Post by tingrin on Sept 26, 2006 11:20:22 GMT -5
Sibyl came downstairs shortly after waking. She’d dreamt strange, turbulent dreams most of the night and yet still felt rested. That fact had her unsettled; dreams of that nature tended not to be dreams, but visions. She was looking forward to a glass of milk and some quiet for the morning.
She hadn’t counted on seeing Piotr in the kitchen, though she was far from displeased that she had. For some reason she’d resigned herself to things never going back to the way they were. It was as if they’d broken up; though she’d never dated anyone and Piotr had never really asked her to be his… girlfriend, or whatever it was they did here. No matter what she called it, she’d considered it over. In spite of the fact that they’d said otherwise yesterday afternoon.
Sibyl intended for them to be friends. But that wasn’t how her heart reacted when she saw him, leaning his big frame over the counter as he ate breakfast.
She walked up to him and slid a small hand across his back, pressing her lips to his shoulder. “Good morning,” she said softly.
He almost dropped his spoon in the cereal, so quietly had she come up behind him. "Sibyl," he said, pleased that she was here. He turned around and gave her one of his warm smiles. The big man was wearing his running gear - so he had gone back to his usual routine, at least.
"I hope you slept well," he said, a definite hint of anxiety in his voice. "I was awake early and went to mail the letter to my sister." He'd made a few changes to it, too, mostly under the section about finding and losing love. He crossed to the fridge and took out the orange juice which he held up to her in lieu of a direct question.
She smiled softly and shook her head, crossing to the cupboard to get a glass. She held his out to him, then took one out for herself.
“My father has asked how things are going at the school,” she said, reaching into the fridge for the milk and glad just to be close to him for a moment. Turning away to pour herself a glass, she continued. “I had to lie to him, I didn’t want to alarm him by telling him the truth. I suppose if I am going to be living here, that will become more common.” She sounded distinctly unhappy about that. “This mutant life…” she began, but didn’t finish her thought.
"This mutant life is something that we all must learn to deal with in our own different ways," he said, accepting the glass and pouring his orange juice. He downed two glasses in quick succession and poured a third before putting the carton back in the fridge. "I understand why you did not tell your father the truth."
A pause.
"Especially about...us."
He sighed and set down his orange juice before moving to quietly close the kitchen door. "I have been thinking about that. If you feel that you wish for me to speak to your father...I would do that."
Sibyl put the milk jug back in the fridge, curling the fingers of both pale hands around the glass and looking down into it. A few moments of thought clouded her features, until she looked at him with a gentle frown.
“What would you tell him, Piotr?”
"I...I would tell him how I feel for you and that I am not a bad man. I perhaps would not tell him everything that happened, because ... " He flared bright pink. "I do not know," he admitted, sheepishly.
He stared at the floor.
"I just thought I would make the offer."
Sibyl couldn’t help but smile. “That’s a wonderful thing to offer, Petya.” She took a sip of her milk. “I don’t think… you and I-” If there even is a you and I. “-I don’t think it’s something he will find acceptable for… a while.”
She watched him with honest, clear eyes for a few moments. “Do you even think the others here will?”
"No," he said, simply. "That is...yes. No. I really do not know. I think that they would understand the ... complexities of what has happened, but...I am deeply ashamed."
He looked up, anxiously. "Not because...but because..."
He was terribly tongue-tied.
She badly needed to hear his thoughts. She needed to know how he felt… but somehow it felt like too much to ask.
What other choice did she have?
“Walk with me? Outside?” They weren’t supposed to go out, but she hardly feared for her safety with him around.
He nodded. "Gladly."
He drained what was left of his orange juice, rinsed both the glasses and his breakfast bowl out before putting them into the dishwasher (he was SO conscientious) and grabbed his running suit jacket. "Here," he said, offering it to her. "For a July morning, it is quite crisp out there."
Piotr rather shyly held out his arm for her to hold as they walked outside. What was the worst that could happen? That she didn't take it.
Sibyl nearly drowned in his jacket, wrapping it around herself almost like a blanket. It was a sweet gesture that made her feel cherished, and a light blush lifted to her cheeks. Slipping her arm in his, she rested her head on his arm for a moment as they walked outside.
The air was cool and she took a deep breath, blinking considerably at the light. Her eyes and skin were so sensitive, but usually in the morning hours she could withstand it for a little while.
“Petya you know, I forgive you for what happened with… with her.” She squeezed his arm a bit. “It was silly of me to be so upset about it, and I feel ashamed if I made you feel worse. I am sure you were hurt enough on your own without my reaction.”
"I understand your reaction, dearest Sibyl," he said, after a long pause. "Had our roles been reversed then I too would not really have known how to take it, how to understand it. I may not have been able to do so with the grace and maturity you have shown."
He held her arm closely to his body and took her fingers in his hand.
"There is something I wish to say, but it is so complex I do not know how to say it correctly."
She looked at him, her fair features very young looking with the expression she held. Not only did children from their world have to grow up quickly by comparison to people to whom survival was a given, and not something earned from a very young age. Compounded by her experiences as a gypsy and a mutant, sixteen years was a lifetime. And while hardship and danger had given her the tools with which to withstand difficult times, Sibyl retained a certain innocence simply for her removal from a ‘normal’ way of life.
So when he fumbled to explain himself, she was lost without tools to coax the truth from him. She only knew he seemed frustrated. “Begin at the beginning then,” she said softly, tilting her head a bit. “If you feel you do not have it right, try again.” And before she could stop herself, she added, “I am not going anywhere.”
He looked at her for such a long time, as though he could somehow will the words into her understanding, into her consciousness without him having to speak them. Sadly, however, telepathy did not number among his skills and abilities.
"Sibylinka," he said. "You have to understand that whilst I deeply regret what I ... did ... with the other you, I want you to understand that if it had been you and we had done what I ... did ... with the other you, I would not regret it. No, that is not right. I would regret my rashness. But I would not regret it."
Along with telepathy, eloquence appeared to be lacking also.
“Oh.”
OH.
Slowly blushing a truer shade of pink by the moment, Sibyl didn’t meet his eyes, looking across the grounds instead. “No, I…” she cleared her throat a little, blinking at her own awkwardness. “I wouldn’t have.. either.”
A few moment’s silence was followed up by a rather stumbly little remark. “I wish that it had been me.”
She understood him!
"I wish that also," he said, feeling buoyed by this fact. "However, neither would I transgress. I would not cross that line again. I hope you understand why this must be."
There were times when Piotr Rasputin hated being the man he was. But most of the time he was proud of his strong moral stance. He cupped Sibyl's chin in his hand and kissed her very softly.
"I hope you understand."
Her eyes closed as he kissed her, and it set her on fire in a way it never had before. But it shouldn’t. She let a breath out too quickly, and stopped in their walking, looking at him.
“No… I don’t understand. What line do you feel you crossed? I wasn’t there, and… that wasn’t me.”
"You...are very young - for this country and this country has laws."
He ran his fingers through his closely cropped hair. "And I crossed a very illegal line. I worried about it for much of the night. You and I could argue that we never meant any harm by it but..."
He closed his eyes. "I do not know how to say this so it does not sound wrong."
Oh.
She wished now she’d kept walking. At least then she could look elsewhere as her eyes closed, a hurt look crossing her face. She slipped her arm into his a little tighter, and got them moving again, just to have something to do other than look twisted up inside.
“When I did not love him, I was taken as a child. And now my love is pure and I cannot have him. I don’t understand what love wants from me…” her voice wavered as she whispered in Russian.
"I do not understand any of it," said Piotr and this time it was his voice that wavered and threatened on the verge of tears. "All I know is that I love you, and that somehow people do not see beyond that, do not understand that."
He stopped walking, suddenly. "I would do anything to prove to anybody that what I feel for you in my heart is love."
Why did this have to be so complex?
Childishly, Piotr thought, this is not fair.
“What do we do?” She looked up at him again, needing answers. Unfairly perhaps, but she had no one else to ask them from. “Do we pretend? Can we even manage it?”
“Petya,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. She sighed too heavily for the sweetness of her words. “I love you… I do.” Her bottom lip trembled a bit as she tried to be stronger than she felt. “If you will wait for me…” Guilt dripped over her like cement, draining blood from her face.
That was not fair of you to ask. You shouldn’t have.
“I’m sorry.” She winced, lowering her eyes.
"As long as I must wait, I will wait," he said. "It is not so very
long, not really." He smiled down at her, swallowing back the urge to cry. "And I am a man of my word, this I promise you."
He touched her cheek, gently. "Sometimes you seem much older than your years, much wiser. It is the way with mutants, I feel. They are forced to grow up too soon."
Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against him for a moment, catching her breath so that she would not cry. Somehow Piotr had a way about him that made it all better.
“Then we tell no one.” Her hands squeezed his, and she thought that maybe if they could be alone like this every once in a while, she could survive the few years they would have to hide until they could be together.
He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in close. "We tell no
one," he agreed, softly. "Except, perhaps, each other."
He stroked her beautiful hair, kissed the top of her head. He would wait.
She was worth it.
She hadn’t counted on seeing Piotr in the kitchen, though she was far from displeased that she had. For some reason she’d resigned herself to things never going back to the way they were. It was as if they’d broken up; though she’d never dated anyone and Piotr had never really asked her to be his… girlfriend, or whatever it was they did here. No matter what she called it, she’d considered it over. In spite of the fact that they’d said otherwise yesterday afternoon.
Sibyl intended for them to be friends. But that wasn’t how her heart reacted when she saw him, leaning his big frame over the counter as he ate breakfast.
She walked up to him and slid a small hand across his back, pressing her lips to his shoulder. “Good morning,” she said softly.
He almost dropped his spoon in the cereal, so quietly had she come up behind him. "Sibyl," he said, pleased that she was here. He turned around and gave her one of his warm smiles. The big man was wearing his running gear - so he had gone back to his usual routine, at least.
"I hope you slept well," he said, a definite hint of anxiety in his voice. "I was awake early and went to mail the letter to my sister." He'd made a few changes to it, too, mostly under the section about finding and losing love. He crossed to the fridge and took out the orange juice which he held up to her in lieu of a direct question.
She smiled softly and shook her head, crossing to the cupboard to get a glass. She held his out to him, then took one out for herself.
“My father has asked how things are going at the school,” she said, reaching into the fridge for the milk and glad just to be close to him for a moment. Turning away to pour herself a glass, she continued. “I had to lie to him, I didn’t want to alarm him by telling him the truth. I suppose if I am going to be living here, that will become more common.” She sounded distinctly unhappy about that. “This mutant life…” she began, but didn’t finish her thought.
"This mutant life is something that we all must learn to deal with in our own different ways," he said, accepting the glass and pouring his orange juice. He downed two glasses in quick succession and poured a third before putting the carton back in the fridge. "I understand why you did not tell your father the truth."
A pause.
"Especially about...us."
He sighed and set down his orange juice before moving to quietly close the kitchen door. "I have been thinking about that. If you feel that you wish for me to speak to your father...I would do that."
Sibyl put the milk jug back in the fridge, curling the fingers of both pale hands around the glass and looking down into it. A few moments of thought clouded her features, until she looked at him with a gentle frown.
“What would you tell him, Piotr?”
"I...I would tell him how I feel for you and that I am not a bad man. I perhaps would not tell him everything that happened, because ... " He flared bright pink. "I do not know," he admitted, sheepishly.
He stared at the floor.
"I just thought I would make the offer."
Sibyl couldn’t help but smile. “That’s a wonderful thing to offer, Petya.” She took a sip of her milk. “I don’t think… you and I-” If there even is a you and I. “-I don’t think it’s something he will find acceptable for… a while.”
She watched him with honest, clear eyes for a few moments. “Do you even think the others here will?”
"No," he said, simply. "That is...yes. No. I really do not know. I think that they would understand the ... complexities of what has happened, but...I am deeply ashamed."
He looked up, anxiously. "Not because...but because..."
He was terribly tongue-tied.
She badly needed to hear his thoughts. She needed to know how he felt… but somehow it felt like too much to ask.
What other choice did she have?
“Walk with me? Outside?” They weren’t supposed to go out, but she hardly feared for her safety with him around.
He nodded. "Gladly."
He drained what was left of his orange juice, rinsed both the glasses and his breakfast bowl out before putting them into the dishwasher (he was SO conscientious) and grabbed his running suit jacket. "Here," he said, offering it to her. "For a July morning, it is quite crisp out there."
Piotr rather shyly held out his arm for her to hold as they walked outside. What was the worst that could happen? That she didn't take it.
Sibyl nearly drowned in his jacket, wrapping it around herself almost like a blanket. It was a sweet gesture that made her feel cherished, and a light blush lifted to her cheeks. Slipping her arm in his, she rested her head on his arm for a moment as they walked outside.
The air was cool and she took a deep breath, blinking considerably at the light. Her eyes and skin were so sensitive, but usually in the morning hours she could withstand it for a little while.
“Petya you know, I forgive you for what happened with… with her.” She squeezed his arm a bit. “It was silly of me to be so upset about it, and I feel ashamed if I made you feel worse. I am sure you were hurt enough on your own without my reaction.”
"I understand your reaction, dearest Sibyl," he said, after a long pause. "Had our roles been reversed then I too would not really have known how to take it, how to understand it. I may not have been able to do so with the grace and maturity you have shown."
He held her arm closely to his body and took her fingers in his hand.
"There is something I wish to say, but it is so complex I do not know how to say it correctly."
She looked at him, her fair features very young looking with the expression she held. Not only did children from their world have to grow up quickly by comparison to people to whom survival was a given, and not something earned from a very young age. Compounded by her experiences as a gypsy and a mutant, sixteen years was a lifetime. And while hardship and danger had given her the tools with which to withstand difficult times, Sibyl retained a certain innocence simply for her removal from a ‘normal’ way of life.
So when he fumbled to explain himself, she was lost without tools to coax the truth from him. She only knew he seemed frustrated. “Begin at the beginning then,” she said softly, tilting her head a bit. “If you feel you do not have it right, try again.” And before she could stop herself, she added, “I am not going anywhere.”
He looked at her for such a long time, as though he could somehow will the words into her understanding, into her consciousness without him having to speak them. Sadly, however, telepathy did not number among his skills and abilities.
"Sibylinka," he said. "You have to understand that whilst I deeply regret what I ... did ... with the other you, I want you to understand that if it had been you and we had done what I ... did ... with the other you, I would not regret it. No, that is not right. I would regret my rashness. But I would not regret it."
Along with telepathy, eloquence appeared to be lacking also.
“Oh.”
OH.
Slowly blushing a truer shade of pink by the moment, Sibyl didn’t meet his eyes, looking across the grounds instead. “No, I…” she cleared her throat a little, blinking at her own awkwardness. “I wouldn’t have.. either.”
A few moment’s silence was followed up by a rather stumbly little remark. “I wish that it had been me.”
She understood him!
"I wish that also," he said, feeling buoyed by this fact. "However, neither would I transgress. I would not cross that line again. I hope you understand why this must be."
There were times when Piotr Rasputin hated being the man he was. But most of the time he was proud of his strong moral stance. He cupped Sibyl's chin in his hand and kissed her very softly.
"I hope you understand."
Her eyes closed as he kissed her, and it set her on fire in a way it never had before. But it shouldn’t. She let a breath out too quickly, and stopped in their walking, looking at him.
“No… I don’t understand. What line do you feel you crossed? I wasn’t there, and… that wasn’t me.”
"You...are very young - for this country and this country has laws."
He ran his fingers through his closely cropped hair. "And I crossed a very illegal line. I worried about it for much of the night. You and I could argue that we never meant any harm by it but..."
He closed his eyes. "I do not know how to say this so it does not sound wrong."
Oh.
She wished now she’d kept walking. At least then she could look elsewhere as her eyes closed, a hurt look crossing her face. She slipped her arm into his a little tighter, and got them moving again, just to have something to do other than look twisted up inside.
“When I did not love him, I was taken as a child. And now my love is pure and I cannot have him. I don’t understand what love wants from me…” her voice wavered as she whispered in Russian.
"I do not understand any of it," said Piotr and this time it was his voice that wavered and threatened on the verge of tears. "All I know is that I love you, and that somehow people do not see beyond that, do not understand that."
He stopped walking, suddenly. "I would do anything to prove to anybody that what I feel for you in my heart is love."
Why did this have to be so complex?
Childishly, Piotr thought, this is not fair.
“What do we do?” She looked up at him again, needing answers. Unfairly perhaps, but she had no one else to ask them from. “Do we pretend? Can we even manage it?”
“Petya,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. She sighed too heavily for the sweetness of her words. “I love you… I do.” Her bottom lip trembled a bit as she tried to be stronger than she felt. “If you will wait for me…” Guilt dripped over her like cement, draining blood from her face.
That was not fair of you to ask. You shouldn’t have.
“I’m sorry.” She winced, lowering her eyes.
"As long as I must wait, I will wait," he said. "It is not so very
long, not really." He smiled down at her, swallowing back the urge to cry. "And I am a man of my word, this I promise you."
He touched her cheek, gently. "Sometimes you seem much older than your years, much wiser. It is the way with mutants, I feel. They are forced to grow up too soon."
Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against him for a moment, catching her breath so that she would not cry. Somehow Piotr had a way about him that made it all better.
“Then we tell no one.” Her hands squeezed his, and she thought that maybe if they could be alone like this every once in a while, she could survive the few years they would have to hide until they could be together.
He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in close. "We tell no
one," he agreed, softly. "Except, perhaps, each other."
He stroked her beautiful hair, kissed the top of her head. He would wait.
She was worth it.