#enviious

“Whatever it is you’ve heard, I suggest you blame Ravel entirely and know that it was not my fault.”

    It whistles ( prettily, in a way its voice is not to human ears ) as it strides through its medical bay, in high spirits despite the recent changes forced upon it. The Sanctuary is no home ( is no warehouse full of beautiful, easily stirred corpses for it to pick away at ) but it gets to practice medicine, and a more varied kind too. It still itches to continue its research, but for now its job is new and shiny, and keeping its urges at bay.

   One of its underlings, whose name it does not care to remember, indicates a bed ( with fresh meat, no doubt ) and it sweeps the privacy curtain aside with one long, bony hand and hunches down, small yellow eyes greedily scanning for injury. Clarabelle is supposed to be somewhere behind it, taking notes because it is her job, but she has wandered off and it has never needed notes, so it does not care, other than for the scolding it will get to give her.

54. things you always meant to say but never got the chance (aka buckle the fuck up imelda)

Ghastly always meant to tell her how much she meant to him. Really, he did. But something always came up, or he always second guessed himself. What would someone like Carribia want with someone like him? He tried his best to convey his intent through gestures of banana bread and tea. He suspected she’d never understand.

He meant to ask her on a date. The one day he had plucked up the courage was the day that they had been whisked away into war, and then it was all formality rather than familiarity. It wasn’t the time or the place (when was it ever) and he could see his opportunity slipping away as the battle plans were put into place.

 “Menya zovut Carribia i ya mogu govorit’ na mnogikh yazykakh.”

  Carribia always enjoyed learning languages in her younger days (as she got older, her hand had been forced to give up her hobby to focus on work). Her grandfather had been a cultured man. He had taught her to speak the languages he knew, and those he didn’t, he had learned alongside her. As a child it had made her feel special, the fact that he could make jokes in a room full of people that only she could understand. So well her cousins had danced or learned to play instruments, she had taken a more academicroute and taken every opportunity to show off her skills.

  Unfortunately nowadays, it’s a rare occasion that she speaks anything other than English. However when she’s alone, she tends to mutters to herself in foreign languages (or what she can remember of them). In her opinion, the younger generations have become ignorant when it comes to languages. And Carribia is more than eager to change that.

  “That’s Russian. It means ‘my name is Carribia and I can speak many languages’.”

Nicole stares at her, mind struggling frantically for the memory of those alien syllables. She wants to learn. She wants to learn! But what a way to be taught. A string of foreign words, all jumbled, and a self-satisfied woman who seemed somewhat more interested in showing off than actually breaking down the language. 

Still... Russian. What a cool sound! Without even asking for clarification--she wouldn’t know how to ask for help anyway-- the redhead stumbles into a sorry attempt at immitation.

“May-nay zoov too Carribia yay...”

Nope... she can’t.

it’s   cARRIB I A   not   carrIBA   and i am shook