#maryalene

Sure! Honestly i don't even feel like I'm going against tolstoy on this one because it's an interpretation i somewhat extrapolated from her canon characterisation.

👀 welllll... since we've been on the topic of friends to strangers to friends to lovers..

~

It did not take long for Marya to pack up the last of her things. She had saved her clothes for last as it was the lease of her troubles compared to everything else she possessed. Paintings, vintage pieces, her beloved plants and anything you would expect of the Terrible Dragon of Moscow. Help was not required for such a simple task but even it were any more difficult, she would forbid anyone from laying a finger on her belongings. There were no other hands that she trusted that were not hers.

The clasp of the suitcase snapped shut just as a knock on the door echoed through the house. She was certain she was not expecting anyone for she had already said her goodbyes to her closest friends. Though, surprises were not strangers to her. In Moscow, anything could happen and being in the circle of society she was in, she had met many strange people. With her suitcase in hand, she dashed out of her now-vacant bedroom to greet her visitor. It could not be her goddaughters nor could it be Pierre for the three had so kindly volunteered to help her move the rest of her things. That left... No one else on the list of those who were closest to her.

As she descended the stairs, she paused at the last step when her gaze met that of a familiar figure. How had she forgotten her...?

"Good afternoon, Elena. I wasn't expecting you."

"I didn't expect to visit but I was passing by and I thought it would be nice to stop by."

"How thoughtful."

It did not take long for Hélène to read the situation and if Marya saw the way her face fell slightly, she said nothing of it. Marya saw no fault in failing to inform her visitor that she was moving away. It did not seem like a matter of great importance as they had already grown distant. Or that was what she told herself. Deep down, she knew that if she saw Hélène one last time before moving, an old pain would resurface.

She could already feel it bubbling within her chest. It was suffocating.

Neither of them spoke. What was there to say to someone they had never seen in months? Let alone to someone they were avoiding. Marya's lip twitched, as if to speak, but she said nothing. But as the silence stretched, Hélène spoke up.

"You didn't tell me that you were leaving."

"I didn't see the need to."

"Did you ever think that this matters to me?"

Marya huffed. "Don't turn this on me, Elena. You're just as guilty as I am."

Rolling her eyes, Hélène turned away. "At least I tried to put in the effort. Did you?" Marya did not respond. "You always told me that Moscow was your home."

Marya shook her head and gave Hélène a tight-lipped smile. "There's nothing here for me anymore. I've lived here my whole life and I've only ever been stuck. I can't stay here forever, Elena... Everyone moves on."

"But I haven't." Were they still talking about moving?

"Then I suppose moving will do us both good."

The silence returned and Marya was sure she saw tears glistening in Hélène's eyes. She could not take it a moment longer. It was always the same ever since the break up. Whenever they found themselves crawling back to each other, one of them would get hurt and it only thickened the wall between them. Some part of Marya had hoped for this to go differently but it was foolish to believe that such an exception would exist. Fate was a cruel being and Marya so despised being subject to it.

Taking Hélène's hand, she ushered the poor dear away from the door and to the car, closing the door behind her. The sound of the door closing signified the end of a chapter. Did the sound of the car door opening mean a newer chapter? Who knew?

"I'll drive you home," Marya offered.

Their goodbyes were brief. When Marya pulled up in Hélène's driveway, they exchanged a tight embrace. It was Marya who had pulled Hélène info a hug before she could leave the car. Tears spilled onto her shoulder and Marya fought back her own. She did not wish to remind of the times she cried over the months. She had already moved on and this hug should not mean more than it should... But it already did. Of all the hugs, this hug would be the one she'd remember forever.

Marya: I’m a knife.

You guys can have sword maryalène too ig...