NO-ONE ELSE HERE WILL SAVE YOU [open]

[dostya yaroslavovna golovnin]

Dostya did not in the least bit envy those who took 'easy' subjects like sociology or 'women's studies', or something equally useless; here she was, taking part in what was essentially the only real subject in which dissections and getting properly dirty was an occupational hazard - or perk. She had to produce a full anatomical paper on a vertebrate of her choice, and given how easy it was to collect samples, it had to be the humble Columba c.liva, or Rock Pigeon - she had already finished every external diagram, detailing the feathers, their function, and the external appearance of all the male and female, finished the musculature section, and was about to get on to the really fun bit; organs.

The lab was pretty much empty; apart from her books, stationery and and a suspicious large grey case sitting on the bench to her left, Dostya was alone except for the growing mound of dead pigeons in the yellow biohazard bucket; the PETA would have had a fit, looking at the scene. Dostya, leaning over the table, stared through a magnifying glass mounted on a clamp stand, above a white ceramic tile, with a pair of lights clamped to the edge of the magnifying glass to provide a clear view; Dusty had already turned off the room lights and drawn down the curtains, making the room darker than the first twenty pages of a Dickens novel at half past ten at night in December. Another light illuminated a fearsome tray of tools suspended in water, most of which seemed unnecessarily pointy. Hands covered in rubber gloves, Dostya had rolled up the white sleeves of her shirt, a half-hearted effort to avoid getting messy, and lifted the lid of the case. Reaching inside, she wrapped her hands around a cold mass of flesh and feathers and lifted out a pigeon, dead as a doornail, covered in gashes but in fairly good condition.

Petrov must have been bored by the time we got to this one. It was very rare that Dostya's eagle would leave anything so unmolested, and while most of her samples had been in bits, the case was full of bags of ice, and those few which were good enough for a full organ review. Placing the bird on the tile beneath the bright light, it became apparent that it would take some time for the creature to defrost. With nothing to do until the heat of the lights unstuck the dead bird, limbs at odd angles, frozen in death, Dusty stood back, pushed herself up and sat on the bench behind her, legs dangling an inch or so from the ground. She never had a problem with waiting; it was part of the territory, and it gave her plenty of time to think, but for some reason she couldn't help herself get more and more antsy; something was playing on her mind, though she couldn't for the life of her work out what.

So, when she saw the door creak open in the dim light, she almost instantly removed the notepad from her black waistcoat and began scribbling, before scrunching up the note and tossing it over to the other side of the room. What can I do for you?

[kolby daniel walton]

It had been one of those days for Kolby where he'd been very unsure if going to school was going to be a good idea or not. He'd had a good few weeks of remission with his Crohn's disease, but it seemed the trend was changing. He'd been having a pretty painful stomach ache over the last couple of days, but so far he'd been able to keep up his normal schedule. School was out for the day though, and he was mostly just trying to find somewhere near one of the bathrooms that he could sit down and sketch for one of their new assignments. This one involved making a whole bunch of characters, maps, settings and monsters for what was an imaginary game to be made. The setting of the game had been given to them and it was different for everyone, the assignment in itself seemed really fun actually.

After giving the room choices a bit of thought his mind drifted onto one of the biology labs, it was the closest neighbor to one of the toilets and therefore a perfect room to be in. It also happened that it often seemed to be empty, which was another good thing because then he could just relax on his own, and not have to worry about seeming his normal cheerful self. Terrance had wanted him to go home and rest, but as far as he was concerned he already spent way too much time curled up in his room, and unless things got worse, he wanted to spend some time elsewhere. So he started making his way towards the lab, it really was a nice day outside and he would have loved to sit out in the sun, the only problem was that with his stomach acting up like this, being outside was way too far from a bathroom if he should need one.

Since he wasn't in much of a hurry, his feet moved slowly through the hallways of the school. It really was quite a massive building and it took some time getting from one side to the other. A soft humming of Journey's Don't stop believing left his lips, a song that was often stuck in his mind. It was a happy tune and it never seemed to fail putting him in a slightly petter mood than he'd been before he'd listened to it. Even on the worst of days. Soon he reached the door he'd been looking for and his hand reached out to slowly turn the door handle and crack the door open. It was something he always did, walking into a room slowly, he hated interrupting things he wasn't supposed to interrupt, that way people always had the chance to let him know he shouldn't be coming in if they were busy with something.

As he did walk in though a curled up piece of paper almost hit him on the nose and his eyes widened a little, going immediately to the note and picking it up before looking around the room. A girl with gloves on was sitting on a bench and seemed to be the only one in the room. His eyes looked her over and then drifted to the rather grizzly sight of the dead pigeons on the table and in the bucket, and widened slightly, a small amused look on his face. Then his attention turned to the note he'd picked up and he glanced from her to the note before slowly uncurling it and reading what it said. "Uhm.. nothing... I was just looking for somewhere quiet to work on some sketches. This room seems to be unoccupied most of the time so I figured I'd give it a try today. I can find somewhere else if you'd like?"

[dostya yaroslavovna golovnin]

Well, whoever he is, he's no biology student. There were two big clues for this conclusion - firstly, he was a stranger, having never been in a lecture or lab session. Secondly, he looked ever so slightly queasy at the sight of the dead birds. This late in the semester, most people would probably be out enjoying the beautiful weather, but most people weren't going to pass with honours and go on to a Master's, and Dostya bloody well was - although at this rate, the pidgeons wouldn't be defrosted until she picked up a Ph.D in microbiology. At least it's cool enough in here to be comfortable. With the full height of the American summer outside, Dusty wanted now more than ever to be home, and when she graduated she'd take a month or two off back in Kondopoga, where the winters were almost perpetually black. Much nicer than here, where the first moment spring began signaled a heatwave every year and people got hot enough to melt.

Stripping off her gloves and tossing them into a bin, Dostya looked over the new entrant; physically, he was unimpressive, and looked rather ill - maybe he'd had too much to drink last night. Perhaps a little on the thin side, but the most important thing was that he carried a sketch book - an art student. Dusty's first thought was Oh, bloody hell, an art student. Wonderful. Afterwards, she came across another thought - Excellent! An art student! Diving into her books, she dragged out the folder with the illustrations of the pidgeon anatomy and sauntered over, sitting herself on one of the workbenches and resting her feet on the stool, scribbling onto her notepad, leaning on her folder, before handing them both over and re-topping the gold-plated fountain pen.

Nyet, I could do with the company. You're an art student, right? Take a look at these diagrams and let me know what you think. I hope you've got a strong stomach, because if they creep you out you really don't want to be in here in about half an hours' time.

Dostya, by the way. You can call me Dusty.