled with the fluorescence of modern signage positioned at eye-level, and cast every face with false dour.
The platform was relatively sparse of bodies, but one in particular, a woman, staring down the mouth of the tunnel, seemed on the verge of expecting a train to propel from the blackness at any moment.
Elias joined her. A wind pulsed from the opening every few minutes, borne by the movements of a distant behemoth unseen from their position. His coat rolled gentle sways on the air, as did the fringes of thick, dark hair fallen around his face. When the woman looked to him, recognition blinked its way across his darkly rimmed gaze. She was American. Native American, he knew it clear as day.
The metro station itself was a hollow dome beneath the street. Chandeliers illuminated the vault's crown, but the light mingled with the fluorescence of modern signage positioned at eye-level, and cast every face with false dour.
The platform was relatively sparse of bodies, but one in particular, a woman, staring down the mouth of the tunnel, seemed on the verge of expecting a train to propel from the blackness at any moment.
Elias joined her. A wind pulsed from the opening every few minutes, borne by the movements of a distant behemoth unseen from their position. His coat rolled gentle sways on the air, as did the fringes of thick, dark hair fallen around his face. When the woman looked to him, recognition blinked its way across his darkly rimmed gaze. She was American. Native American, he knew it clear as day.