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You don't know what I'm talking about, and yet you guessed accurately at what I was speaking of.
Yes, you're correct. That isn't worthy of my suspicion.

Do not try to guilt me into giving my trust when that trust is clearly undeserved.
As far as I see it, Starkov, I have no reason to believe a woman who behaves like an unruly toddler.

I tumbled him before you were even a glimmer in his eye, little girl. Watch your tongue before I remove it for you.
I have no interest in revisiting the trash of my past. You, on the other hand, seem to have no issue with licking up the scraps of yours.

[ What the fuck. That's so rude! ]

[ Read ✔ ]

[ she knows what genya would say, if she were here: stop flashing those dragon eyes, zoya. punctuated with an eyeroll, a woman forever unafraid to stand among lightning storm, when the burn of an electric spark is nothing compared to what they've weathered.

alina does not have the luxury of genya tamping down the howling winds inside of zoya until they're just a whisper. her eyes sharpen to blades at that little checkmark on her screen, accusatory, as though a single look might force alina into responding. once threatening looks fail —

her temper finds itself spiraling, roiling. fed by alina's defiance, the cowardice of retreating from a confrontation — the easier explanation to sell, than the slice of betrayal she feels. and, beneath it, her churning worry of failing a friend who seems determined to dance with danger.

it only takes minutes to appear at nikolai's door, an unwelcome specter that's come to haunt alina. and only seconds, to follow it with neither a knock or a greeting, beyond the door whipping in the windstorm spiraling around zoya — nearly tearing it from its hinges to prevent alina from having the foresight to lock her outside, hiding away in one of her rooms in this dollhouse of a life she's built alongside nikolai. and so, here she stands in the foyer, nearly fuming out smoke when she seethes, ] Come out.

[ Usually Nikolai was the one to marvel at the technological advances of this place, but Alina feels pretty slick with this sophisticated solution to her little problem. That "solution" being simply not responding to the text and muting notifications for that conversation in favor of scratching her pencil across her sketchpad while lounging in her underwear.

That should've been the end of it.

Not much time passes before she hears the thundering boom in her foyer. She dashes out in bare feet, the upstairs hall bordered by a railing that looks down into their entryway. Alina's nearly knocked over by the brute force of wind that whips around her, shaking the walls and the lights. A massive animal follows her, a booming bark joining the chaos. ]

For Saint's sake, Zoya, you could have knocked.

[ a frame skews on the wall before that, too, rattles to the floor. finds its fate into splintered, jigsaw pieces scattering across the wood. behind her, the door gives a pathetic creak in the throes of its destruction, too battered and bent to close properly. she should find some satisfaction in it, perhaps — tarnishing this representation of alina and nikolai's illusory life together, but it does nothing to ease the impotent anger frothing inside of her.

the shatter of glass, at least, seems to shake her from her narrow-minded focus. those whipping winds settle into a contained gust and then ebb, leaving behind chaos in its path. a contrast to the overcast fury in zoya's expression, when she pins alina with a flicker of silver eyes. ]

And you would have answered.

[ her lips lilt with her tone, mocking. daring alina to lie to her directly, now that she no longer has the advantage of distance between them like a barrier. hiding behind it, pretending her mistakes away. if she's going to slap her with insults, starkov should have the respectable bravery to do it to her face. ]

What were you hoping to prove? [ a beat, and then: ] Do not pretend with me.

Edited 2021-10-31 03:58 (UTC)

I would have answered.

[ What's it like to lie with every breath, Alina? ]

I would have answered— [ She is very insistent, trying to wrangle Ponchik and herd him into the spare room where all of his toys are to keep him from running down the stairs and cutting his paws on the splinters that letter the ground. He whines, but not for too long. He's used to being relegated to that room when his non-furry parents need, uh, alone time. ]

What were you trying to prove? [ She shoves it back, petulantly. Bratty. ] I'm minding my own business. [ She gestures to her bedroom down the hall. ] You told me to stay out of your way since I apparently can't be trusted but you're not happy that I'm here playing house either. [ Now that she's going she can't quite seem to reel herself in. Her mouth is running faster than her mind. ] What are you here to do? Punish me for not being a good enough Saint? I didn't ask for any of this.

[ Entirely possible she means the time before here as much as this. ]

Poor little Alina.

[ the tart bite of her voice is unapologetic, crisp and cold as a winter breeze. if alina is searching for sympathy, she'll find zoya's is a dried-up well. there's no pity to be spared when she once that girl — enraged by her own helplessness, trapped by hands that had willingly sold her away to suit their purpose. she had found her escape in power; alina will learn that soon enough on her own. a lesson that can't be learned by patting her bottom and drying her tears, each time she curses her own fate rather than seizing it for herself. ]

I don't need to repeat how much you didn't stay out my way. You know it as well as I do.

[ a pointed arrow aimed back at the original target alina keeps trying to avoid, keeps trying to move: dallying with aleksander as though this is a game with no stakes attached. zoya's chin tips, a prideful and convicted point in the air, as she takes a treading step forward. a heavy footfall, the commanding step of a general. ]

I'll tell you the truth, since Genya and Nikolai prefer to do you the injustice of coddling you through your tantrums. I don't care what you asked for, Starkov. None of us ask for what life has given us. Stop flattering yourself by thinking you're so special.

[ behind her, her fingers clasp around her wrist, held to a finer composure the longer alina's unravels, a shift in power zoya seems to inherently snatch. ]

This is the hand you've been dealt. Learn to play it, or you'll be stuck whining about how unfair the stakes are for the rest of your life.

Edited 2021-11-05 03:14 (UTC)

[ Looking for sympathy from Zoya is a fool's errand, and Alina's not even sure what corner of her mind thought she would have found purchase in that foothold. She's slipping on the icy front Zoya's thrown up in front of her. On her knees and knocked down, the last of Alina's resolve dissolves.

She's not special? Being special is exactly the problem. ]

What is this— [ Her knuckles, white with the strength of her grip, wrap around the collars locked around her neck. ] —if not dealing with what I've been dealt? I don't forget what's waiting for me because I can't.

[ She'll laugh it off with a joking explanation when asked about the antlers, do her best to try and be numb to the press of the points into her skin, but there is no forgetting it. No ignoring it. No escaping the strings of fate that are tangled into a noose. ]

I'll do what I need to do. I won't run. [ And ah, there it is, the hot prickle of frustrated tears in her eyes, confronting the fact that the end of this is inevitable. And then you won't have to hear me whining any more, she thinks bitterly. She had thought she reached an amicable peace with Zoya but apparently she's ready to shepherd her to death's door. ] But I can't here. Unless you'd rather chop my head off and take this too.

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