slezy ne padayut

[Mars Bartholomew Russo]

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OOC: lalala +3

The man asked him if he played music, and Mars nodded his head simply and let his gaze slip from the blonde and snow pelted man and turned his gaze briefly to his white guitar that sat there beautifully in the corner of his home, him only being a few paces away from it, and able to grab it if he wanted to, but he decided against it because he had company and he was in the middle of what could have been an important conversation. Especially since the blonde had asked what kind of decisions that the Russo man was going to be making within the next few weeks so that he and Krystalle would be safe. I have made the decision that I cannot stay in D'Arte and be safe. Especially since I have little ones on the way. I don't want what happened to Shawchert's son to happen to my children. It'd be safer for myself and Krystalle elsewhere. the man spoke, his voice rather grim and almost dark, he wasn't sure if Adrian knew about what had happened, but if asked, he would go into detail. For now, it was time to listen again and be quiet.

The story of Iliya Rurik Russo was a sad one, and the story had made a frown appear on Mars' handsome maw, and his gaze casted down to his little brother. I wonder what Rurik thinks of his disappearance. the male spoke quietly to himself as he still leaned on his hand that was still on his knee. The other male also went on to explain that he had a friend with him at some point but that S.O.B. dipped somewhere and was doing his own thing. Mars nodded his head, slightly uninterested about the male's friend. When he asked if Rurik lived down here, and if he was from Russia, Mars first nodded his head, and then shook it. He lived a lot of places around here. In America too. He met my mom somewhere in America, and I was born in a state that the humans called California. the man spoke to the other, his tone rather flat, no emotion held within them since both his home and his father were both hard subjects for Mars to talk about. I never really knew Rurik, he was only in my life briefly before he ran back to Russia on his little fuckin boat. the curse had slipped in there on accident, showing some emotion of slight anger, but the anger did not show in his eyes, nor his posture. But my father looks a lot like little Iliya there, 'specially those eyes. the man commented as he looked at his younger brother and his ice blue eyes that matched his own. Iliya has a lot more family here than you think. the man loosely spoke, but did not really bother to continue to speak about Anatoliy.