( he's tired. in the back of his head there's a burbling of white noise that sounds like shrieks and screams and splurting fluids and dying. ther's a fire that crackles and devours, even though most recently he'd been by the sea, watching as the waters settled, the monster trying to dissolve them all beaten back until it consumed itself. an ouroboros of sorts, he thinks, and then wonders when he last thought about the snake that swallowed its own tail.
his hand rests against the side of one stone lion, grateful for its steadiness. he doesn't remember at what point where he felt pulled to this place; or how he made it from the beach back through the suburbs heading north, toward the city. he hadn't found a bus. maybe he'd ridden the lion, somehow; he stands on the sidewalk leaning against a stone shoulder, idly tracing his fingers over scars in the stone. one of the lion's ears has been chipped, permanently; improbably enough, the lion purrs in a great impossible rumble, sitting down as Yuri fails to move forward. the bag Yuri had picked up again at some point slid down with a thud, resting at the back of his legs. mine, he thinks tiredly, and he doesn't fight it for once.
he wants a shower. ten showers. he wants a bed. his bed. he wants a phone charger and an outlet and to know his friends are all okay. he wants to talk to his Grandpa. he wants to not have to move.
he ignores that last part, not trapped in or in a shitty swamp or in a poorly lit house buried under dust and death and its own weighted history. he's not poisoned, though he's a little singed and a hell of a lot of sore. he's not bleeding (much) past incidental small injuries, nicks and cuts. he's sweat and dirt streaked, sand-dust coating his dress shirt and the 1960's suit slacks that'd mostly come through intact. his abused leopard print sneakers jut out of the bottom.
when he thinks he sees Anya in the middle distance, he squints, half clamouring up on the lion to get a better view after asking it to stand. the lion cranes its neck to look up at him, and Yuri keeps his balance on stone shoulders, shielding his eyes. he's relieved once he's stop being disbelieving, the intensity of the emotion sweeping in a singular joy as he lights up, smiling, wanting to laugh in spite of being exhausted.
cupping his hands around his mouth and drawing air in his lungs, he shouts: )
Nasteeeeenkaaaaaaaaaaaa!
( then he's leaping down, racing her way, lion shaking its massive stone head and trotting along in his wake, his pack politely picked up and carried in its mouth. )
After the battle at the beach, Anya had taken a small infantry of knights back to the city... because she wasn't sure what else to do with them. Should she give them a place to rest? Did they need food? Certainly everyone was getting rather tired and hungry after all of... that. Even if she could not yet figure out how to describe what that was. Still, she had been able to make it back to the dragon that had brought all of Team Tarzan back, Anya's hands outstretched to the great, beautiful beast that enchanted her beyond words.
For a few moments, it's quiet. She listens to the shuffling of suits of armor, the confused rattling of her monkey friend that had come along. She ponders over her own state of dress worthy of a video game character, though she lacks the fancy hat. Would she get to keep this armor? Maybe she should consider it for a possible idol venture. Again, she thinks about what to feed everyone. Would Mama be okay having company over? Her thoughts are idle, simple, don't yet delve deeper into the implications of everything they'd experienced. For now, she let the peace reign.
Until it's not quiet or peaceful at all anymore.
When Yuri's voice registers, her head turns in the direction that it comes from automatically, gaze openly searching as if she couldn't believe she'd let herself rest before finding him.
Then she's running.
The knights rattle in confusion, holding onto the rifle, machete, and sword that she leaves with them as if she can't bear having anything weigh her down. Her feet can't take her to him fast enough as her arms open automatically and she reaches out, yelling back:]
Yuratchka....! Yuratchka Yuratchka Yuratchka!
[With nothing but delight, absolute endless delight, as if they hadn't spent the last few hours - weeks? - fighting for their lives.]
( there aren't many ghosts that have trailed after him, thankfully; one or two that linger and watch with the muted consideration of those who've had their own reasons to move through this world while having departed from life, helping where they can. the help is no longer needed. they are idle hands, transparent and clasping themselves as dead eyes watch a celebration of life.
it is good, to be alive, they think. even if they are not.
Yuri throws his arms open, checking himself at the last possible second so that his forward momentum is pulled back, inviting Anya into his embrace without throwing himself at her, like he's done for years with his Grandpa. she's a riot of colour that barely registers: what's more important is her being real, not one of the memories dancing around in his head. he catches her up and lifts her, spinning her around even as he crushes her close. )
You're here! You're okay? Is that a dragon? You didn't get queen'd in the last few weeks, did you?
( they're silly questions and ones that matter to him both, a mix without clear boundaries. he sets her down, not wanting to make her dizzy or make himself much the same. he's still smiling, the lion catching up and nudging into his back, dropping his pack and shaking its massive head again, chuffing. Yuri laughs again, smiling at Anya as he pulls back to see her face again. she's okay.
he doesn't realise how much of a balm that is to the rough edges of his soul, after weeks of traveling with strangers who became acquaintances, perhaps one day friends. Yuri's bad at bonding; he hasn't minded those he's traveled and fought with, but they're not home. they're not the people he worried about and thought about and dreamed about and didn't know if they were stuck in similar horrid places, or were somewhere better, or somewhere worse. )
I missed you.
( he missed his version of everyone. he'll tell that to each of them, one by one. )
[What a whirlwind of questions and emotion and actual spinning - she laughs despite herself even as she clings onto him and lets herself be picked up and spun. That much is getting familiar to her now even as she buries her face against him in her own amusement and joy and need to be close, close, close as she can to the people who mean the world to her. Even when he sets her down, she doesn't quite lift her head right away, leaning into him, staying against him and the familiarity of this hug and this Yuratchka.
When he pulls back a bit, she does too and gives him a smile that even the exhaustion doesn't touch.]
Okay - yes! [In a manner of speaking. She's got her own bandages and wounds, some of them very fresh indeed as recent as a few hours, but nothing that's bothering her enough that she can't handle it without painkillers. There's the tired, there's the loneliness, there's the feelings of wanting to see everyone but not yet finding everyone.... but she doesn't think of those. Not right now.]
Dragon, yes! Big and very nice. Queen? [She giggles, as if that's the most... impossible thing he said.] Silly Yuratchka. No.
[And her heart aches in her chest at his admittance, even as certain as she gives her in return:]
I missed you, too. Большое.... I missed you very, very much.
[She's a lonely person, against all odds. It's why she reaches out so much and so far, to so many people. Even on this trip, there were people that she knew, faces that she recognized.... but it wasn't quite the same. Not the same as her best friends.
It's why if he'll let her, she'll lean against him again. Just to be close. Though she'll also glance at the lion that came up to them, giggling faintly.]
Yuratchka met a lion...? Hеудивителен... I am not surprised.
[Followed by the rolling Rrrrrrrr to mimic the noise a lion makes in Russian....]
( the lion flicks a stone ear, tilting its head to the side. soon after it mimics the sound that Anya made, as if testing it out; then giving up and issuing its standard roar with a toss of its head, starting to circle around them both. not to watch them; on the contrary. the lion is watching just about everything else, settling down after three rotations, laying down on the ground watching the knights and the dragon.
Yuri doesn't object to her leaning against him. if anything, he's glad for the contact, glad for someone who already knows so much of the worst of him, who's stayed anyway. it's been one of those thoughts he's turned over in his head, along with so many others. he'd thought he'd had an answer, weeks ago, to a confession he'd been blindsided by. he's fairly sure Anya has both excellent taste and horrid taste: he knows his own worth, but it's not measured in interpersonal relationships. he's not ready to slow down his drive, and he's not sure how to adjust it to allow anyone in, consistently; to reach out when he's tired, to listen to someone else when all he wants to do is withdraw and hammer out whatever's going on in his head.
he thought he'd had an answer. he'd learned something about depth and his own shadows when trapped in the caverns and their sporadic stretches of darkness, chased and chasing after a creature out of myth and legend. he'd learned something about fragility and the worth in living in a moment, fearless, after coming so close to death in water and gnashing teeth and rope that dragged him under, safety and danger in one. he'd learned about festering bitterness and an aversion to change, being inflexible and scared of what? change happens. people succeed and fail in everything, every day. they were no more guaranteed to be around the people they loved for more than the moment they lived than they were guaranteed to reality, as today has been proven. a video game level of button smashing and monster slaying, with no healing potions, no checkpoints for saving, only luck and something like skill and the grace of a universe that doesn't give a shit in the first place, because caring doesn't matter on a cosmic level.
it's a lot simpler in his head than all that; because about all that matters is they've made it here, the city's been restored to whatever messed up save-point it'd never really been at, there's a giant dragon looming over knights over there, a stone lion laying own to their right, and he doesn't know what else. )
Two of them. Pretty cool, right? ( though he keeps her close, not trying to look down at her face so much as tuck his face against the side of her head and just focus on breathing. after a few beats of his heart, he sighs out, laughing under his breath. he's only patient when he needs to be. right now he's relieved, happy, joyous, and feeling the exhaustion come creeping back in, purring like a particularly sadistic cat.
so it's jarring, but he's often jarring. not smooth, because he isn't smooth except when he doesn't try at all. ) Nastenka. What happens if you kiss a frog and he never turns into a prince?
[move over, yuri, anya is now in love with this stone lion.
There's a little hum of her own, a noise of agreement, because she does think that's very cool. The lions are very cool and she wonders where the other stone lion went - if it's looking for its friend? They will have to reunite the lions later, she thinks. Sort of in the same way that everyone is getting reunited now.
Yuri interrupts that train of thought with her name, the way that only he says it, followed by a question.
.... did he forget that she's bad at analogies? So there's another little noise from her, this one of open confusion as she blinks and pulls back just enough to look at his face to try to get a better understanding of what he's saying. Frogs? Princes? Is this because of his dragon and queen questions earlier? Did he think that she kissed a frog and it turned into a dragon...
If they got any cartoonier, there would be very obvious question marks over her head.]
Ah...
Mm?
Do I get to keep the frog?
[Her sincerely.... dense answer.]
If the frog would still like to stay with me, I would like that too.
[Though now she's a little worried - she raises a hand to brush his bangs back as if she's gonna check for a fever? You doing okay, Yuri....]
( he hasn't forgotten in the slightest, except he's forgotten that he probably needs lead ins when he's not exactly laid out his thought process to her. he wrinkles his nose, letting her feel for a temperature that isn't there, though she will find a scabbing over cut right close to his hairline. he shakes his head, then pauses, and nods, laughing a little helplessly because it's all so stupid. )
The frog is me, Nastenka. I'm not being literal. ... I hope.
( he adds, voice dropping down into a mutter, considering at this point ending up as a frog for some reason he doesn't understand isn't entirely out of the question. still, he shakes off the thought by shaking his head, fumbling and... glancing back over his shoulder. )
... Let me start over. I have something for you.
( he nods his head toward the pack on the ground where the lion dropped it; the decision had been an unformed thought in the back of his mind until now, but it feels right as it coalesces. no matter what else happens or doesn't happen, this feels right, and he wants to have something be good for once. )
[Oh. Oh! That jogs her memory a bit more, provides some additional context where he'd left her rather clueless before. That's right, from the night that they went stargazing... What if he never turned into a prince? How many times did Anya already tell him that he did a good job of playing the prince for her....
But the disorienting train of thought continues, because he's moving right along without her. For once, she feels like she's the one getting steamrolled in their conversation? There's a confused blink before she nods once.]
Ah...
[And then - realizes.]
A-Ah? Wait, a... сувенир? ["Souvenir" - there's no chance of her remembering that one right now.] Yuratchka, I did not get anything for you... Not fair!
( he shakes his head as he lets go, spinning around and unaware that for once he's not the one trying to keep up with wherever Anya's head is jumping to next. he crouches down, working on the ties of his pack as he speaks. )
No, not anything like that. It's something else.
( he digs around, pulling out a turtle shell of all things, setting it to the side. what he pulls out has been tucked in the remains of a jacket that'd match his slacks if he had any desire to wear it. he doesn't, hence it's undignified existence stuffed in a carrysack. he unfolds it, pulling out the white and red and blue jacket it'd been protecting.
he stands with an echo of his normal grace, stepping light back around and throwing the jacket up and out, settling it over Anya's shoulders without so much as a by your leave. )
Since I ran off with yours the last time.
( his Team Russia jacket. his, because it's that same feeling as the stupid cat plushes, only slightly less irritating now. he's seen the like before on athletes competing for Russia; it makes him wonder if the skating he's grown into isn't something he actually did as competitively as the men he's watched skate through his hallucinomemories.
it's neither here nor there at the moment. he's adjusting the fall of the jacket over Anya's shoulders, pulling the collar close to closed by the front of her chest, over the dip of her collarbone. it doesn't match anything about her right now; her costume is something else, but quintessentially Anya, regardless. )
[To be honest, she would've expected to receive the turtle shell before a jacket.
There's a tilt of her head when it unfolds from where it had been hidden in the pack, genuinely bewildered. It's a nice jacket. Is that also something that was blocking what Yuri wanted to get - but then he's leaving it around her shoulders, easy at that. She doesn't watch enough international sports competitions to recognize it. It's not the first time that Yuri's let her borrow one of his jackets, so she thinks for a moment that she's supposed to just hold onto it for now.
Up until he clears that up.
Again, she's confused. Just when she thought that she was starting to get somewhere, she's thrown off again.]
Mm...? Me? Davenka already gave back my last jacket...
[She trails off, her brows furrowed together as she looks up at Yuri with a look of befuddlement. Her last jacket was returned to her, so why is he giving her this one?]
Yuratchka...? Почему...
[Another gently bewildered "why?"]
It is... nice? Ah - I like it. Cпасибо. Thank you... but you know that you do not have to?
[Or is it like when he grows out of things and gives it to her? What does this have to do with frogs....]
( he breathes out sharply, stubborn and not equipped to handle this. not the way it really deserves to be handled, but fuck that. he's himself. he'll handle this the Yuri Plisetsky way. )
Nastenka. I want to.
( he'd sound mildly offended if he weren't instead reaching out to flick her forehead, gently. he's not so thick that he can't see he's lost her along the topic jumping he's been doing on his own; he clenches his jaw, considering what the hell do I do. Yuuri hadn't been helpful. only said he needed to give an answer one way or another.
he'd found it weeks ago. he's distilled it since then. he did not think he'd be saying what he is, because it had been, at first... )
Do you remember when you confessed to me and I freaked out and told you I needed time to answer? Do you have time to listen to me now? Before something else happens and it's another five weeks or five months or ten years or what-the-fuck-ever and I don't know where any of my friends are and I can't get back in touch with them and there's too much I haven't said.
( he's let his hands drop away from the collar of the jacket, falling back to his sides. he's not going to hold on to her for this, for all he's intently focused and watching her now.
will you be my friend or won't you?
of course we're friends.
how do you know?
I love you. he's not sure about that last one. doesn't think he will be for a while, because he's still figuring out what that means for all his friends. looking at it from any other angle, he has hang-ups, and he's gunshy, and he's fucking tired of himself. best to clear the air now and let them both figure out where things fall after. )
[There's a complaint on her end, because she doesn't think that this one is her fault for not understanding. When he flicks her forehead she leans back just a little bit, for half a second, before she lets out a soft huff before trying again to focus on what he's saying. For a little bit, her expression borders on a pout.
.... until it doesn't, because then she's surprised.
Oh. An answer.
She entertains the thought for a moment of telling him that she'd expected to have to wait until Christmas, but figures that it might be better to not throw him off when he's clearly already on uncharted waters. So she settles, her expression unwrinkling in understanding.
Frog princes. Jackets. That's... part of the answer?
Some part of her wants to try to expect what he'll say, some part of her is still firmly rooted in the belief that he's going to say no and this was just one big long delay, but most of her is - oddly, still worried about him.]
... Да....
[Some part of her wants to cheer up, to encourage him and seem - excited for this, but she can't. And she promised him that she would try to be more sincerely honest about everything.
Even the things that scare her.]
If you know it... yes. I want to know Yuratchka's answer.
( he clarifies, fingers twitching at his sides. he's still scared, because he doesn't think there's a right answer. he feels like there aren't any wrong ones either by now, just degrees of living through as they are. growing as whatever the hell kind of person they'll be, pursuing the goals and dreams and careers that matter most.
frankly, if Anya never had found hers, Yuri doesn't think he'd even have hesitated in telling her no. he cannot understand or support the passionless or directionless, not the way people seem to expect. certainly not in these situations. but she has; he has to admit and face that it's something he can respond to, perhaps already has been. there's an equality in it that's... appealing, for all he has different concerns, all the same ones he had before Anya confessed to him on a stage after her own debut at a convention that ended in tearing Recolle apart.
so it goes. and in this case, as a rush of words that tumble out, lancing a wound he didn't know he had before. )
I don't get romance. I mean, I don't know how you can tell the difference between that kind of love and any of the rest. I know I love you, and I don't know right now if that's different from how I love Dave, or how I love Karkat. I know I like you. I think you're attractive ( he lifts a hand to tap over his temple, indicating where he means ), I like spending time with you. I... ( he can't help the fact he starts to blush, because it's embarrassing, because admitting he's now thought about any of these things is scary; it's vulnerable. he hates it. he thinks he needs it. ) ... would like to kiss. You, specifically. And I don't know if that's enough or if it means what you might want it to mean, because I still don't get it. What I mean is I'm... I want to figure it out, if you still do. I can't promise I'm a frog who's going to figure out how to be a prince, I'm not going to be any less dedicated to getting where I want to be with dance, or figuring out what the hell is going on with our lives and this stupid excuse for a city we live in. We're not going to have a lot of time together when we're both busy. We can talk and text and it's just like it is usually, I think? I don't know what's supposed to make it different.
( he doesn't know what qualifies the difference. he really doesn't know; is it just the potential for physical intimacy? are there other levels of emotional intimacy he's going to stand there, hackles up, trying not to run away from? he thinks he can handle being reliable, because in his eyes, he's already reliable. but staying open, not closing off, what is it? what's the difference?
is there any? he rushes to add one last thing, for the first time looking away. not for long: he drags his eyes back to her face right after, but now he looks... both red in the face and faintly panicked. if he throws the worst, most blunt parts of his issues out there, maybe it'll be enough to get her to decide against a fairytale romance that he'll never be. )
And I don't — okay, this is going to sound stupid and I'm not saying we'd ever have sex but I'm saying that I don't think I'd be okay with it until we were both, um, older. Like over eighteen.
( his hands are clenched in fists now, because he knows why he's saying that, and that it's far too close to things back home and he would not, he would not, have the same caveat with a guy. it's inherently unfair, but he doesn't want to deal with any chances at...
... he just can't. he can't do it, and he had decided, weeks ago, to be up front that there's only so much of himself he can commit like that. the fact he's shortsighted and focused on only one... particular... aspect.......................... is because of the bigger fear he has about families and things like that. also, frankly, a lack of imagination and experience.
but he's talking to Anya, so they should both be secure in that lack of experience or... desire... as far as he knows. also, he's hoping none of those knights heard what he said, and that the ghosts (who did) stop laughing. the fact they laugh at all has his hackles up; he turns to glare at them and tells them to: )
And by the end of it all, Anya is so red-faced and panicked and it feels like her heart is going to absolutely explode in her chest that she's going to go ahead and. Just. Let her fingers curl around the hood of the jacket that he gave her, lift it right onto her head, and reach up to pull down the front so that it can try to cover some of her absolutely mortified expression.]
Yuratchkaaaaaaa.
[That's it.
That's all she's got.
Her hands are honestly covering her cheeks and Anya doesn't get embarrassed about many things - or... almost anything at all, really. But - ]
Kiss? Sex? [A VERY FAST SHAKE OF HER HEAD.] Hепристойный!
["Obscene, indecent, lewd, unseemly, salacious, filthy" - every google translate definition for that is hilarious and apt.]
You are too much! Ah - [She lets one hand rest over her heart, which manages to pull away from some of her hoodie cover, but honestly.] Anya's heart hurts.... It is too fast. Too much.
[It takes a little bit for her to catch her breath, though she might be forcing it just a little so he doesn't get a chance to interrupt her. When she's sparing a glance up at him again, she's almost definitely pouting.]
Ah - I still like you....
[kinda unfortunate tbh. even she thinks it's kinda of funny.]
Mm... I love you too, as a friend I know. More... I hope so, but I do not think that is a thing you know right away.
[Even if she's too much of a romantic to ever think of discarding the idea - why would you want to date someone that you don't think you can love? Which is why she's just sort of laughs now, even if her cheeks are still red.]
All of what Yuratchka said is like... a warning? Договор? A contract?
( his hands come up to try and hold off... or reassure... or something? he doesn't know, looking more than mildly panicked himself, heart beating too fast because he's equal parts sure he screwed that up royally and ah, well.
she's hiding. in the hoodie he gave her.
yeah, he screwed up. though in this he's not apologetic: he's being overblunt because he needs to be that blunt. it's almost amusing this is what it takes to embarrass her, except he's embarrassed too. he isn't going to walk away, not until he hears her out, but...
... wait. what? his voice comes out slightly higher than he likes. )
I'll say let's give this a try, and don't tell me later on I didn't warn you up front.
( he pauses, shoulders hunching. this has nothing to do with confessions or any of the rest. this is just because he needs more reassurance and less of the emotionally fraught confusion. his voice drops down lower, softer. this is a different kind of admittance. )
The idea of it makes her laugh more than anything, startled into it and she has to cover her mouth quickly before the rest of the giggles escape. The movement is so sudden that it makes her hood fall back down, her shoulders still shaking with her own laughter and disbelief. Oh. He said....
He said yes.
(She'd played it out in her head plenty of times. "I can't return your feelings, Nastenka" or something like that. And then she would say, "I know, it's okay."
Apparently, she didn't know anything at all?)
It's automatic, how she self-consciously plays with her hair, but also can't help but beam. She nods.]
... mm. Anya can do that.
[More confidently, even if she's embarrassed and blushing too - but when has Anya ever been anything but direct. She opens her arms to immediately lean against him in another hug, humming a happy little note.]
Yuratchka is funny...
Да. I want to try too. You warned me. Anya will warn you too.
I think I like you a lot, because my heart did not do this before. Ah... but I will try to be good, and meet you where you are. Друг... Because you are my friend first.
( well, that's out of the way. he sort of decides all at once not to think about it anymore right now, since apparently, it's resolved, for whatever that means in the future. Anya's laughing, or trying not to, and he doesn't feel like being offended: the ghosts have shut up too. (they may have nodded to each other. the young will be as they are.)
instead, he breathes out in a sigh of relief, hugging Anya again and closing his eyes as he drops his head down toward her shoulder. she's cut up and injured too, he noticed, and he'll ask about that in a moment, but there's only so much either of them can do. if it hadn't been the horror of today, and everything that's been happening, it was the horror of the weeks prior. the horror of fighting ghosts and something that felt and moved like evil, of seeing someone he didn't dislike practically impaled, so they could kill someone who'd already died and murdered in the process for her own agenda. in a mansion on fire, they'd escaped after hacking her apart; had found the plans for the Retrospec building, only to have the world drop out from under their feet.
there are ways of falling where the fall becomes simply another means of existing in terminal velocity. Yuri had hooked an arm around one of the stone lions, perhaps even the one laying own to their side. its singularly unconcerned with their drama. Yuri appreciates that sense of pervasive calm. he could use more of it right now, to calm down his head, or his heart, or his stomach.
instead he just holds one of his three best friends close and hopes they both figure out what meeting each other where they are really means. )
You sure that isn't a heart condition? ( he knows not, but the half-assed tease is as tired as he is. ) Yeah. I'll try to do that too.
[There's another small laugh from her, even as he falls against her and she accepts that easily.]
I think it means a new type of happiness.
[Which is why she would've been fine with her crush being unrequited, she thought... but ah - this is fine too, isn't it? So she hums and keeps one arm around Yuri, though her other one reaches up to let her fingers run through his hair, carefully easing out any tangles. They're both tired. Anya doesn't even quite realize the horror that he'd been through - though that'll probably be explained later.
For now, it's a moment to rest.]
Главная? Is Yuratchka going home now? You should rest. Davechka wants to see you.
( ah. why does it feel nice to have her fingers run through his hair? the fainter memories of his childhood have similar moments; mostly, he ascribes his grandfather's face. he accepts it regardless, holding still like somehow that's the appropriate reaction. )
Mm. I missed him too. ( understatement. he missed all three of them like his Grandpa's cooking. it left him feeling better just being around them; and he doesn't doubt that it's the same for each of his friends. still half mumbling, he asks the pertinent question. the one he would have asked regardless. )
Soon. When I am home. I want to see Mama and Polaris.
[Some part of her is glad that she hasn't seen them yet - because that means that they weren't on the battlefield. Yet the rest of her obviously aches with the feeling of missing them. It's been three weeks. When she told her mother that she would still be at the convention, she didn't think that would be the last time she'd see her for a month.
Still, she'll keep carding her fingers through his hair in an easy, repetitive motion, careful not to pull on any tangles.]
Katya, Davechka, and Yuratchka, найденный. All found and safe. Mm, there are more still...
[Of course there is, Anya wants to check on so many others.]
But Anya's phone needs to fix first...
Edited (tmw when you misread the tag) 2017-08-25 09:21 (UTC)
( he's tired enough that for a moment he's faced with the almost overwhelming desire to fall asleep standing up, Anya carding her fingers through his hair. not even the nervousness in his stomach and his uncertainty and the frisson of excitement means anything concrete right now. they've all been through so much.
he pulls back and frowns. )
Most everyone on the network feels like they know you. Nastenka, what happened to your phone?
( here are his hands; here they come to rest on her shoulders. Yuri watches Anya's face, feeling for a moment like his grandfather. then again, he thinks that's mostly the exhaustion, because surely Yuri never darts his gaze away when he's done something stupid.
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action | 8/24, homecoming (without the dance)
his hand rests against the side of one stone lion, grateful for its steadiness. he doesn't remember at what point where he felt pulled to this place; or how he made it from the beach back through the suburbs heading north, toward the city. he hadn't found a bus. maybe he'd ridden the lion, somehow; he stands on the sidewalk leaning against a stone shoulder, idly tracing his fingers over scars in the stone. one of the lion's ears has been chipped, permanently; improbably enough, the lion purrs in a great impossible rumble, sitting down as Yuri fails to move forward. the bag Yuri had picked up again at some point slid down with a thud, resting at the back of his legs. mine, he thinks tiredly, and he doesn't fight it for once.
he wants a shower. ten showers. he wants a bed. his bed. he wants a phone charger and an outlet and to know his friends are all okay. he wants to talk to his Grandpa. he wants to not have to move.
he ignores that last part, not trapped in or in a shitty swamp or in a poorly lit house buried under dust and death and its own weighted history. he's not poisoned, though he's a little singed and a hell of a lot of sore. he's not bleeding (much) past incidental small injuries, nicks and cuts. he's sweat and dirt streaked, sand-dust coating his dress shirt and the 1960's suit slacks that'd mostly come through intact. his abused leopard print sneakers jut out of the bottom.
when he thinks he sees Anya in the middle distance, he squints, half clamouring up on the lion to get a better view after asking it to stand. the lion cranes its neck to look up at him, and Yuri keeps his balance on stone shoulders, shielding his eyes. he's relieved once he's stop being disbelieving, the intensity of the emotion sweeping in a singular joy as he lights up, smiling, wanting to laugh in spite of being exhausted.
cupping his hands around his mouth and drawing air in his lungs, he shouts: )
Nasteeeeenkaaaaaaaaaaaa!
( then he's leaping down, racing her way, lion shaking its massive stone head and trotting along in his wake, his pack politely picked up and carried in its mouth. )
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After the battle at the beach, Anya had taken a small infantry of knights back to the city... because she wasn't sure what else to do with them. Should she give them a place to rest? Did they need food? Certainly everyone was getting rather tired and hungry after all of... that. Even if she could not yet figure out how to describe what that was. Still, she had been able to make it back to the dragon that had brought all of Team Tarzan back, Anya's hands outstretched to the great, beautiful beast that enchanted her beyond words.
For a few moments, it's quiet. She listens to the shuffling of suits of armor, the confused rattling of her monkey friend that had come along. She ponders over her own state of dress worthy of a video game character, though she lacks the fancy hat. Would she get to keep this armor? Maybe she should consider it for a possible idol venture. Again, she thinks about what to feed everyone. Would Mama be okay having company over? Her thoughts are idle, simple, don't yet delve deeper into the implications of everything they'd experienced. For now, she let the peace reign.
Until it's not quiet or peaceful at all anymore.
When Yuri's voice registers, her head turns in the direction that it comes from automatically, gaze openly searching as if she couldn't believe she'd let herself rest before finding him.
Then she's running.
The knights rattle in confusion, holding onto the rifle, machete, and sword that she leaves with them as if she can't bear having anything weigh her down. Her feet can't take her to him fast enough as her arms open automatically and she reaches out, yelling back:]
Yuratchka....! Yuratchka Yuratchka Yuratchka!
[With nothing but delight, absolute endless delight, as if they hadn't spent the last few hours - weeks? - fighting for their lives.]
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it is good, to be alive, they think. even if they are not.
Yuri throws his arms open, checking himself at the last possible second so that his forward momentum is pulled back, inviting Anya into his embrace without throwing himself at her, like he's done for years with his Grandpa. she's a riot of colour that barely registers: what's more important is her being real, not one of the memories dancing around in his head. he catches her up and lifts her, spinning her around even as he crushes her close. )
You're here! You're okay? Is that a dragon? You didn't get queen'd in the last few weeks, did you?
( they're silly questions and ones that matter to him both, a mix without clear boundaries. he sets her down, not wanting to make her dizzy or make himself much the same. he's still smiling, the lion catching up and nudging into his back, dropping his pack and shaking its massive head again, chuffing. Yuri laughs again, smiling at Anya as he pulls back to see her face again. she's okay.
he doesn't realise how much of a balm that is to the rough edges of his soul, after weeks of traveling with strangers who became acquaintances, perhaps one day friends. Yuri's bad at bonding; he hasn't minded those he's traveled and fought with, but they're not home. they're not the people he worried about and thought about and dreamed about and didn't know if they were stuck in similar horrid places, or were somewhere better, or somewhere worse. )
I missed you.
( he missed his version of everyone. he'll tell that to each of them, one by one. )
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When he pulls back a bit, she does too and gives him a smile that even the exhaustion doesn't touch.]
Okay - yes! [In a manner of speaking. She's got her own bandages and wounds, some of them very fresh indeed as recent as a few hours, but nothing that's bothering her enough that she can't handle it without painkillers. There's the tired, there's the loneliness, there's the feelings of wanting to see everyone but not yet finding everyone.... but she doesn't think of those. Not right now.]
Dragon, yes! Big and very nice. Queen? [She giggles, as if that's the most... impossible thing he said.] Silly Yuratchka. No.
[And her heart aches in her chest at his admittance, even as certain as she gives her in return:]
I missed you, too. Большое.... I missed you very, very much.
[She's a lonely person, against all odds. It's why she reaches out so much and so far, to so many people. Even on this trip, there were people that she knew, faces that she recognized.... but it wasn't quite the same. Not the same as her best friends.
It's why if he'll let her, she'll lean against him again. Just to be close. Though she'll also glance at the lion that came up to them, giggling faintly.]
Yuratchka met a lion...? Hеудивителен... I am not surprised.
[Followed by the rolling Rrrrrrrr to mimic the noise a lion makes in Russian....]
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Yuri doesn't object to her leaning against him. if anything, he's glad for the contact, glad for someone who already knows so much of the worst of him, who's stayed anyway. it's been one of those thoughts he's turned over in his head, along with so many others. he'd thought he'd had an answer, weeks ago, to a confession he'd been blindsided by. he's fairly sure Anya has both excellent taste and horrid taste: he knows his own worth, but it's not measured in interpersonal relationships. he's not ready to slow down his drive, and he's not sure how to adjust it to allow anyone in, consistently; to reach out when he's tired, to listen to someone else when all he wants to do is withdraw and hammer out whatever's going on in his head.
he thought he'd had an answer. he'd learned something about depth and his own shadows when trapped in the caverns and their sporadic stretches of darkness, chased and chasing after a creature out of myth and legend. he'd learned something about fragility and the worth in living in a moment, fearless, after coming so close to death in water and gnashing teeth and rope that dragged him under, safety and danger in one. he'd learned about festering bitterness and an aversion to change, being inflexible and scared of what? change happens. people succeed and fail in everything, every day. they were no more guaranteed to be around the people they loved for more than the moment they lived than they were guaranteed to reality, as today has been proven. a video game level of button smashing and monster slaying, with no healing potions, no checkpoints for saving, only luck and something like skill and the grace of a universe that doesn't give a shit in the first place, because caring doesn't matter on a cosmic level.
it's a lot simpler in his head than all that; because about all that matters is they've made it here, the city's been restored to whatever messed up save-point it'd never really been at, there's a giant dragon looming over knights over there, a stone lion laying own to their right, and he doesn't know what else. )
Two of them. Pretty cool, right? ( though he keeps her close, not trying to look down at her face so much as tuck his face against the side of her head and just focus on breathing. after a few beats of his heart, he sighs out, laughing under his breath. he's only patient when he needs to be. right now he's relieved, happy, joyous, and feeling the exhaustion come creeping back in, purring like a particularly sadistic cat.
so it's jarring, but he's often jarring. not smooth, because he isn't smooth except when he doesn't try at all. ) Nastenka. What happens if you kiss a frog and he never turns into a prince?
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There's a little hum of her own, a noise of agreement, because she does think that's very cool. The lions are very cool and she wonders where the other stone lion went - if it's looking for its friend? They will have to reunite the lions later, she thinks. Sort of in the same way that everyone is getting reunited now.
Yuri interrupts that train of thought with her name, the way that only he says it, followed by a question.
.... did he forget that she's bad at analogies? So there's another little noise from her, this one of open confusion as she blinks and pulls back just enough to look at his face to try to get a better understanding of what he's saying. Frogs? Princes? Is this because of his dragon and queen questions earlier? Did he think that she kissed a frog and it turned into a dragon...
If they got any cartoonier, there would be very obvious question marks over her head.]
Ah...
Mm?
Do I get to keep the frog?
[Her sincerely.... dense answer.]
If the frog would still like to stay with me, I would like that too.
[Though now she's a little worried - she raises a hand to brush his bangs back as if she's gonna check for a fever? You doing okay, Yuri....]
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The frog is me, Nastenka. I'm not being literal. ... I hope.
( he adds, voice dropping down into a mutter, considering at this point ending up as a frog for some reason he doesn't understand isn't entirely out of the question. still, he shakes off the thought by shaking his head, fumbling and... glancing back over his shoulder. )
... Let me start over. I have something for you.
( he nods his head toward the pack on the ground where the lion dropped it; the decision had been an unformed thought in the back of his mind until now, but it feels right as it coalesces. no matter what else happens or doesn't happen, this feels right, and he wants to have something be good for once. )
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[Oh. Oh! That jogs her memory a bit more, provides some additional context where he'd left her rather clueless before. That's right, from the night that they went stargazing... What if he never turned into a prince? How many times did Anya already tell him that he did a good job of playing the prince for her....
But the disorienting train of thought continues, because he's moving right along without her. For once, she feels like she's the one getting steamrolled in their conversation? There's a confused blink before she nods once.]
Ah...
[And then - realizes.]
A-Ah? Wait, a... сувенир? ["Souvenir" - there's no chance of her remembering that one right now.] Yuratchka, I did not get anything for you... Not fair!
[THIS IS JUST UNEVEN, HE'S PLAYING DIRTY]
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No, not anything like that. It's something else.
( he digs around, pulling out a turtle shell of all things, setting it to the side. what he pulls out has been tucked in the remains of a jacket that'd match his slacks if he had any desire to wear it. he doesn't, hence it's undignified existence stuffed in a carrysack. he unfolds it, pulling out the white and red and blue jacket it'd been protecting.
he stands with an echo of his normal grace, stepping light back around and throwing the jacket up and out, settling it over Anya's shoulders without so much as a by your leave. )
Since I ran off with yours the last time.
( his Team Russia jacket. his, because it's that same feeling as the stupid cat plushes, only slightly less irritating now. he's seen the like before on athletes competing for Russia; it makes him wonder if the skating he's grown into isn't something he actually did as competitively as the men he's watched skate through his hallucinomemories.
it's neither here nor there at the moment. he's adjusting the fall of the jacket over Anya's shoulders, pulling the collar close to closed by the front of her chest, over the dip of her collarbone. it doesn't match anything about her right now; her costume is something else, but quintessentially Anya, regardless. )
For you.
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There's a tilt of her head when it unfolds from where it had been hidden in the pack, genuinely bewildered. It's a nice jacket. Is that also something that was blocking what Yuri wanted to get - but then he's leaving it around her shoulders, easy at that. She doesn't watch enough international sports competitions to recognize it. It's not the first time that Yuri's let her borrow one of his jackets, so she thinks for a moment that she's supposed to just hold onto it for now.
Up until he clears that up.
Again, she's confused. Just when she thought that she was starting to get somewhere, she's thrown off again.]
Mm...? Me? Davenka already gave back my last jacket...
[She trails off, her brows furrowed together as she looks up at Yuri with a look of befuddlement. Her last jacket was returned to her, so why is he giving her this one?]
Yuratchka...? Почему...
[Another gently bewildered "why?"]
It is... nice? Ah - I like it. Cпасибо. Thank you... but you know that you do not have to?
[Or is it like when he grows out of things and gives it to her? What does this have to do with frogs....]
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Nastenka. I want to.
( he'd sound mildly offended if he weren't instead reaching out to flick her forehead, gently. he's not so thick that he can't see he's lost her along the topic jumping he's been doing on his own; he clenches his jaw, considering what the hell do I do. Yuuri hadn't been helpful. only said he needed to give an answer one way or another.
he'd found it weeks ago. he's distilled it since then. he did not think he'd be saying what he is, because it had been, at first... )
Do you remember when you confessed to me and I freaked out and told you I needed time to answer? Do you have time to listen to me now? Before something else happens and it's another five weeks or five months or ten years or what-the-fuck-ever and I don't know where any of my friends are and I can't get back in touch with them and there's too much I haven't said.
( he's let his hands drop away from the collar of the jacket, falling back to his sides. he's not going to hold on to her for this, for all he's intently focused and watching her now.
will you be my friend or won't you?
of course we're friends.
how do you know?
I love you. he's not sure about that last one. doesn't think he will be for a while, because he's still figuring out what that means for all his friends. looking at it from any other angle, he has hang-ups, and he's gunshy, and he's fucking tired of himself. best to clear the air now and let them both figure out where things fall after. )
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[There's a complaint on her end, because she doesn't think that this one is her fault for not understanding. When he flicks her forehead she leans back just a little bit, for half a second, before she lets out a soft huff before trying again to focus on what he's saying. For a little bit, her expression borders on a pout.
.... until it doesn't, because then she's surprised.
Oh. An answer.
She entertains the thought for a moment of telling him that she'd expected to have to wait until Christmas, but figures that it might be better to not throw him off when he's clearly already on uncharted waters. So she settles, her expression unwrinkling in understanding.
Frog princes. Jackets. That's... part of the answer?
Some part of her wants to try to expect what he'll say, some part of her is still firmly rooted in the belief that he's going to say no and this was just one big long delay, but most of her is - oddly, still worried about him.]
... Да....
[Some part of her wants to cheer up, to encourage him and seem - excited for this, but she can't. And she promised him that she would try to be more sincerely honest about everything.
Even the things that scare her.]
If you know it... yes. I want to know Yuratchka's answer.
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( he clarifies, fingers twitching at his sides. he's still scared, because he doesn't think there's a right answer. he feels like there aren't any wrong ones either by now, just degrees of living through as they are. growing as whatever the hell kind of person they'll be, pursuing the goals and dreams and careers that matter most.
frankly, if Anya never had found hers, Yuri doesn't think he'd even have hesitated in telling her no. he cannot understand or support the passionless or directionless, not the way people seem to expect. certainly not in these situations. but she has; he has to admit and face that it's something he can respond to, perhaps already has been. there's an equality in it that's... appealing, for all he has different concerns, all the same ones he had before Anya confessed to him on a stage after her own debut at a convention that ended in tearing Recolle apart.
so it goes. and in this case, as a rush of words that tumble out, lancing a wound he didn't know he had before. )
I don't get romance. I mean, I don't know how you can tell the difference between that kind of love and any of the rest. I know I love you, and I don't know right now if that's different from how I love Dave, or how I love Karkat. I know I like you. I think you're attractive ( he lifts a hand to tap over his temple, indicating where he means ), I like spending time with you. I... ( he can't help the fact he starts to blush, because it's embarrassing, because admitting he's now thought about any of these things is scary; it's vulnerable. he hates it. he thinks he needs it. ) ... would like to kiss. You, specifically. And I don't know if that's enough or if it means what you might want it to mean, because I still don't get it. What I mean is I'm... I want to figure it out, if you still do. I can't promise I'm a frog who's going to figure out how to be a prince, I'm not going to be any less dedicated to getting where I want to be with dance, or figuring out what the hell is going on with our lives and this stupid excuse for a city we live in. We're not going to have a lot of time together when we're both busy. We can talk and text and it's just like it is usually, I think? I don't know what's supposed to make it different.
( he doesn't know what qualifies the difference. he really doesn't know; is it just the potential for physical intimacy? are there other levels of emotional intimacy he's going to stand there, hackles up, trying not to run away from? he thinks he can handle being reliable, because in his eyes, he's already reliable. but staying open, not closing off, what is it? what's the difference?
is there any? he rushes to add one last thing, for the first time looking away. not for long: he drags his eyes back to her face right after, but now he looks... both red in the face and faintly panicked. if he throws the worst, most blunt parts of his issues out there, maybe it'll be enough to get her to decide against a fairytale romance that he'll never be. )
And I don't — okay, this is going to sound stupid and I'm not saying we'd ever have sex but I'm saying that I don't think I'd be okay with it until we were both, um, older. Like over eighteen.
( his hands are clenched in fists now, because he knows why he's saying that, and that it's far too close to things back home and he would not, he would not, have the same caveat with a guy. it's inherently unfair, but he doesn't want to deal with any chances at...
... he just can't. he can't do it, and he had decided, weeks ago, to be up front that there's only so much of himself he can commit like that. the fact he's shortsighted and focused on only one... particular... aspect.......................... is because of the bigger fear he has about families and things like that. also, frankly, a lack of imagination and experience.
but he's talking to Anya, so they should both be secure in that lack of experience or... desire... as far as he knows. also, he's hoping none of those knights heard what he said, and that the ghosts (who did) stop laughing. the fact they laugh at all has his hackles up; he turns to glare at them and tells them to: )
Shut-up!
[1/2]
That is.... an answer.
And by the end of it all, Anya is so red-faced and panicked and it feels like her heart is going to absolutely explode in her chest that she's going to go ahead and. Just. Let her fingers curl around the hood of the jacket that he gave her, lift it right onto her head, and reach up to pull down the front so that it can try to cover some of her absolutely mortified expression.]
Yuratchkaaaaaaa.
[That's it.
That's all she's got.
Her hands are honestly covering her cheeks and Anya doesn't get embarrassed about many things - or... almost anything at all, really. But - ]
Kiss? Sex? [A VERY FAST SHAKE OF HER HEAD.] Hепристойный!
["Obscene, indecent, lewd, unseemly, salacious, filthy" - every google translate definition for that is hilarious and apt.]
You are too much! Ah - [She lets one hand rest over her heart, which manages to pull away from some of her hoodie cover, but honestly.] Anya's heart hurts.... It is too fast. Too much.
[she needs a recovery period]
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Ah - I still like you....
[kinda unfortunate tbh. even she thinks it's kinda of funny.]
Mm... I love you too, as a friend I know. More... I hope so, but I do not think that is a thing you know right away.
[Even if she's too much of a romantic to ever think of discarding the idea - why would you want to date someone that you don't think you can love? Which is why she's just sort of laughs now, even if her cheeks are still red.]
All of what Yuratchka said is like... a warning? Договор? A contract?
What will you do if I say yes, I still want that?
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she's hiding. in the hoodie he gave her.
yeah, he screwed up. though in this he's not apologetic: he's being overblunt because he needs to be that blunt. it's almost amusing this is what it takes to embarrass her, except he's embarrassed too. he isn't going to walk away, not until he hears her out, but...
... wait. what? his voice comes out slightly higher than he likes. )
I'll say let's give this a try, and don't tell me later on I didn't warn you up front.
( he pauses, shoulders hunching. this has nothing to do with confessions or any of the rest. this is just because he needs more reassurance and less of the emotionally fraught confusion. his voice drops down lower, softer. this is a different kind of admittance. )
And ask for another hug.
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Dumb, dumb, dumb, he's so—
... her boyfriend now?
The idea of it makes her laugh more than anything, startled into it and she has to cover her mouth quickly before the rest of the giggles escape. The movement is so sudden that it makes her hood fall back down, her shoulders still shaking with her own laughter and disbelief. Oh. He said....
He said yes.
(She'd played it out in her head plenty of times. "I can't return your feelings, Nastenka" or something like that. And then she would say, "I know, it's okay."
Apparently, she didn't know anything at all?)
It's automatic, how she self-consciously plays with her hair, but also can't help but beam. She nods.]
... mm. Anya can do that.
[More confidently, even if she's embarrassed and blushing too - but when has Anya ever been anything but direct. She opens her arms to immediately lean against him in another hug, humming a happy little note.]
Yuratchka is funny...
Да. I want to try too. You warned me. Anya will warn you too.
I think I like you a lot, because my heart did not do this before. Ah... but I will try to be good, and meet you where you are. Друг... Because you are my friend first.
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instead, he breathes out in a sigh of relief, hugging Anya again and closing his eyes as he drops his head down toward her shoulder. she's cut up and injured too, he noticed, and he'll ask about that in a moment, but there's only so much either of them can do. if it hadn't been the horror of today, and everything that's been happening, it was the horror of the weeks prior. the horror of fighting ghosts and something that felt and moved like evil, of seeing someone he didn't dislike practically impaled, so they could kill someone who'd already died and murdered in the process for her own agenda. in a mansion on fire, they'd escaped after hacking her apart; had found the plans for the Retrospec building, only to have the world drop out from under their feet.
there are ways of falling where the fall becomes simply another means of existing in terminal velocity. Yuri had hooked an arm around one of the stone lions, perhaps even the one laying own to their side. its singularly unconcerned with their drama. Yuri appreciates that sense of pervasive calm. he could use more of it right now, to calm down his head, or his heart, or his stomach.
instead he just holds one of his three best friends close and hopes they both figure out what meeting each other where they are really means. )
You sure that isn't a heart condition? ( he knows not, but the half-assed tease is as tired as he is. ) Yeah. I'll try to do that too.
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I think it means a new type of happiness.
[Which is why she would've been fine with her crush being unrequited, she thought... but ah - this is fine too, isn't it? So she hums and keeps one arm around Yuri, though her other one reaches up to let her fingers run through his hair, carefully easing out any tangles. They're both tired. Anya doesn't even quite realize the horror that he'd been through - though that'll probably be explained later.
For now, it's a moment to rest.]
Главная? Is Yuratchka going home now? You should rest. Davechka wants to see you.
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Mm. I missed him too. ( understatement. he missed all three of them like his Grandpa's cooking. it left him feeling better just being around them; and he doesn't doubt that it's the same for each of his friends. still half mumbling, he asks the pertinent question. the one he would have asked regardless. )
When's Nastenka resting?
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[Some part of her is glad that she hasn't seen them yet - because that means that they weren't on the battlefield. Yet the rest of her obviously aches with the feeling of missing them. It's been three weeks. When she told her mother that she would still be at the convention, she didn't think that would be the last time she'd see her for a month.
Still, she'll keep carding her fingers through his hair in an easy, repetitive motion, careful not to pull on any tangles.]
Katya, Davechka, and Yuratchka, найденный. All found and safe. Mm, there are more still...
[Of course there is, Anya wants to check on so many others.]
But Anya's phone needs to fix first...
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he pulls back and frowns. )
Most everyone on the network feels like they know you. Nastenka, what happened to your phone?
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yeah okay none of her messages went through
her eyes dart elsewhere for the first time, looking far more unsure about this than anything else - ]
It went down in the water....
[ . . . ]
... fall....
[the waterfall]
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( here are his hands; here they come to rest on her shoulders. Yuri watches Anya's face, feeling for a moment like his grandfather. then again, he thinks that's mostly the exhaustion, because surely Yuri never darts his gaze away when he's done something stupid.
... nope, he definitely does that. )
Down in the waterfall. With you?
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Mm.... недобросовестный...
Anya already said this in a text to Yuratchka - you were not supposed to find out now...!
[but still she holds her hands up, as if that's meant to prove something - ]
See? Anya is okay. You do not need to worry or be mad.
y ru dating him again
questions we're all asking
to no answer other than ??? (im mad my reply here was eaten twice)
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