Post by tingrin on Nov 7, 2006 15:45:20 GMT -5
JFK AIRPORT, NEW YORK, NY
Piotr had called a cab that turned up with surprising alacrity to whisk he and Sibyl off to the airport. He walked down the stairs and had to return twice because the first time he forgot his passport and the second time he forgot his wallet.
The poor young man was in such a state he could barely tell the cab driver where they were going, but with Sibyl's presence and her small hand holding his own, he managed to sort himself out.
He was - unsurprisingly - quiet in the cab on the way to the airport, staring out the window and looking terribly upset.
"Are you sure that you do not mind coming with me?" he asked Sibyl, softly.
Her thumb ran over his large fingers in a repetitive motion as she watched the scenery go by, but saw nothing of it. Once again her life was changing in a sudden whirl. She’d left her family to travel to Saudi Arabia. She’d left Saudi Arabia to travel to Texas. She left Texas to come to New York. And now she was going home with Piotr. Was this the circle she had been seeing in her dreams?
When he spoke, she came out of her thoughts to look at him. Her smile was faint and present more in her eyes than anything. Sibyl squeezed his hand. “Of course,” she spoke in her soft Russian. “I will go anywhere you need me.”
He nodded and managed a smile.
"When we reach the airport," he said, "I will buy our tickets. I...have only flown commercial airlines one, from home to here. Professor Xavier bought my ticket for me last time, so I am unsure what the process is. Can you guide me in the right direction?"
He looked ashamed of his own ignorance.
“I have never purchased me own tickets,” She said, blushing, and suddenly feeling panicked that she didn’t know how to help him. It felt like failing. She quickly added “But I’m sure we can figure it out. All we have to do is ask someone at the ticket counter for help, I’m certain. There are… different airlines, and we’ll just pick one and ask if they have flights to that destination.”
Looking at him, she searched his face. “It’s alright Piotr. We’ll make our way there.”
When the clerk began talking about international flight laws, she tugged Piotr’s hand and spoke in rapid Russian.
“They’re going to need written permission from my father! Petya what are we going to do? He’d never agree to this.” Her heart raced. She wasn’t going to –leave- him here, nor let him leave her behind.
Tears filling her eyes, she looked around, as if someone was going to walk up out of nowhere and give them the solution.
Piotr looked almost as distressed as she did, then brightened.
"If it is just a letter of permission saying I am to be your guardian, what is to stop me writing it for you?"
It was anxiety and grief that was doing this to Piotr. He would not normally have been so stupid or acted so dangerously. "They are unlikely to check up on it, we are not using false names to travel under," he continued. "It is the only way, Sibyl, unless you stay here, and I know I do not want that."
She shook her head quickly. “Neither do I. But we’ll need to go elsewhere to write the note and then return.”
It wasn't difficult to find both a stationers and a coffee shop.
"To Whom It May Concern," said Piotr aloud, writing as neatly as he could. "This letter confirms that I permit Piotr Rasputin to escort my daughter, Sibylinka Petulengro to Tomsk, Russia, for the purposes of visiting family."
He looked up. "How does that sound?" he asked, scratching his head. "What is your father's name?"
It occurred to him that he'd never learned that bit of information from her.
“James,” she said in a whisper. “James Leeson.”
Leaning in to read the note, she nodded. “That should do I think… I’m not sure what they’re looking for. I hope this works.”
He folded the note up and unfolded it several times, making it look a little worn rather than something they'd just produced, then he gave it to her. "Looks better if you produce it," he reasoned.
They crossed to the ticket desk and Piotr gave the young woman behind the counter a warm smile. "I hope you can help me," he began, politely. "My - ward - and I need to fly to Tomsk urgently. One of her family members is very sick. The earliest plane we can catch, the better."
He was so polite, so charming.
But this Sibyl already knew.
Sibyl held onto the hem of his coat with one hand as she stood beside him, needing to cling to him even if she dare not in the way she truly wished. Nodding with an appropriately somber look(which wasn’t difficult given the situation) when the clerk asked for her information, she handed her passport over with her school identification and the note Piotr had written.
Her breath was held tightly in her lungs as the woman looked it over, made a note, then turned around to photocopy it. Sibyl looked to Piotr with a little fear in her eyes.
But soon enough the woman was back, and smiled at both of them, handing their information back. “Will that be cash or card today, Mr. Rasputin?”
"Card," he said, discovering that he had been holding his breath. He opened his wallet and took out the credit card which he had acquired. He'd not used it before and there was a tense moment when he couldn't remember his PIN, but then he recalled it and before they knew it, they had two tickets to Russia on a plane departing in less than three hours time.
As they walked away from the desk, Piotr looked almost shell-shocked.
"I just told such a big lie," he said, in a whisper.
Sibyl grimaced. Suddenly noticing the stares(it had been quite a while since she’d been in this sort of public place, though glances weren’t uncommon no matter where she went), she shrank a little, crossing her arms over herself protectively.
“I’m sorry Petya,” she murmured. They continued on towards security, and she made she didn’t have any metal on her. Touching the silver earrings he had given her as a gift, she held them in her hand to set in the scanning tray.
Standing in line with the others, she turned towards him. “Thank you for letting me come with you. I am honored. And I’ll be glad to be there for your mother and sister. I’m sure they aren’t going to have a mind for housekeeping with your father ill.”
Piotr set off a number of security alarms which detected the inherent 'metalness' about his body, but after several handscans, and a very quiet whispered word with one of the airport security men who understood that he was a mutant, having recognised him from the TV, they passed through without incident to airside.
"I should maybe call Ororo," he said, vaguely, seeing a bank of public telephones. "I left her a note, but I had not decided that you were to come with me at that time."
Sibyl squeezed his hand, looking sharply at him. “Storm? No. We musn’t. Piotr do you really think you are prepared to lie to her as well?”
He looked wretched, then his resolve strengthened. "You are right," he said. "I will explain when we reach Russia. By then it will be too late for them to come and take you away from me."
As if to emphasise his words, he put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close to him. "My little Sibyl," he said, softly.
“It’s only that they wouldn’t understand, Petya.” She rested her hand on his stomach and looked up at him. “And if they did, they would have to follow the law. It is made to protect young women, and it saved me once. But we are different than that.”
Waiting until they called for boarding, she bit her bottom lip with a bit of excitement as they got onto the plane. Piotr was considerably large for the seats, but to their luck, Sibyl was small enough to tuck in beside him if they pulled up the middle armrest and he put his arm around her. Now that they were past the area where IDs were checked, no one thought anything strange of the sweet foreign couple with the exception of the young woman’s white skin and cotton-candy-blue hair.
Piotr had called a cab that turned up with surprising alacrity to whisk he and Sibyl off to the airport. He walked down the stairs and had to return twice because the first time he forgot his passport and the second time he forgot his wallet.
The poor young man was in such a state he could barely tell the cab driver where they were going, but with Sibyl's presence and her small hand holding his own, he managed to sort himself out.
He was - unsurprisingly - quiet in the cab on the way to the airport, staring out the window and looking terribly upset.
"Are you sure that you do not mind coming with me?" he asked Sibyl, softly.
Her thumb ran over his large fingers in a repetitive motion as she watched the scenery go by, but saw nothing of it. Once again her life was changing in a sudden whirl. She’d left her family to travel to Saudi Arabia. She’d left Saudi Arabia to travel to Texas. She left Texas to come to New York. And now she was going home with Piotr. Was this the circle she had been seeing in her dreams?
When he spoke, she came out of her thoughts to look at him. Her smile was faint and present more in her eyes than anything. Sibyl squeezed his hand. “Of course,” she spoke in her soft Russian. “I will go anywhere you need me.”
He nodded and managed a smile.
"When we reach the airport," he said, "I will buy our tickets. I...have only flown commercial airlines one, from home to here. Professor Xavier bought my ticket for me last time, so I am unsure what the process is. Can you guide me in the right direction?"
He looked ashamed of his own ignorance.
“I have never purchased me own tickets,” She said, blushing, and suddenly feeling panicked that she didn’t know how to help him. It felt like failing. She quickly added “But I’m sure we can figure it out. All we have to do is ask someone at the ticket counter for help, I’m certain. There are… different airlines, and we’ll just pick one and ask if they have flights to that destination.”
Looking at him, she searched his face. “It’s alright Piotr. We’ll make our way there.”
When the clerk began talking about international flight laws, she tugged Piotr’s hand and spoke in rapid Russian.
“They’re going to need written permission from my father! Petya what are we going to do? He’d never agree to this.” Her heart raced. She wasn’t going to –leave- him here, nor let him leave her behind.
Tears filling her eyes, she looked around, as if someone was going to walk up out of nowhere and give them the solution.
Piotr looked almost as distressed as she did, then brightened.
"If it is just a letter of permission saying I am to be your guardian, what is to stop me writing it for you?"
It was anxiety and grief that was doing this to Piotr. He would not normally have been so stupid or acted so dangerously. "They are unlikely to check up on it, we are not using false names to travel under," he continued. "It is the only way, Sibyl, unless you stay here, and I know I do not want that."
She shook her head quickly. “Neither do I. But we’ll need to go elsewhere to write the note and then return.”
It wasn't difficult to find both a stationers and a coffee shop.
"To Whom It May Concern," said Piotr aloud, writing as neatly as he could. "This letter confirms that I permit Piotr Rasputin to escort my daughter, Sibylinka Petulengro to Tomsk, Russia, for the purposes of visiting family."
He looked up. "How does that sound?" he asked, scratching his head. "What is your father's name?"
It occurred to him that he'd never learned that bit of information from her.
“James,” she said in a whisper. “James Leeson.”
Leaning in to read the note, she nodded. “That should do I think… I’m not sure what they’re looking for. I hope this works.”
He folded the note up and unfolded it several times, making it look a little worn rather than something they'd just produced, then he gave it to her. "Looks better if you produce it," he reasoned.
They crossed to the ticket desk and Piotr gave the young woman behind the counter a warm smile. "I hope you can help me," he began, politely. "My - ward - and I need to fly to Tomsk urgently. One of her family members is very sick. The earliest plane we can catch, the better."
He was so polite, so charming.
But this Sibyl already knew.
Sibyl held onto the hem of his coat with one hand as she stood beside him, needing to cling to him even if she dare not in the way she truly wished. Nodding with an appropriately somber look(which wasn’t difficult given the situation) when the clerk asked for her information, she handed her passport over with her school identification and the note Piotr had written.
Her breath was held tightly in her lungs as the woman looked it over, made a note, then turned around to photocopy it. Sibyl looked to Piotr with a little fear in her eyes.
But soon enough the woman was back, and smiled at both of them, handing their information back. “Will that be cash or card today, Mr. Rasputin?”
"Card," he said, discovering that he had been holding his breath. He opened his wallet and took out the credit card which he had acquired. He'd not used it before and there was a tense moment when he couldn't remember his PIN, but then he recalled it and before they knew it, they had two tickets to Russia on a plane departing in less than three hours time.
As they walked away from the desk, Piotr looked almost shell-shocked.
"I just told such a big lie," he said, in a whisper.
Sibyl grimaced. Suddenly noticing the stares(it had been quite a while since she’d been in this sort of public place, though glances weren’t uncommon no matter where she went), she shrank a little, crossing her arms over herself protectively.
“I’m sorry Petya,” she murmured. They continued on towards security, and she made she didn’t have any metal on her. Touching the silver earrings he had given her as a gift, she held them in her hand to set in the scanning tray.
Standing in line with the others, she turned towards him. “Thank you for letting me come with you. I am honored. And I’ll be glad to be there for your mother and sister. I’m sure they aren’t going to have a mind for housekeeping with your father ill.”
Piotr set off a number of security alarms which detected the inherent 'metalness' about his body, but after several handscans, and a very quiet whispered word with one of the airport security men who understood that he was a mutant, having recognised him from the TV, they passed through without incident to airside.
"I should maybe call Ororo," he said, vaguely, seeing a bank of public telephones. "I left her a note, but I had not decided that you were to come with me at that time."
Sibyl squeezed his hand, looking sharply at him. “Storm? No. We musn’t. Piotr do you really think you are prepared to lie to her as well?”
He looked wretched, then his resolve strengthened. "You are right," he said. "I will explain when we reach Russia. By then it will be too late for them to come and take you away from me."
As if to emphasise his words, he put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close to him. "My little Sibyl," he said, softly.
“It’s only that they wouldn’t understand, Petya.” She rested her hand on his stomach and looked up at him. “And if they did, they would have to follow the law. It is made to protect young women, and it saved me once. But we are different than that.”
Waiting until they called for boarding, she bit her bottom lip with a bit of excitement as they got onto the plane. Piotr was considerably large for the seats, but to their luck, Sibyl was small enough to tuck in beside him if they pulled up the middle armrest and he put his arm around her. Now that they were past the area where IDs were checked, no one thought anything strange of the sweet foreign couple with the exception of the young woman’s white skin and cotton-candy-blue hair.