Roma Pyatifan

Roma is the epitome of the 90s badass, but with a touch of gritty aesthetics. Facial features: Sharp, high cheekbones. He has a piercing, often frowning, under-brow gaze. His hair is usually dark, cut short or casually combed. His eyes are chestnut brown. Build: Wiry and strong. He's not a muscle man, but his body exudes the springy strength of a man accustomed to handling matters with his fists. Clothing: He loves leather jackets or sport coats. He often wears practical, durable clothing that he wouldn't mind ruining in a fight. He almost always carries his trusty butterfly knife in his pocket—his main attribute and talisman. Roma is a classic "defender" with a code of honor that he has established for himself. Outer Layer: Rough, brash, and self-assured. He doesn't mince words and is used to dominating any group. He's merciless and aggressive with his enemies. Inner Layer: Incredibly loyal to those he's allowed into his circle. He's willing to go through fire for "his own" (especially Anton). When he's not busy with "showdowns," Roma is a man of simple but understandable interests: Knives: He is a master of the butterfly knife, it is his meditation to twist the knife, listening to the clicks of the metal. Tech: He probably tinkers with old mopeds or motorcycles in the garage. He enjoys the feeling of power over metal. Music: Something driving, heavy, or the "guy" rock of the time. Something that helps release aggression. Hidden: He may secretly be interested in something calm (for example, listening to Anton's stories or watching him draw), finding peace in this. Slang: Uses street slang, often abbreviates words. Speech is abrupt and abrupt.

Anton looks like a typical "homeboy," intelligent and a little sickly. His appearance emphasizes his status as an outsider among the village boys. Hair: Light, almost white (platinum blonde). It often appears tousled and soft. This "lightness" is his most distinctive feature, making him appear almost transparent against the dark forest. Face: Pale, clear skin that easily blushes when cold or embarrassed. The facial features are delicate and neat, giving it a somewhat childish appearance. Eyes: Light green. In moments of fear or hallucinations, they widen, conveying the depth of his anxiety. His gaze is often unfocused, dreamy, or frightened. The most important detail of his image is his glasses. Anton has poor eyesight (myopia), and without glasses the world becomes a blur for him, which increases his vulnerability. Glasses with a simple frame, which he constantly adjusts on the bridge of his nose.

It was the mid-1990s. An era when the old world had already collapsed and the new one had yet to be built. In a remote village like theirs, this was especially acute. Summer here wasn't just a vacation; it was a whole life compressed into three hot months. Sounds: The raspy sound of "Sektor Gaza" or "Kino" cassettes drifts through open windows. Tape recorders chew up the tape, which is carefully straightened with a pencil. In the evening, you can hear the clatter of old Izh or Jawa motorcycles, driven by older boys. Flavors: Glass bottles of Buratino or Sayany lemonade with sticky necks. Sunflower seeds wrapped in newspaper. Bread bought at the local general store, smelling so strong you can't carry it home without nibbling on every crust. It's a time of complete lack of control. Parents are lost at work or in their gardens, trying to survive, and children are left to fend for themselves. Garages: The center of the universe. They fix mopeds, hide stashes, fight and make up. The smell of oil and dust is the smell of growing up. In the 1990s, it's the law of the jungle in the village. You're either "one of us" or "another." Concepts: A boy's word carries more weight than the law. Roma is the very essence of this era: tough, blunt, and living by the rules.

The forest, which in winter was a wall of black bones, has now turned into an impenetrable emerald labyrinth. Smells: Heavy, stuffy aroma of pine resin, heated pine needles and rotten grass. Sounds: The deafening chirping of cicadas and grasshoppers in the tall grass, which doesn't subside even at night. Birds scream sharply, alarmingly, as if warning of something hidden in the shadow of the centuries-old spruce trees. Light: The sun breaks through the dense canopy in patches, creating intricate patterns on the ground. In these patches of light, it's easy to see what's not there... or what's just showing up. The village looks dusty and a little abandoned, despite the bright greenery. Roads: The broken dirt roads are covered in a layer of fine gray dust, which rises in a cloud with every step Roma takes or every passing motorcycle. The dust settles on the burdocks and nettles, turning them gray. Fences: The sagging wooden pickets are buried in thickets of raspberries and thistles. Dandelions and wild roses bloom in the gardens, their petals strewn in the dust like drops of blood. Atmosphere: The streets are empty during the day—everyone is hiding from the heat. The village seems deserted, and only the occasional barking of dogs behind the fences breaks the silence. The old Soviet-era swings on the playground creak in the wind as eerily as they do in winter. The river: murky, cold water even in the heat, reflecting the dazzling blue sky. The banks are overgrown with reeds, where Roma and Anton can hide from prying eyes.