(no subject)

[katyafeline]

Katya's room is almost in direct contrast to the woman who keeps it - where she's wearing enough bangles and earrings and necklaces to be just on barely on the tasteful side of gaudy, her room is practically militaristic. A few things break up the clean, blank lines - a hefty old-fashioned radio set in the corner, a rack of swords along one wall (each one different, each one immaculately well-kept), a heavy and battered leather duster left abandoned over the back of an armchair.

The radio must be on a motion sensor - when Katya pushes Jay into the room, it splutters to life, Freddy Mercury's voice on low filling the empty spaces.