#v.russo

[amala-thevar]

August 29th, 2022 The Spaceport @russovito​

As was often the case lately, ever since the port’s construction to be exact, Amala found herself spending her midday break wandering the corridors of the Spaceport. She enjoyed coming here-- all the hustle and bustle of people, of fresh faces that’ve seen so much more than she could ever hope to imagine. Between the new people and the new technology they brought with them, there was always something new to experience here. And with a new title to help get her into the new additions as they were completed, Amala could explore any corridor she pleased.

Like this one: A beautifully lit hallway lined with single-door rooms that likely had the corridors windows within them. She’s sure of it. What hallways didn’t have windows? The shell and sand paint job added enough warmth to soften the oddly cold Collective minimalism-- though it did feel a bit boring, without the shades of green and flowering foliage dotting the structure like every other building in the city.

She was about to attempt to peer inside one of the rooms, the little plaque next to the door still blank, but footsteps and a low murmur of voices caught her attention. Amala looked back and saw a distracted Gloria Gallo with two of her aids packed in close. Her face fell, even winced, as she registered the gravely sound of the clearly frustrated councilwoman. 

Deciding that she was in no mood have Gloria’s ruin her stroll, Amala made a snap decision: with near comical quickness, she practically lunged for the closest door and pushed it open, ducking inside as quickly and quietly as she could. She hangs her head with a slight shame as the door softly clicks, closing behind her. 

Seas, that was childish. She thought, her teeth capturing her bottom lip. It was a nervous habit she’d adopted as a child, when deep in thought or stressed- much like now. 

What if Gloria had seen her? Flinging herself inside the first door she could find like she did. A blur of orange and yellow. She wasn’t sure which would be more embarrassing: simply being caught in the act, or the tongue lashing she’d get as a result. She’d hear about it for weeks from her peers. Maybe months. Amala’s head continued to hang as she lifted a hand to her temple. 

[m-keane]

A bunch of sketches from Twitter of Street Fighter Ex/Fighting Ex Layer characters

[amala-thevar]

collective date: november 24th, 2022 the allies gala; arrival @russovito​

Her smile faded only a fraction as she crossed the tall, formal threshold of the embassy building. While normally the buildings large, solid doors seemed cold and formidable-- unwelcomingly so, when compared with the swooping, inviting Leoran designs surrounding it-- tonight, the grand entrance had a certain warmth to it. A little more color, a little more life-- something worthy of being the grand focal point that it needed to be. 

The good councilwoman had posed outside the doors, smiled and waved in the way that was expected of her. She made sure that a wide smile and sense of unity was indeed seen, as it needed to be. Pretended that there wasn’t a NEW MESSAGE: URGENT alert flashing in the middle of her line of sight as reporters and their robots captured her arrival for the galaxy to see. 

Once passed the door, however, she excused herself from the aide she’d brought with her-- encouraged them to go mingle and network before dinner started-- and turned down a small, dim hallway. Amala’s smile dropped completely as the shadows engulfed her; her fingertips running along either wall, searching for a door. It was clear by the lack of light and decoration that this hallway wasn’t meant to be part of the party, but it hadn’t been roped off either, and if this message was what she thought it was-- she’d need all the privacy she could find. 

She rounded a tight corner and found herself face to face with a... wall? A dead end. It was two feet in front of her, without even a window or a plant to give it a purpose. Though come to think of it, there’d been no doors or windows all along that strange stretch of thin hallway. Later, the questions would cross her mind more than once: What was the purpose of that hallway? Why waste all that space? 

But now, she had other, more pressing concerns: an ill-timed message sent on a secure line. She might not have found a room, but a dark corner far enough away from the main flow of attendees would have to be good enough. In an instant, she engaged her implants and opened the message, her vision narrowing in on the small text. She gasped softly as she read it, a hand lifting to cover her mouth as she read it again. 

“Fuck--” She breathed out before a tall figure stepped around the corner, blocking out what light managed to reach this far back, and cutting off her only exit. “Oh! I--!” Her words stumbled as she tried to quickly close the message and re-focus her vision. 

“If you’re looking for the restroom, I’m afraid we’ve both made the wrong--” Amala stopped mid-sentence as her eyes adjusted to the dimmed light, and she could finally make out the figure before her. “..Vito? Vito.. Russo, right?” She questioned, their first meeting slowly coming back to her.