The collapsed city bathed in the setting sun's light reminded Vlad of Moscow in a lot of ways. Like the Halifax, the Russian metropolitan was also broken and abandoned, but unlike the Halifax, Moscow had been tidied up quite a bit by numerous generations of the Luperci there. It had become livable for those that claimed and marked buildings as their own for their families, and trespassing into another canine's home was considered deeply disrespectful along with being an obvious felony. There wasn't much punishment for intruding, though—not counting whatever the owner had in store for the trespasser, of course.
Vladislava didn't have to worry about her family's house being raided, however. The Kalashnikovs were far too powerful to be messed with, and they were more than capable of taking care of any criminals that came their way. That was an advantage to living like royally, Vlad thought to herself often when she would think about her relatives. You were virtually untouchable when you were an heiress to a very important company, but... Perhaps that was the reason the girl left Russia. Aside from not wanting the responsibility of running a business she had no interests in, maybe she wanted to be able to hold her own, without the twenty-four hour protection of another. Whatever the reason, she wasn't with them now, so it didn't really matter all that much anymore, did it?
Onward the Russian she-wolf went, settled comfortably on Dmitrii's sadle, her green eyes looking over the street stretched before them. The only sounds she heard were her horse's feet clacking onto the hard, concrete ground, and her mind was blank—not counting an old song from her native lands. The chorus of this song repeated in her head so many times, almost enough to drive one mad, but she welcomed it with open arms. It was a pleasant song she was thinking of, with a soft, steady beat, and powerful—but not overly fierce—lyrics. It was of course in her native tongue, as were most songs she knew, and she was half-tempted to begin to sing along.
This thought Vladislava had, however, was forgotten at an odd, squeaky sound she heard. Her bejeweled ears pricked up at the noise, and she tugged at Dmitrii's reigns, pulling him into a stop. Bright eyes looked around with caution, but she saw nothing until she glanced over her shoulder. There was another wandering these overgrown streets, it seemed. He had an object Vlad couldn't identify in his hands, though she could infer that the noise was coming from it. She simply stared at him for a while before softly pulling on her Clydesdale's ropes again, causing him to turn roughly ninety degrees to his left. The gray wolfess rested her hands on the horse's neck as she watched the male from afar, but she didn't decide to engage in conversation. Not yet, at least.
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