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from here
@czesarevich
Is that Shakespeare or something? @tretiyrim
Wanna know what I’m thinking about right now?
@vilavelebita
“Yeah... I can’t swallow fish oil pills, either. I just... drank some oil and hoped it would do what I wanted.”
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observe :3c
a diary’s margin notes / selectively accepting!!
st. peterburg, october.
Autumn fell weak before the wrath of Father Winter this year. His reign began early. His wrath was especially felt at the waterfront, and one ill-prepared artist abandoned his riverside spot to shiver his way into one café on the street corner.
Alexei and Anica followed him in. It was a welcome distraction from their awkward silence between vague reminiscing enroute to the visitor's drop-off point; at a bus stop a few streets away. Barely stepping into the café - the entrance serving briefly as the artist's gallery - Alexei spoke with the artist. It was calm, yet clearly engaged with their work. If the artist's gaze looked behind him, to Anica, her brow was more furrowed and her smile was thinner. Her mouth had turned blue, and she only nods to what of the conversation she understood.
What she did understand was endearing. The artist’s weathered smile, barely veiling teeth chattering with the cold, confirmed that she understood correctly. Anica’s smile grew for him.
Eventually, the chat stopped, and without saying anything the two agreed to stay for another moment to warm themselves up. Anica insisted in ordering, and only needed to repeat her order three times. Eventually, they sat down, and Anica’s smile was gone.
Their reluctance to make eye contact in this wait gave her plenty of time to drift her attention elsewhere: a child behind playing some obnoxious, loud game on their mother's phone, their mother gossiping excitedly on the phone, the trainee cashier being lectured, a business meeting a woman was attending from her laptop spoken too quickly for Anica to understand. Even when the faulty connection meant she needed to repeat herself, no, nothing, Anica still didn't understand.
It was all rudely interrupted by the clang of mugs and saucers arriving to their table:
Two strongly steeped black teas - so much for Anica's cappuccino. She could complain, but chose to not invoke the wrath of the training manager. Anica forgave that poor trainee. She teared open a pack of sugar and stirred.
The rip of paper earned a sniff from Alexei, who does nothing to his own cup before taking the handle in hand.
Lithe, willowy fingers crept out from the sleeve of his peacoat and wrapped around the handle. Anica watched those fingers, and noted how they looked even paler than usual against the indigo-blue of his coat. They only took on colour when the heat of the mug worked it’s magic.
The pink found in his fingertips contrasted against the white of his knuckles. She had seen them whiter, nearly a whole century ago when dressing his wounds. It took mustering up all of her maternal nurturing to tell Alexei to "just grit your teeth, boy! Your audition for primo uomo will wait for this to be over!", and the memory gets a smirk from Anica now.
They made eye contact. Alexei spots the smirk, and quirks an eyebrow.
Anica took the cue to speak. She pointed, started, "Это...что это..." it became a mumble where she contemplated the next words. She found her voice again "...чай извинений." with a firm nod, more assuring what she just said was correct rather than genuinely well-meaning. Anica tapped the side of her own mug with the side of her spoon; a haphazard move to shake off that drop of tea, doomed to go cold.
🖤 feeling twisted and crazy today
send a 🖤 for my muse to describe yours in the worst way possible
Uhh, ‘I’m Alexei, I eat paintings. I’ve definitely eaten at least one. I was born from a swamp’. I feel like that actually happened, I’ve been to Saint Petersburg. You only do that arts school drugs shit like opium and you think you are so cool for it. Snort Adderall like the rest of the twenty-first century and then write a paper about it. Or paint a canvas about it. Or whatever the fuck nerds do when they have their third eye blasted open. Also I think if you punched Alexei he would probably die but I don’t wanna test that out myself because I like him too much but someone else can do it I guess. He looks like a piece of paper. All white and thin and shit. And if he gets behind the wheel of a car he passes out. So stop fuckin’ complaining when I decide to drive, bitch!
czesarevich replied to your post “like i swear i didnt expect this to become like, a Dash Event or...”
I'M SORRY I'M NOSY
NO LIKE, *IM* THE ONE WHOS SORRY TO EVERYONE WHOS LIKE, “(walks in with a pizza box to a room thats on fire) why are we all talkin about micros suddenly”
@czesarevich from x
"Have you ever tried being a German city and living with Ludwig? Having to answer to Ludwig? Give me Russia any day over him." A beat. "Want to trade places?"
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━ *: ･ﾟ∙ * ⁕ STARTER !
@czesarevich ♡
“ I know I’m dropping by for a visit so unexpectedly, but I did bring a housewarming gift! ” There wasn’t anything sweeter to give your host a nice jar of roasted peanuts, right? Well, that’s exactly what Eliza is giving to dear ol’ Alexei here.
She couldn’t help but rub the back of her neck shamefully as she knew that it wasn’t kind to barge into someone’s city all of a sudden. “ I thought it’d be rude of me to visit without giving something! Not saying you have to hang out with me while I’m here ... it’s just ... I just wanted to let you know I’m excited to be here! ” Cue awkward laughter here, “ But I would be forever grateful if you just so happen to have time to show me where I can grab a meal or two. ”
@napuleh @paralianprince @czesarevich @aux-armes-citoyens @lilyintheashes
‘Now, you wanna make sure the ringtail is nice and tight in that blanket, ‘cuz it’s really not supposed to be out of mumma’s pouch right now, but we’re gonna do our best to make sure he makes it through the winter without’uh.’
🖤 oh no
Send me 🖤 for my muse to describe yours in the worst way possible.
“Could you imagine being so insufferably poetic that the very second you’re asked to do something for your country you fall into fits? Yeah, me neither. That’s not Russia.”
