Vasily's eyes widened for just a moment, a quick, surprised intake of breath as the younger man wrapped his arms about him tightly, weeping disconsolately against his chest. His arms hovered in the air, outstretched for a heartbeat or two. He gaped, impossibly confused, nothing in his experience preparing him for the impossibility of Oskar's words.
The witch? Something had happened to the witch? Never in all Vasily's life, had he imagined anything at all could happen to the witch - well, certainly nothing bad. She - or rather, they - were eternal, immoveable, as permanent a fixture in the lives of everyone in Adishi as the mountain where their village rested. But to his knowledge, after all the tales of the storytellers and the history keepers among the venerable elders, there was nothing ever spoken of, no dire warning for Adishi, that even remotely resembled the supernatural carnage that had just torn their town apart.
Had something happened to the witch? Before this moment, Vasily might have laughed, considering such a question as idiotic as whether something had happened to the sun or the moon - but he was certainly not laughing now.
Vasily's sighed, yet another worry added to the long list of worry that already lay on his soul. He could bear it. He always had. For so long as Antonina walked this world, Vasily knew he always would.
He let his arms fall to wrap about Oskar, pulling the young man to him as tightly as he had his little brother only minutes ago. "We will Oskar, we will," Vasily said softly into the young man's dark hair, his voice low and as reassuring as he could possibly manage. "We will find her." Slowly he stood to his feet, easily lifting Oskar to his own with him in his arms. Vasily had not the least idea where the witch might be, or even whether she was truly gone as Oskar maintained - though the young man's despair was as genuine as he had ever seen, and Oskar had never been known as a liar.
"But what has happened to the witch? Why is she gone? Why did she leave us to... To this?" he asked, shaking his head slowly as if to clear his thoughts, overwhelmed by the enormity of all that Adishi had lost this night.
Vasily pulled away, but only far enough to wrap his arm about the young man's shoulder as he turned them both about, to return to the main room of the tavern. There was nothing left to be done for Stanislav, but Chiudka had her hands full in the great hall for those they might yet save, and he did not doubt for a moment she could use at least another dozen or so hands as well.
"We will care for the fallen first Oskar, for those we can - and then we will see to the witch, wherever she's gone to... " His azure eyes fell over the growing crowd, resting on the injured, the bleeding and the fallen - and then realized who, of all these citizens of Adishi, should be here now and yet, was not.
"Oskar," Vasily asked, his head turning swiftly to the young man at his side, "Where is Oksana?"
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Most Recent Posts
Mmm... I can only hope they're oatmeal and raisin - you know, the big, soft and chewy kind that go so well with the scent of gun oil, engine grease and hot metal in the morning! 
Dot you are an absolute doll - you do know this, yes? I have absolutely no idea what in "all my posts" you mean, but honestly if anything I write gives anyone anything at all to enjoy? Then that makes me middle-school-status excited - and the fact that anyone at all breaks out into song? Well I'm just honored! 
I have absolutely no idea what in "all my posts" you mean, but honestly if anything I write gives anyone anything at all to enjoy? Then that makes me middle-school-status excited - and the fact that anyone at all breaks out into song? Well I'm just honored! "I see."
Her pale blue eyes never left Antoine's face as she let the words hang in the air between them for a moment. The gentle smile remained on her lips as she studied the frank, uncomplicated lines of his mouth, and the undeviating honesty in his gaze. For one brief, split-second in time, a thrill of fear had shot through her chest when he said those words, that he was a cryobed technician, like Sylas.
But that swift terror had passed, and it was simply Antoine before her, and he was absolutely nothing like Sylas at all - not even a little. He was an honest man, and true. Pauline even wondered for a moment whether a man with such an open manner, was actually capable of a bold-faced lie - or if he ever did try? A soft breath of a laugh escaped her as she realized Antoine would have one whopper of a "tell," rubbing behind his ear absently, mimicking the magnificent Mowzer at his toilette whether he knew it or not.
But no matter. Pauline was amazed to discover she really did not mind his revelation, or his knowledge.
'So this is what it's like then? For people to know and just... Not really mind? No judgments, no pity or cloying sympathetic looks? No questioning my judgment for deciding to keep my little Eva?' A protective hand wrapped lovingly over her still flat belly at the mere thought of her growing baby, and she smiled. For the life of her, Pauline could not decide if all her worries to this moment about how the Copernicans might see her, or treat her, had been just-so-much overblown nonsense; or if Antoine was simply a very singular type of man.
She decided she could get used to this, nonetheless.
"So you have... A knack for languages, yes?" Pauline asked, artlessly changing the subject. "I've heard of a lot of people having a second language - sometimes even a third. But honestly, you're the very first person I've ever met whose 'second language' was a Native American dialect!" She laughed incredulously, nodding her head though to let Antoine know that she was, of course, duly impressed by this accomplishment.
"How many languages do you speak then, and which ones if I can be so nosy? And how in the world did you come to know them?" Still kneeling beside the Bengal cat, she softly and slowly scratched behind one of his ears with two fingers, mimicking - though she did not realize it - the same soothing motion that Antoine himself had used only moments before.
Her pale blue eyes never left Antoine's face as she let the words hang in the air between them for a moment. The gentle smile remained on her lips as she studied the frank, uncomplicated lines of his mouth, and the undeviating honesty in his gaze. For one brief, split-second in time, a thrill of fear had shot through her chest when he said those words, that he was a cryobed technician, like Sylas.
But that swift terror had passed, and it was simply Antoine before her, and he was absolutely nothing like Sylas at all - not even a little. He was an honest man, and true. Pauline even wondered for a moment whether a man with such an open manner, was actually capable of a bold-faced lie - or if he ever did try? A soft breath of a laugh escaped her as she realized Antoine would have one whopper of a "tell," rubbing behind his ear absently, mimicking the magnificent Mowzer at his toilette whether he knew it or not.
But no matter. Pauline was amazed to discover she really did not mind his revelation, or his knowledge.
'So this is what it's like then? For people to know and just... Not really mind? No judgments, no pity or cloying sympathetic looks? No questioning my judgment for deciding to keep my little Eva?' A protective hand wrapped lovingly over her still flat belly at the mere thought of her growing baby, and she smiled. For the life of her, Pauline could not decide if all her worries to this moment about how the Copernicans might see her, or treat her, had been just-so-much overblown nonsense; or if Antoine was simply a very singular type of man.
She decided she could get used to this, nonetheless.
"So you have... A knack for languages, yes?" Pauline asked, artlessly changing the subject. "I've heard of a lot of people having a second language - sometimes even a third. But honestly, you're the very first person I've ever met whose 'second language' was a Native American dialect!" She laughed incredulously, nodding her head though to let Antoine know that she was, of course, duly impressed by this accomplishment.
"How many languages do you speak then, and which ones if I can be so nosy? And how in the world did you come to know them?" Still kneeling beside the Bengal cat, she softly and slowly scratched behind one of his ears with two fingers, mimicking - though she did not realize it - the same soothing motion that Antoine himself had used only moments before.
ME! Pick me pick me oh please please please pick me! *jumps up and down, waving hands furiously*
See? Told you it'd be obnoxious - and count me in *grins*
See? Told you it'd be obnoxious - and count me in *grins*
One eyebrow arched meaningfully over her dark eyes, a single corner of her mouth curling upward just the tiniest smidgen in genuine amusement as her gaze washed over his handsome face. Galina remembered that smile well, marked in her memory for so very long now. She was glad to see it once more, that flash of genuine good humor had changed not in the least from her first remembrances, and the thought warmed her far better than even the sake could.
Galina had learned over the course of this past year, how very, very different her upbringing had been from Souma's, and this vast gulf of disparity was far more than simply being born in separate nations, to differing cultures. In most every nation from the dawn of man, the rich and the wealthy lived lives of privilege, the children born into this vaunted families never knowing a moment of want or need. This had been Galina's life once, just as it was the life of every child born to a Japanese nobleman, or a fabulously successful American entrepreneur. The privations Galina experienced as a child, indulged [outlandishly, many would say] by a father who raised his daughter to become a Cossack warrior, had been entirely her own choice from the moment she could run after her brothers and stubbornly refused to be chased off.
This was, by no means, the order of privation Souma had known as a child. Far from it. Whatever respectability the Takahiro clan had achieved was gained entirely through what could be stolen, smuggled, cheated or ripped away by wit, by skill or by sheer brute force. The title of "samurai" and that once palatial compound stood testament to the undeniable efficacy of their brutal and merciless ways, and all Souma's clan wrested from this vicious, unforgiving world.
Knowing this, Galina only loved him all the more.
She set down her near empty ramen bowl before reaching for the warm jug of sake, refilling Souma's cup, and then topping off her own. "Money is not important, you say? So much to 'find' for cheap - for free, is there? Just lying about?" Galina's musical laughter, as melodic and rich as her matchless voice, danced from her lips.
"Tell me Souma, you have piqued my curiosity fiercely, and I simply cannot decide," she purred, leaning forward just a little over the table they shared, her voice dropping to a lovely, conspiratorial whisper. "Are you trying to seduce a haughty noblewoman down from her lofty perch, to come revel with you in all your deliciously filthy back alley ways?"
A devilish lift of her eyebrows accompanied an equally wicked grin. "Or are you are simply proposing to teach me a whole new skill set?"
Galina had learned over the course of this past year, how very, very different her upbringing had been from Souma's, and this vast gulf of disparity was far more than simply being born in separate nations, to differing cultures. In most every nation from the dawn of man, the rich and the wealthy lived lives of privilege, the children born into this vaunted families never knowing a moment of want or need. This had been Galina's life once, just as it was the life of every child born to a Japanese nobleman, or a fabulously successful American entrepreneur. The privations Galina experienced as a child, indulged [outlandishly, many would say] by a father who raised his daughter to become a Cossack warrior, had been entirely her own choice from the moment she could run after her brothers and stubbornly refused to be chased off.
This was, by no means, the order of privation Souma had known as a child. Far from it. Whatever respectability the Takahiro clan had achieved was gained entirely through what could be stolen, smuggled, cheated or ripped away by wit, by skill or by sheer brute force. The title of "samurai" and that once palatial compound stood testament to the undeniable efficacy of their brutal and merciless ways, and all Souma's clan wrested from this vicious, unforgiving world.
Knowing this, Galina only loved him all the more.
She set down her near empty ramen bowl before reaching for the warm jug of sake, refilling Souma's cup, and then topping off her own. "Money is not important, you say? So much to 'find' for cheap - for free, is there? Just lying about?" Galina's musical laughter, as melodic and rich as her matchless voice, danced from her lips.
"Tell me Souma, you have piqued my curiosity fiercely, and I simply cannot decide," she purred, leaning forward just a little over the table they shared, her voice dropping to a lovely, conspiratorial whisper. "Are you trying to seduce a haughty noblewoman down from her lofty perch, to come revel with you in all your deliciously filthy back alley ways?"
A devilish lift of her eyebrows accompanied an equally wicked grin. "Or are you are simply proposing to teach me a whole new skill set?"
Oh Lil, it seems you have obviously not lost your knack for torturing you characters to the very edge of madness *sweet smile*
Wonderful to see a post for Adrian, Melonhead, and I will see what I can do for a post here tonight, though honestly it will more likely have to wait for tomorrow evening after my first test.
Wonderful to see a post for Adrian, Melonhead, and I will see what I can do for a post here tonight, though honestly it will more likely have to wait for tomorrow evening after my first test.
Yes Dot, you certainly have left me crushed and alone on more than one occasion, though the moment you broke off our brief but precious affaire de coeur still stands as an exquisitely agonizing memory. But I have moved on and, with ample counseling and not a few mood-altering pills, I'm learning that it is all right to share you with others, that sharing is a good and healthy thing...
*grins* post up obviously for Abby and Devika, one for Pauline later tonight or tomorrow.
*grins* post up obviously for Abby and Devika, one for Pauline later tonight or tomorrow.
Abby Larson
Abby stood stunned for a moment behind Gavin, though only the slightly tighter grip where her fingers wrapped about her friend's shoulder gave away some small measure of her genuine dismay. Against all reason, sparring with Specialist Scrzuba had helped dissolve the last remnants of her cryo-induced headache (despite the mutual ass-kicking involved as, to her eternal delight, he held back nothing) but she could feel the edges of it creeping back into her skull in the invisible but turbulent wake of Hob's departure.
It wasn't so much the content of his words but the bitter betrayal behind them, that spoke volumes to the veiled truths she'd confided in Mike, and gave lie to the reassurances she had given Connor. Abby's stomach churned, and at first the idea of eating Hob's sandwich made her nauseous.
But it was Gavin's easy smile and the genuine, good-natured decency in those deep blue eyes that once more wrapped her troubled heart in an effortless peace. How he managed to do this, time and time again, Abby had not the least idea - but oh, she was so very grateful! And if Gavin, having borne the brunt of Hob's wrath, could still manage such aplomb? Surely she could manage, at the very least, to simply be good company.
"Yes Park," she said with some emphasis on his name, her smile wide and bright, and very genuine, "It's just Abby, and what was in the plans was 'just lunch.'" Which was not entirely true of course, but she just did not have it in her to be rude to the man. Even beyond the matter of a titular lunch date, was the matter she and Gavin had touched on during their brief coffee klatch earlier in the morning, after the briefing, their mutual skepticism over the apparent thoroughness of the murder investigations during Second Shift and the questions still not laid to rest there either...
The resolute squeeze she gave Gavin's shoulder before she let her hand fall away was as much for her own reassurance, as it was for his. She determined in those few swift seconds, to tell him everything the moment they were alone. Humanity had become a precious rarity in this vast universe, and good men like Gavin even more so. If she could not trust him with the burden of all she knew and suspected? If he had no insight, no counsel or strength to lend? Then Abby was as truly alone as she had ever been in her life, and these last ragged remnants of their species were doomed long before they ever blew the Mountain and let the Copernicus fly.
Abby glanced down to Gavin, giving him an impish wink and an equally devilish grin. Suddenly, she did not feel the least bit alone.
"But I think we're a little on the late side for lunch, so if you gentlemen would like? I'll gladly go do my 'womanly duties'" Abby chuckled softly at the words, reassuring the two men that it was all right for them to laugh too, "And wrangle us up some sandwiches from the kitchen. I have to admit, I'd sooner face the wrath of former-linebacker-Josie-the-Head-Chef, than try to choke down that poor man's sandwich." She nodded toward Hob's abandoned plate with a helpless shrug.
"So, any requests? I've been in the Army long enough that if I can make a passable peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some Ranger pudding from an MRE, I'm pretty sure I can find something in the fridge that will vaguely resemble whatever you're hungry for - just don't ask for an omelette. There isn't enough Tabasco sauce in all of Creation, to make an MRE omelette of any variety edible. Trust me." Abby shuddered at the very thought.
Devika Wilkes-Lane
'You're going to pay for this, Devi.'
For the better part of the past hour, the small, slender woman had watched the NI techs hustle about the large, sterile and once-inhuman room, removing the boxes containing the Foley catheter kits to the wheeled carts she'd ordered, replacing their stations with chucks pads and, if so desired, various sizes of adult diapers. She had a few of them haul up the privacy screens from the medical stores, along with extra pillows, more substantial scrubs, and even the large, oven-like warmer for the packages of waterless bath cloths. Devika knew all-too-well there was precious little she could do to make life any better for these men and women. Still she held the tiniest hope some degree of dignity and care - likely far too little and far too late - might still improve their moment-to-moment by even the slightest of degrees.
Unsurprisingly, there had been varying degrees of resentment etched on not a few of the faces, though one or two went about their work with a certain contentment. Devika made note of them, the ones who had chosen to remember the humanity of the people they cared for.
But it was Lieutenant Harris who troubled her most of all. The humiliated woman's expression remained dark and surly, with not a few dire glances in her direction whenever she thought that bitch of a new medical officer wasn't looking her way. No, Devika should not have lost her head like she had, chewing the woman a new bright red and bleeding orifice in front of this entire shift of NI technicians. Devika had tried reasoning to herself that even if Devika was not in her Army ACU's, respect for rank alone should have shut Harris up in the first place, and stopped her from contradicting every last word out of her mouth with an ill-timed and unspeakably irritating "But that's not what Doctor Lyle had us do... But that's not what General Lahan signed off on... "
That still didn't excuse losing her temper like she had. Not really. Not even if it had been the one thing she'd done since she woke that had made her really, really happy. She could envision her father's face in her mind's eye, his pale grey eyes shaded with disappointment at her complete lack of control as he asked her with that still-prominent West Country accent, "Devika, was that truly necessary?"
No, not at all. Of course not. And she had a sneaking suspicions Harris was certainly the type to hold a grudge.
'Shit...'
She needed air. Devika turned to the door, opening the panel to a hallway where, she could only hope, the atmosphere wasn't near so thick with resentment and barely-contained bitterness -
- And very nearly leapt straight out of her small brown Doc Marten boots, wheeling back to flatten herself against the opposite wall rather dramatically when a hunched form appeared out of nowhere on the ground next to her. But when her wide, dark eyes finally took in the simple form of a man, a man in the suit of one of the actual NI techs, she lay one hand over the heart beneath her sweater and lab coat, and willed it to stop beating like a hummingbird against her chest wall.
"Oh! Oh my God you scared me, I'm sorry. I just didn't expect to... Well obviously I didn't expect... " Devika began to chuckle warmly, shaking her head as she approached him. She recognized him of course, instantly. Robert Bach, but for the love of all that's holy, do not call him Robert or Rob or Robby or heaven forbid, Bobby.
She squatted beside him with a small smile, her hands folded over her knees. "You're Hob, yes?" The man looked tired, so unspeakably tired and sad, and the small crease by his mouth said more than a little angry as well - and God knew, she could not blame him in the least.
"I'm Devika. Devika Wilkes-Lane, and I'm a nurse practitioner, just woken for Third Shift. I'm glad to have the chance to meet you, more than just in passing," she said, sincerity in every last word.
Abby stood stunned for a moment behind Gavin, though only the slightly tighter grip where her fingers wrapped about her friend's shoulder gave away some small measure of her genuine dismay. Against all reason, sparring with Specialist Scrzuba had helped dissolve the last remnants of her cryo-induced headache (despite the mutual ass-kicking involved as, to her eternal delight, he held back nothing) but she could feel the edges of it creeping back into her skull in the invisible but turbulent wake of Hob's departure.
It wasn't so much the content of his words but the bitter betrayal behind them, that spoke volumes to the veiled truths she'd confided in Mike, and gave lie to the reassurances she had given Connor. Abby's stomach churned, and at first the idea of eating Hob's sandwich made her nauseous.
But it was Gavin's easy smile and the genuine, good-natured decency in those deep blue eyes that once more wrapped her troubled heart in an effortless peace. How he managed to do this, time and time again, Abby had not the least idea - but oh, she was so very grateful! And if Gavin, having borne the brunt of Hob's wrath, could still manage such aplomb? Surely she could manage, at the very least, to simply be good company.
"Yes Park," she said with some emphasis on his name, her smile wide and bright, and very genuine, "It's just Abby, and what was in the plans was 'just lunch.'" Which was not entirely true of course, but she just did not have it in her to be rude to the man. Even beyond the matter of a titular lunch date, was the matter she and Gavin had touched on during their brief coffee klatch earlier in the morning, after the briefing, their mutual skepticism over the apparent thoroughness of the murder investigations during Second Shift and the questions still not laid to rest there either...
The resolute squeeze she gave Gavin's shoulder before she let her hand fall away was as much for her own reassurance, as it was for his. She determined in those few swift seconds, to tell him everything the moment they were alone. Humanity had become a precious rarity in this vast universe, and good men like Gavin even more so. If she could not trust him with the burden of all she knew and suspected? If he had no insight, no counsel or strength to lend? Then Abby was as truly alone as she had ever been in her life, and these last ragged remnants of their species were doomed long before they ever blew the Mountain and let the Copernicus fly.
Abby glanced down to Gavin, giving him an impish wink and an equally devilish grin. Suddenly, she did not feel the least bit alone.
"But I think we're a little on the late side for lunch, so if you gentlemen would like? I'll gladly go do my 'womanly duties'" Abby chuckled softly at the words, reassuring the two men that it was all right for them to laugh too, "And wrangle us up some sandwiches from the kitchen. I have to admit, I'd sooner face the wrath of former-linebacker-Josie-the-Head-Chef, than try to choke down that poor man's sandwich." She nodded toward Hob's abandoned plate with a helpless shrug.
"So, any requests? I've been in the Army long enough that if I can make a passable peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some Ranger pudding from an MRE, I'm pretty sure I can find something in the fridge that will vaguely resemble whatever you're hungry for - just don't ask for an omelette. There isn't enough Tabasco sauce in all of Creation, to make an MRE omelette of any variety edible. Trust me." Abby shuddered at the very thought.
Devika Wilkes-Lane
'You're going to pay for this, Devi.'
For the better part of the past hour, the small, slender woman had watched the NI techs hustle about the large, sterile and once-inhuman room, removing the boxes containing the Foley catheter kits to the wheeled carts she'd ordered, replacing their stations with chucks pads and, if so desired, various sizes of adult diapers. She had a few of them haul up the privacy screens from the medical stores, along with extra pillows, more substantial scrubs, and even the large, oven-like warmer for the packages of waterless bath cloths. Devika knew all-too-well there was precious little she could do to make life any better for these men and women. Still she held the tiniest hope some degree of dignity and care - likely far too little and far too late - might still improve their moment-to-moment by even the slightest of degrees.
Unsurprisingly, there had been varying degrees of resentment etched on not a few of the faces, though one or two went about their work with a certain contentment. Devika made note of them, the ones who had chosen to remember the humanity of the people they cared for.
But it was Lieutenant Harris who troubled her most of all. The humiliated woman's expression remained dark and surly, with not a few dire glances in her direction whenever she thought that bitch of a new medical officer wasn't looking her way. No, Devika should not have lost her head like she had, chewing the woman a new bright red and bleeding orifice in front of this entire shift of NI technicians. Devika had tried reasoning to herself that even if Devika was not in her Army ACU's, respect for rank alone should have shut Harris up in the first place, and stopped her from contradicting every last word out of her mouth with an ill-timed and unspeakably irritating "But that's not what Doctor Lyle had us do... But that's not what General Lahan signed off on... "
That still didn't excuse losing her temper like she had. Not really. Not even if it had been the one thing she'd done since she woke that had made her really, really happy. She could envision her father's face in her mind's eye, his pale grey eyes shaded with disappointment at her complete lack of control as he asked her with that still-prominent West Country accent, "Devika, was that truly necessary?"
No, not at all. Of course not. And she had a sneaking suspicions Harris was certainly the type to hold a grudge.
'Shit...'
She needed air. Devika turned to the door, opening the panel to a hallway where, she could only hope, the atmosphere wasn't near so thick with resentment and barely-contained bitterness -
- And very nearly leapt straight out of her small brown Doc Marten boots, wheeling back to flatten herself against the opposite wall rather dramatically when a hunched form appeared out of nowhere on the ground next to her. But when her wide, dark eyes finally took in the simple form of a man, a man in the suit of one of the actual NI techs, she lay one hand over the heart beneath her sweater and lab coat, and willed it to stop beating like a hummingbird against her chest wall.
"Oh! Oh my God you scared me, I'm sorry. I just didn't expect to... Well obviously I didn't expect... " Devika began to chuckle warmly, shaking her head as she approached him. She recognized him of course, instantly. Robert Bach, but for the love of all that's holy, do not call him Robert or Rob or Robby or heaven forbid, Bobby.
She squatted beside him with a small smile, her hands folded over her knees. "You're Hob, yes?" The man looked tired, so unspeakably tired and sad, and the small crease by his mouth said more than a little angry as well - and God knew, she could not blame him in the least.
"I'm Devika. Devika Wilkes-Lane, and I'm a nurse practitioner, just woken for Third Shift. I'm glad to have the chance to meet you, more than just in passing," she said, sincerity in every last word.
KuroTenshi said
dun-dun-DUUUUUUUUN!Awesome post you guys! Good to see you around Road! :D
Thanks Kuro!
And that's all right Dot, tonight is great. I don't know I can actually write tonight anyway, because I'm kinda in the middle of lots of studying right now, for two tests next week. Besides, could you honestly see either Gavin or Abby being so rude as to ditch Dr. Park? ;)
This was a before-lunch post Lil, 1030 = 10:30 am, and something Road and I were working on weeks ago, before Heroes returned and before life nommed on Road's time. So yes, this is mid-morning, before the last posts for "lunch time" but something neither of us wanted to toss away either.
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