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Gleb Vaganov ([personal profile] butstill) wrote2017-12-31 10:36 pm

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It isn't at all what Gleb would have expected from a New Year's celebration, even down to the date, but then, the past week and a half has made the fact of that itself easily predictable. Nearly everything about Darrow seems to be as far from the Russia he left behind as it's possible to get, and this is no exception. At least it's not quite as unpleasant or as unusual as it could be, as other things have been. Practically the entire city has turned out for this, it seems, bundled up more so than dressed up, waiting in line for food from street vendors. He's heard talk of other New Year's Eves spent up the mountain at the ski lodge, and between the two options, this one is infinitely preferable.

For all the people here, though, there's really only one whose presence he cares about. Despite seeing her, at her insistence, on the Christmas they celebrate here, he barely has the first idea what to do around Anya, no more than he did when he first caught sight of her here outside her building, having thought that he would never see her again. What he does know is that she's as beautiful as he's ever seen her, so much that it nearly hurts to look at her. She's not dressed for the ballet or a press conference this time, and mercifully so, but she's still a world away from the street sweeper he first noticed, what feels like so much longer ago now than it must actually have been. He never could have guessed then where they would wind up, either in this place or before it.

Of course, it makes sense that she would seem to fit in here, far better than he does or could imagine to himself. Wearing the suit that he'd worn in Paris, the nicest thing he owns and likely to stay that way, for how far from comfortable he is in it, he straightens his jacket before he makes his way over to her, mostly for something to do with his hands. "Anya," he says. "You look — well."
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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2017-12-24 05:51 am (UTC)(link)
The dress is a luxury. A luxury that she shouldn't have kept, especially not after she lost her job, but she couldn't bear to part with it. This is the exception to the practicality of the small wardrobe that she's acquired here. Readily available clothes that are also affordable is a novelty that she can't quite get past. What is more it is pretty; silver and swirling just around her calves as she walks. The weather has called for her to wear her coat, the one that has made it all the way from Paris.

She could have spent New Year's Eve up on the ski mountain, but she decided that spending it surrounded by as many people as possible would be better. The night is lovely, if a bit on the cold side, but there are warming spaces scattered about for when it is overwhelming. And it is overwhelming in more ways that she can name at the moment, especially not after the three glasses of champagne that she's splurged on.

Smiling reflexively as she spots Gleb she notes how he straightens up at the sight of her. It is still awkward, her feelings about him complex, but she's glad he came out for the holiday. "Gleb," she greets warmly as she nears. "Thank you. You look good as well. Have you been enjoying your night?"
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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2017-12-25 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
How do you forgive someone for something they never did? is a question she finds herself asking from time to time. Anya believes what she told him that first day. That he would never hurt her. The unfired gun lying in a box in the back of her closet speaks as a testament to that. Gleb had been given orders and disobeyed them.

Perhaps there is nothing to forgive. Or if there is, all of it is worth being forgiven for tonight. It is about to the start of a new year. 2018, a hundred years from that fateful night. Here they both are, survivors of it, standing in front of the city hall of a strange city. They both deserve to start the new year off how they want it to be.

She laughs lightly at his small joke, tilting her head in mild interest. "You haven't gotten one for yourself yet?" She gestures to the booths all around. "We really should fix that before midnight. There's not much time left."

At his question, she considers it for a moment, her expression changing to thoughtful before back into a smile. "I have been, though I think the champagne has helped."
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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2017-12-28 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Her first drink had been at the behest of some of the girls that she had used to work with. She hadn’t known them for very long and while they looked at her a bit blankly the few times she’d mentioned missing home, they were nice enough. The second had been one they’d made her take for the road. All of that was a few hours ago, leaving her feeling pleasantly warm.

“I understand,” she says with a nod and a thoughtful smile, easily finishing the end of his sentence. Drinking alone doesn’t seem like a pleasant prospect. It would be too easy for feelings to take over and run away, the mind turning over the previous year or years until there is nothing left.

The widening of smile pleases her, because Anya is glad to see him relaxIng. She can’t imsgine Gleb ever being fully comfortable here, but she can’t see that for herself either. They’re good company. “Yes I did would. I think we can get you one before they start the countdown. There’s plenty of time left, I think.”

She gestures towards the lines, shorter than they were an hour ago. They’re down to the last twenty minutes of the year. People are likely trying to get in place to have a decent view.
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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2018-01-01 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)
The half-complete gesture escapes Anya’s notice. Turning towards him, she almost expects him to offer his arm or some other gentlemanly gesture completely at odds with the unity and level playing field that the Bolsheviks advocate for. Without lingering more ontboughts of what isn’t, she focuses on what is and moves to follow his beckoning towards the shorter line.

“I’ve tried to find out why they burn the effigy,” she starts conversationally as they enter the line. It’s morving at a fairly decently quick pace, the vendors just as eager as the patrons to have an empty line by the time midnight arrives. “But no one had a decent explanation. It could be very pretty, like the harvest fires out in the countryside, but it strikes me as a bit odd.”

What she doesn’t mention is that it reminds her of the fires that burned during those terrible early days of the revolution. The gunfire and the acrid smell of smoke forever tied together to set her teeth on edge. It’s easier now than it once was. The desperate need to keep warm to survive stamped out her reticence.
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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2018-01-03 02:47 am (UTC)(link)
None of the answers that she has received have been as satisfying as she'd have liked. It is to be expected that any city that has this many people who call it home would have its own history and traditions, legends that spring up around certain things. However the native citizens that she has asked about it seem to dismiss her questions or offer explanations that only produce more questions. Those that have not been born here, transplants like herself and Gleb, seem to be just as bewildered.

Perhaps one day Anya will have greater insight. Today, however, is for observing another odd set of traditions.

"I think it might be," she agrees with a thoughtful nod, moving forward with the line. "Come midnight, we will be 90 years out of step with what we knew. A little unsettling is perhaps the least of our problems."
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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2018-01-05 04:15 pm (UTC)(link)
During her brief time here, Anya has wondered if any of the people really look at anything anymore. Do they wonder at the tall buildings? Appreciate the sky and the bright moon over the cold night? Or are their worlds somehow smaller than hers was before, back behind the Russian borders. So much attention is dedicated to such small devices. While she has her own and has used it once or twice, she still cannot fathom being so dedicated to it. It's doesn't seem worth it.

A small laugh escapes her at his comment. "I'm used to adapting, to playing a part," she comments with a light shrug before looking up at him. "This is just another make believe."

It both is and isn't. This is her world, their world, willing or not. Somehow pretending that it isn't permanent, that it is just another step makes it easier. "I don't think anyone fully can catch up on that much time. But we can try. We have to try. It's a brave new world and it has such people in it."
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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2018-01-08 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)

Pretending to be someone that she's not is an easy enough thing. It's less dangerous here than it was when she said as much to him in his office back in Russia. Perhaps it had been an innocent enough fantasy, despite the fact that all that she'd been pretending, had come to believe and then disavowed, is actually the truth. That she is a little lost princess, that her father and mother once ruled Russia. She can picture the floorboards of that house in Yekaterinburg, can smell the rough soap, the breeze in the walled in garden that was never enough. Over the past few nights, ever since Gleb arrived and told her that all she'd wanted to believe and didn't want at once was true, she's thought of the close of the gates. The young man her eyes with the serious expression. How she'd hoarded the images of those outside, made up stories of their lives and what she'd say to them when given the chance.

None of that matches what she actually said to him. But she hadn't known who she was then. He had just been a man in a uniform offering her aid. Another cold wind blows sending a shiver down her spine as it tugs at the fabric of her coat and silvery dress. It was such a pretty thing she hadn't been able to resist it. It's not the most practical garment for the weather.

"I think it is," she says with an assertive nod of her head. There is only one person ahead of them now, perfect timing with midnight being five minutes away. "What are you going to drink?"

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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2018-01-11 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)

Catching his words, Anya's child tilts upwards so that she can look at his face. The image of the serious man he was — still is — passionately speaking one minute, holding out her broom to her the next flashes through her mind. It had been a cold day then for all the talk of spring and new dawns. Not entirely different from the weather that they are currently experiencing here in Darrow. Her coat was made for a Parisian spring, a far cry from her practical wool coat. Much of what she'd worn in Paris would be deemed impractical, just as what she's wearing now is a bit light. Parties don't ask for practically. They're excuse to slip into finery and into foolishness. It isn't a place one would want to live in permanently. For now, it does just fine. Her reasons for shivering that day had been just as much out of a relived fear than the cold.

She opens her mouth to object as he drapes his suit coat on her shoulders. He's only in a waistcoat and shirt now and the air is still cold. "You'll freeze," she remarks, a wry sort of smile on her face even as she reaches up to pull the jacket closed around her shoulders. "Thank you, though, for the coat."

Waiting as he orders, she shakes her head when he asks. "No. I think that I've had plenty." She's not used to drinking. The champagne has gone a little to her head. "Three is more than enough. You can be a bit caught up by midnight."

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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2018-01-12 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)

Stepping out of the line Anya tosses a small wave and a happy new year to those working the booth. Falling into step with Gleb, she adjusts the coat on her shoulders re-securing it as she walks. The wool smells like he must smell, an earthy combination of scents that surprises her with the strange intimacy of it. Wearing someone else's clothes, freely given, is an affection gesture. This isn't like wearing the washed and mended hand-me-downs from her sisters. This is something else, something more adult in its fondness.

They do have a shared past, overlapping at very different points in their lives. Ten years between the closing of the gates and that day on Nevsky Prospekt. A decade before he saw her in Paris, a time that she doesn't remember, doesn't know how to process that he couldn't follow orders. That he resigned himself to die to let her live. One day she'll ask him why, find out more about that meeting. An odd sort of wonder runs through her as they walk closer to the effigy, meandering through the crowd. They are one hundred years from when they were teenagers in Ekaterinburg. What a strange life they have lived.

His stilted joke makes her smile. Once he told her that he had a sense of humor and while she didn't feel it then, she believes it now. "Yes you should. We can toast the new year later," she says before impulsively reaching out from the folds of his coat to grab his hand, gently tugging him along a little closer towards where the crowd thins. "Come on, let's find a good spot to view it. My former coworkers were telling me that it is quite spectacular at midnight."

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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2018-01-13 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
The lack of weighty disdain in his voice does not pass her by. Anya suspects that perhaps Gleb has caught some of the holiday spirit. New Year's Eve is significantly less commercialized than Christmas is here and while it's more of a celebration it is less of an affront to Bolshevik sensibilities. Being a good member of the party had never been anything that she had been accused of. Keeping her head down, working to gather money and looking for a means of getting out of Russia had been her singular goal.

She'd succeeded in that. Now Russia is an entire world away. An entire lifetime, gone with a fury of anger.

"Yes it is," she agrees with a faint nod of her head as she comes to a stop. The lights and the cheering warms her in a way that is different from the coat. Perhaps the champagne really has gone entirely to her head, but the giddiness of the crowd is contagious. Another nod as she realizes that the countdown has started.

"Ten....nine...eight..."

She counts down along with them, pulling her gaze away from the effigy to look up at Gleb. Her hand is still clasped in his. As confusing as it may be, all the news that he has so recently shared with her, a history she still needs to unpack, she is glad that she isn't alone. That she is looking at the future with someone who remembers the past.

"Seven..."

The soft smile she offers him in genuine, her head tilted up to meet his eyes.
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[personal profile] homelovefamily 2018-01-13 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Letting go of his hand had not occurred to her. It's an innocent enough gesture. Holding someone's hand is an excellent way to not lose them in a crowd. Even though they've stopped, there isn't time to think things through beyond that with the countdown having begun. She will let go after midnight once the moment has passed. For now it is nice to simply be reminded that someone is there, someone as equally if not more baffled by this entire city. Someone who knows and remembers both the Russias she left behind.

Watching him, Anya thinks she knows what he is about to do. A kiss at midnight is a tradition, a way to welcome love into the new year. He is likely going to kiss her cheek, another innocent yet awkward gesture. Or maybe he want to kiss her on the mouth, something she is less certain of. It wouldn't be how she imagined her first kiss at all. Despite the thoughts in her head, she finds herself leaning up towards him just a little.

None of this matters. The countdown ends and there is a bright flash of light as the effigy bursts into flames. This is immediately followed by another bright flash, this one of pain running through her. It feels like every bone in her body is breaking all at once. It is worse than any pain she has ever experience or every imagined.

Anya screams.

It doesn't help.

Somewhere in the pain she's released Gleb's hand, reaching to wrap her hands to her body, to make it stop. None of it does any good as her teeth elongate, fur sprouting, her body reforming into that of a wolf. Her dress, her shoes, her coat and his, are all ruined. Something wild grabs a-hold of her, a fierce primitive thing. The wolf that once was Anya lashes out, eager to escape, to howl at the full moon over head.

Any small reason that is left in her head doesn't question the feel of her paws lashing out, claws digging into and scratching into flesh, a fierce snap of teeth as she licks at human flesh. The warmth of something on her paws and fur. A howl escapes her and then just as quickly, she has jumped away, running off into the night and wild crowd.