(no subject)
I don't know why I wrote this. 8| It'd be crack if it wasn't such an angstfest. Anyhoo, Olga (or at least, that's what I remember her name to be) is from a Russian novel titled "A Soldier's Daughter". Unfortunately I read it some time back and I don't remember names too clearly. I can't find any links to it either. :/
The main story of ASD is that a soldier returns from war, disillusioned and unhappy. His wife dies of shrapnel embedded in her side, and his daughter becomes a whore for the Union, trading her body for state secrets. However, in the later part of the novel, the soldier dies and the daughter wonders what it is all for. She gives up her job and collects her father's body, determined to start a new life after she had buried him.
Ivan Braginski is the personification of Russia, from the comic Hetalia. The on-going story with him is that he's been driven crazy by constant war and strife, which is pretty damn sad because all he wants is to be happy and surrounded by his sunflowers and vodka. >:
A Son's Daughter
Hetalia/A Soldier's Daughter crossover, PG13
Olga was alone in the washroom, reapplying her lipstick which had been slightly smudged throughout the course of their dinner. Matters were going well- Daniel Marks was young and unguarded, and he was foolish enough to think that a young Russian woman could not be of any possible threat to him and his country.
Well, perhaps in some ways he was right. Olga was not the threat, she was merely the messenger.
It was as she prepared to meet Mr. Marks again that the door swung open, and a blond man appeared at the door.
"Ah," he said, looking surprised. "Pardon me, I was looking for the men's washroom..."
Ever the diplomat, Olga pasted a smile on so sincere that only a fellow liar could tell, and nodded in the correct direction. "You should take a turn to your left, sir," she said and was about to leave when she noticed the man looking at her. A little flustered, she rose an automatic hand to her hair. "... Is there something wrong?"
The man merely shook his head.
"Tell me," he said at length, when Olga looked as if she were going to walk away just like that. "Do you truly think that you are helping your country like this? Dinners with people like that-" And here, he paused to look at the door beyond them, as if he could see through the thin wood, where Daniel Marks sat at a table with the remnants of their meal. "You give yourself up for a cause- but do you really believe in that?"
For a moment, Olga could not speak.
Who was this man, she wondered, how did he know, and was he a threat to her? Her eyes narrowed as she drew herself up tall- to no avail, however. She was tall in her heels. The man was taller still, yet as Olga looked into his eyes, she sensed that he would not sell her out. He had sad eyes, this man, lavender eyes that seemed far too solemn and sad for their vibrant hue. That look did not suit him, she decided. He looked as if life had cheated him of all and any happiness that he rightfully deserved.
"I do not know who you are, sir," she said. "But that is none of your business, and you will not say a word about this outside of this conversation. There are people backing me up, sir, and they will part the Red Sea to ensure that what I do stays a secret. Consider that your warning."
To her surprise, the man laughed. "Oh, Olga," he said as she froze, but he paid no mind to that. "I would be the last person to betray you. Trust me. Those people that you say will part the Red Sea- they listen to me." Gently, he placed a hand on her cheek, warm and delicate. "Tell me at least that you believe this will help your country."
"I cannot do that sir," she said, pushing his hand away. Suddenly, she felt a little ashamed. "I do it for the roubles, for a new world that will open to me. It is not patriotism that drives me."
"But are you happy?"
"I am happy to know that this will bring me a better tomorrow."
Almost, she felt sorry that she had put that look there on the man's face- it was a melancholic look, it did not belong on that child-like face. But the man smiled after a bit.
"As long as you are happy then," he said, bowing a little. As he turned to walk away, his steps were heavy even on the carpeted floor.
"You have not told me your name," Olga said just as he reached the door though she did not expect an answer. If he was as important as he said he was, he would not give his name freely to a girl like her. He surprised her again.
"I am Ivan Braginski," he said. "But you need not ask about me to your superiors. They cannot tell you a thing."
Then the door swung again, and he was gone. Olga snorted as she watched him leave. They could not tell her anything, eh? Well, she had her ways. After a last check in the mirror, she returned to dinner with Daniel Marks and in the evening that followed, she slept with him, prying out information when the Briton was at last asleep.
It was not a difficult task, this.
When she relayed the information back to her superior, she made sure to mention Ivan Braginski's name. To her surprise, he did not remain silent, instead turning stricken eyes onto her. She was not meant to know of his existence, how had she met him?
The matter was resolved after a bit, but his reaction shook Olga, and everywhere she went thereafter to find out his identity was a futile search. She never met Ivan Braginski again, except once when she collected her father's body. At the undertaker's she thought she saw a glimpse of him, but when she walked out the door Braginski was not there.
In the years to come, the memory of him would fade, but she always remembered his violet eyes, and the scent of sunflowers, for some odd reason.
The main story of ASD is that a soldier returns from war, disillusioned and unhappy. His wife dies of shrapnel embedded in her side, and his daughter becomes a whore for the Union, trading her body for state secrets. However, in the later part of the novel, the soldier dies and the daughter wonders what it is all for. She gives up her job and collects her father's body, determined to start a new life after she had buried him.
Ivan Braginski is the personification of Russia, from the comic Hetalia. The on-going story with him is that he's been driven crazy by constant war and strife, which is pretty damn sad because all he wants is to be happy and surrounded by his sunflowers and vodka. >:
A Son's Daughter
Hetalia/A Soldier's Daughter crossover, PG13
Olga was alone in the washroom, reapplying her lipstick which had been slightly smudged throughout the course of their dinner. Matters were going well- Daniel Marks was young and unguarded, and he was foolish enough to think that a young Russian woman could not be of any possible threat to him and his country.
Well, perhaps in some ways he was right. Olga was not the threat, she was merely the messenger.
It was as she prepared to meet Mr. Marks again that the door swung open, and a blond man appeared at the door.
"Ah," he said, looking surprised. "Pardon me, I was looking for the men's washroom..."
Ever the diplomat, Olga pasted a smile on so sincere that only a fellow liar could tell, and nodded in the correct direction. "You should take a turn to your left, sir," she said and was about to leave when she noticed the man looking at her. A little flustered, she rose an automatic hand to her hair. "... Is there something wrong?"
The man merely shook his head.
"Tell me," he said at length, when Olga looked as if she were going to walk away just like that. "Do you truly think that you are helping your country like this? Dinners with people like that-" And here, he paused to look at the door beyond them, as if he could see through the thin wood, where Daniel Marks sat at a table with the remnants of their meal. "You give yourself up for a cause- but do you really believe in that?"
For a moment, Olga could not speak.
Who was this man, she wondered, how did he know, and was he a threat to her? Her eyes narrowed as she drew herself up tall- to no avail, however. She was tall in her heels. The man was taller still, yet as Olga looked into his eyes, she sensed that he would not sell her out. He had sad eyes, this man, lavender eyes that seemed far too solemn and sad for their vibrant hue. That look did not suit him, she decided. He looked as if life had cheated him of all and any happiness that he rightfully deserved.
"I do not know who you are, sir," she said. "But that is none of your business, and you will not say a word about this outside of this conversation. There are people backing me up, sir, and they will part the Red Sea to ensure that what I do stays a secret. Consider that your warning."
To her surprise, the man laughed. "Oh, Olga," he said as she froze, but he paid no mind to that. "I would be the last person to betray you. Trust me. Those people that you say will part the Red Sea- they listen to me." Gently, he placed a hand on her cheek, warm and delicate. "Tell me at least that you believe this will help your country."
"I cannot do that sir," she said, pushing his hand away. Suddenly, she felt a little ashamed. "I do it for the roubles, for a new world that will open to me. It is not patriotism that drives me."
"But are you happy?"
"I am happy to know that this will bring me a better tomorrow."
Almost, she felt sorry that she had put that look there on the man's face- it was a melancholic look, it did not belong on that child-like face. But the man smiled after a bit.
"As long as you are happy then," he said, bowing a little. As he turned to walk away, his steps were heavy even on the carpeted floor.
"You have not told me your name," Olga said just as he reached the door though she did not expect an answer. If he was as important as he said he was, he would not give his name freely to a girl like her. He surprised her again.
"I am Ivan Braginski," he said. "But you need not ask about me to your superiors. They cannot tell you a thing."
Then the door swung again, and he was gone. Olga snorted as she watched him leave. They could not tell her anything, eh? Well, she had her ways. After a last check in the mirror, she returned to dinner with Daniel Marks and in the evening that followed, she slept with him, prying out information when the Briton was at last asleep.
It was not a difficult task, this.
When she relayed the information back to her superior, she made sure to mention Ivan Braginski's name. To her surprise, he did not remain silent, instead turning stricken eyes onto her. She was not meant to know of his existence, how had she met him?
The matter was resolved after a bit, but his reaction shook Olga, and everywhere she went thereafter to find out his identity was a futile search. She never met Ivan Braginski again, except once when she collected her father's body. At the undertaker's she thought she saw a glimpse of him, but when she walked out the door Braginski was not there.
In the years to come, the memory of him would fade, but she always remembered his violet eyes, and the scent of sunflowers, for some odd reason.