PETRCVNAS : a private writing blog for original character nika petrovna. penned by emily ( 26 , she/her ) for ops416.

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@petrcvnas
PETRCVNAS : a private writing blog for original character nika petrovna. penned by emily ( 26 , she/her ) for ops416.

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Kim Addonizio, from "Body and Soul", What Is This Thing Called Love
[ Text ID:
Sometimes the body gets so quiet it can hear the soul, scratching like something trapped inside the walls and trying frantically to get out. ]
> >   đ´đđđđ°đ˛đđ¸đ˝đśÂ đđ°đđśđ´đ đłđ´đđ°đ¸đťđ  ... 2000 hours @ town square, the old quarter, krovograd  ...  [ warning ... 0/3 others in line of sight ]
preparations for vesna night had started some three to four weeks ago â she had been walking through the square dressed as a civilian rather than an agent when one of the old women had beckoned her over with a wave of a wrinkled hand and mÄlina had been helpless to refuse the test run of honey cakes or the demand that she join the other women in the renactment on the night itself.  (  you were a dancer, yes  ? she had looked up, mouth full of black bread and churned butter, to nod. it seemed almost criminal to do anything else.  good. we need someone strong to lift up daria here. yes  ? her gaze drifted over the girl, taking in the sunken cheeks and feverish bright eyes, and knew there was no other answer except to nod again.  ) if she had known that it involved costumes, years old expired concealer, old poster colors from a children's paint set and a mask that fitted oddly over her forehead, she might have put up more of a resistance, but the part had been played and her reward had been pressed into her palms, still warm from the fire. landing down with a heavy grunt onto one of the empty chairs situated in a half - circle around the bonfire, she dragged the mask over her head and pinched at the cake half - heartedly, though the first bite reminded her of the ones she had already tasted in the days leading up to it, burned or undercooked and shoved into the mouth to avoid wastage, and the memory served only to make her flinch away from the sweetness, holding out the treat to the person closest to her. â ... here. i only pinched a bit off that corner. â mÄlina looked a little green around the gills â the funny - smelling paint that had been streaked across her cheeks did little to help with her appearance.  â it feels wrong to just toss it, considering ... â this was all some of them had. she swallowed around the honey - soaked cake and offered the other person a smile and a change in topic, hoping her words had not offered insult where there was none.  â i distinctly remember my father saying something about jumping over a bonfire once, but that could be another festival. do you think you could clear that ? â chin lifted, pointing towards the crackling fire pit.
she's properly in her cups now, head tipped back to watch the embers from the fire spiral up into the night air. the stars above seem to warp the harder she tries to focus on them. nika gives up, taking another sip of her drink, only to frown at the taste. someone, undoubtedly well-meaning, has swapped it out for water. she wonders when that happened.
someone is speaking from beside her. nika swivels in her seat to see an hand outstretched. she doesn't recognise the woman or her voice, and her mask hides her features. still, nika takes the cake offering. "you're not wrong. thanks." mama is always complaining nika is too skinny, and while she might scold her for taking food from a stranger, she certainly wouldn't beseech her the calories.
"ha! no way." she shakes her head. "alek kozlov did that in our final year and set his pants on fire. but that was because he's a rot drinker, not because of the festival." she leans towards the person. "why, you want to try?"
location: town square thread status: open ( 3 / 5 )
the proximity of the bonfire brings tears to nika's eyes, the skin of her cheeks uncomfortably tight from the heat. all her gaiety from past vesna's nights is gone. this year there is no sister to dance with or steal honey cakes from â even their mother is conspicuously absent, opting to stay home instead of celebrate the occasion. as the flames dance before her, nika works hard to swallow the lump in her throat.
she steps back from the fire, eager to banish her self-pitying thoughts, and her back collides with a solid mass. "oh shit!" the cup she's holding sways precariously, but somehow she saves it from toppling. "i am so sorry. i didn't get any on you, did i?"
your eyes hurt the next time they tear up. they burn like fire. you are on fire. you are fire.Â

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âď¸Â ( mikey madison. cis woman. she/her ) in krovograd , survival is a test of both skill and morality â will NIKA PETROVNA withstand the horrors , or will the city break them ? over the comms , their voice cuts through the static : âI COULDN'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT YOUR MISSION â HAVE YOU SEEN MY SISTER OR NOT?â our records confirm they are a 25 year old FARMER , assigned to THE LOCALS for 3 YEARS. field reports describe them as BOLD & RESILIENT, though firsthand accounts suggest they are equally IRREVERENT & OBSTINATE under pressure. thereâs something about them â something in the way they move , speak , or fight â that brings to mind NOBODY'S SOLDIER ( HOZIER ). maybe it's just a coincidence. or maybe , it says everything.Â
BIOGRAPHY. PINTEREST. SPOTIFY.
ANORA (2024) dir. by sean baker mikey madison as anora "ani" mikheeva
"I was excited about playing a character like this, because sheâs very complicated. I always wanted an audience to recognize her pain underneath everything."