#we needed that parallel pillow-sniffing moment for Even

[ghostcat3000]

Oh, I do believe you are what you perceive What comes is better than what came before And you better come come-come, come to me

[jostepherjoestar]

hiya! i think this got eaten by tumblr but i’m not sure so if i’ve sent this before then please ignore! i’d love a continuation of the sdc with a forgetful reader- it speaks volumes to me even though i’m not the person who originally requested it! i tend to forget a lot and reading how they’d support someone like me makes me feel so much better. id love to read more of how polnareff would make it up to the reader after the rude comment- or maybe even a longer versions of the original scenario ♡

Polnareff still has some making up to do to our forgetful reader (Scenario)

sfw // fem reader

This did get eaten nooo 😔! But thank you so much for sending it again, no worries about the requests being closed my bud, since Tumblr ate yours I’ll allow it 💖✨This turned out so freakin sappy dude woof! Enjoyyy (i’m sorry if you wanted this to be platonic :(( it can’t be helped, his french powers are too strong)

Original Post

“Of course you did.” The thought kept clouding your mind, returning whenever you felt a little more self conscious about your forgetfulness. His copious apologies never really softened the amount the comment hurt you. But you felt like you needed to let this settle, he kept his distance from you since that night. There was this weird energy surrounding him whenever he spoke to you, looking ashamed and honestly dejected that he’d hurt you so. You semi-forgave him for his rudeness but truth be told you missed the tall Frenchie, the talks you had while he accompanied you, the way his loud laughter filled the air and brought you along into a more positive headspace. His cute smile that assured you that it’ll all be fine.

Finally, after many nights spent camping outside, very close to your final destination, the night was spent in a hotel. You’ve missed the softness of pillows and mattresses, being far more fond of those than sand that crept everywhere. The rooms had been distributed amongst your group, Joseph made it a point to pull you aside, suggesting you to talk to Polnareff since you were going to be sharing the room with him tonight. “Please just work this out, I know he hurt you, I do. Talk to him about it.” He pressed carefully, Joseph just felt the need to have the group dynamic stay cohesive, not wanting any bad feelings left to simmer before fighting Dio. You had to fully trust each other. You complied, knowing it to be the right thing to do, you missed the goofy Frenchman.

Polnareff walked in front of you, leading the way to your hotel room. In the past he’d link into your arm, “For safety.” he’d say with a wink. But now he silently moved through the long hallways. His broad shoulders seemed to tense more when he was around you lately, it troubled you. Once inside, the silence felt deafening, sucking any lightness out of the area. You couldn’t handle this any longer, taking Joseph up on his advice. “Jean... Polnareff. Can we talk for a moment?” You hesitated to call him Jean again, feeling like you lost that privilege. He turned from his position to face you, sitting on the edge of his bed parallel from yours. “Of course.” No “my dear”, no “oui mon cheri”. This really needed to get fixed. “We should clear the air. I- I truly miss you and your companionship. It feels so shitty to not have you by my side like before. It’s just that comment you made hit so deep. It’s like you confirmed my most hurtful thoughts that I’m such a burden to you guys and that deep down I’m just dead weight strung along the journey.” The words fell from you in a hurry, like they’d been pushing at the exit. You searched his face for any sign. His more serious look softened a little, his bright eyes showing a hint of sparkle again. “I know I hurt you. It’s been eating away at me, trust me. I just don’t know how to fix this, my apologies are honest and come straight from my heart but why do they feel so useless? Mon cheri you’ve brought me endless joy but I’ve hurt you. Je suis vraiment désolé. You are not a burden, the world itself would grow darker without you around.” He spoke so passionately, the Polnareff you knew and loved returning as he poured out his heart. He gestured you to come over and sit next to him on his bed, taking him up on it immediately. Your heart swelled with love at his beautiful words, finally softening the hurt from before. “There is not a day that goes by where I don’t wish I could take back those hurtful words. There is no excuse for them. But know I truly do care for you.” It felt like he was still holding back more but you were already tearing up from his apologies. Your arms had wrapped around his chest, burying your face into his side. “It’s alright now,” you sniffed into him. “no need to butter me up I’m already in love.” You confessed, scared to face him, burying your face deeper into his side. His arm around your shoulders peeled you from him, lifting your chin with his finger. Tears had already fallen from his pretty blue eyes but finally he smiled again. Cheeks that had turned a blushy pink were moving closer as he pressed his lips against yours. Gladly welcoming him into your embrace again, accepting his soft ones against yours. Even though the kiss was quick, it felt full of love and care, just like the man before you. “Promise me you’ll never forget me?” He smiled sweetly at you, looking like he was floating on a pink fluffy cloud. “I promise. Promise me to never be a dick again?” You smiled as you pecked his cheek. “Je te promets mon cheri.”

[fire-the-headcanons]

Follow the Beacon Summer—What Happened

[Link to Masterpost]

The school slowly broke down into organized insanity as exams approached. Students worked through meals or fell asleep in the library as teachers gave more and more coursework for review. Teachers encouraged team leaders to make sure their comrades were ready.

Raven was being exactly as cooperative as usual.

"No." She almost growled, pulling the blanket over her head. "It's a stupid assignment. We already learned that."

"Which is why it's called review," Summer argued. "Come on. Our team could be top of our year! Just look over your notes again—"

"Go to sleep."

She raised an eyebrow. "It's only eight."

"Sun's down."

A badly-suppressed noise wafted past her ear, and she turned to scowl at Tai and Qrow. "What are you two snickering at?"

"Oh, nothing." Tai buried his face in his textbook. "What's a Goliath?"

Qrow didn't bother to look up. "Elephant Grimm."

"Oh, charming." He flipped to the index with a scowl. "Come on, Summer, let's just head to the library without her."

She scowled at the simmering lump of blankets. "Nope. We're going to study right here ." The quilt growled, a low rumble with enough snarl to make her hair stand on end. Raven could make a Beowolf jealous, in the right mood.

"Any chance they're smaller than the real thing?"

"Um… no."

"...Common in midwestern Sanus. Why haven't I heard of them?"

"Because they're smart enough to stay away from Vale," Qrow said, holding up his own textbook. A photograph took up most of the page, and the Grimm took up most of the photograph. The unlucky Huntress that had taken the picture had nearly been standing underneath it, and the edges were blurred like they'd been running. As always, the tender spots were identified with thin red arrows. The Goliath had one. Right under its chin, past the trunk. And the tusks. He set the book in his lap, continuing. "They're not very common in Anima, but if you ever see one in the wild, run in the opposite direction."

"No kidding," she muttered, leaning forward to look again. "That thing could flatten a bullhead."

"Size just makes them a bigger target. The real problem is they're one of the weird ones."

A shiver ran down Summer's back at the dark in his tone. "Weird—"

"—ones?" Tai squeaked.

"They can trumpet like regular elephants, except that when you hear it you're struck with paralyzing terror. Big cities use androids to fight 'em, and smaller towns pay the big cities to take care of it if one shows up. If they can afford it."

"...Have you ever seen one?" Summer asked.

A shadow fell over his face. "Once."

Tai swallowed. "...What happened?"

Qrow didn't meet either of their eyes. "People died." With the aura of someone trying to change the subject, he continued on with forced nonchalance. "Its trumpet won't affect you if you're drunk enough, but it makes it kind of hard to fight. …Don't put that on the test."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Summer said, tracing an X over her heart as she copied it down in her notes. Raven pulled her blanket down just enough to give him a scathing glare before disappearing again.

He glanced down at his notes, searching for another way to change the subject. "Uh, the collapse of Vacuo's government, was, um…"

"Well, if you ask some people the Dust companies were behind the whole thing," Tai said, still flipping through pages of tracks to be identified. "But Lionheart's probably looking for something more along the lines of 'Vacuo's people trusted Shade more than their council and it fell apart.'"

Qrow frowned at his notes. "What actually happened?"

"Depends who you ask."

"…But what actually happened?" he asked again, transferring his stare to Tai.

Tai just shrugged.

Qrow sighed, dumping the book back on his desk before getting up to rifle through his closet. "I've been going for hours, I'm gonna take a break. …Raven, where's the shampoo?"

"I used the last of it this morning. Sorry."

"Guess we're going into Vale tomorrow."

Summer leaned back on the hind legs of her chair, biting back a smile as she swiped her shampoo out of the closet. "Here, you can use mine tonight." The cap opened with a soft click and she sniffed at it. "If it's not too flowery."

He took it and gave it a shake. "Are you sure? You're almost out too."

"Yeah, how about I give you some Lien and you can pick mine up for me to pay me back? Tai and I still have to study for our history midterm too, we were going to do the reviews this weekend."

"Yeah, no problem. Thanks."

"Ehh, let's take a break too." He tossed his notes onto the bed and stood up, stretching. "Maybe the dragon will fall asleep while we're gone if we go on a walk."

"Takes one to know one, Xiao Long ."

"Goodnight, Raven," he said in an exaggerated whisper, gesturing for Summer to go through the door before him. Qrow pulled away, headed for the men's room, and Tai turned in the opposite direction.

"Wait, you're serious?" Summer asked as he started toward the stairs. "It's freezing out there."

"Use a little aura," he said, the humor gone from his voice. "We need to talk."

"...W-what…"

Tai shook his head, gesturing for her to follow, and as they stepped into the dark a shiver ran down her back that had nothing to do with the weather. A few flurries caught the light of a lamppost. First snow of the year, in the middle of exams. It figured.

"Qrow asked me not to talk about this," Tai muttered, and Summer snapped back to the moment. He rubbed his eyes. "I just…"

"What?"

"I walked in on him changing the other day…"

"Awkward. ...More awkward since you're telling me about it."

Tai shook his head, still not making eye contact. "That's not it. S… someone cut him."

Summer gritted her teeth. "He's hiding another injury? How low is his aura this ti—"

"No—not injuries. Scars. ...I've never seen anything like it," he mumbled, nausea stealing over his face. "Not in the first aid textbooks. None of the lines were parallel, they couldn't have been made by teeth or claws."

Summer's stomach turned over.

"I can't be sure but they looked recent."

"How recent?" she demanded, surprising herself with her voice's high pitch.

"I don't know. I asked him about it but he won't talk to me. All he said was that Raven didn't do it, but she couldn't know that I knew." His hands tightened on a book Summer hadn't noticed him holding as he held it up to glare at the cover. "...I've been reading about human trafficking."

"You don't think—"

"I don't know." Tai's hand dropped back to his side. "All I know for sure is, wherever they came from, they can't go back."

She nodded, wishing her stomach would untie itself or at least stop moving.

"Just… try to stay close to him, y'know? He's… he's terrified of me. He swears the skirt thing didn't bother him, but I can't think of any other reason for it—"

The knot in her gut tightened painfully. "Oh, fuck."

* * *

"Hey, Summer? Is your hair that color because of your soap?" Qrow asked, holding up the empty shampoo bottle. "City dwellers." He scraped a lock of hair between his nails and completely failed to remove the color. Slightly lighter than hers, now, but a similar deep red. "How the hell can anyone make soap complicated?"

"I put hydrogen peroxide in as a prank," Summer said, forcing a smile and fighting to keep her voice steady.

Comprehension dawned on his face. "Oh!"

"I'll get you some Lien for black dye so you can put it back to normal tomorrow."

"I dunno, I kinda like it," he said, examining his reflection in the mirror on the inside of his closet door. "…And I can spend the next few months telling everyone you're my twin."

"You can have him," Raven said instantly.

Qrow grabbed his pillow and casually tossed it on her face, ignoring the half-hearted squawk of protest. "Whatever. Let's get back to work."

Who could hurt him? He was kind to everyone—even Dan , for gods' sakes, with how unpleasant he'd been.

" ...Hey, this stuff isn't going to stain my pillow, is it?"

"It removes color from your hair, actually."

"Weird."

[A bit rushed, but it exists.]

Next Chapter: Qrow—Kill Me Yourself

[dancerwrites]

Hello friend! I see your (amazing btw) Crit role writing and I thought I'd slip you an idea. Idk if you're a lord of the rings fan, but ep 102 reminded me so much of Sam's speech from the second movie (if you don't know it, it's on YouTube) because I didn't want to know how it would end, and I just thought that was a cool parallel worth sharing. You don't have to do anything with this info, though you're welcome to it!

Anon, thank you. I rewatched that scene at your prompting (it’s been a couple years since I saw Two Towers), and it made me cry with the connection you drew here. So good, so perfect, so touching in that different context.

Here’s something, inspired by that particular scene:

Hold on (even the darkness must pass) 

**Spoilers for 102**

At the edge of their camp, Percy stood. 

It was relatively quiet in the Feywild, much more so than ithad been the last time they were there. It was almost as if their surroundingswere reflecting the mood of the group - downtrodden and exhausted.

Vex had already split the dusk with a scream to the heavensafter seeing her brother’s armor in Scanlan’s arms. They’d all tried soothingher – Keyleth had even mentioned a spell that would bring him back, though shehad seemed just as wrecked as Vex – but Vex had been inconsolable and had flownoff on her broom into the woods around them.

Keyleth had immediately shifted into Minxie and run afterher, Grog following, leaving Pike, Scanlan, Percy, and Delilah’s body in theclearing at the water’s edge.

Percy remembered firing shots into Delilah’s corpse, rememberedPike pulling him away from it, Pike telling him that she’d keep watch.

He’d wanted to tinker, wanted to fix his guns, but hehonestly couldn’t find the energy.

He had fulfilled his promise to his sister. When they could,they would desecrate her body further, they would make it impossible for her tocome back, at least, to the best of their abilities.

But they were stuck in the Feywild, at least until theyrested.

So he stood at the water’s edge, surveying its depths, tryingto remember what they Feywild had looked like a year before – if it was comingfor the second time or his state of mind that meant he no longer noticed thevibrancy of the colors.

Percy looked up at the sound of heavy footfalls, and sawGrog returning to their camp, just behind Vex and Trinket. As they got closer,Percy could see the tear tracks on Vex’s face and the way her fingers weretightly curled into Trinket’s fur.

She glanced up at him, and Percy tilted his head slightly,holding out a hand in invitation. Slowly, as if she were in a daze, she nodded,and headed toward him, Grog crossing the clearing to where Pike and Scanlanwere sitting.

“What can I do?” Percy asked, once she got close enough.When she stared at him, uncomprehending, for a moment, he tried again. “Is thereanything you need?”

Vex bit her lip and dropped her gaze. She looked beaten,like she hadn’t slept in days, and Percy wanted nothing more than to restoreher brother to her in that moment.

“I could probably use some water,” Vex mumbled with a shrug,curling into herself, and into Trinket, who moaned quietly, swinging his headaround to look at her.

Percy took his own waterskin and held it out to her, lowenough for her to see it, and she took it slowly, with murmured thanks.

After a couple of sips in silence, Vex spoke.

“I shouted at her, at the Raven Queen,” she said, chuckling.“I was so angry, and so… I yelled at a goddess.”

“I think it might be warranted.”

“Mmmm,” Vex hummed, staring at the waterskin for a longmoment before bringing it back up to her lips. “But it didn’t help. Nothing’schanged.”

Percy opened his mouth, trying to find some reassurance, buthe had none. He stepped forward instead, reaching out an arm to put around hershoulders, but she pulled back from him, recoiling as if he had burned her byhis proximity.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered, knuckles white around thewaterskin. “I just- right now… Right now I can’t.”

Vex looked up at him, as if to beg him to understand, to notask questions, and though his heart broke, he nodded. He understood all toowell.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” he murmured instead, and hesaw Vex’s eyes fill with tears as she nodded.

For a moment he thought she might say something else, butVex pulled at Trinket’s fur and the two of them went off toward the ruins nearNala’s pool, and Percy was left watching them walk away, feeling a heavy weighton his shoulders.

It was then that Keyleth, as Minxie, started to approach,and Percy saw that she’d been lingering at the edge of the tree line while hetalked to Vex. He waited while she came to him, pushing her considerable weightagainst his right leg, before she chuffed, tossing her head slightly. Percyknelt, resting a hand on top of her head, gently, and she pushed up into histouch, ducking under his arm and pushing her face close to his, whining.

“I know, I know,” Percy murmured, scratching the fur behindher ears as he started to tear up for the first time since leaving theShadowfell. “I know.”

She butted her head against his chest and Percy sat down, stillrunning his fingers through her fur. Keyleth chuffed her thanks, and she walkedup to him, shoulders loping. Letting herself sink to the ground, she pressedher head into his thigh and sighed, the rest of her body going limp while herears went back, almost lying flat on her head.

Percy didn’t say anything else, giving Keyleth the onlycomfort he could.

They sat together for a long while, long enough for Percy’slegs to go numb, tingling slightly, and for Grog to go out into the forest andcome back with some already-dead wood for a fire. Vex and Trinket were still bythe ruins, Vex curled against Trinket’s side. She appeared to be sleeping, andPercy hoped she’d be able to get at least a little rest.

It was after another long stretch, the only noises aroundthem the rustling of plant life in the wind, or a faint splash or gurgle fromthe pool they sat near, that Keyleth dropped Minxie form, shifting to her usualhalf-elf stature, though her head was still pillowed on Percy’s thigh.

He stopped stroking her fur as she changed, but trailed hisfingers through her short hair for a moment, resting them on her shoulder as hefinished.

Keyleth sighed, long and deep, and her breath caught whenshe tried to inhale again. Percy ran his thumb gently over her shoulder as shehad done for him several times, and her fingers came up to meet his as shepushed her face into his leg, squeezing his hand tightly as she took a hold ofit.

He didn’t realize until he felt dampness seeping through,that Keyleth was crying.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she murmured, just loudenough for him to hear. “This spell – it’s called True Resurrection – it doesn’teven need a ritual if performed right. It should just bring someone back.”

Her breath caught again, and he held her hand tightly,trying to give her some modicum of strength.

“I just-“

She cut herself off, pulling his hand closer to her chest,and she sniffed. “I can’t do this, Percy.”

Watching her for a moment, Percy hummed in agreement, lookingout over the picturesque pool they found themselves at, remembering the wonderhe’d felt on their first visit – the myriad sketches he’d started before gettingblinded by Nala and the seemingly hundreds he had finished before they left.

“I know,” he said finally, brushing his thumb over herfingers. “It all feels wrong.”

He remembered when Vex had fallen to his stupidity in thetomb of the Raven Queen’s champion. The devastation he’d felt seeing her, lyingthere, thinking she was gone forever.

“I mean, we shouldn’t even have made it this far,” he said,thinking of each of his party members and how they’d fallen. Even Keyleth, tothe cliff’s rocks as a goldfish. “But we have.”

He closed his eyes, imagining the foes they’d fought, thebattles they’d won side-by-side. Percy remembered when the Chroma Conclave hadattacked Emon, and thinking that was the worst things could get.

“It’s like in stories,” he murmured, still holding her handas he remembered their first glimpse of the Shadowfell, of the tower and theruins surrounding it. “The ones that matter, that people always tell.”

He remembered his mother teaching him how to read at a youngage, how to string sentences together.

“They were always full of darkness, full of despair anddanger, and more often than not you wouldn’t want to keep listening, becausehow could things get better? How could the end be happy?

“You wondered how things could ever go back to the way theywere.”

Keyleth’s breath hitched again. Percy squeezed her fingers,and pulled her closer.

Thoughts of Whitestone came to his mind – seeing the streetsfilled with undead and mists and terror. He remembered the darkness that hungover his city, filling it like the plague. But he remembered how Whitestone hadlooked before they left for Ank’harel. The Sun Tree, branches green andstarting to flower, the fields rich and green and full of life…

“At the end of the day,” he murmured, glancing over to whereDelilah’s body sat, near Scanlan, “The shadows pass, the darkness flees –sometimes inexplicably. New life comes, and a new day.”

A new tomorrow,his mind supplies, remembering the card reader in Ank’harel, and a sunrise overthe ruins of Draconia as Keyleth’s ritual brought fertile soil to the landagain.

“And when the sun shines again, it shines all the clearer,”Percy murmured, voice growing thick.

“Those were the sort of stories that stick with you; theones that meant something, even when you might have felt too young tounderstand.

“But… I think I understand them now,” Percy said, and helooked around to his friends, to their still-standing forms, broken but notdefeated.

“The heroes in those stories, they had plenty of chances toturn back. Plenty of chances to say “fuck it”, but they didn’t. Because theyalways had something to hold onto.”

Keyleth turned to her back, looking up at him, and he sawthe red in her eyes, saw the wetness on her cheeks and the pain in her thatseemed a deeper reflection of his own.

“And what are we supposed to hold onto?” Keyleth asked him,her voice trembling.

“That there’s some good left in this world,” he replied,almost surprised by his own confidence, and how strongly he believed his ownwords. “And that it’s worth fighting for.”

Keyleth stared at him for a moment, eyes bright, and thenshe pushed herself up to sit next to him, pulling her hand from his so shecould throw her arms around him in a hug.

He held her, on the springy grass next to a glimmering poolin the Feywild, beneath an eternal dusk. And while he didn’t have any more tosay, he held her close, waiting for her sobs to taper out, and felt, somehow,inexplicably, that they were going to make it.

[emzywritesfic-blog]

We Start Them Young

(Originally posted May 6, 2013)

Fandom: Marvel

Words: 2,024

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Ivan Petrovitch, minor original characters

Other Tags: Red Room, backstory, parallels

Not everything Natasha does, she does because she was told to.

“Let’s move, ladies!” the guard behind the long line of twenty or so preteen girls bellowed.  They marched along the cold floor a little faster, keeping their shoulders square, but their lower lips twitched in fear of the whip that the guard always carried by his side.  Sometimes Natalia felt that all they did was march, even though most of their day was filled with training.  The monotony of the marching just seemed to stick out in her mind.  Left, right, left, right, left, right.

There had used to be at least one hundred girls in her group, but only a few hours ago, guards had swept through their usual dormitory, orderly and silently, and plucked certain girls from their beds, forcing them into clothes.  These specific girls were then shuffled into a horse trailer, which was driven for so long that Natalia had actually fallen asleep, and then wound up in this unknown location with long, narrow halls and leaking pipes.

The guard that had been barking at them for the last five minutes cracked his whip hard against the floor, sending resonating vibrations through every surface in the hall.

“Eeep!”  Just behind Natalia there came a sharp squeak.  she turned around quickly.  Kira clutched her mouth with both hands and her eyes shone with tears.

The guard, who the girls had come to know as Eristov, sniffed at Kira and then trudged his combat boots towards the head of the line.  On the side where he wasn’t walking, Natalia reached back and enveloped Kira’s cold fingers in her palm and squeezed lightly.

Eristov was a large man who always smelled of liquor, with a prickly, unshaven face and deep set eyes.  “Listen well,” he growled at them, “this is where you will be staying for the remainder of your training.  Be sure to get a good night’s rest.”  Without batting an eyelid, he produced a clipboard from the inside of his thick coat.  “Lidiya and Anja, Room One.  Madina and Svetlana, Room Two.  Lara and Dima, Room Three.  Kira and Natalia, Room Four...”

He went on, but Natalia tugged on Kira’s hand and the two scrambled into their designated room.

Natalia didn’t exactly remember how, but she and Kira had bonded almost immediately after starting the program.  This friendship alienated her from the other girls, because Kira was the scrawny, crybaby runt of the group who always got picked on by her superiors, but Natalia didn’t care.  Kira looked up to her and was in desperate need of a friend.

The small blonde girl plopped herself onto one of the two beds and shook violently.  Natalia sat down on the same bed, folding Kira tightly into her side in an attempt to get her to calm down.

“I’m so scared, Natalia,” she whimpered.  “The other girls are so brave, but I am so very scared.”

Natalia petted her friend’s hair in silence.

“You are the bravest of all of them, Natalia,” Kira went on, half in awe and half in self-loathing.  “Are you not scared?”

If she were to tell the truth, Natalia would have said that she was growing just as scared as Kira.  She had been brought into the program by Ivan Petrovitch, her father’s colleague and closest friend, who was also involved with it.  He had told her that it was a type of boarding school.  Initially, Natalia was nervous, but she trusted Ivan, and she knew that as long as he was close, she would never be in danger.  But as time passed, the training grew more and more rigorous and Natalia saw less and less of Ivan.  She was lucky just to catch a glimpse of his shoulder as he was hurrying to who knows where once every few weeks.  And now, the girls had been moved to a strange, new place and she had no idea where Ivan was.  She was as scared as she had ever been, but she was not about to admit that to Kira.

She brushed a kiss against her friend’s cheek and hopped off the bed.

“You heard Eristov,” she reminded weakly, hustling into the nightgown that was left for her.  “We should get to sleep.”

After an hour or two, Natalia heard Kira’s soft, deep breathing from the bed across the room to indicate that she had fallen under.  She, however, was still awake.  She lay facing the wall, quiet and still, every so often a tear falling across the bridge of her nose and onto her pillow.  Even back in the regular dormitory, she never truly slept much - only about one to three hours a night.  She had made it more than once not even sleeping at all.  She never wanted to sleep, because every time she closed her eyes she was back in Sao Paulo.  She was the flames and heard the wails of the sirens and felt the cold water from the puddles lash against her legs as she was pushed and dragged away from the scene.

Natalia’s shoulders tightened as she heard a high-pitched, metallic moan and a dim light was cast upon the wall.  Kira was still sleeping.

Someone was in their room.

Natalia remained still as a corpse, clenching her jaw and perking her ears to the low heaving breaths that steadily grew closer.  She felt cold as all the blood drained from her face.

The throaty sighs could now be felt on the back of her neck.  Natalia could feel herself begin to physically shake.  She felt rough, calloused fingers gently touch her hair and then slowly graze her pale arm.

Then she felt those same fingers lift up the collar of her nightgown and something warm and slimy touched the base of her neck.  It was a tongue.

Natalia’s elbow jarred back in reply, bending the nose it came in contact with into a new shape.  She reached her hands up and grabbed the head of her attacker and willed all of her strength to push it away.  There was a sharp crack of bone and a scream of agony.

Adrenaline the only thing running through her veins, Natalia scrambled off of her bed and continued to deliver blows to the figure.  A punch to the shoulder.  A kick to the stomach.  Another punch to the jaw.  A knee to the crotch.  She even bit his wrist just because she could.  With each attack, the stranger screamed louder and Natalia found herself screaming as well, hot tears blurring her vision but still expertly delivering every blow

The intruder fell to the floor as the door was slammed wide open.  In the light, Natalia could see that the person who had placed their tongue on her neck was Eristov.  She turned around sharply, more tears spilling onto the floor.  There in the doorway stood an impressively tall man with a double-breasted coat and a scar, who was seething at what he was in front of him, and Ivan Petrovitch at his heels.  Natalia was completely frozen.  In her cold sweat, the only thing moving was her heart under her skin, pumping more than forty miles an hour.

The tall man’s stone mouth barely moved as he retched softly, “Get Eristov on his feet.  I’ll take the girl.”

They took her to a poorly lit room far away from the hallway where the bedrooms were.  The floor was concrete and the walls were solid steel.  All there was was a long table, a single chair, and a broken lamp that swung from the ceiling with a haunting creak.  Natalia was pushed down hard into the chair, which wheezed slightly under her pressure.  The man with the scar - Natalia noted that the others called him Toropov and that he was higher in rank than either of them - began to pace in front of her.  He was a silent stone of a man, but Natalia could hear the anger in his breathing.  Eristov stood at a close distance, watching Toropov with the eyes of a Rottweiler, not glancing towards the young girl at all.  During the exchange of rooms, he had developed a limp and gotten a cloth to hold to his bloody face.  The silhouette of Ivan could barely be made out as he stood against the far wall, not moving at all.  Natalia searched for his eyes in the shadows, but found nothing but darkness.

Toropov stopped pacing and carefully pressed his hands down onto the table that separated Natalia and him, and fiercely glared down into her eyes.

“So what happened?” he snarled, the gleam of his bared teeth giving Natalia an uncomfortable shiver.

“The little bitch tried to kill me, that’s what happened!” Eristov instantly retorted, hobbling over towards his boss’ side.  Toropov held out his strong hand as a signal for him to stay away, not even looking at him.  He spoke again.

“You have five seconds to tell me why you were deliberately attacking your superior before I ring your neck.”

Natalia swallowed, her mouth gone dry.  Her vision was swimming with anger.  Anger at Eristov for what he had tried to do.  Anger at Toropov for deliberately ignoring what Eristov was doing in her room in the first place.  She gripped the sides of the chair in her white fists.  She choked on each word as it fell from her mouth, glaring into Toropov’s steely eyes.

“He wanted me.”

Toropov was still for a moment, processing what he had just been told.  Then he quickly retracted his hands from where they rested on the table and began to pace again, tenser than before.

“Nothing you say is going to get you out of here,” he almost chuckled, and Natalia felt a strange cold running through her blood again.  “You think that by making up some bullshit lies that we’re somehow going to let you go.  What you don’t understand is this is your life now.  You can never escape.  Now why were you disobeying Eristov?”

“I was not disobeying; he wanted me,” Natalia pressed, louder and grittier than before.

Toropov snapped, turning around and slamming his fists down hard on the table, towering over her like an animal.

“STOP LYING TO ME!”

Natalia’s blood was pulsing at an alarming rate.  She shoved the table into Toropov’s stomach.  He let out a sharp cry as she bolted to the other side of the room.  In a flash, she reached under Ivan’s coat where she knew he kept his gun and, through her brimming tears, pulled the trigger, aimed squarely at Toropov’s chest.  He fell to the floor with a bang.

Eristov was at his side in an instant, weight resting on the leg that wasn’t limping.  He began shouting for help and checking for vital signs.  Natalia could hear a low wheeze as Toropov fought for his last moments.

Ivan came from behind her and ripped the gun out of her hands.  The young girl tried to look into his eyes, but his palm made sharp contact with the side of her face in one quick thwack!  She crumpled to her knees.  She clutched her cheek where the skin had been broken and choked on her own raggedy breath.  Tears stung in her eyes.  She screwed them shut in trying to relieve the sudden nausea.

The Ivan she knew was no longer alive.

She buried her face in her hands, trying to slow her heart rate.  Every place that the gun had touched her was engulfed in fire, yet she was shivering as if she was frostbitten.  She had handled weapons before in training, but never like this.  She had never actually shot someone.  It was always a sheet of paper or a doll stuffed with sand.  Never a real, living person.  She never had to see that blood spill onto the floor.  Never.

Faceless guards soon swarmed the room, tiptoeing around Toropov’s body.  Keeping an eye on Natalia, Petrovitch pulled two of the guards to the side.  He whispered, but she could read his lips perfectly.

“Take the girl.  I want her fully turned by sunrise; no excuses.”