Post by tingrin on Sept 21, 2006 16:35:37 GMT -5
Timestamp: The day following Mystique's departure...
Sibyl felt a lot better about the entire situation after a long night's sleep and time to herself. Seeing Piotr in the hall had changed everything for her; where she had felt fear and anger, all that remained was a deep aching sadness and longing for the happiness she had found with him. There was still confusion, still hurt; she couldn't put it all together in a way she could understand enough to resolve. But somehow it didn't matter, because she didn't have him.
And she wouldn't, she'd decided. She was a spoke in his perfect world, none of this would ever have happened if she'd left him alone. Had he already been a teacher, she'd never have thought twice about him. Or... perhaps she would have, but she'd never have acted on it. Oh this was awful. But she had to confront it. Tell him goodbye.
Stepping downstairs, she asked quietly a few students where Piotr had gone.
It transpired that he had walked down the leafy avenue of Graymalkin Lane to the mailbox to send a letter. He'd only gone about five minutes ago, so he'd probably be about another ten, maybe fifteen minutes.
He'd walked slowly, though, with little enthusiasm in his step. He was feeling dejected and miserable, lonely and confused. Piotr had never really been the kind of young man who confided his feelings in anybody and now he wanted to, the one person he would have trusted - Bobby - wasn't there.
He must have gone for a run, or into the city again. It upset her more than she wanted it to, and she didn't want to go back to her room to cry. Refused to. Walking out into the garden, she stepped out to the gazebo and sat down, putting her face in her hands just to catch her breath.
How was she going to do this. She felt numb. Maybe she should just call her father, go home, and write from Texas.
It was then that she saw him, walking up the centre path towards the main door of the Institute, his head down, his shoulders slumped and his expression doleful. It was not a stance she'd seen in him before. Normally Piotr walked tall. Being 6'6" helped, of course, but he walked with such a straight spine that he seemed even bigger at times.
He was such a big man. So powerful and yet at the same time in possession of a heart that was clearly at least as big, if not bigger than he was.
For a moment, Sibyl didn't want to call attention to herself. She wanted to hide, just to watch him. He was so beautiful.
Then her courage rose in her throat- or perhaps that was something else- and she cleared her throat, walking to the post on the edge of the Gazebo. She sort of hugged it to herself for comfort, and watched him.
Don't call him Petya.
"Piotr," she said.
He looked up and met her gaze.
In that briefest of moments, words passed, unspoken between them. Feelings connected, thoughts conjoined and wishes coincided. Yet still he was afraid. Afraid to open his mouth in case he said something foolish. Afraid to speak to her for fear that he would blurt out the wrong thing.
Yet he couldn't just ignore her.
"Good morning," he said, more than a hint of anxiety in his tone.
Sibyl almost gasped at the look on his face. He didn't want to speak to her.
She looked down quickly, blushing pink against her white skin. Her hair fell mercifully into her face, hiding her eyes as she tried hard not to cry. What was wrong with her? She was normally so much more resilient.
"You said…"
This was not her fault. He was the adult; she was the student. He was the one that went and slept with that woman, not her. Did he think she was somehow responsible for all of this?
Setting her jaw, she lifted her head a bit, her face screwed up into a mixture of emotions. "I want to speak with you."
He nodded, slowly. "Shall we sit out here in the gazebo?" It seemed like the easiest thing to do. "I am ... please, Sibylinka, that you wish to speak with me. I would have expected you to wish to never speak to me again."
He tried an anxious smile.
Did he realize he could kill her with a smile?
She tried hard to return the expression, but it only looked pained. Nodding a little, she took a deep breath, half turning away from him before sitting down. "I don't know what I wish, to be truthful…" Sibyl folded her delicate hands together, looking at them idly.
"I don't know where to begin." She didn't want to begin, but at least he was here.
"Piotr…" she sighed, pulling a long strand of hair out of her face. Her bottom lip was caught by her teeth, and finally she just looked at him, lost and wanting him to fix it.
He was as uncertain as she was, but he realised, with a pang of worry that it was up to him to control this situation. Even if it was a situation he hadn't fully engineered himself. "Then do not," he said, simply. "Let me."
He stood up again and looked over the garden.
"I love you," he said, carefully and slowly. "Know that from the start. You have brought magic into my life: you have given me the gift of clear sight. Everywhere I went I did not go places, I went places without you. Everything I did, I did not do, I did things without you. You were everywhere."
He took a deep breath.
"I...did a foolish thing. I cannot change that. All I can say is that when I - ah - slept with you, it was because I wanted to. And because I sincerely and truly believed that WAS you. I was a foolish, idiot of a man."
That… was not what she had expected him to say.
Sibyl tried to keep her eyes on him but found it nearly impossible as her own blurred with tears. She blinked a few times, staring at her hands again, choking up. The words he'd spoken- beautiful, eloquent words he'd obviously considered carefully- scoured through her, tearing her apart. How could she accept them for what they were?
"Piotr…" she whispered, clearing her throat and trying again. "How do you know it was me you fell for?" Her heart twisted, and she sucked in a breath, holding it.
He turned to look at her.
"I do not," he said, simply. "All I know is that a beautiful young woman entered my life and she gave me the ability to change who I am. There are times, I am sure, when that young woman was all you. Now I have to learn about you all over again."
He turned away.
"If you would have me do so."
"I'm too young," she blurted, losing her composure. "At least in this country."
He visibly winced.
"I am aware of that fact," he said. "Painfully so. It is not something I would presume ever again. And if you feel for me even HALF as much as I feel for you..." He looked over at her, earnest blue eyes searching her face, "...then waiting will not be a problem."
"I wish we could begin again," she said softly. "I feel as if pieces of our time together have been stolen from us. And yet, from me, nothing has been taken away…" she laughed, half a second from crying. "Except you…"
"It is one thing to look at a man and know that he has someone else on his mind," she prattled suddenly, her hands shaking as she accentuated her words with them. "It is another entirely to know he's looking at you, and seeing someone else, someone else with your face! What am I to DO with that, Piotr?"
Sibyl ran her hands over her face, taking a deep breath. "Now if we ever do make love, you will think of her. If you touch me again, you will wonder if you've ever touched me in that spot before, or if it was her. Forever there will be THREE of us here, and…" she ran her hands over her collarbone, her stomach. "And I feel as if she's touched ME somehow because of it!"
Suddenly a wash of scenes ran through her mind. Memories, images, her own face, laughter, kisses, feelings. And then a bottle of vodka in her hand, handed to Piotr with a seductive smile. A smile she could not have pulled off in a hundred years. These were not her thoughts.
Rattled to the core, Sibyl turned away from him suddenly, trembling. She walked a few feet away, trying to shut the memories out.
"I do not know how you move on from it, Sibyl." Piotr's voice was sad, filled with sorrow and grief that he couldn't contain. "I have to work that one out for myself as well. Perhaps it would be easier for both of us if we tried together."
He hesitated.
"Or if I were to...leave for a while. Give you space, give myself space."
Sibyl turned around, the thought of him leaving suddenly changing her mind. Again. Could she hold on to an emotion for more than a moment?
Stepping to him, she ran her hands down his arms. "I love you," she said softly. There was a slight ache in her voice, but something uplifting as well. "I am… scared, and… confused.. but I do love you. I don't want to be without you for a moment."
Picking up one of his large hands in both of hers, she bowed her head and pressed her face to it, eyes wet. She kissed his fingers in between words. "And I don't care what they think, Piotr. You know at home my age would not even be a thought in anyone's mind." She cried a little, closing her eyes.
"Oh, Sibylinka." Piotr put his arms around her and pulled her in for an embrace, her small silhouette blending with his larger one. "I would never have hurt you knowingly, I need to know you understand that."
An idea came to him.
"Perhaps," he said, slowly, "we could take a trip together, away from this place for a while. You and I."
Sibyl breathed in his scent, letting out the sweetest whimper as she put her arms around his middle. "They need you here," She sniffled a little. "And my father would never consent to it."
"Petya… I think we need to start from the beginning. To go through everything we can remember, and figure out… what was her, and what was me." She pressed her face to his chest. "I need that. I need you to know… that it really was me that kissed you, that all the stories I've shared were mine. And which ones were not."
"Then let us start again," he said, kissing her head gently. "Because, sweet Sibyl, my babushka, you and I have all the time in the world to get to know one another." His heart lifted, driving back the darkness, the unfamiliar feeling of depression that had clutched at him.
It would all be alright. They would find a way through this.
Sibyl felt a lot better about the entire situation after a long night's sleep and time to herself. Seeing Piotr in the hall had changed everything for her; where she had felt fear and anger, all that remained was a deep aching sadness and longing for the happiness she had found with him. There was still confusion, still hurt; she couldn't put it all together in a way she could understand enough to resolve. But somehow it didn't matter, because she didn't have him.
And she wouldn't, she'd decided. She was a spoke in his perfect world, none of this would ever have happened if she'd left him alone. Had he already been a teacher, she'd never have thought twice about him. Or... perhaps she would have, but she'd never have acted on it. Oh this was awful. But she had to confront it. Tell him goodbye.
Stepping downstairs, she asked quietly a few students where Piotr had gone.
It transpired that he had walked down the leafy avenue of Graymalkin Lane to the mailbox to send a letter. He'd only gone about five minutes ago, so he'd probably be about another ten, maybe fifteen minutes.
He'd walked slowly, though, with little enthusiasm in his step. He was feeling dejected and miserable, lonely and confused. Piotr had never really been the kind of young man who confided his feelings in anybody and now he wanted to, the one person he would have trusted - Bobby - wasn't there.
He must have gone for a run, or into the city again. It upset her more than she wanted it to, and she didn't want to go back to her room to cry. Refused to. Walking out into the garden, she stepped out to the gazebo and sat down, putting her face in her hands just to catch her breath.
How was she going to do this. She felt numb. Maybe she should just call her father, go home, and write from Texas.
It was then that she saw him, walking up the centre path towards the main door of the Institute, his head down, his shoulders slumped and his expression doleful. It was not a stance she'd seen in him before. Normally Piotr walked tall. Being 6'6" helped, of course, but he walked with such a straight spine that he seemed even bigger at times.
He was such a big man. So powerful and yet at the same time in possession of a heart that was clearly at least as big, if not bigger than he was.
For a moment, Sibyl didn't want to call attention to herself. She wanted to hide, just to watch him. He was so beautiful.
Then her courage rose in her throat- or perhaps that was something else- and she cleared her throat, walking to the post on the edge of the Gazebo. She sort of hugged it to herself for comfort, and watched him.
Don't call him Petya.
"Piotr," she said.
He looked up and met her gaze.
In that briefest of moments, words passed, unspoken between them. Feelings connected, thoughts conjoined and wishes coincided. Yet still he was afraid. Afraid to open his mouth in case he said something foolish. Afraid to speak to her for fear that he would blurt out the wrong thing.
Yet he couldn't just ignore her.
"Good morning," he said, more than a hint of anxiety in his tone.
Sibyl almost gasped at the look on his face. He didn't want to speak to her.
She looked down quickly, blushing pink against her white skin. Her hair fell mercifully into her face, hiding her eyes as she tried hard not to cry. What was wrong with her? She was normally so much more resilient.
"You said…"
This was not her fault. He was the adult; she was the student. He was the one that went and slept with that woman, not her. Did he think she was somehow responsible for all of this?
Setting her jaw, she lifted her head a bit, her face screwed up into a mixture of emotions. "I want to speak with you."
He nodded, slowly. "Shall we sit out here in the gazebo?" It seemed like the easiest thing to do. "I am ... please, Sibylinka, that you wish to speak with me. I would have expected you to wish to never speak to me again."
He tried an anxious smile.
Did he realize he could kill her with a smile?
She tried hard to return the expression, but it only looked pained. Nodding a little, she took a deep breath, half turning away from him before sitting down. "I don't know what I wish, to be truthful…" Sibyl folded her delicate hands together, looking at them idly.
"I don't know where to begin." She didn't want to begin, but at least he was here.
"Piotr…" she sighed, pulling a long strand of hair out of her face. Her bottom lip was caught by her teeth, and finally she just looked at him, lost and wanting him to fix it.
He was as uncertain as she was, but he realised, with a pang of worry that it was up to him to control this situation. Even if it was a situation he hadn't fully engineered himself. "Then do not," he said, simply. "Let me."
He stood up again and looked over the garden.
"I love you," he said, carefully and slowly. "Know that from the start. You have brought magic into my life: you have given me the gift of clear sight. Everywhere I went I did not go places, I went places without you. Everything I did, I did not do, I did things without you. You were everywhere."
He took a deep breath.
"I...did a foolish thing. I cannot change that. All I can say is that when I - ah - slept with you, it was because I wanted to. And because I sincerely and truly believed that WAS you. I was a foolish, idiot of a man."
That… was not what she had expected him to say.
Sibyl tried to keep her eyes on him but found it nearly impossible as her own blurred with tears. She blinked a few times, staring at her hands again, choking up. The words he'd spoken- beautiful, eloquent words he'd obviously considered carefully- scoured through her, tearing her apart. How could she accept them for what they were?
"Piotr…" she whispered, clearing her throat and trying again. "How do you know it was me you fell for?" Her heart twisted, and she sucked in a breath, holding it.
He turned to look at her.
"I do not," he said, simply. "All I know is that a beautiful young woman entered my life and she gave me the ability to change who I am. There are times, I am sure, when that young woman was all you. Now I have to learn about you all over again."
He turned away.
"If you would have me do so."
"I'm too young," she blurted, losing her composure. "At least in this country."
He visibly winced.
"I am aware of that fact," he said. "Painfully so. It is not something I would presume ever again. And if you feel for me even HALF as much as I feel for you..." He looked over at her, earnest blue eyes searching her face, "...then waiting will not be a problem."
"I wish we could begin again," she said softly. "I feel as if pieces of our time together have been stolen from us. And yet, from me, nothing has been taken away…" she laughed, half a second from crying. "Except you…"
"It is one thing to look at a man and know that he has someone else on his mind," she prattled suddenly, her hands shaking as she accentuated her words with them. "It is another entirely to know he's looking at you, and seeing someone else, someone else with your face! What am I to DO with that, Piotr?"
Sibyl ran her hands over her face, taking a deep breath. "Now if we ever do make love, you will think of her. If you touch me again, you will wonder if you've ever touched me in that spot before, or if it was her. Forever there will be THREE of us here, and…" she ran her hands over her collarbone, her stomach. "And I feel as if she's touched ME somehow because of it!"
Suddenly a wash of scenes ran through her mind. Memories, images, her own face, laughter, kisses, feelings. And then a bottle of vodka in her hand, handed to Piotr with a seductive smile. A smile she could not have pulled off in a hundred years. These were not her thoughts.
Rattled to the core, Sibyl turned away from him suddenly, trembling. She walked a few feet away, trying to shut the memories out.
"I do not know how you move on from it, Sibyl." Piotr's voice was sad, filled with sorrow and grief that he couldn't contain. "I have to work that one out for myself as well. Perhaps it would be easier for both of us if we tried together."
He hesitated.
"Or if I were to...leave for a while. Give you space, give myself space."
Sibyl turned around, the thought of him leaving suddenly changing her mind. Again. Could she hold on to an emotion for more than a moment?
Stepping to him, she ran her hands down his arms. "I love you," she said softly. There was a slight ache in her voice, but something uplifting as well. "I am… scared, and… confused.. but I do love you. I don't want to be without you for a moment."
Picking up one of his large hands in both of hers, she bowed her head and pressed her face to it, eyes wet. She kissed his fingers in between words. "And I don't care what they think, Piotr. You know at home my age would not even be a thought in anyone's mind." She cried a little, closing her eyes.
"Oh, Sibylinka." Piotr put his arms around her and pulled her in for an embrace, her small silhouette blending with his larger one. "I would never have hurt you knowingly, I need to know you understand that."
An idea came to him.
"Perhaps," he said, slowly, "we could take a trip together, away from this place for a while. You and I."
Sibyl breathed in his scent, letting out the sweetest whimper as she put her arms around his middle. "They need you here," She sniffled a little. "And my father would never consent to it."
"Petya… I think we need to start from the beginning. To go through everything we can remember, and figure out… what was her, and what was me." She pressed her face to his chest. "I need that. I need you to know… that it really was me that kissed you, that all the stories I've shared were mine. And which ones were not."
"Then let us start again," he said, kissing her head gently. "Because, sweet Sibyl, my babushka, you and I have all the time in the world to get to know one another." His heart lifted, driving back the darkness, the unfamiliar feeling of depression that had clutched at him.
It would all be alright. They would find a way through this.