03: In Like A Lion

[theriflespiral]

01: Pancake Week (Elysium)
Much as she despises the Orthodox Church, there was one tradition, Natalia thinks, with which she can truck, and that is the week before Lent being Pancake Week.

She has a small Ether stove and a little chalk sign: IT'S PANCAKE WEEK! Deliver a pancake! Ask me how!, with a small list of fillings, and a drawing of a penguin carrying a pancake wrapped around little herrings and a pleased expression.

Although, the ability to deliver a pancake, still warm, without breaking it, is a hell of a statement for a shipping company to make...


02: To Dance As The Queen Does
Once more, Natalia listens to distantly piped jazz and taps the rhythm carefully, gathering Ether, ice swirling in her hands as she moves to the beat.

And, once again, as her mind fills with other things, the spell breaks, sending little bits of powder snow all across the improvised dance floor, to evaporate.

She hums in annoyance. Of course, by now, surely someone would hear soft or hard jazz and come to investigate.


03: Unfurling Inner Lotus
While much of her time is given to maintaining her front or honing her marksmanship and spellcraft, time must be given to conditioning her body.

This is risky, because unlike the other forms of training, to do it she must engage her energies at their fullest. This is less a risk of her being hurt-- no more than usual-- but rather a risk of discovery; for no one notices a girl with black hair and black eyes, but a girl with blue stars shining in her eyes? Now that has been seen once or twice, to say nothing about how it might touch on the senses of those sensitive to Ether.

But it's the only way to make sure she's training to her utmost, and so utmost she must go-- keeping up with others, never mind the Empire, demands it.

Thus it is that someone as apparently light as Natalia Koutolika is now lifting sacks of shot that are obviously as heavy as she is, and tossing them some distance, besides.


04: Special Deliveries

This was the spot. Natalia stood on the deck of the Humboldt in the little shelter the rocks of the island made, and waited to make contact.

As much as she wanted to recover and utilize larger ships, even ships that might be better suited to the line (intentionally), ships like the little sea sloop were too useful for Penguin Logistics' other purpose: smuggling packages, people, and information.

Was her chronometer wrong? She kept a weather eye out. Who is meeting her? And for what?

Comments

[testygirl]

In the meantime, Aira is also able to locate the bags of wood shavings, and she sets them near the boxes. Then a frown.

"Yeah, hold that thought."

That despairing tone catches her off guard—though should it? She's probably not taking this mishap seriously enough; the distribution of supplies can definitely be a big deal.

"Are you okay? I don't wanna, like, distract you or slow you down. But if you're upset, it doesn't hurt to vent? I mean, I do it all the time."

She lets out a subdued chuckle. Quite a rare moment for Aira to make a joke at her own expense, honestly.

[theriflespiral]

"Trust is extremely important when you offer a service, yes? I risked that trust carelessly." Tap. Tap. Tap. Each nail lands perfectly flush with the crate, each time she brings the hammer down, no expression on her face. "This was... entirely my own miscalculation."

She is protected from joy, but also from sorrow. "I am beginning to think this entire idea is a dead end."

[testygirl]

"What the hell?"

Oh, now she's the one who's upset. Damn, whoops. Aira folds her arms and gives Nat a bit of a glare. The tap, tap, tap is even starting to sound annoying, which is a sure sign that she's right on the cusp of really losing her temper.

"You mean your work, or the magic? Look, everybody screws up! I'm going to be really, really pissed if you just decide to give up. Oh, and it literally takes two to tango, by the way. I was pushing you to go hard when we were dancing, so it's partially my fault, too!"

[theriflespiral]

Well. The hammering has stopped, at least. There's a slight squeaking sound under Natalia's boots. "I learned a long time ago that I must be extremely careful and considered with my actions. The burden of blood can lie in something so careless as a word. I..."

The memory comes up, and speaks for her, voice cloaked in ice once more. "I cannot make myself unreliable. Unreliable tools are to be discarded and forgotten."

[testygirl]

That's about the last thing Aira wants to hear. In a fit, she kicks at the box that Nat is working to repair—probably not hard enough to damage it more, but mostly to get it out of the way. (If something does break, she'll make sure to fix it herself. And definitely apologize once she's calmed down, either way.)

Presently, she crouches right in front of Nat and grips her shoulders, looking her hard in the eye.

"You're not a tool. You're a really smart, hard-working girl that messed up one little thing. More importantly, you're my friend, and I don't let my friends call themselves awful things like that. Got it?"

[theriflespiral]

She watches it go, eyes following it, seemingly impassive, and starts to line up the next one. She's used to such fits of temper. She's had so many punishment details and rough-ups back home that something like this is barely a blip on the radar. Aira didn't even damage the crate, it barely merits mentioning.

It's when, instead of something else, Aira stares her in the eyes, and tells her that, she pauses. "... I have told you that when I was ten, I went into a program, after years touring the world, pride of Russia, yes?

"... I wanted to return home, to Zabaykalsky. To stay with my parents. Learn more, for a few years, see what heights I could reach. My parents agreed.

"As a tool, that made us unreliable."

She sets the box, sets a nail, and hammers it in, one swift stroke. A second. "Unreliable tools are discarded and forgotten."

[testygirl]

Aira would shudder at being compared to an abusive teacher or trainer, but damn if it wouldn't make her think twice the next time she's about to lose her head. Still, with the almost uncomfortably placid way Natalia reacts, the shadow of it still claws at her, though unformed and unspoken.

Sullenly, she shifts away to give Natalia some space to work again. Then she takes in a few breaths.

"What happened? Did they punish you and your family?"

She swallows, hesitating. "Did they hurt you?"

[theriflespiral]

"Pain is an old friend. The tool was easy to fix. Remove the reason for to return to Zabaykalsky, she will not return to Zabaykalsky. I'm sure no one knows where all the bodies are buried. Who cares? Just another Uighyur. Just another Tatar." The hammer rings out. "I am more reliable, after that. I go to Kamchatka. I take the blows and the punishments. I can change nothing. But I do not forget. I do not forgive."

"When I arrive here, I see the same empire, different name for the Tsar." The hammer rings out. "We fit right in, Kamchatka Program and I. We understand the rules. But I did not forget. I did not forgive."

"And when a noble decides I am fun game, well..." She shrugs, and lets the hammer fall. "I do not forget." Again, harder. "I do not forgive." One last time, nearly hard enough to break the lid. "And if I must, one at a time, the slow way, while taking their blows and their punishments, I will."

[testygirl]

Aira listens—and doesn't interrupt, even though her heart screams for her to, at least to insist again that Natalia stop using that language to describe herself.

But she does wait, and then all the work things get knocked away again so that she can pull Nat into a clinging hug. It happens so fast that Nat might even be halfway into her next swing, but Aira's vision is blurry with tears, so who knows. They're hot and stinging as she shuts her eyes and squeezes her friend.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

That's all she can get out, at first. Though she isn't sure what else to say, if anything. She's had to cope with loss, and she has friends who have, but that doesn't make it hurt less, and it doesn't make her better equipped to handle this. A truly helpless feeling rises raw in throat, and she sobs, and she squeezes tighter.

1/2

[theriflespiral]

There is a moment, where she sits in shock. The hammer clatters to the floor, the nails firmly in one fist digging into her palm. Even though she's not moving, she feels Aira's distress.

2/2

[theriflespiral]

And she wonders if she managed to scare Aira. ... No, she probably did. Slowly, her arms go around Aira, and Aira can feel the heat of Natalia's tears.

Even as, impassively, she says, "I apologize, I... Did not mean to imply I would not forgive you. You've done. Done nothing so... So terrible..."

Slowly, it's hitting her again. If Aira can feel vibes, she probably has a sensation of a thick ice sheet cracking when Natalia's head sinks into her shoulder.

[testygirl]

Aira has faced more than a few scary things at this point, and she's managed to brave through each of them. This is grief, with some bitter frustration blended in. Things just shouldn't be so unfair: in this world, in hers, and in Natalia's. Why do kids, especially, have to suffer?

"It's not about me. I'm just so... so sorry about your parents, and that you had to go through that."

She sniffs, then tries to regain a bit of composure—which, frankly, is difficult. Because she's thinking of her mom now, and what so few things she can acutely remember about her. She can think of her mom holding her while she cried, though, and how she patted and stroked her hair.

Aira does the same for Natalia, with a soothing and gentle touch, forcing her hand not to tremble too much.

[theriflespiral]

"It is merely my life. Because. It is all I can do." She grips on a little tighter, and-- breathes in, and despite everything, because she can feel the shaking hand, she hums.

The tune is almost certainly off, and anyone who could repeat it would tell you it's a butchery, and her teeth start to chatter almost immediately, but the lilting rhythm and natural key make it unmistakable:

She's trying to hum a lullaby.

[testygirl]

In the end, it's the feel that calms Aira more than the sound. The shakiest notes will still reverberate up through her chest as soothingly as the purest. Aira's hand has stilled and she feels much lighter by the time she decides to pull away.

"Sheesh. I was the one who was supposed to be comforting you, you know."

She wipes at her face, then tucks some of the slightly damp and loose-hanging hair out of her eyes.

"I don't know if it's because you're too hard on yourself, or whatever, but I guess we disagree on something pretty major! Since I think you can do anything."

This time Aira puts one hand over hers, simply soft and warm.

[theriflespiral]

She is pale, and her expression hasn't changed a bit, but the tears are still coming. She's not even sure why she's crying, though she knows why she's shaking-- her curse, acting up again.

She pauses and decides to put her faith in what she's learned.

She holds up one finger, and sings out one single, wailing note, and prays she's right, because if she's not her mouth is about to freeze like this and she's probably going to need some hot water.

And so, she remembers, in the glittering shards of her memories,

That moment, not long later, on the world's shittiest train, when she knew that ice could numb her, and so curled up in a ball, she declared, with her wishing heart,

I wish my heart would freeze (so I don't have to feel this).

The curse is not undone. Such things are difficult to sweep aside, even for the very powerful. Even if it were, her lack of expression is long habit.

But the ice is her heart, and her heart still feels, and so the ice matches her mourning cry, barely able to rise, crawling under the cracks and the gaps, until the note dies in her throat for lack of breath. Black ice, the worst and slipperiest kind, forms over the floor, inviting others to join in her desire to stop moving.

Her face takes on color again. She stops shaking. Slowly, the world reasserts itself against the vast imbalance of Ether reintroduced to it.

She coughs slightly, and a few last bits of snow dust out, and takes Aira's hand with her own. "Thank you, but I fear this is something that may require more than a few dancing sessions to get better control over."