✧ d o v e ✧

He was supposed to be looking for Sophia, that was the entire reason he had come back to New York City in the first place, but as evidenced already by his young ward, he had always had a soft spot for little lost blondes, especially when their eyes were as doe-wide and vulnerable as the impossibly pretty one that he was talking to currently. She was more out of place than anyone else in the ballroom, an easy form of prey for any one of the dangerous-looking men prowling around like vultures, he wondered just how she had ended up all alone in the first place. She was incredibly soft, that much he could tell right away, but her timid nature and the anxiety she seemed to be positively radiating had Adonis wondering if she hadn’t lived quite as much of a sheltered life as the majority of the other attendants at Bunny Golighty’s birthday party. And that accent, her fragmented English … it gave so much away about her, while also raising a thousand different questions. He was curious, that was for damn sure. He wanted to help her.

He heard the hitch of her breath when he reached out to brush a stray curl from her face, he instantly worried that he had overstepped. It was meant to be a small, reassuring touch, something to comfort her when she was clearly ill at ease, but with how nervous she seemed already … he had to remind himself that not all lost things were like Sophia. Eager and desperate for affection in any way that they could receive it. She looked up at him, though, with those brilliant eyes of hers, and he had to smile back down at her—lord, she was pretty. “Nothing to apologize for, Anya,” he said calmly, quietly, everything he was doing was meant to soothe and placate. She brought out his nature as a caretaker so effortlessly, his always-present desire to nurture and protect coming out in spades.

“And you can call me Adonis, if you’d like, or Mr. Blanchett. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.” He wouldn’t deny that he quite liked the way that sir sounded in that tinkling, submissive voice of hers, but he wasn’t about to ask her to call him anything but his name when they were first meeting like this. “Let’s focus on finding Tatiana and Emmaline first—you’re a little more lost than I think my friend is, and I’d like to make sure that you’re taken care of first. Is that alright?” He looked down at her, very gently he brought one of his big, calloused hands to her tiny arm, he could have closed his fingers around the thickest part of it and they still would have overlapped. He stroked softly at her creamy skin, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles right into the crook of her elbow. Concern, consent, and care, Adonis was a dominant man by nature but he always made sure that his girls were well tended to. “Where did you last see them, little doe?” he asked in that same low, evenly measured voice, to account for her broken English he spoke slowly so that she wouldn’t need to get too flustered trying to translate internally. “Were they together when they left?”

Anya was no stranger to vulnerability. Of all her siblings, she was indubitably the most fragile, the weakest. It was something her parents had fretted over since the day she was born. She was protected to the best of their ability, and they tried to insulate her from suffering where possible. Yet in spite of all of that—in spite of her own softness which gravitated toward the quiet corners of the world and the gentle comfort of kindness and peace—Anya herself had always hoped that those closest to her might someday come to think of her as more capable than she appeared. She had, after all, taken over caring for her family after her father’s death when her mother was so sick with grief. She might not be fearless or physically intimidating or even particularly gifted socially, but she was an adult who could take care of herself. At least, that’s how she wished to be. And surely there must be some bravery in her, or else she wouldn’t have offered herself up to the Bratva to save Sergei’s life. But at times like this, she wondered whether that hint of courage had been a fluke, a one-time miracle that could never be replicated. Stranded in a foreign land, in a strange hotel, cut off from her friends and surrounded by strangers, Anya had immediately succumbed to fear. It made her sick to her stomach to think of what might have happened if she had not been able to ask for help. She would have curled up in a corner and sobbed until either she was saved or snatched up like prey. Her own timidity would get her killed one day, if her bargain with the Bratva didn’t first.

Looking up into the stranger’s face now, though, Anya marveled at how much she’d already relaxed. Her anxiety was ebbing away bit by bit, and the more they talked, the more certain she became that she would be alright. That she would find her friends and get home safe. Something in the man’s voice was a balm on her nerves. He must be used to helping other people—maybe he was a doctor of some kind. His eyes were blue, but not in the way that Mr. Greyheart’s were, or any of the other soldiers. Their eyes held the coldness of Siberian nights; of ice that covered rivers and seas and choked the nation in winter; of the isolation cells of gulags she heard tell of in hushed voices when she ought to be asleep in bed. This man’s eyes were warm and curious, a blue-gray that reminded her of scattered clouds across the sky and the gentle thrum of rain on a window, lulling her to sleep. Be it a wise or foolish choice, she decided to trust him the moment he tucked that strand of hair away from her face.

“A-Adonis? Is very nice name!” Anya said. She felt as though she had heard that name before, perhaps from a story of some kind. It had a nice ring to it, one which she couldn’t help but try out at least once. “Oh yes, is alright. I am hoping I don’t pull you away from party for long, though.” Given how kind he was being, she would hate to burden him too much with her problems. Goosebumps ran up her arm at his touch, but she didn’t pull away, or even gasp this time (she would be proud of that later). In fact, she leaned into it just a bit, enough to feel that same sense of grounding and stability that Tatia and Emmaline had provided. And... little doe. She almost didn’t understand at first. Doe... like a deer. It was so sweet she had to stifle a kind of giggle. Hopefully she hadn’t misinterpreted. “I am thinking yes, they were together!” she replied. “I was standing... there—” she gestured a few feet away to the nearest table of food and drinks “—and then I turn around, and poof, they are gone. I don’t—”

A shot broke through the air, cutting her off abruptly. Anya inhaled sharply, eyes widening further as a new form of panic chilled her blood. She had never been around guns much, but the day she sold herself, one of the soldiers in Moscow had fired his pistol into the air as a warning to scare her, to amuse himself and the rest of the thugs who guarded the Pakhan. That sound had ingrained itself in her brain instantly. It had kept her awake all night every Fourth of July, huddling in terror under her blankets as fireworks burst across the city, making her think New York was awash in blood and bullets. Another shot, and another, and another. Screams. Yelling. People were pulling guns all around them. Anya felt the world spin and reached out desperately for Adonis. His hand on her arm was the only thing keeping her upright. “M.... Mister B-B...” She couldn’t breathe. “We go now!”

Marie raised a brow, not really sure who the blonde was talking about but going along with it. “I don’t have anything better to do but hold this wall in place.” She smirked, “come on, let’s find your girl, so you can get back to enjoying the party.” She said handing the other a tissue. “Just don’t get worked up again, don’t need any of the predators in this place thinking you’re weak.”

Hold the wall in place? Perhaps that was an English saying Anya didn’t understand. But she could tell from the tone that the woman was agreeing to help, and that was enough to have her smiling brightly. “Bol'shoye spasibo! Many big thank you, you are very kind!” With a blink, she accepted the tissue, dabbing gently around her eyes to make sure she hadn’t ruined her makeup. Tatia had spent a while helping her with it, and she wouldn’t want that hard work to be wasted. “I try not, Anya promise!” she added, and her brows furrowed a bit. “Sorry, what is meaning ‘predators’?”

He needed to find Sophia.

Adonis had only been back in the country for not even a week, but usually it didn’t take long at all for him to come across his sweet little flower. She was free to come and go as she pleased from the luxury apartment he had purchased for them to share when he was in the city, and for her to live in fulltime when he was not, but he had arrived home to find it empty and seemingly unlived in for what had to have been at least a month. She wasn’t answering the phone he had provided her with either and had hardly touched the generous allowance he gave her to keep herself spoiled and tended to, it was true that perhaps he hadn’t been the most attentive of guardians as of late, but hell—what was the point of returning home to New York City if he didn’t have a Parisian goddess waiting for him with her arms (and legs, for that matter) wide open?

It was concerning, to say the least, he had planned on inviting her to the gala tonight, but with Sophia nowhere to be found, he was forced to attend it on his own. The Golightly family was a familiar one to him, he had done business with Howard plenty of times in the past and was quite fond of his young daughter, Bunny. Bright, talented, and beautiful, there was no doubt in his mind that she would go far in whatever she aspired to do. As a gift to the birthday girl, he made a hefty donation to her animal rescue charity of choice—somewhere north of a cool five million dollars—and when she began opening gifts for the night, she would find an elegantly wrapped package containing a beautiful diamond necklace handcrafted by Harry Winston himself.

Now, with a drink in his hand and a watchful eye on the crowded ballroom, Adonis was doing his best to shake hands and exchange pleasantries with all those who knew him and wished to welcome the billionaire back to the city, but in all seriousness he was just trying to find Sophia. A golden springtime goddess of a pet, she shouldn’t have been hard to locate, but it would have made things a thousand fucking times easier for him if she just answered her phone. A pop of blonde caught his attention, and he quirked a brow in interest as he moved in powerful strides across the ballroom, only to realize that … the girl that was approaching him wasn’t his Sophia. She was small, dainty really, with thin shoulders and a sweet, elfin-like face, she was nervous and shy and he could tell right away by her posture that she wasn’t at all comfortable at such a massive party. Her English was broken and reminded him of the time he had spent in Eastern Europe, why on earth was she all alone like this?

“Are you lost, sweetheart?” he asked in a soft, gentle voice, the poor thing already seemed skittish enough as it was and he didn’t want to frighten her further. Slowly, every movement thought of beforehand as to avoid scaring her, he reached out to brush a stray curl away from her face. “I’m looking for a blonde myself, but I don’t think I’ve seen the one that you’re describing just yet, or the brunette for that matter. Did you want some help looking for them? It’s a little noisy in here, I know it can be a bit overwhelming. What’s your name, love?”

The seconds ticked by like hours in Anya’s mind, each one an eternity now that she was not in the company of her friends. They’d been her only tethers to reality and sanity, she realized; the only the thing that was making this night feel normal. The first night of normalcy in years. Though she knew better than to be sucked into the spiraling thoughts that threatened to consume her, she felt herself being tugged along them regardless. Nothing about her life was normal anymore. Nothing had been normal since the night her brother came home and cried to her in fear of his life. Amidst her constant apprehension and fear, she’d found the eye of the storm in Tatiana and Emmaline, the only people in the whole city who seemed to see her as a human being. That feeling was as close to normal as she could get, and they’d managed to capture it for long enough to make sneaking out of the Russian Bratva’s headquarters to a gala birthday party for a nineteen-year-old heiress that none of them knew seem like a completely normal thing to do.

The spiral threatened to envelop her as she approached someone to ask them for help, and at first she didn’t fully look up at his face to hide the panic once again swirling at the back of her mind. But with another deep breath, she lifted her head and spoke in a quiet rush. She couldn’t help it—if she didn’t say her piece quickly, she might forget how to breathe entirely and never get it all out. The man she’d approached, and who’d met her with such purposeful strides, was quite possibly one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. Even here among the elite of New York, where actors and models could be found every two feet, she didn’t think she’d seen any man who was as striking in appearance as him. Her eyes widened, no doubt adding to her already nervous expression, and she had to force herself to take another shaky breath. There were good looking men among the Russians she saw daily, but she couldn’t look at them without wondering how their rugged, sculpted faces would look as they choked the life out of her.

This gentleman, on the other hand, was no Russian. She could tell from... well, everything about him. He didn’t carry himself like a walking weapon, or a barely contained animal in a man’s skin. He was refined, poised, relaxed, and didn’t look at her like a machine or a piece of meat. Anya wondered for a moment if she’d actually said anything coherent. What had come out of her mouth exactly? She’d already forgotten. He lifted his hand to her face, a slow movement that she was able to track. Half of her wanted to flinch—no one in the last two years had touched her face in a gentle way. But he merely brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place, and there was that silly breathless feeling again, making it hard to focus.

Anya roused herself visibly with a little shake and a few blinks. She felt foolish, going starry-eyed over some stranger. She needed to find Tatia and Emmaline! That’s what she was doing, and that was more important than a few butterflies in her stomach over a nice man offering to help. “Erm,” she cleared her throat, and inhaled. “Yes, sorry. Am being... bit lost. And losing friends, too.” The man was right, the noise level of the ballroom was far greater than what she was used to, and was doing her anxiety no favors at all. But she had to push through it, like she always did. Anya entwined her hands together, fingers fiddling around themselves as she straightened her shoulders and offered the gentleman a tentative smile. “Ah, my name Anya. I am losing my friends Tatiana and Emmaline. If, erm, if sir is not being busy... I appreciate help.” She swallowed, starting to feel a little more confident, and added, “Maybe we are also finding your blonde friend, da?”

Marie’s brows furrowed gently as she saw the blonde and looked around for the people she was looking for. She sat finished her drink and sat it down on the nearest waiter’s tray before nodding. “Pink went that way.” She said pointing towards the petting zoo. No clue about the other. As much as I would love to get around wild animals, I’ll take you as close to them as I would like to get, and that’s not close at all.”

The woman whose attention Anya had gotten was frankly intimidating, regal beyond compare. She must have been a politician, or someone very powerful to carry herself with such grace, and Anya found herself shrinking a bit in her presence. But she was not unkind, and that made a hopeful smile perk up her lips. “Ah! You have seen Tanechka!” Anya cared just as deeply for Emmaline as for Tatiana, but Tatia was the Pakhan’s sister, and it felt slightly more imperative to knew where she was. She would find Emmaline soon, too, no doubt, as they were unlikely to be far apart. “Is perfect! If you are not being busy, of course. I am, er, not familiar with this place much.”

“I have seen at least a dozen girls that could fit that description on the last fifteen minutes alone” He said not unkindly, he didn’t have anything against her and she was truly stunning so he had no reason to be rude, but it was a fact that pretty blonde in pink and pretty brunette in blue didn’t gave away much. “You will have to give me a bit more to help you. or I can help you look for your friends if you like too, the place is very big after all.” He offered with a small smile. “Maybe they wanted to see the rabbits I hear they have.” A slight hint of irritation, the zoo was something that he just couldn’t understand.

Anya blinked, her face falling just a bit. “O-oh, ya vizhu! Am sorry, I see this is not helpful.” She glanced around the room, and knew the gentleman was entirely correct. From here alone, she could see several other women who matched her vague description, though none of them were her friends. “Well, er, both are having curly hair, but blonde hair is like...” She struggled for a moment to remember the right word. “Ringlets! Is like ringlets! Very, very bouncy! Is also being speak with heavy accent, like me but better. And brown hair is American, from your South? Big smile, eyes like cow!” She meant it as a compliment—cows were known for having huge, beautiful brown eyes—and didn’t realize that it could be construed as unflattering. But at the mention of rabbits, Anya’s face perked up again. “Ohh, yes! They would be loving rabbits! Um, if is no trouble, could maybe point me in right way, please?”

There wasn’t a word in either English or Russian which could accurately describe her feelings. She’d never been in a place as... as beautiful as The Garden Hotel. She’d never worn anything as elegant as the dress she was borrowing, or the pin in her hair or the pearls in her ears. This was a dream, surely. She was dreaming and would wake up at any moment to find she’d fallen asleep in the middle of ironing the Pakhan’s shirts. But the dream kept going, and only the solid feel of Tatia and Emmaline beside her was keeping her grounded enough to believe this was actually happening. To keep her from being overwhelmed.

Anya stayed close to her friends as much as possible. Emmaline was fluent in English, and Tatia’s English was much better than Anya’s, so she felt better being near them and knowing they could field conversations that she might embarrass herself in. But in such a massive building with so many people, it was hard to stay with them without literally holding their hands, and eventually a moment came when Anya turned around to ask a question only to find that her friends were not there. Panic swelled inside her, churning her stomach like river rapids until she felt sure she might cry or puke or faint. All she could do was back up to the nearest wall and close her eyes for a moment. Deep breaths, she told herself. Don’t make a scene. Don’t draw attention. The only thing worse than losing track of Tatia and Emmaline would be being found by one of the boyeviks, or even Viktor himself.

So she waited. Breathed. Counted to ten. Opened her eyes. The panic was suppressed, for now, but she would have to find her friends in order to banish it permanently. Time to start asking. Anya timidly approached the nearest person and spoke up in a quiet voice, “Excuse me? Um, forgive interruption. Have... erm, have you been seeing two girls? Short, one is blonde in pink dress, and one is having brown hair and blue dress. Both very pretty.”

EVENT #1: A Star is Born

ANYA OLENOV attending sneaking into the 19th birthday celebrations of Miss Bunny Golightly

In another life, perhaps a better one, Thomas would be the owner of some exquisite restaurant that would rival all of the other ones in New York. But seeing as he came from the city, there wasn’t anything authentic that he would ever be able to offer. Not like places like these had. Whenever he would visit a place with foods from another culture, it was like they had carved out a slice of their home and brought it with them for other people to enjoy. Baba’s had that reputation about it. From everything he had heard, they had prepared meals that felt comfortable and familiar even if they had never had that combination of flavors dance upon their tongue. It was places like these, the hidden gems tucked away into the crevasses of the city that held the highest place in Thomas’ heart. That yearning to find something extraordinary among the monotony could be quenched by any place like that.

The girl next to him seemed friendly enough, he could tell from her body language alone that she had been excited for whatever meal she had ordered. Truly good food always had that effect on people, the one that would inspire them for days. It was when he had seen the expression plastered along her features that he knew he had picked the right place to eat. He gave the girl a generous smile when she responded to him. In a city where everyone was so wrapped up in their own heads, it was refreshing to see someone so willing to help another person out. The world needed more people like that, even if it really was as simple as helping a stranger pick something to eat off of a menu of items he had never even heard of before.

“I’m terribly sorry if this isn’t helpful at all, but I really do enjoy all of those things,” he started explaining. “If I had to pick just one, I suppose it would be fish,” he stated glancing back down at the menu really fast still completely unsure of what he was going to pick for himself. He looked back up to the girl, “maybe we can start from there and narrow it down?” He suggested with a slight raise of his brow. “I’ll admit I know next to nothing when it comes to food like this. I haven’t even heard of half of the things on the menu. But I am willing to try just about anything, so don’t hold back,” he urged the girl with a small smile.

Good food changed lives. That was a principle Anya had grown up with from birth, and lived with every day as she watched her mother cook for their large family and make every single day better and brighter with her meals. When Anya was sad, all her mother needed to do was bring her a slice of homemade honey cake and her worries would dissolve at once. Breakfast blinis were a fool-proof cure for pre-school day nerves, while pelmeni for dinner could soothe the aches and pains of the day in an instant.

It was with this mindset that Anya found herself becoming immediately invested in helping the stranger next to her have an excellent meal. He seemed to be in a good mood already, and very kind judging by his tone and smile, but that wasn’t enough. Food was an art, and every culture’s food had its own special kind of magic. Anya was determined to help a newcomer to her beloved cuisine experience the kind of magic she’d tasted daily growing up, and now tried to produce daily even in her current circumstances.

“Is okay!” she replied, waving her hands excitedly. “Is good, you are having big range of taste!” In her eagerness, she didn’t even notice that her usual embarrassment over her poor English had evaporated. “So, kogda nachat'? Mmmm...” Anya thought for a moment, trying to analyze her everyday meals growing up as though looking at them from an outsider’s perspective. “Well, is being summer now, yes? All Russian lunches in summer are starting with cold soup. Maybe this is erm, little strange for America, but is perfect for cooling down and building appetite! After that, I am thinking... beef stroganoff! Many people know stroganoff, and for good reason!”

Anya paused for a moment. Perhaps that was too tame. Not that she wanted to overwhelm the nice gentleman, but he did say he was willing to try anything. “You are... adventurous, yes? Maybe stroganoff is too ordinary. Baba’s is having big meat platter, many different things, including,” she lowered her voice to a whisper so only he could hear, “beef tongue. And if is too adventurous, I say try shashlik karski! Spiced lamb kebab. I hear is house specialty!” Another pause overcame her as she realized she’d been babbling, and a flush spread across her cheeks. “I’m hoping this is not too much. Is nice meeting someone willing to try Russian food.”

“Oddest? Oh Bozhe moy, very difficult to choose! All e-encounters are being odd in America. Ehhh, maybe is statue-man that moved on the way home from shopping. That was ochen’ stranno. I was being so surprised, I nearly dropped all shopping bags! But was very friendly statue-man, very funny! No speaking, only moving like marionetka.”

&&. word has it ( anya olenov ) was just spotted around the city. ( she ) is a ( 27 ) year old affiliated with ( the russian mafia ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( lily james ). ( she ) has been said to be ( cheerful & hard-working ) but also quite ( meek & submissive ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( indentured servant to the russian mafia ).

( anya ) would describe ( herself ) as a ( spring ) person and would identify as a ( isfj-t ). ( her ) birthday is ( may 21st, 1992 ), making ( her ) star sign ( gemini ) and ( her ) celtic animal sign the ( seahorse ). ( her ) biggest pet peeve is ( unnecessary rudeness or unkindness ), and ( her ) theme song is ( as the world falls down by david bowie ). finally, ( her ) primary goal is to ( earn her freedom from the mafia and help her brother repay his debt to them ).

“Mmm, secret? I am thinking not, khotya… I am maybe wrong? Nekotoryye lyudi udivleny moimi navykami vypechki. So, baking perhaps!”

“Oh, that is difficult! I… o, kogo mne vybrat’? I pick, umm… I pick gospodin Valentina, Mister Viktor! He is being very kind and generous about brother Sergei’s debts, and I am happy to be helping him.”

@vikktorvalentina