"я в порядке. Ты? (I’m fine, are you?) 

Sighing in relief, Stasya gave a small smile, and the scales began to retreat further down her neck. Apparently she hadn’t hit the girl that hard. “Это хорошо. Мне очень жаль-(That’s good. I’m sorry-)“

"Вставай, это не время плакать! (Come on! This is no time to cry!)”

She flinched at the rough male voice that shouted at her, and in a heartbeat the scales re-established themselves on her face. “Прости! Я- (I’m sorry! I-)” By the time she looked up though, he was already gone. Feeling helpless, she looked back to the girl she had kicked (whose accent was atrocious). 

The girl’s eyes followed the boy, and her expression suggested that she was not pleased with him. She looked back to Stasya, bearing a reassuring smile. “Извини за это. (Sorry about that.)” With that, she stood up and departed. Now alone, Stasya curled up into a ball again, pressing her face into her knees. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve being shouted at. She didn’t know who these people were, she didn’t even know where she was. The last thing she remembered was a nurse coming into her room at the hospital and injecting something into her arm, once the needle had actually broken through the scales that covered her. Then she woke up in this strange place that reminded her of a motel they had once stayed in, though it hadn’t looked nearly as palatial as this.

A low growl issued from her stomach, and she slowly raised her eyes above her knees. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten either, she hadn’t even had a chance to have breakfast before her parents had rushed her to the hospital. And she could tell that those panels behind her weren’t windows; the light made her eyes tingle when she looked at them, so she didn’t know how long she had been asleep for. If the gnawing sensation in her stomach was any indication, it had been for a long time. Her eyes slid towards the open door. Unfortunately, getting food meant that she would have to leave the (relative) safety of the room.

With a heavy sigh, she wiped her eyes clear with her arm and slowly rose to her feet, making her way to the door. Peeking around the corner, clawed hands grasping the door frame, she watched the group of confused teens. Some looked to be approximately her age, some looked to be older. She also couldn’t understand most of them, and she [b]certainly[/b] didn’t want to talk to the boy who had shouted at her again. She turned and looked down the other direction, but could see that it came to a distant dead-end. Which meant the only way to go further was to go past the others. Which meant they’d see her. 

A soft sound reached her ears, words she didn’t understand but whose tone she did. Her eyes tracked to the slightly open door immediately across from hers. Someone was afraid, needed help. Twice she looked between the group of teens and the door, then sighed and crept across the hallway, her footsteps noiseless. Gently, she opened the door, and peeked inside. 

The room looked identical to the one she had just left, save for one thing: a dark-haired girl in a white nightgown, perched on the edge of the bed. “Здравствуйте? Ты в порядке? Я захожу... (Hello? Are you okay? I’m coming in…)”

[@Airalin]