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Sep. 16th, 2009 10:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenI'm reading Tolstoy and then writing Hetalia fic the day before I am supposed to be flying out to California.
This is actually a really bad idea. 1,424 words. No warnings. Except for the above.
They came and went as they had to. The doctors came to bleed her, sometimes four times a day. Her mother came. Sometimes her tutors came, and sometimes maybe the Empress, but she could remember very little from this time. It had been nearly a month since Sophia had first arrived in Moscow and she spent in her dark apartments, chilled and scorched at alternate times. At the worst of it the pain in her side grew so bad that all she wanted was to curl up in a ball and cry, to which her mother had nothing good to say.
"Sophia," she scolded, "You must show strength."
Which was very well for her mother, but her mother was not deathly ill. She would have said as much but her throat was too thick, and anyway it hurt to lift her head. The Grand Duke visited her in the evenings. He sat on the other side of the room and kicked his feet and asked impatiently when she would be well.
"I would like to know myself!" groaned Sophia.
"I've never had smallpox." His eyes were wide with interest. The Grand Duke had a curiosity in all things disgusting. Sophia pulled her pillows over her head.
"They don't know if it is smallpox."
"What's it like?"
"Not smallpox!"
"You are boring when you are sick," said the Grand Duke. The next time he visited he asked if she had pustules. She pretended to be asleep. She got very good at pretending to be asleep. It kept her from having to talk to prying attendants, and she got to hear many interesting stories from her ladies, who were keeping nearly constant watch. After a month, it was concluded that she would not die of smallpox. This fact disappointed the Grand Duke, who had never witnessed someone die of it.
"I am sure someday you will," snapped Sophia, who was still sore from fever and weak from eating nothing but soups.
"Do you think so?" the Grand Duke looked cheered by this. "Oh, but I'd much rather see someone get bayoneted."
Sophia closed her eyes and pretended to snore. The Grand Duke pushed back his chair and left. It was quiet afterwards, so quiet that all at once Sophia was not pretending anymore. She didn't know how long it was that she'd stopped pretending, she was only slightly aware of the sounds of footsteps in her room. She thought it was her ladies, filing back, or the Grand Duke, back maybe to poke her. It didn't matter. She dreamt of grey things, and when she opened her eyes she met a pair of big grey eyes. They were close to hers, and set in a very large, very male face. It was no one she knew.
Sophia did what was proper and opened her mouth to scream.
A large thumb covered her lips. "Ah, please do not yell," said the stranger. "I do not mean you harm, I only wanted to see you. She is very interested in you and I wanted to meet you for myself."
He said this very quickly, and in Russian. Sophia, whose Russian lessons had been interrupted by her sickness, gave him a blank stare and prepared to scream again. Stung, the stranger switched to broken French: "No harm. No harm! It is....is Elisabeth!" He showed her both of his hands. They were big rough hands. He quickly folded them down and affected a clumsy bow of his head. "Sophia interests her. I come and see."
Sophia forgot to scream, so strange a picture this person was. The half of him that withdrew from hanging over her bed straightened into a very tall person indeed, although his round cheeks were bare. He must have been quite young. He wore clothes that might be called fashionable, soft lavender, though they fitted badly over his chest and the ends of his cuffs were frayed. Her rooms were very hot, but he hadn't taken off neither his coat--which hung off his shoulders in a beaten way-- or his scarf. The scarf trailed nearly to his ankles. Despite the rest of his dress, this was perfectly clean and pressed.
"The Empress?" asked Sophia. "You are one of her court?"
The main screwed up his eyes for a moment, then smiled broadly. "Yes," he said quite excitedly. "Yes, yes. I am. Eh. With her. You are too, now!"
"I suppose I am," Sophia sat up, and wondered if she should call for help. She did not recognize him, this young man. He had a broad and open face. "...how are you related to the Empress?" It was perfectly possible he was related to her intimately. It was said--by the ladies, not Sophia of course-- that she had been married many times in secret. She could not risk offense.
"I serve her," he said, without hesitation.
Sophia would be patient with him. "How do you serve the Empress?"
"She serves me," he replied, confusingly.
"Why, that's wrong!" Sophia leaned forward. She wished she hadn't. It hurt very much to do so. The stranger reached out to help her but Sophia waved him off quickly. "How can you say that!"
"Is true," he said, looking hurt. "Do you not know me?"
"I have just met you."
"Ah, yes, yes." The man rubbed his head ruefully. "You've not been here long. It is a pity to me. I should like it if someone knew me. Her father did, you know. He was much fun. But these new people, not so much. I should like it if someone knew me. They could remind me of who I am. But they just speak French and my French is not so good!" He laughed. He had switched to Russian partway through, and Sophia could make out very of what he'd said. "Your Russian is worse," he added, with a laugh. This she understood.
"I am learning!" she cried. "I am working very hard!"
"Right now you were sleeping."
"I have been sick."
"Been sicker," said the stranger. "Sicker than you might know. You stay centuries in snow, see if it half as easy. Sophia." He shook his head. It rankled, to be admonished by someone so boyish, and probably half-mad. "Sophia. Should be mindful, Sophia!"
"Ekaterina," she corrected. "I will be married soon, you know." She curled her knees close to herself as she said this, tipping her head up to affect a loftiness she did not really have when he towered so. He knew it too. He blinked, and laughed harder than before.
"Oh, oh yes. I like you, yes! But I not call you Ekaterina. That is Russian name."
She wished sorely for something heavy to throw. "I will be a Russian Grand Duchess."
"Married to German Grand Duke," sighed the man. His smile faded. "I remember." He bit his lip. It should have looked childish, but there was something very old in his eyes. He pulled his coat over the front of his chest. "Still, I like you. Even if you think I am shabby. And mad." His face turned shrewd. He put his hand back on the bed stand, and leaned in like he had a great secret indeed. "You may think this. I do not mind it so much when they think I am mad."
"I've said nothing like that," said Sophia, who had certainly thought it. "You shouldn't make such assumptions." With his peculiarity she had forgotten to be fearful. The corners of his eyes crinkled and he put one of those large hands on her head.
"Feel better," was all he said. "Sophia." And then he was gone. It would have been easy to accept if he had simply walked out the door, but Sophia would never recall any such thing. He was there at her bedside and then he was not any longer. She was left feeling stronger than before but mostly perplexed. It was not long after that the ladies returned and, seeing their charge awake and with more color than before, immediately launched into a conversation she could only half follow. It was odd that she could not bring herself to remark on that strange fellow. It was odder that she had not thought to ask for his name, but the oddest thing of all was that she found none of it odd in of itself. In fact, she did not think so much of the encounter at all.
Though she would not be so surprised to meet him again.
This is actually a really bad idea. 1,424 words. No warnings. Except for the above.
They came and went as they had to. The doctors came to bleed her, sometimes four times a day. Her mother came. Sometimes her tutors came, and sometimes maybe the Empress, but she could remember very little from this time. It had been nearly a month since Sophia had first arrived in Moscow and she spent in her dark apartments, chilled and scorched at alternate times. At the worst of it the pain in her side grew so bad that all she wanted was to curl up in a ball and cry, to which her mother had nothing good to say.
"Sophia," she scolded, "You must show strength."
Which was very well for her mother, but her mother was not deathly ill. She would have said as much but her throat was too thick, and anyway it hurt to lift her head. The Grand Duke visited her in the evenings. He sat on the other side of the room and kicked his feet and asked impatiently when she would be well.
"I would like to know myself!" groaned Sophia.
"I've never had smallpox." His eyes were wide with interest. The Grand Duke had a curiosity in all things disgusting. Sophia pulled her pillows over her head.
"They don't know if it is smallpox."
"What's it like?"
"Not smallpox!"
"You are boring when you are sick," said the Grand Duke. The next time he visited he asked if she had pustules. She pretended to be asleep. She got very good at pretending to be asleep. It kept her from having to talk to prying attendants, and she got to hear many interesting stories from her ladies, who were keeping nearly constant watch. After a month, it was concluded that she would not die of smallpox. This fact disappointed the Grand Duke, who had never witnessed someone die of it.
"I am sure someday you will," snapped Sophia, who was still sore from fever and weak from eating nothing but soups.
"Do you think so?" the Grand Duke looked cheered by this. "Oh, but I'd much rather see someone get bayoneted."
Sophia closed her eyes and pretended to snore. The Grand Duke pushed back his chair and left. It was quiet afterwards, so quiet that all at once Sophia was not pretending anymore. She didn't know how long it was that she'd stopped pretending, she was only slightly aware of the sounds of footsteps in her room. She thought it was her ladies, filing back, or the Grand Duke, back maybe to poke her. It didn't matter. She dreamt of grey things, and when she opened her eyes she met a pair of big grey eyes. They were close to hers, and set in a very large, very male face. It was no one she knew.
Sophia did what was proper and opened her mouth to scream.
A large thumb covered her lips. "Ah, please do not yell," said the stranger. "I do not mean you harm, I only wanted to see you. She is very interested in you and I wanted to meet you for myself."
He said this very quickly, and in Russian. Sophia, whose Russian lessons had been interrupted by her sickness, gave him a blank stare and prepared to scream again. Stung, the stranger switched to broken French: "No harm. No harm! It is....is Elisabeth!" He showed her both of his hands. They were big rough hands. He quickly folded them down and affected a clumsy bow of his head. "Sophia interests her. I come and see."
Sophia forgot to scream, so strange a picture this person was. The half of him that withdrew from hanging over her bed straightened into a very tall person indeed, although his round cheeks were bare. He must have been quite young. He wore clothes that might be called fashionable, soft lavender, though they fitted badly over his chest and the ends of his cuffs were frayed. Her rooms were very hot, but he hadn't taken off neither his coat--which hung off his shoulders in a beaten way-- or his scarf. The scarf trailed nearly to his ankles. Despite the rest of his dress, this was perfectly clean and pressed.
"The Empress?" asked Sophia. "You are one of her court?"
The main screwed up his eyes for a moment, then smiled broadly. "Yes," he said quite excitedly. "Yes, yes. I am. Eh. With her. You are too, now!"
"I suppose I am," Sophia sat up, and wondered if she should call for help. She did not recognize him, this young man. He had a broad and open face. "...how are you related to the Empress?" It was perfectly possible he was related to her intimately. It was said--by the ladies, not Sophia of course-- that she had been married many times in secret. She could not risk offense.
"I serve her," he said, without hesitation.
Sophia would be patient with him. "How do you serve the Empress?"
"She serves me," he replied, confusingly.
"Why, that's wrong!" Sophia leaned forward. She wished she hadn't. It hurt very much to do so. The stranger reached out to help her but Sophia waved him off quickly. "How can you say that!"
"Is true," he said, looking hurt. "Do you not know me?"
"I have just met you."
"Ah, yes, yes." The man rubbed his head ruefully. "You've not been here long. It is a pity to me. I should like it if someone knew me. Her father did, you know. He was much fun. But these new people, not so much. I should like it if someone knew me. They could remind me of who I am. But they just speak French and my French is not so good!" He laughed. He had switched to Russian partway through, and Sophia could make out very of what he'd said. "Your Russian is worse," he added, with a laugh. This she understood.
"I am learning!" she cried. "I am working very hard!"
"Right now you were sleeping."
"I have been sick."
"Been sicker," said the stranger. "Sicker than you might know. You stay centuries in snow, see if it half as easy. Sophia." He shook his head. It rankled, to be admonished by someone so boyish, and probably half-mad. "Sophia. Should be mindful, Sophia!"
"Ekaterina," she corrected. "I will be married soon, you know." She curled her knees close to herself as she said this, tipping her head up to affect a loftiness she did not really have when he towered so. He knew it too. He blinked, and laughed harder than before.
"Oh, oh yes. I like you, yes! But I not call you Ekaterina. That is Russian name."
She wished sorely for something heavy to throw. "I will be a Russian Grand Duchess."
"Married to German Grand Duke," sighed the man. His smile faded. "I remember." He bit his lip. It should have looked childish, but there was something very old in his eyes. He pulled his coat over the front of his chest. "Still, I like you. Even if you think I am shabby. And mad." His face turned shrewd. He put his hand back on the bed stand, and leaned in like he had a great secret indeed. "You may think this. I do not mind it so much when they think I am mad."
"I've said nothing like that," said Sophia, who had certainly thought it. "You shouldn't make such assumptions." With his peculiarity she had forgotten to be fearful. The corners of his eyes crinkled and he put one of those large hands on her head.
"Feel better," was all he said. "Sophia." And then he was gone. It would have been easy to accept if he had simply walked out the door, but Sophia would never recall any such thing. He was there at her bedside and then he was not any longer. She was left feeling stronger than before but mostly perplexed. It was not long after that the ladies returned and, seeing their charge awake and with more color than before, immediately launched into a conversation she could only half follow. It was odd that she could not bring herself to remark on that strange fellow. It was odder that she had not thought to ask for his name, but the oddest thing of all was that she found none of it odd in of itself. In fact, she did not think so much of the encounter at all.
Though she would not be so surprised to meet him again.
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-17 03:03 am (UTC)The metaphysics. Daaaamn.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-17 03:14 am (UTC)Oh my god your Russia is adorable and innocent-but-not and so quietly clever, and CATHERINE the dynamic you've set up between them is so perfect. And just, the whole atmosphere of it, just this exactly omg.
(I didn't know you were leaving already! Be safe, and have fun!! ♥)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-17 03:27 pm (UTC)