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[color=FFE4B5]"Travel Visa?"[/color]

The innocuous question had come from a tall woman wrapped in a bulky coat that was poorly kept together. Her legs had been previously shaking underneath the makeshift leggings and short boots hastily tied together, heels together as her hands rested on the windowsill of the ticket window. Her bright, azure-colored eyes were wide, lips parted in surprise as she looked at the irritated older man on the other side. Her blonde hair sat in waves on her shoulders, brushed out of her face hastily as she tried to get a handle on what the man was so mad about at the moment.

After years of doing odd jobs, begging, selling anything she could get her hands on--including her own hair at various points--she had finally saved up just enough money for a ticket out of St. Petersburg. It had been a nearly life long dream to leave Russia, fueled by a desire she didn't quite understand herself. Not that she needed much reason to leave, really; things were steadily going downhill for years now. From a young age she had put herself to work, thriving on determination to get what she wanted, and with Nana Natasha watching her from heaven, she was certain she would accomplish her goal.

Except she had run into a minor hiccup when the moment of truth came.

[color=2F4F4F]"No travel visa, no ticket!"[/color] He informed her rather bluntly, apparently annoyed at her ignorance as he slammed a pair of shutters, effectively blocking her from any further questioning.

Placing her head against the closed window shutters, Katya let out a small whimper of despair as her hands clung onto her bag. She was so close. So, [i]so[/i] close. As she pushed herself upright, she looked up at the sky. A miracle, she needed some kind of miracle that would give her the travel visa. This couldn't be the end of everything, there had to be something, [i]anything[/i] she could do!

Wracking her brain for any possibilities, Katya backed away from the ticket window, deciding that there must have been another way she hadn't considered. A light tap on her elbow caused the girl to jump in surprise, whirling around as she saw an older woman chuckling at her. She had seen better days, her skin sagging and clinging onto her bones, though she clung onto some papers with one hand, prodding the girl as she beckoned for her to listen.

[color=FFFFF0]"If you have the coin, seek out Feliks Shvets,"[/color] She told her in a quiet, shaky voice, motioning back towards the city. [color=FFFFF0]"Around this time, he should be getting more supplies at the stationary."[/color]

Katya's eyes widened, daring to hope as she listened intently to the woman. [color=FFE4B5]"How will I know it's him?"[/color] She asked.

[color=FFFFF0]"He sticks out almost as much as you do with that [i]svetlyy[/i] hair of yours, though it will be his clothes that make him stand out,"[/color] She teased, shaking her head hurriedly. [color=FFFFF0]"But you didn't hear it from me!"[/color]

Before Katya could ask any further questions, the old woman shuffled away in a hurry, the train whistling and indicating that it was time to board. Her journey wasn't over just yet; this was exactly the sign she was looking for. After taking a few seconds to stuff her money securely in her coat and thanking Nana Natasha for watching over her, the blonde immediately went about searching for the place where she could find the man that would give her the visa she needed. Fortunately, there were really only a few places that provided stationary these days that managed to survive over the years, narrowing her search tremendously. 

Her heart raced in her chest as she approached the last place, rubbing her hands together as she exhaled. Boy, did she hate the cold. A slight shiver ran over her body as she stuffed her hands into her pockets, continuing to look for Mr. Shvet as she stopped in front of the store. It had yet to open, it seemed, though at least she wasn't alone. A few men had gathered around a makeshift trashcan fire, one holding a newspaper and another bearing a cigarette. She wrinkled her nose as the scent hit her, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. God, how she loathed that smell.

But apparently, the smoker had been the one she was looking for. His long, black wool coat was [i]much[/i] too nice in comparison to what the other men wore, though she supposed they made up for his shoes. His pinstriped trousers and scarf seemed to add to the image of 'still too fancy', and that was when she realized that this was what the old woman had meant when she said he stuck out. Physically, there wasn't too much that stood out otherwise, though, her eyes lingering on his dark hair for a moment before remembering why she was there to begin with.

Tugging on the sleeve of his coat, Katya would speak to him. [color=FFE4B5]"Excuse me, I'm looking for Feliks Shvet."[/color] 
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