Natalia shrugs. "They knew what it meant to put me up for the Hunt. We are Russian. What's one more dead peasant? We knew that reality. We all knew-- my death means they go on.
"To me, it is too much to hope they are alive. So the peasants died, who cares? To them, it is the same. It is too much to hope I escape. So Natalia is dead, who cares?" She stares at the half-finished plate. "The oldest Russian joke there is, invented by a little old grandmother who lost her grandchild."
Natalia smiled a cold, grim smile. "Shame I've fucked up the punch line."
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Date: 2024-12-20 01:33 am (UTC)"To me, it is too much to hope they are alive. So the peasants died, who cares? To them, it is the same. It is too much to hope I escape. So Natalia is dead, who cares?" She stares at the half-finished plate. "The oldest Russian joke there is, invented by a little old grandmother who lost her grandchild."
Natalia smiled a cold, grim smile. "Shame I've fucked up the punch line."