Post by Micha Volkov on Aug 11, 2012 16:16:16 GMT -5
First things first: Micha couldn't remember the last time she'd gone out in public in shorts. Maybe when she was little? Not that one regularly wore shorts in Russia. Yes, she'd grown up on the edge of the lake there, and yes, she'd always considered the weather quite nice, but truth be told, 14° Celsius wasn't ever bathing-suit weather, and that was pretty much the hottest it ever got, right there off Lake Onega.
Kids were getting off the bus, and so Micha stood along with them, simultaneously adjusting her bag and attempting to pull the hem of her shorts down at the same time. They were so... so short -- which, yes, she understood was the point of the things, but still.
She nudged her seatmate, the big Russian Dimitri, whom she'dcoerced asked to come along. It wasn't that she didn't want to spend time alone with Layne (or that moron Whites) -- quite the opposite, really. Micha was simply not comfortable with the new relationships she'd developed with the pair, and her Mitya was something to fall back on.
The ride there had been bumpy but pleasant; they'd passed the time murmuring back and forth to each other in their native language. In fact, she wasn't even sure if Whites and Layne had been on the same bus. Was there another bus? They could have sat up more in front, she supposed. Well, there was only one way to find out.
Gingerly, the Russian stepped off the bus, blinking against the bright Madrid sun.
...Holy shit, it was hot. She'd forgone the usual layer upon layer of cooling charms to truly go 'muggle', but she hadn't factored in Spain's infamous August heat. Had to be at least one hundred degrees. She was suddenly glad she'd worn the shorts and the light t-shirt top, which she'd seen featured in some teenager-based magazine -- the outfit was definitely nothing she'd ever willingly own. She'd even forgone her usual curly twintails in favor of a semi-sloppy halfbun, though her bangs still swooped heavily across her forehead. Forgetting about the sunglasses on top of her head, she shaded her eyes to peer about.
"...Layne? Whites?" Fiddling with her shirt (it tied in the front a little, and if she stretched even the slightest it showed her stomach), the stoic Russian frowned, skinny legs rubbing against each other in some attempt to hide the immense amount of skin her tiny jean shorts covered. Paler than pale, she'd slathered nearly a whole bottle of sunscreen on her skin, and her legs felt sticky smooth with it. Micha'd be damned if she got sunburned out on this ridiculous expedition; bad enough she had to endure the heat.
Kids were getting off the bus, and so Micha stood along with them, simultaneously adjusting her bag and attempting to pull the hem of her shorts down at the same time. They were so... so short -- which, yes, she understood was the point of the things, but still.
She nudged her seatmate, the big Russian Dimitri, whom she'd
The ride there had been bumpy but pleasant; they'd passed the time murmuring back and forth to each other in their native language. In fact, she wasn't even sure if Whites and Layne had been on the same bus. Was there another bus? They could have sat up more in front, she supposed. Well, there was only one way to find out.
Gingerly, the Russian stepped off the bus, blinking against the bright Madrid sun.
...Holy shit, it was hot. She'd forgone the usual layer upon layer of cooling charms to truly go 'muggle', but she hadn't factored in Spain's infamous August heat. Had to be at least one hundred degrees. She was suddenly glad she'd worn the shorts and the light t-shirt top, which she'd seen featured in some teenager-based magazine -- the outfit was definitely nothing she'd ever willingly own. She'd even forgone her usual curly twintails in favor of a semi-sloppy halfbun, though her bangs still swooped heavily across her forehead. Forgetting about the sunglasses on top of her head, she shaded her eyes to peer about.
"...Layne? Whites?" Fiddling with her shirt (it tied in the front a little, and if she stretched even the slightest it showed her stomach), the stoic Russian frowned, skinny legs rubbing against each other in some attempt to hide the immense amount of skin her tiny jean shorts covered. Paler than pale, she'd slathered nearly a whole bottle of sunscreen on her skin, and her legs felt sticky smooth with it. Micha'd be damned if she got sunburned out on this ridiculous expedition; bad enough she had to endure the heat.
ooc: Micha's Muggle clothes
for: Layne, Whites, & Dimitri