a russian rat is clever!

 ❛ it seems like it was just yesterday that we had left. ❜ and it was ; it felt like just yesterday that she had not only been reunited with her family, but her identity as well. and while she had wanted to stay in paris && make up for lost time, she had felt the need to leave greater. to discover who she truly was. figuring out her name && reuniting with her family was the first piece of the puzzle. her existence had been tied to russia ; the place that raised both of them - had taught them everything they knew. 

they’d moved onto france ; starting with the city of love. a city that had not only brought her love in her life through dmitry, but through her family as well. explored the beautiful countryside of it, and had fallen in love with the country. it wasn’t  home just yet, not in the way that russia was, but with dmitry by her side - and her family, she had no doubt that france would unlock the key to her heart in no time. with rome, came whirlwind adventures & wishes, coins in the trevi fountain. and in germany, admiration of the arts - cultivating hobbies and interests that surely, she would’ve been interested in had her childhood still been intact. 

❛ while at the same time, it seems like we’ve experienced so much that it’s felt like a lifetime. ❜ 

they’ve both had a lifetime of memories ; gone through things no one should’ve in any lifetime - had experiences that shouldn’t. she’d do anything to have her family back - but the roads had led her to dmitry, and for that, she was grateful. she’s aware that he didn’t need to go with her ; that he could’ve stayed behind, made a new life for himself - something stable and practical. but instead, he had followed her, accompanying her on her quest to not only know herself a little better, but to see more of the world. she’s filled with so much love for this boy ; so much gratitude & appreciation. 

❛ thank you - for accompanying me. ❜ 

he blinks at her, not bothering to cover any surprise she may find there. he wasn’t expecting a thanks, wasn’t looking for her gratitude. if she hadn’t stopped him on this bridge, he’d have spent his time wandering aimlessly around europe, looking for something that could fill the holes paris would’ve made in his chest-- but with her beside him, as eager to see more of the world ( more than just cold, unforgiving russia ) as he was, it was nothing short of incredible. who needed stable and practical, anyways? that was too boring, there was no risk in any of it. you’d think after living years full of it, dmitry would be ready for something boring and safe, but there’s a thrill in taking risks that he’s become addicted to. it’s partly to blame for the whole grand duchess scheme that started all this; it had been the biggest plot he’d formulated, and had the biggest foreseeable consequences he’d ever faced.

but it had paid off and here he was, facing another risk.

because even though he’d been granted her grandmother’s permission ( it had only been the right and proper thing to do, to ask for her hand through what family she had left ), this still felt like he was treading on thin ice and would be until he got an answer. it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility for anya to refuse him. to ask for more time, to agonize over it as he had, and to let him down as gently as she knew how. she made him feel special, like he was worth all the trouble he caused and headaches he spurned, like he was better than any prince that could be ushered in to take her hand and waltz her away from him forever. but just because what they had felt like it could last, felt like it could be forever, because he wouldn’t have agreed to staying ( more specifically, staying around her ) if it hadn’t, royal blood was royal blood and she could still be holding out for a real prince.

the last time his hands were sweating this much, he was pacing inside a theater grander than anywhere he’d even been in his life, hoping that anya could convince the dowager empress that she was indeed her granddaughter, nerves frayed despite knowing she was who was being searched for. of course, that was followed by her shoving his chest and yelling at him for his dishonesty and then disrespecting her grandmother immediately after. dmitry was hoping tonight would go a little smoother than that. 

so he distracts himself from the burning sensation that radiated from the small box in his pocket by admiring anya as they strolled leisurely down her grandfather’s bridge, arm in arm. she looked radiant as always, eyes alight with wonder and hair carefully pulled from her face, oblivious to his lovesick gaze. 

they had traveled away from paris for a time, traveled and saw more of the world and what it had to offer, but had come back after a year’s time as promised to her nona ( as well as vlad and lily ). each had been overjoyed to see them, and dmitry had to admit he’d missed vlad greatly in their time apart. but now they had a quiet moment to themselves in the cooling parisian evening, the lights along the bridge being lit as stone passed under their feet, and he was soaking it in. the warm welcome they had received hadn’t thrown him, but the formality it was held with did. because while the couple had been in their own little bubble as they traveled, they were back where they started and he was reminded of her roots all over again. the feeling of inadequacy had captured his stomach and knotted it, and the thought of losing her to someone of a higher standing ( she could only go up from here, he reasons ) is almost too much to bear. so after days agonizing over it, and rambling to an amused vlad, he’d gone ahead and purchased a ring ( with lily’s help ), and planned to pop the question when he felt the time was right that night. it just-- hadn’t been the right time yet.

but he wasn’t supposed to force it,right?

@russiaraised

    Face visibly VEXED with brows furrowed in frustration, she storms up to him, stopping just short of slamming into him. 

    ❛ Have you seen this? ❜ she demands, the tone of her voice resembling a growl more than genuine curiosity as she pulls the exit papers ( their new aliases and essentially their tickets out of Russia ) out of her pockets, shoving them into Dmitry’s hands instead. ❛ Us, married? What was Vlad thinking! ❜ 

    The words sound even more absurd coming from her than they had from Vlad. Until yesterday, she and Dmitry hadn’t even had a decent conversation that didn’t end with them bickering like children. And now, Vlad’s GRAND IDEA consisted of them trying to escape from Russia under the pretence of Dmitry being a designer for the Ballets Russes and her as his false wife.

after fumbling with the papers for a moment, attention torn between looking them over and trying to keep a furious young woman at bay, dots connect and he can understand the situation. it hadn’t been his idea, as we was also acutely aware of the fact that they could hardly be civil with one another for longer than maybe a half hour at most, so the fact that she’s taking out her anger at him puts a matching scowl on his lips.

“--married?”

tickets were tickets, vlad had come through as promised, and he had been trying to get out of russia long enough that this technicality only bothered him fractionally. what was vlad thinking? well, he was probably thinking this would be the easiest facade their odd group could feasibly manage. vlad wasn’t one to meddle, and they certainly didn’t need that kind of distraction right now, either. they had to be focused on their plan and their plan alone. frankly, he’s more concerned about pulling off the designer charade than the married one.

❝    well,  i’m glad we could be your first!    ❞      the grin she wears morphs into something akin to cheeky,  now.  his is not a familiar accent,  and her ears can’t help but pick up on it;  which is quite usual,  really.  their visitors are so often from overseas,  after all.  she has met so many people from so many different countries,  that she often feels as though she’s travelled the world,  despite rarely ever leaving the opera house!

❝    oh,  since i was very little!  i first started lessons when i was five,  and i joined the corps at fourteen.  i’ve spent my whole life here,  though,  so it’s really all i know.    ❞

paris has thrown him, truly it has, between not understanding half of what was spoken around him and the entirely different way of life it thrived upon ( full of glamour and light and nothing at all like the petersburg he left behind ). but not in a bad way, as disorientating as it could be. he felt clean, and in such nice attire he felt less like he didn’t belong in such a classy environment full of people who used to essentially be russian royalty themselves. and meeting people like this young dancer was certainly a perk, as he’d never spoken to a real performer before!

❛ count popov. i don’t recall ever hearing a count popov before. pleasure to make your acquaintance. ❜

at least he appears to be apologetic about her toes - some of her dance partners don’t even apologize. whether he’s a distraction sent via prince naveen or a rusty dancer of a count, he’s still a terrible dancer - a dead giveaway that he doesn’t belong. something in her compels her to help him ; maybe it’s the fact that she’s tired of having her feet stepped on, or something else, but she finds herself telling him the steps. 

❛ one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight - turn. ❜

the counting helps, as much as admitting it would sour his tongue. but better to have his pride slightly wounded for a fleeting moment than do any permanent damage to the poor girl’s toes. her assistance allows him to find the beat and stick with it, movements becoming more natural than they had been. features soften, easing up along with his posture, as he continues the count silently in his head. turn throws him off momentarily, but recovery is quick and he manages to find his place again relatively fast.

        a cheerful disposition would slowly start to fade the second that the street rat started to make excuses, as if he could expect anything else from him. a flick of his hand would leave the pair alone, gleb taking his sweet time as he moved to his desk and poured himself a warm cup of tea. all he wanted was to get this over with as much as the other did, but unlike the other, he had a job and title to uphold. eyes would carefully watch him, making sure that he made no rash decisions.

        “not so fast, comrade. we have matters to discuss and i’m sure that whatever better thing you have to do… it can wait.”

“wait for what? for you to finish your lecture about how lucky i am to be living where i am and to watch my step? i’ve heard it before, you can save your breath.”