(no subject)
Maya steps through the door. Her stutter-step is a dead giveaway that she didn't intend to be here; so is the state of her uniform. She wears uniform trousers and a black fitted tank top, one that looks more like it's made of leather than cloth. The name 'ANTARES' is spelled out in small, discreet letters on one side; her dog tags hang loose. Her face is pale and expressionless, her eyes red-rimmed.
She looks at the bright hustle and bustle of the bar; the people talking, laughing, leaning in close over tables. She slips through the bar and out the back door, silent on bare feet.
It's blessedly quiet outside, the stars showing through the clouds here and there. She pauses in the sand long enough to roll her trousers above to her knees, and then she wades in.
There's a woman standing in the lake up to her knees, her arms folded and her shoulders rigidly set. The long braid hanging down her back sways in the wind.
[tag: demeter, the russian astronaut]
She looks at the bright hustle and bustle of the bar; the people talking, laughing, leaning in close over tables. She slips through the bar and out the back door, silent on bare feet.
It's blessedly quiet outside, the stars showing through the clouds here and there. She pauses in the sand long enough to roll her trousers above to her knees, and then she wades in.
There's a woman standing in the lake up to her knees, her arms folded and her shoulders rigidly set. The long braid hanging down her back sways in the wind.
[tag: demeter, the russian astronaut]