Post by tingrin on Jan 5, 2007 15:31:09 GMT -5
"Sibylinka?"
It was Illyana's voice. The young girl was standing at the door of the bedroom watching her with large, scared eyes. "Sibylinka, Piotr says that you are leaving to go back to America...what has happened? He will not speak to Mama or me and he just sits beneath the tree staring into nothing."
Following the phone call to Sibyl's father, Piotr had been unable to prevent himself from falling foul of a deep, dark misery that engulfed the normally jovial big man and had gone out to the fields on their return home. "Are you leaving?"
Sibyl turned her head to look at the pretty young woman. She’d come to like Piotr’s sister very much during the short few days they’d been on Tomsk. With a sigh, she gestured her into the room.
“I do have to go,” she said softly. “My father wishes me to return.” She just wasn’t sure if she should break Piotr’s silence, if perhaps he was protecting some sort of pride by not telling them.
As Illyana approached Sibyl took the girl’s hand. “Yana… my father didn’t know I was coming here.” She looked up at her. “He doesn’t approve of Piotr and I. I… don’t think he ever will.”
"Doesn't approve of Piotr?" Illyana came immediately to the defence of her beloved big brother, her hero and champion. "But Sibyl, Piotr is so kind! He loves you so much. He will struggle without you here, I do not know how to reach him. I have never seen him like this, although Mama said he was like this when Mikhail died." Illyana sighed.
"I was too young, then, to understand."
She stood and watched Sibyl for a few moments and then rather spontaneously hugged her. "Please at least speak to him before you go. We need him to come back to us. He is here in body, Sibyl, but not spirit."
spilled down Sibyl’s face, but she wiped them away, staying calm. “My father has never met Piotr. Things are just… different, where I am from.” But she was from here. She was part of these people. A different sort- she was Rom, they were not. She was from a more southerly part of the former Soviet Union, but their cultures were the same. And Sibylinka did not want to go home. She could easily have stayed there the rest of his life.
“I…” Piotr was in a difficult place. Absorbed within himself, he had no eyes for Sibyl. She knew this, and forgave it. Piotr needed to come to terms with his father’s death. And it was more than likely, Sibyl knew, that Piotr would stay in Tomsk and never return. The thought twisted her heart, and she winced.
“I will try.”
"That is all I can ask of you." Illyana kissed her on the cheek. "If you go out through the back of the house, he is four fields over. There is an old oak tree that he and Mikhail used to climb when they were young. He is sitting beneath it."
Her words were true. The big man was, as his little sister had said, simply sitting. He looked so despondent and unhappy that it was heartbreaking. Sibyl had never seen anybody look so totally devastated by what life had thrown at them and it was the first inkling that Piotr was not handling his bereavement at all well.
He glanced up as she appeared, his eyes dull and lifeless.
"Do you need me to take you to the airport?" he said, almost in a monotone. "I can do that. I do not wish to, but I must."
Sibyl tried very hard to understand what he was going through. She was an understanding person, level headed and intuitive where many were not. But she was hurting too, and the way he seemed to brush her off as if this situation were entirely her choice, hurt, whether she understood it or not.
“I will call for a car,” she said softly. “Your family needs you here.”
She put her arms around herself, not able to will herself closer to him. He seemed to want that distance, and his coldness since her father had demanded she come home stung at her. She didn’t want to throw herself at someone who was only going to push her away.
“Piotr I know you are hurting,” she began, “but you must understand death is a part of life. You must look to the future, and try to move on. For your sake, and for your mother and sister.”
He blinked at her. "It is no trouble," he said. "Really. I would like to know that you are safely on the plane."
Piotr watched her as she wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at her, an almost forlorn expression on his face. "I understand that death is a part of life," he said, and he sounded almost weary. "I am struggling, Sibyl, with deciding what is the best course of action. I have been a good son, a good brother and, I hope, a good...a good..."
What was he? Was he a boyfriend? A lover? A friend? God help him, he didn't know.
"I cannot win," he said, simply. "If I stay here, I lose you and that makes me want to weep. If I come back with you...I do not know what will happen." He wanted, more than anything, to ask her for a hug, for her touch and comfort, but he could not. His pride was in the way.
“You will find another,” she said, her face, her lips feeling numb just from the thought. She wanted to fall apart right where she stood. “You will find a good woman here. You know you will. The people here love you.”
She couldn’t say more. A buzzing was in her ears, and she couldn’t breathe right. She looked away, outwardly calm and still, boiling alive from the inside.
“I am young,” she said, her voice weak. “I will find another too.” If he could not make the best choice for himself, she would make it for him. It was the right thing to do.
"I do not want another," he said, almost sullenly. "I will find some solution to this, Sibylinka. There must be one. But you must understand that I have acted improperly in your father's eyes. If I return to the States with you, there is a very good chance that he will set the authorities on me. I am not afraid. I would stand up in a court of law and defend why I brought you with me. But...you deserve better than that."
He managed a faint smile.
"I love you," he said, quietly. "Never doubt that, even though I may be unable to show it any more. I do not know that I can ever show my feelings again. My heart is as solid as my steel form."
His voice cracked on the last few words.
Sibyl smiled faintly, wiping away a few tears. “That isn’t true,” she said in a whisper. “If it were, you would not be saying these things.”
“Piotr I know what it is you face if you return to America and I’m not asking you to come after me. Perhaps it will be that in a few years, I can return to you. But I doubt by then you will want me, it is just the way of things. Piotr… don’t you think I have foreseen it?” She looked up at the sky. Her mother had told her when she was very young, a woman is a man’s strength of heart. A man is a woman’s strength of body. That is why they need one another.
She wanted her mother there so badly. “Your best choice is to let me go.” She walked over to him, and tilted his face up towards hers. Leaning down, she kissed his lips, shaking so badly her breath shivered.
As she stood again she couldn’t meet his eyes, and turned back to the house, dress shifting with a soft whisper against the grass.
"Sibyl," he said, his voice suddenly made strong by her kiss. "I will never let you go. I will come to you. There are just...things I must sort out first."
He stood up and crossed swiftly to her, holding her close to him and inhaling her scent as though it were for the last time. "Please do not tell me that I will move on, because I will not. This is a very simple thing to understand."
Piotr kissed her forehead, her cheeks and the tip of her nose.
"I will be back," he said. "Wild horses would not keep me away."
Sibyl tried so hard to be strong, but she was much younger than Piotr, and her emotions ripped through her so intensely, she couldn’t hold them in any longer. She cried continually as she spoke, shaking her head.
“You will go to jail,” she said. “Maybe for many years.” Her lungs felt squeezed, and she gasped in a tearful breath. “Petya I can’t be your wife between bars…”
She kissed over his heart, pressing her forehead there. “I will find a way for father to forgive you.” But even as she said it, she knew it wouldn’t happened. They were doomed, not destined as she had thought before. It was time for her to go home, and try to forget Piotr Rasputin.
“I love you,” she whispered.
"Then that is a good place for us to start," he said, softly, sounding far more confident than he felt. "But for now, babushka, we must be parted. But it will not be forever. I swear this to you on my life."
He released her from the embrace reluctantly. "I still ask that you let me at least take you to the airport."
Oh, how much she loved him. Nodding wordlessly, she squeezed his hand, and held it still as she headed back to the house. “Come and speak with your sister. She’s sick with worry.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
His big fist closed around hers. "I am sorry for many things," he said, quietly. "There is much that I have to fix, both here and back home." He said it unconsciously and without thinking. He was referring to the Institute, to New York as home now, not the farm. "It is a long process. We must be patient."
He finally smiled, properly.
"You are right. It will all be fine in the end."
It was Illyana's voice. The young girl was standing at the door of the bedroom watching her with large, scared eyes. "Sibylinka, Piotr says that you are leaving to go back to America...what has happened? He will not speak to Mama or me and he just sits beneath the tree staring into nothing."
Following the phone call to Sibyl's father, Piotr had been unable to prevent himself from falling foul of a deep, dark misery that engulfed the normally jovial big man and had gone out to the fields on their return home. "Are you leaving?"
Sibyl turned her head to look at the pretty young woman. She’d come to like Piotr’s sister very much during the short few days they’d been on Tomsk. With a sigh, she gestured her into the room.
“I do have to go,” she said softly. “My father wishes me to return.” She just wasn’t sure if she should break Piotr’s silence, if perhaps he was protecting some sort of pride by not telling them.
As Illyana approached Sibyl took the girl’s hand. “Yana… my father didn’t know I was coming here.” She looked up at her. “He doesn’t approve of Piotr and I. I… don’t think he ever will.”
"Doesn't approve of Piotr?" Illyana came immediately to the defence of her beloved big brother, her hero and champion. "But Sibyl, Piotr is so kind! He loves you so much. He will struggle without you here, I do not know how to reach him. I have never seen him like this, although Mama said he was like this when Mikhail died." Illyana sighed.
"I was too young, then, to understand."
She stood and watched Sibyl for a few moments and then rather spontaneously hugged her. "Please at least speak to him before you go. We need him to come back to us. He is here in body, Sibyl, but not spirit."
spilled down Sibyl’s face, but she wiped them away, staying calm. “My father has never met Piotr. Things are just… different, where I am from.” But she was from here. She was part of these people. A different sort- she was Rom, they were not. She was from a more southerly part of the former Soviet Union, but their cultures were the same. And Sibylinka did not want to go home. She could easily have stayed there the rest of his life.
“I…” Piotr was in a difficult place. Absorbed within himself, he had no eyes for Sibyl. She knew this, and forgave it. Piotr needed to come to terms with his father’s death. And it was more than likely, Sibyl knew, that Piotr would stay in Tomsk and never return. The thought twisted her heart, and she winced.
“I will try.”
"That is all I can ask of you." Illyana kissed her on the cheek. "If you go out through the back of the house, he is four fields over. There is an old oak tree that he and Mikhail used to climb when they were young. He is sitting beneath it."
Her words were true. The big man was, as his little sister had said, simply sitting. He looked so despondent and unhappy that it was heartbreaking. Sibyl had never seen anybody look so totally devastated by what life had thrown at them and it was the first inkling that Piotr was not handling his bereavement at all well.
He glanced up as she appeared, his eyes dull and lifeless.
"Do you need me to take you to the airport?" he said, almost in a monotone. "I can do that. I do not wish to, but I must."
Sibyl tried very hard to understand what he was going through. She was an understanding person, level headed and intuitive where many were not. But she was hurting too, and the way he seemed to brush her off as if this situation were entirely her choice, hurt, whether she understood it or not.
“I will call for a car,” she said softly. “Your family needs you here.”
She put her arms around herself, not able to will herself closer to him. He seemed to want that distance, and his coldness since her father had demanded she come home stung at her. She didn’t want to throw herself at someone who was only going to push her away.
“Piotr I know you are hurting,” she began, “but you must understand death is a part of life. You must look to the future, and try to move on. For your sake, and for your mother and sister.”
He blinked at her. "It is no trouble," he said. "Really. I would like to know that you are safely on the plane."
Piotr watched her as she wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at her, an almost forlorn expression on his face. "I understand that death is a part of life," he said, and he sounded almost weary. "I am struggling, Sibyl, with deciding what is the best course of action. I have been a good son, a good brother and, I hope, a good...a good..."
What was he? Was he a boyfriend? A lover? A friend? God help him, he didn't know.
"I cannot win," he said, simply. "If I stay here, I lose you and that makes me want to weep. If I come back with you...I do not know what will happen." He wanted, more than anything, to ask her for a hug, for her touch and comfort, but he could not. His pride was in the way.
“You will find another,” she said, her face, her lips feeling numb just from the thought. She wanted to fall apart right where she stood. “You will find a good woman here. You know you will. The people here love you.”
She couldn’t say more. A buzzing was in her ears, and she couldn’t breathe right. She looked away, outwardly calm and still, boiling alive from the inside.
“I am young,” she said, her voice weak. “I will find another too.” If he could not make the best choice for himself, she would make it for him. It was the right thing to do.
"I do not want another," he said, almost sullenly. "I will find some solution to this, Sibylinka. There must be one. But you must understand that I have acted improperly in your father's eyes. If I return to the States with you, there is a very good chance that he will set the authorities on me. I am not afraid. I would stand up in a court of law and defend why I brought you with me. But...you deserve better than that."
He managed a faint smile.
"I love you," he said, quietly. "Never doubt that, even though I may be unable to show it any more. I do not know that I can ever show my feelings again. My heart is as solid as my steel form."
His voice cracked on the last few words.
Sibyl smiled faintly, wiping away a few tears. “That isn’t true,” she said in a whisper. “If it were, you would not be saying these things.”
“Piotr I know what it is you face if you return to America and I’m not asking you to come after me. Perhaps it will be that in a few years, I can return to you. But I doubt by then you will want me, it is just the way of things. Piotr… don’t you think I have foreseen it?” She looked up at the sky. Her mother had told her when she was very young, a woman is a man’s strength of heart. A man is a woman’s strength of body. That is why they need one another.
She wanted her mother there so badly. “Your best choice is to let me go.” She walked over to him, and tilted his face up towards hers. Leaning down, she kissed his lips, shaking so badly her breath shivered.
As she stood again she couldn’t meet his eyes, and turned back to the house, dress shifting with a soft whisper against the grass.
"Sibyl," he said, his voice suddenly made strong by her kiss. "I will never let you go. I will come to you. There are just...things I must sort out first."
He stood up and crossed swiftly to her, holding her close to him and inhaling her scent as though it were for the last time. "Please do not tell me that I will move on, because I will not. This is a very simple thing to understand."
Piotr kissed her forehead, her cheeks and the tip of her nose.
"I will be back," he said. "Wild horses would not keep me away."
Sibyl tried so hard to be strong, but she was much younger than Piotr, and her emotions ripped through her so intensely, she couldn’t hold them in any longer. She cried continually as she spoke, shaking her head.
“You will go to jail,” she said. “Maybe for many years.” Her lungs felt squeezed, and she gasped in a tearful breath. “Petya I can’t be your wife between bars…”
She kissed over his heart, pressing her forehead there. “I will find a way for father to forgive you.” But even as she said it, she knew it wouldn’t happened. They were doomed, not destined as she had thought before. It was time for her to go home, and try to forget Piotr Rasputin.
“I love you,” she whispered.
"Then that is a good place for us to start," he said, softly, sounding far more confident than he felt. "But for now, babushka, we must be parted. But it will not be forever. I swear this to you on my life."
He released her from the embrace reluctantly. "I still ask that you let me at least take you to the airport."
Oh, how much she loved him. Nodding wordlessly, she squeezed his hand, and held it still as she headed back to the house. “Come and speak with your sister. She’s sick with worry.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
His big fist closed around hers. "I am sorry for many things," he said, quietly. "There is much that I have to fix, both here and back home." He said it unconsciously and without thinking. He was referring to the Institute, to New York as home now, not the farm. "It is a long process. We must be patient."
He finally smiled, properly.
"You are right. It will all be fine in the end."