Posts by - ILLYA K.

Illya entered the kitchen, his paws sliding on the slippery floor. He would've tripped and fallen if he hadn't just caught his balance.

The place was a complete mess. It seemed like someone, probably the big dragon, had an accident. And it sounded like it was him.

Illya didn't know the dragon, but he still approached, hoping his t-shirt and hat wouldn't get ruined. Close to slipping- again- he turned to the four, forcing a smile. "I can help. I've never really baked cookies before, but I've cooked other things." Looking at Ska'arq, he introduced himself. "Illya Kuryakin. Just joined." He said, this Russian accent lacing his words.

//eeeee omg yes. who makes?

Illya chuckled, gesturing to the film. "It's called film. It what the ink is put on to for the picture." Watching her with interest, he saw her eyes widen in shock. Laughing again, which was something you rarely heard from the brute's mouth, the wolfdog nodded to the picture. "You could say that, yes. It takes a little snippet of some place or thing. It's a memory for people." When she asked how it worked, he honestly didn't know. "Some sort of mechanics. I can fix one, but can't make one. I'll get a camera for you sometime, I could show you how to use it."

Illya didn't know Witchpaw, as he had just gotten here this morning, but he must've been gone a while if people were asking where he was. Quietly padding up after Ska'arq, he stayed behind the large dragon, being his quiet and shy self.

Finally, he knew he'd have to introduce himself eventually. Shuffling into view, he stepped a bit forward. "I wish I could get a good nap." He said, thinking about how he had been on the run for many weeks. Nodding to Witchpaw, the wolfdog smiled. "The name's Illya Kuryakin. I just arrived this morning." His Russian accent was thick through his words.

Illya walked up, frowning. He wasn't one for love, but he had liked someone once. Maybe he still did like her, but he didn't know. After all, she had been his co-worker. "Not all love is fake, though. Some of it is true, and it comes from the heart." He didn't know where the words were coming from, but he was saying them.

Illya nodded slowly at Ahi's question. "Yes. That's exactly it." The wolfdog thought it was nice to talk about love, though the concept still bothered him a bit. He wanted to open up to it, but he didn't want his heart broken. He had lost too many people; and he wasn't going to lose another.

He hadn't been here long, not really knowing the enemies, allies, etc, but the word "enemies" still rang in his ears. They were going to merge with an enemy?

To him, this all screamed "BAD!", but Sweets was the leader, and it was her choice. He himself had been partnered with his enemy. Napoleon, the American. Together, they stopped a danger to the world, and became closer friends. You wouldn't call them "best" friends; just friends.

But the blonde wolfdog nodded, blinking his blue eyes. "Noted."

Illya had not known Riddlersgame. And by the sounds of it, that had to be a good thing.

He had known Pierce, though. The fox was kind to him, and he had hoped to be better friends with the vice-leader. But he was gone. And he wouldn't come back.

Of course, he didn't know that- in this place- people could come back from the dead. Instead, he just listened to Sweets. He nodded when she finished. "Noted, miss."

rhea s.

Somehow, Illya found a camera.

He had run down the stone staircase, in full disguise. Black sunglasses, a tan leather coat, black turtleneck, a nice hat, and his father's watch was his outfit. Sure, he wore that every day, but the people looking for him probably didn't know that. Only Napoleon and Gabby knew that.

But he had quickly traveled into a nearby store and stole the camera, as it would be bad to just pay for it. They could find out who he was. And, though, he wasn't as sneaky and smooth as Napoleon when he stole things, he still knew how to do it.

Running back to camp, he had just gone into his hut. He was now working on setting it up, so Rhea wouldn't have to do it. She wouldn't need to know unless she needed another camera soon, and that wasn't very likely.

Walking out, he looked around. He didn't know where Rhea lived, because it seemed that not all people lived in the huts, so Illya just called out her name. "Rhea? I found a camera for you. Do you want it now?"

Illya nodded, walking back into his office to pick up his sunglasses. Today, for the occasion, he was wearing his normal outfit- well, it had a few tweaks, but it was still normal. A black turtleneck sweater, brown leather jacket, black pants and black shoes, black sunglasses, black gloves (which didn't cover his fingers), a brown belt with a gun and knife hidden in their sheaths, and his normal hat (don't know the name of it, darn).

Yeah, you could say he loved black. Honestly, he didn't really know why, but it just seemed to fit his mood. And it wasn't distracting.

Walking out of his office, he smiled softly at the three of them. "Then let's get going, shall we?" He said, dangling four keys in his fingers. They would all be driving motorcycles. And guess what color his would be? Black.

Illya looked up to see London. He was surprised to have someone else sit at his table. The blonde had been waiting for Kageyama to respond when she had seated herself. Smiling softly though, as she seemed kind enough, he spoke in his Russian accent. "No worries, London. I'm Illya Kuryakin. Nice to meet you." He commented, smiling.

He would've gone to Durmstrang if he hadn't moved to England at the last minute. But, even though it was his seventh year in England, his accent had not worn off. In fact, it sounded like it had thickened a bit. His voice was still soft as ever though, however.

Illya was not happy.

Nope. He was sweating like mad. But it was his own flipping fault that he decided to wear a turtleneck and brown leather jacket in the middle of summer. He'd head over to his hotel and change out of it later.

Walking over to a cafe, ordering an iced coffee and a pastry. It'd be nothing like Russian sweets, but it'd be good enough.

Seeing Aleski a few paces away, he had seen the other Russian man before, he walked over. Offering a quick smile, he gestured to one of the empty chairs. "May I join you?" He asked in his thick accent, blinking his blue eyes.

//I had to. the idea was too magnificent.

Illya was driving a motorcycle; black, of course.

And where was he going? The famous IKEA store.

Today was one of his only days off at U.N.C.L.E.; he had no enemies to utterly destroy today. So he decided to ask a bunch of his friends (who eventually asked other friends to come) to IKEA, so they could go for some food and go furniture shopping. Maybe he'd buy a toy for Pris or something. He hadn't really decided yet.

Finally, he arrived in the parking lot.

Parking, the tall blonde man walked into IKEA. It was a large place, that was for sure. And it smelled like food. And food was good.

//yay, now there are three Russians :3!

Illya looked up at Alexus as she came over, and just, seated herself. Shrugging, he also sat down crossing his legs. At Mie's question, he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Илья Курякин, я думаю, вы должны знать меня, так как я ваш товарищ по команде." He spoke in Russian, glaring quietly at him before snapping his gaze away and looking at his hands, which lay in his lap.

"Илья Курякин, я думаю, вы должны знать меня, так как я ваш товарищ по команде." = "Illya Kuryakin, I think you should know me, as I am your teammate."

//*quietly shakes head* now he's ticked

Illya listened quietly, his hands shaking slightly. He hadn't really meant his comment in a rude way; and it was the truth. But he supposed he hadn't really known them either. He was new to the team, he supposed.

Instead, he just glared at the two of them as they spoke, his hands still shaking. The shaking increased as more insults were flown. And the last one from Mie had set him off the edge. And it was because he wasn't any of those two things.

Getting up rather quickly, Illya said in and rushed and quiet manner: "Excuse me." And walked away. You could probably see his hands still shaking from a good length away.

Jogging to some abandoned building, he looked around, and kicked down the door. Once inside, he took a deep breath, and started throwing around furniture and other various items. Since he didn't want to injure his "teammates" and get kicked off the team, he just went after a building no one cared about.

Ah, Julian had arrived.

He was the last person they needed. Throwing him a key, he smirked softly. "We're going to the Linguini Lickers. Thankfully, they don't know me since I'm technically the new boss here. Never been in a fight with them before either." He shrugged, and nodded to the group. "Are you all ready to go?"

Illya had just arrived here a day ago, and was deciding to explore the territory. He didn't know it that well, and would've liked to have known more.

But he didn't know why he was going to the staircase. Something in his gut was telling him.

And there, at the bottom of the steps, he could see something huge.

With eyes wide, he quickly hid behind the stone structure by the stairs, about to pull out his knife. Would he need to use it? Was it U.N.C.L.E.? Would they kill him?

Slowly, he took his paw off the sheath and shuffled out into view again. He decided to go down the stairs and see what this mysterious creature wanted. And boy, were they tall. And a bit weird looking, but wasn't everything weird here?

Approaching the dragon, he cleared his throat, and spoke in his thick Russian accent. "State your name and business here. This is BlizzardClan territory." Hadn't some people said that when he arrived? He thought so. And so, that's what he'd say to this thing.

//welcome to blizzfam2k17 my friend!

ska'arq .

Illya was making it his goal to know everyone in the clan, even though he was not a social butterfly. In fact, he rarely talked to people ever.

But this was his home now, wasn't it? Or maybe it was just temporary until everything got figured out over at U.N.C.L.E. Either way, he'd like to get to know some people.

He had seen Ska'arq when he had the baking incident, but it hadn't seemed like he had responded yet. Oh, well, the wolfdog didn't mind much. But he thought it would be nice for them maybe to cook something together or something. But Illya didn't cook much. He had baked and cooked things, but you wouldn't call him an "expert" at it. He could figure out how to do a recipe on his own, if he tried.

But this is what this was about when Illya was walking around camp, looking for the lumbering beast.