Зима [Zima/Winter]

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Зима [Zima/Winter]

*There's the soft hum a ceramic space heater, giving off a faint glow that barely illuminates the suitcase's common space. Зима kneels before it with an ever-passive pout playing his lips. He's tired but cannot rest while ideas swirl in his head, inspiration having the selfish tendency of striking when the sun has set.**He hears the sound of footsteps on the shiny tiled floor and turns his head enough to glance over a shawl covered shoulder.* "Ah... Sleep does not come for you, as well."

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