vivala | A Troubled Soldier 01

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A Troubled Soldier 01

I: Delivery to Elysium
Elysium-the-city was far larger than Natalia had first assumed. Not that this was a problem for her-- a day or two among the rooftops, and she would know this place as well as anyone who lived here.

For now, though, she was momentarily relying on a map she kept carefully tucked away, and an address on a box with a memorized order form (and countersign, and counter-countersign, easily handwaved).

Being a delivery girl was hardly a novel cover, but it was precisely because such things were ubiquitous that it was easy to slip into the role as she came around the service entrance. Add perhaps a touch of bitter expression at the cold-- she didn't even have to try for that one-- and things would, hopefully, work just fine.

II: Blames Her Tools (Vault)
Natalia, after spending the better part of a day hitting targets from as extreme a range as the Vault could afford, was now overhauling her rifle, first cleaning the inside of the barrel with a cloth and a cleaning rod, and then disassembling it, screw by painstaking screw.

The casings were drying on a separate cloth nearby, with the scent of soap and water, waiting for an oven to finish getting up to the proper temperature.

It took up an entire gunsmith's bench, between the disassembly and the casings waiting for annealing and rolling and fitting and loading, but there was something to it. A peace, in an artisan's craft.

She looked at the tool rack above her and clicked her tongue.

She would have to go hunting for that particular tool.

Okay. Smooth hair. Stand properly. Act like you're supposed to be here.

Time to go among the other workbenches. Or workshops, if she had to.

III: Wildcard
Bug Natalia because she looks suspicious or because you need something.

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"..." Ah, yes. Picking one. ... Well. The one that would be most familiar is the paella, and, sure enough, the taste of fish is... Grounding. She sits on the crate as she eats, this time with more gusto.

"My..." ... She couldn't really call them her 'parents'. She didn't really remember them anymore, but she knew they weren't the fishers from Kamchatka known as the Koutolikas now. Those fishers had planned to escape, to where she wasn't sure. "My handlers were fishers, before we and most of the fishing village we were in was..."

She tapped at her neck, where friction and electric shock had discolored it in a band. "... For some reason, the Empire did not care about this. They seemed to think they knew something we did not. About the village. I think perhaps about me."

Link brightens a little then, when she picks one. He then selects the apple pie for himself, before shoving the rest back into his pack. Apparently, Link just walks around with a veritable collection of fully cooked meals on him at all times.

But his expression turns more solemn, as she begins to talk.

"You still like fish?" he asks. "Even though the Empire..."

Link trails off. She didn't name specifics, but whatever they were, he's sure they weren't pleasant. They all know what the Empire does to people.

"What, you think they had us fish? Tcheh." She shook her head. "No, we were more useful farming dirt and potatoes and onion on some far-flung floating island. Who cares about ocean, yes?"

She eats slowly, stirring the paella as she talks. "And despite that, they weren't bad little peasants, my handlers. But everyone in village, they spent much time concealing who and what we really were."

"... I think maybe our noble, he found out, because he wanted to 'see our skill for himself'." She scoffed again. "Of course my handlers pick me for the very first hunt.

"I'm sure you can imagine what happened to noble and his hunting party then."

Link blinks. He must have missed something in her explanation; he'd thought she'd said the Empire had put her in a fishing village. He's silent for a long moment, trying to piece things together. Read between the lines, and understand.

(He misses Zelda. Zelda was always better at talking to people. She knew what questions to ask, how to make them feel at ease. And then Link could just hang back, and listen, without being expected to help the conversation continue.)

"Your village was hiding Outlanders?" he says slowly. "The nobles didn't know?"

"My village were all Outlanders. Many of us from same fishing village back home, in Siberia. We seemed human enough, didn't look or act unusual. They didn't know..." She paused. How much could she say? "Didn't know what we didn't tell them. So. Treat us like particularly expendable serf. Gift to go with bad joke of far-flung island.

"Anyway. Too late now. It's been months, Empire probably burned the place when I had the audacity to win, and taxes stopped coming." She mechanically shoved the rest of the paella in.

An entire village of Outlanders? All from the same world?

What would it have been like if Link hadn't arrived here alone, but all of Lookout Landing or Hateno Village had been with him? He almost can't imagine. He's glad he doesn't have to imagine.

But what he doesn't have to imagine is what it's like to lose everybody.

"...I'm sorry," he says softly.

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."

Link is quiet for a moment. She's from a tough people, who face a difficult existence. That much he can tell.

Although part of the context is also completely lost on him.

"Russian is...your people?" he says. "With the round ears?" Humans, Link knew the Empire called them. Pretty much just like Hylians, except with weird ears. They didn't seem any tougher than any of the other peoples. But maybe things were different where she was from.

"There are many nations of roundears back home. Russia is one of them," Natalia explains. "I still for this reason find it hard to believe the Empire truly runs everything on its own. Surely, I think, this is a funny mask and trenchcoat for a dozen naughty children?"

How she managed to deadpan that delivery, not even she knows.

Ah. So 'Russia' was a Kingdom, not a species. Link nods, to show his understanding.

And he's not entirely sure what a 'trenchcoat' either. But the idea of the Empire being a bunch of children in a funny mask - he pictures one like the Bokoblin mask he had once - makes Link's usually blank and largely expressionless face quirk into an echo of a smile, and a faint, short laugh.

She smirks herself, in response, starting to polish off the paella. "Well, I am sure we shall see it eventually, so long as we keep succeeding."

It was hard to remain surly on a full stomach, and Natalia was no exception. "That said, I'll get some trick to counter that rush of yours eventually, see if I don't."

Link nods. And then while she's slowly making her way through the paella, practically wolfs down the rest of his apple pie.

When it comes to food, Link is not one to take his time.

As for her assumption that she'll find a way around his rush...Link just shrugs. "It's for enemies." She could try and counter it if she liked, but it wasn't something he really intended to use against her, outside of a little friendly demonstration.

"Someone will have something similar, I am sure. Besides, it is an interesting puzzle to solve. I haven't had a challenge like this in some time." Famous last words.

Link hums. He can understand the desire to solve puzzles; he had that same drive.

(Sometimes, he wondered if it was more his aptitude for puzzles than his skill with a sword that made him the one who could wield the Sword that Seals the Darkness. Otherwise, why else would the Sheikah and Light shrines offer him so many tests that were puzzles?)

"...You liked the paella?" He asks. Because even after all their discussion...he still wanted to know.

Edited 2024-12-23 03:22 (UTC)

"It... is not exactly like back home at Russia; we tended towards millet, potatoes, and wheat-- it was too cold for rice-- but everything you could ask for from a fish porridge, it was; warm, spiced generously, filling." There's a hint of nostalgia in her voice as she says that, and her hands start to shake slightly.

"You have learned the craft well."

All of her praise at his skill with a bow, or a sword, had barely gained any reaction from Link. He'd just nodded and accepted it without a word, his expression never changing.

But when she compliments his cooking - now there's a rare flash of expression, as Link practically lights up at the praise.

Fighting is his trade, and Link does is well. But cooking is clearly what Link loves.

She sees him light up and, for a moment, feels something.

Then, it fades back into the ice before she can catch it and interrogate it for what it knows. Instead, she plows on-- "If you like, I can probably find ingredients for you."

Link nods. Yes, he'd like ingredients! Link always wants more ingredients. Nevermind that he's got a ridiculous number of them already stored in his korok-enchanted pack.

But more than ingredients, there's something he'd like that's even more valuable.

"...You know any recipes?" he asks.

Natalia paused. "A few. Some to make rations back home more palatable." And BOY did they NEED it, not that she was about to say that to Link.

"And some my mother taught me, and some my handlers taught me. Onion and noodle soups, blini and various things for blini, three different flavors of borscht, piroshki, Stroganoff, vitrushka, and various kinds of stuffed cabbage. eh..."

She pauses. "That... Is a lot of course but I'd be surprised if you didn't have some bit of blin in your repertoire as it is..."

She'd just rattled off a whole series of recipes, but the only names that were of any familiarity to him at all were the soups and the stuffed cabbage. The rest just gets a blank, uncomprehending stare.

Is he...meant to know those? It seemed like she was expecting him to know those. Maybe it was a translation issue? No one else spoke Link's native Hylian after all. The Imperial they conversed in was a second language to him.

"...Blin?" He says, deciding to start with that one. Maybe if she describes it, he can connect it to a familiar dish...?

"-- Is flat cake, flour, egg, buttermilk, always some salt and some sugar. You have it, I'm sure. I tend towards making them salty, because I often had them with smoked fish, but sweet is okay too." She bounces her head. "Is same with vitruvshka. Make dough, make small pads, stuff with some filling, fry in just enough fat to float them. Even the Empire has some version of these."

"Like...crepes?" Link says, naming the closest dish he knew to what she described. But he's still frowning faintly, because it doesn't seem quite right...

Link knew plenty of recipes. But he didn't know all of them.

"Mn-- yes, but make the batter a little thicker. Less liquid. Or more flour, I'm not your grandmother."

Link makes a soft noise in the back of his throat - and then pulls out his communicator and starts typing out a few things in the notes app. More flour. Less liquid.

Sure, it's not a complete recipe. But Link clearly still plans to experiment with it anyway.

"Otherwise, a lot like a crepe-- bake in a pan with a good oil-- butter will burn, try lard or something-- flip when the edges bubble, add something nice in the middle, fold it up once the bottom's solid, wait juuust a little, flip to get the heat even, is done."

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