A Child's Genius [3/?]
anonymous
January 13 2009, 21:44:37 UTC
"Your mother -"
Ivan shakes his head, little nothing smile back but with a bitter, bitter edge to it. "Ah, my Mother. Sweet, pretty Sonya. She would not know this boy as her little Ivan. I might be Ivan Romanovich Braginski, yes, but never again Sonya's Ivan. That boy is long, long dead."
Alfred does not say anything. He knows that Ivan struggles with this feeling of deadness; it is easy to become numb to the concept of battle and conditioned to the conduct of warfare. A former 'toon leader who left a couple years ago for Command School--a smiling Chinese boy named Yao who had preceded Ivan as 'toon leader--had put it best: put on a happy face and just suck it for all its worth.
(It had been one of the non-existent secrets at Battle School that Ivan had had a raging crush on his 'toon leader. That was the first thing Alfred drew a line at taunting him with; he himself had been crazy for Kirkland, whom he still found tremendously dashing.)
"I was four when they pulled me from my family," Alfred says when the silence stretches on too long. "You were four, too. Of course we've changed."
"Women are so strange," Ivan nods. "I cannot understand why Feliks wants to be one. It is funny, yes, but I cannot comprehend it."
"Is that why you let him run wild with your First?" Alfred asks, referring to Toris.
"Ah, well," Ivan smiles his nothing smile, "they are entertaining together."
"Oh, man, I did not need to know that!"
--
It is years later until they meet again. After that conversation in the air ducts, Ivan had received his papers in the morning and had left, his face impassive as ever as he did so. Alfred had received his own paper a week later, and then he had been launched off to another station while Ivan began life at another.
The circumstances surrounding of their reunion are grim: hundreds of ships missing, weapons and resources destroyed. They only are able to meet each other because Alfred saw Ivan descending from the ramp of a large battleship that had fished his downed fighter out of the Earth's ocean. Alfred himself had been downed, only just managing to avoid crash landing on a small island.
"Ivan!" Alfred yells, waving a hand at the unresponding back of the Russian man. "Braginski!"
Ivan's eyes are just as pale and unusual as ever. He wears the high scarf that Alfred has seen from the holograms, the insignia denoting his Rear Admiral rank half hidden in its folds. Alfred is also the same rank, but he wears his marks proudly on the front of his uniform, only ever hiding it when a thick leather sport's jacket is called for.
"Jones," he says in the blank tone that Alfred has heard on sound bites; but then his voice drops, and the Rear Admiral whispers, "Alfred."
"How are you?"
The nothing smile--Braginski the Bear, they call him, who always wears his fangs in a smile--is in place but that whisper of the American's name tells Alfred his friend is not gone. So many are now, Alfred realizes suddenly, as he looks up at Ivan. He had grown used to it.
Ivan's smile does not change but his voice does not rise. "You always asked the stupidest questions," he murmurs.
"The Eagle is Down," Alfred shrugs, and he hopes the emotion does not show in his voice. "God, Ivan, it's been -"
"Fifteen years, seven months, sixteen days -"
"Christ, you're as precise as ever. Don't you ever forget anything?"
A Child's Genius [4/?]
anonymous
January 14 2009, 06:36:53 UTC
They go to a bar, a couple miles off the Cuban International Base. Alfred has been on and off Earth since he graduated Command School, but Ivan has not been back on Earth since he went to Battle School all those years ago. He moves carefully like a man used to being too large for everything around him, sometimes twisting his body in and out unnecessarily. It tell Alfred that his friend is not comfortable; it also tells Alfred that Ivan is still as flexible as when he used to contort himself in the Battle School air ducts.
"You guess correctly," the Russian tells him over his glass of vodka as they settle upon rickety bar stools. "I am most disoriented?"
"No kidding, man. I don't think I've ever seen a guy turn into a snake just to get through a door," Alfred snorts around his beer.
Ivan tilts his head slightly to the left, scarf--already loose in the hot weather--slipping open. "Why are we friends? I should have hit you by now, but I haven't. Very -"
"Christ!" Alfred exclaims, cutting off Ivan's out-loud train of thought. "I was wondering why you were wearing that thing."
"What?" Ivan lifts his gloved fingers to his scarf before comprehension dawns in his eyes. "Oh! Yes. Yao is a rather possessive lover," the Russian explains in a tone of voice that is both bashful and boastful. "He likes my neck."
Alfred stares at the numerous hickies that cover his friend's neck and takes a gulp of his beer. Life with Kirkland is nothing so... well, violent as that. And the American had those his Brit was kinky. It seemed the Chinese Admiral had some issues with being seen publicly (well, within the bathroom gossip circles) as the submissive partner.
"Weren't you dating Toris?"
The pleasure drains from Ivan's face and he mulls his vodka before choosing to answer. "Ah, well, yes, but we had grave artistic differences."
"Huh?"
Alfred nearly jumps when Ivan lifts his eyes, smiling. It is the same smile except with a different edge to it, a battle edge that has been honed and harnessed. Now he knows why some people in the International Forces go out of their way to keep Ivan happy.
"Toris likes soft edges and colours; he couldn't paint with me properly. I prefer evidence of my passions." And, as if to emphasize this disposition, Ivan rewinds his scarf around his neck lovingly. "This way Yao is always with me~!"
"...You're a freak."
Ivan chuckles, low in his chest. "You have told me that. But I think you're a pervert."
"What?!"
Several people in the bar look over at them only to quickly look away again when Alfred rounds on them, beer sloshing over the brim of his mug as he does so. Ivan looks up at him, elbows on the counter as he sips delicately (how can a man with the body of a bear do anything so delicately?) at his vodka; Alfred sits back down hurriedly and settles for glaring at his drinking companion.
"I," he declares slowly, "am not a pervert."
"But you have sex with men almost three times your age!" Ivan exclaims, loud enough to reattract the just-disappated attention. "You have had many public lovers--men and women. I would not put it past you if you have had an alien."
Re: A Child's Genius [5/?]
anonymous
January 14 2009, 06:37:45 UTC
"Why, I oughta -"
Ivan shakes his head, draining the last of his drink. "Ah, Alfred, you have not changed in the slightest. It is very refreshing."
Alfred gulps his remaining beer, glaring as the bartender refills their drinks. Ivan hums a silly little tune in the back of his throat, making whatever it is sound a lot like a disembodied jukebox from an old horror movie. Bonnefoy loves to watch those old horror movies, and they get Alfred every damn time.
"So," Alfred says, hopefully not sounds too obvious in his distraction tactic, "how long did you get to stay on Earth?"
"Two weeks," Ivan answers into his vodka; it is rather a worrisome rate he is consuming the large glass.
"'Got any plans?"
Ivan doesn't respond immediately, opting to finish off his second vodka, wait for a refill, and start upon his third. A slight blush is creeping up high on his cheeks, highlighting his bone structure. The pink matches his eyes.
"Maybe go to Russia. See the snow. But, no, mostly just wait." He finishes his third vodka and signals for another. "I am very good at waiting."
Alfred just raises his eyebrows. "You're drinking a lot."
Ivan pauses, newly refilled glass halfway to his lips. "Mm..." he intones, drinking some of it before setting the half-drained glass down with a light thump. "Yes?"
"We haven't had anything to eat since landing. Or, at least, I haven't. I know you probably haven't had anything since yesterday."
"Kirkland has rubbed off on you," Ivan observes, leaning on the counter with eyes half-lidded; he is enjoying his buzz. "Earth is such a strange place."
"It's our home."
"Is it?" Ivan lifts his drink and drains it. "I do guess it makes sense. It smells very interesting at least."
Re: A Child's Genius [5/?]
anonymous
January 15 2009, 17:08:14 UTC
I'm really enjoying this anon! I was hesitant about reading it at first because I usually don't like crossovers/AU's and I'm not familiar with Ender's Game, but I'm loving your style and Ivan & Alfred's friendship.
I'm also incredibly entertained by the Ivan/Yao possessive relationship issues and the 'evidence of their passions'.
Ivan shakes his head, little nothing smile back but with a bitter, bitter edge to it. "Ah, my Mother. Sweet, pretty Sonya. She would not know this boy as her little Ivan. I might be Ivan Romanovich Braginski, yes, but never again Sonya's Ivan. That boy is long, long dead."
Alfred does not say anything. He knows that Ivan struggles with this feeling of deadness; it is easy to become numb to the concept of battle and conditioned to the conduct of warfare. A former 'toon leader who left a couple years ago for Command School--a smiling Chinese boy named Yao who had preceded Ivan as 'toon leader--had put it best: put on a happy face and just suck it for all its worth.
(It had been one of the non-existent secrets at Battle School that Ivan had had a raging crush on his 'toon leader. That was the first thing Alfred drew a line at taunting him with; he himself had been crazy for Kirkland, whom he still found tremendously dashing.)
"I was four when they pulled me from my family," Alfred says when the silence stretches on too long. "You were four, too. Of course we've changed."
"Women are so strange," Ivan nods. "I cannot understand why Feliks wants to be one. It is funny, yes, but I cannot comprehend it."
"Is that why you let him run wild with your First?" Alfred asks, referring to Toris.
"Ah, well," Ivan smiles his nothing smile, "they are entertaining together."
"Oh, man, I did not need to know that!"
--
It is years later until they meet again. After that conversation in the air ducts, Ivan had received his papers in the morning and had left, his face impassive as ever as he did so. Alfred had received his own paper a week later, and then he had been launched off to another station while Ivan began life at another.
The circumstances surrounding of their reunion are grim: hundreds of ships missing, weapons and resources destroyed. They only are able to meet each other because Alfred saw Ivan descending from the ramp of a large battleship that had fished his downed fighter out of the Earth's ocean. Alfred himself had been downed, only just managing to avoid crash landing on a small island.
"Ivan!" Alfred yells, waving a hand at the unresponding back of the Russian man. "Braginski!"
Ivan's eyes are just as pale and unusual as ever. He wears the high scarf that Alfred has seen from the holograms, the insignia denoting his Rear Admiral rank half hidden in its folds. Alfred is also the same rank, but he wears his marks proudly on the front of his uniform, only ever hiding it when a thick leather sport's jacket is called for.
"Jones," he says in the blank tone that Alfred has heard on sound bites; but then his voice drops, and the Rear Admiral whispers, "Alfred."
"How are you?"
The nothing smile--Braginski the Bear, they call him, who always wears his fangs in a smile--is in place but that whisper of the American's name tells Alfred his friend is not gone. So many are now, Alfred realizes suddenly, as he looks up at Ivan. He had grown used to it.
Ivan's smile does not change but his voice does not rise. "You always asked the stupidest questions," he murmurs.
"The Eagle is Down," Alfred shrugs, and he hopes the emotion does not show in his voice. "God, Ivan, it's been -"
"Fifteen years, seven months, sixteen days -"
"Christ, you're as precise as ever. Don't you ever forget anything?"
Ivan shrugs. "A bear is a noble creature."
Alfred snorts. "So is an elephant."
Reply
Anyway, spectacular. Ivan seems so melancholy, and Alfred is as upbeat as ever, even considering his circumstances.
CAN'T WAIT TILL THE REST.
Reply
"You guess correctly," the Russian tells him over his glass of vodka as they settle upon rickety bar stools. "I am most disoriented?"
"No kidding, man. I don't think I've ever seen a guy turn into a snake just to get through a door," Alfred snorts around his beer.
Ivan tilts his head slightly to the left, scarf--already loose in the hot weather--slipping open. "Why are we friends? I should have hit you by now, but I haven't. Very -"
"Christ!" Alfred exclaims, cutting off Ivan's out-loud train of thought. "I was wondering why you were wearing that thing."
"What?" Ivan lifts his gloved fingers to his scarf before comprehension dawns in his eyes. "Oh! Yes. Yao is a rather possessive lover," the Russian explains in a tone of voice that is both bashful and boastful. "He likes my neck."
Alfred stares at the numerous hickies that cover his friend's neck and takes a gulp of his beer. Life with Kirkland is nothing so... well, violent as that. And the American had those his Brit was kinky. It seemed the Chinese Admiral had some issues with being seen publicly (well, within the bathroom gossip circles) as the submissive partner.
"Weren't you dating Toris?"
The pleasure drains from Ivan's face and he mulls his vodka before choosing to answer. "Ah, well, yes, but we had grave artistic differences."
"Huh?"
Alfred nearly jumps when Ivan lifts his eyes, smiling. It is the same smile except with a different edge to it, a battle edge that has been honed and harnessed. Now he knows why some people in the International Forces go out of their way to keep Ivan happy.
"Toris likes soft edges and colours; he couldn't paint with me properly. I prefer evidence of my passions." And, as if to emphasize this disposition, Ivan rewinds his scarf around his neck lovingly. "This way Yao is always with me~!"
"...You're a freak."
Ivan chuckles, low in his chest. "You have told me that. But I think you're a pervert."
"What?!"
Several people in the bar look over at them only to quickly look away again when Alfred rounds on them, beer sloshing over the brim of his mug as he does so. Ivan looks up at him, elbows on the counter as he sips delicately (how can a man with the body of a bear do anything so delicately?) at his vodka; Alfred sits back down hurriedly and settles for glaring at his drinking companion.
"I," he declares slowly, "am not a pervert."
"But you have sex with men almost three times your age!" Ivan exclaims, loud enough to reattract the just-disappated attention. "You have had many public lovers--men and women. I would not put it past you if you have had an alien."
Reply
Ivan shakes his head, draining the last of his drink. "Ah, Alfred, you have not changed in the slightest. It is very refreshing."
Alfred gulps his remaining beer, glaring as the bartender refills their drinks. Ivan hums a silly little tune in the back of his throat, making whatever it is sound a lot like a disembodied jukebox from an old horror movie. Bonnefoy loves to watch those old horror movies, and they get Alfred every damn time.
"So," Alfred says, hopefully not sounds too obvious in his distraction tactic, "how long did you get to stay on Earth?"
"Two weeks," Ivan answers into his vodka; it is rather a worrisome rate he is consuming the large glass.
"'Got any plans?"
Ivan doesn't respond immediately, opting to finish off his second vodka, wait for a refill, and start upon his third. A slight blush is creeping up high on his cheeks, highlighting his bone structure. The pink matches his eyes.
"Maybe go to Russia. See the snow. But, no, mostly just wait." He finishes his third vodka and signals for another. "I am very good at waiting."
Alfred just raises his eyebrows. "You're drinking a lot."
Ivan pauses, newly refilled glass halfway to his lips. "Mm..." he intones, drinking some of it before setting the half-drained glass down with a light thump. "Yes?"
"We haven't had anything to eat since landing. Or, at least, I haven't. I know you probably haven't had anything since yesterday."
"Kirkland has rubbed off on you," Ivan observes, leaning on the counter with eyes half-lidded; he is enjoying his buzz. "Earth is such a strange place."
"It's our home."
"Is it?" Ivan lifts his drink and drains it. "I do guess it makes sense. It smells very interesting at least."
Reply
I'm also incredibly entertained by the Ivan/Yao possessive relationship issues and the 'evidence of their passions'.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment