LOG; do just better to give it all up, ANASTASIA + KIPLING
who: Kipling and Anastasia
what: Kipling tries to be caring, and quite naturally, Anastasia doesn't care.
Finding the place hadn't been difficult for Valentina. Kipling wasn't surprised, but he didn't have the same access to address, nor the same savvy, that Valentina had toward these situations. It was weird approaching the building, because he knew that if he had the location much earlier, things might be different. He kept his mouth shut as he slipped inside with the hatted red-headed girl following behind him, and when they finally reached Anastasia's door, he nodded toward Valentina to stay away from the door and out of sight. It probably wouldn't do much good, but it was worth something.
Once she listened, he turned toward the door and knocked. If she didn't answer, she didn't, but he knew he'd keep coming back until he finally saw her.
She hadn't spent much of the last few days doing much. She ate when she needed to, showered a few times a day and read, not really paying attention to what she was reading. It could've been Bulgakov or a medical journal, and if you asked her an hour later, she wouldn't remember. When there was a knock on the door, she wasn't doing much of anything, staring out the window and braiding and unbraiding her hair.
Fact was, she didn't quite know who she was supposed to approach, or what she was supposed to do, now. The thought of leaving the city alltogether had crossed her mind, but St. Petersburg was her home and without Alexandra, the idea of returning to France seemed of little point.
She didn't move to answer the door, either.
He knocked a second time, and when no answer came, he started to turn to leave. Another day. But knowing Anastasia, she probably wouldn't answer it even in the best of moods, so he turned back to try the knob. Even if it was locked, Valentina would have been able to open it, but it wasn't this time. That surprised him, but at the same time, why would she bother? It wasn't like she had anyone to agitate her anymore.
The thought bothered him, and he quickly shoved it aside.
He turned the knob completely and pushed open the door, stepping inside and closing it behind him with a soft click. "Anastasia?" he called. After a second's hesitation, he added, "Or Alexandra?" His footsteps continued until he caught the sight of the red hair and the fact that the person attached to it was staring out the window. His steps stopped as he took in the sight of her. It occurred to him that it was probably a very good idea that he came here.
She couldn't disagree more.
"You know." She didn't turn around, however, and a small green creature crept into her lap before she batted her hand at it and it disappeared. "You're not supposed to enter without permission. It's considered rude."
It wasn't like he thought she would agree with him. Anastasia never seemed to want help.
"Could take that bit of advice yourself," Kipling said. He saw the faint flash of green before it vanished. That was Grigori's power, wasn't it? It unnerved him a little. "Hope you don't mind too much."
"You never seemed to mind." She got to her feet, and turned around to face him. He had no business being here, now, anyway. She wasn't a Seal anymore. Unless it was to kill her. But she'd already have vines around her throat if that was the case, wouldn't she?
"I don't care." It wasn't even her apartment. Not really.
The red hair bothered him. Although Valentina had it, he was used to seeing it on her. Seeing it on Anastasia--well, he was well-aware of the fact that she had it in her past life, but he was used to the blonde. Red hair didn't seem to suit her in his mind (which was an irony that he missed).
"I didn't," he agreed. It was almost something that he would have laughed at, in another time, but not now. "Suppose you know why I'm here."
"Because you care," she guessed. "Or because you're going to harp on me." Either way, it made no difference.
"Depends on if I have something to harp on you for." Kipling considered remaining on his feet, but that meant she would run him out of there faster. He moved toward the sofa and sat down on the edge of the cushion. "Do I?"
She watched him move, but did nothing to stop him from sitting down. "I don't know. Do you?"
His hands slid over his knees as he observed her. "Have you been eating?" Kipling knew that, in some ways, that shouldn't be priority question number one, but he didn't want to ask her about her new role. The longer he waited, the better.
She almost rolled her eyes at him and turned around to sit back down in the chair she had just vacated, pulling her legs up with her.
"Don't speak eye-rolling or arrogance very well, Anastasia," Kipling said. "Harping on you isn't so difficult with that. Makes it easier for someone to become irritated with you." He felt as if he was lecturing her, and he was here because he was worried.
"Perhaps you should leave, then." There was another wisp of green smoke crawling up the length of her arm, but she did nothing to brush it away this time. He should see, if nothing else.
"Still haven't answered my question," he remarked, eyeing the bat. There it was again. "Are you eating?" Kipling refused to ask about the bat just yet, even if she was probably practically coaxing him into it at the moment.
"Yes," she said after a bit. The bat sat on her shoulder and stared at Kipling for a second before slithering down the leg of her chair and disappearing into the woodwork. Anastasia turned to look at him. "Valentina is here, I hear."
Yes, he should have known that she would find out if the bats were there. He hadn't figured out just why they were there. "Wouldn't let me come alone," Kipling said with a small smile. "Shouldn't surprise you very much. Most of our types are a little too clingy and affectionate for our own good." He even managed to smile there, but the humor was lost on even him.
"Why the bats if he's dead?" he asked after a pause. "Didn't think powers worked that way."
She ignored the obvious jape she could make, and didn't smile back.
"They're mine, now." Here she did smile, and stood up again, walking to the window and placing a hand on it. Her jaw set and she stared out at the city. "Idiot." It obviously wasn't meant for him.
He left it open enough for her to make it, but when it didn't come, he wasn't disappointed. It wasn't as if she was extremely talkative right now.
"Imagine you know about your role, then." Again, not the question he wanted to ask, but he imagined she wouldn't exactly be willing to answer his small worrying questions that he really wanted to ask. "Don't suppose you're thrilled." He hoped not, or else everything he believed since January was wrong.
"Do you have to ask?" She turned around, her irritation clearly showing. Who was he to come here, and presume about her? As her about these things when it hadn't even been a week. Because he was a friend? Because he was worried? It was laughable. Everything about it, she could do nothing but want to laugh at. But most of all herself.
"Valentina seemed to think otherwise," he responded irritably. "Didn't think I had to ask but I didn't think it would hurt." Kipling glanced toward the door. It really wasn't that far away, but he was always too stubborn to finish a discussion before he felt that it was over. She was the one that always walked out.
"I'm sorry, Anastasia," he said, deciding that an apology would be more fitting than thoughts of leaving. "Know we had a truce, but it meant nothing, and ... well, don't suppose you want anyone around right now, but I haven't made myself much of a wanted presence."
Valentina did. Who cared? She'd never even spoken to the girl.
"You haven't."
He considered pointing out that she didn't make herself into very pleasant company herself. Kipling put up with it anyway. He didn't know why. Maybe it was the fact that beneath all that bitterness (justified) and bitchiness, she had actually cared about something.
"Not just about to stop worrying about you." Probably the last thing she wanted to hear, but he might as well confirm it. She probably figured it anyway.
"Thank you, you've made that perfectly clear already." Two bats pushed him off the couch as she took a step closer, and then the door opened. "Goodbye."
Kipling stumbled backward, but steadied his steps. If she tried anything more, Valentina would come to stop her. He reached out to the plants outside of the building, but they probably wouldn't grow fast enough if his next move wasn't particularly beneficial.
"This is always how it ends with you," he told her in an irritated voice. "Moment things are a bit too much, you just push them out of the way. Sometimes forget that you're supposed to be a Grand Duchess, or maybe it's easier to remember. Think you have a right to do this?" He exerted his focus when he was finished speaking toward the plants, but he still backed up a little.
"Do you think I care?" She gritted her teeth together. She hadn't wanted to talk to him in the first place, and she definitely didn't want to fight. But the one she had been a Seal for, the reason she was able to make the spirit shield had lost her will to be around because she killed the one person she could trust so what was left to care about? "Grand Duchess, the revolution, whatever. It's over now. It's finally entirely over. So no, I might not have a right to not deal with them, but I have a right to tell you you're not welcome here."
"It's not over yet," he said. "Still standing before me, aren't you? Seems that fate thought you'd be a fine as an Angel. Doesn't mean this is over yet." Kipling didn't bother to point out that she didn't seem to want him around even when they were fucking around. It was a little unnecessary at this point.
He didn't get it. Or he probably did, but refused to acknowledge it. In any case, she only shrugged.
No, he understood what she meant. But he always thought that was pretty stupid and ridiculous. Letting that lead their lives, not having a choice of their own--and then all the childish behavior that came from it. Not that he was acting much better.
"Don't suppose you'd be bothered if you never saw me again."
"You'd be supposing right."
The plants outside had already stopped their movement, but he considered doing something obnoxious with them, as if he would have some upper hand in the situation if he had some dominating factor. "I'll leave. If you ever need anything ..." He left it open-ended, but he knew she wouldn't. Or she would say she wouldn't. It didn't matter.
Kipling turned to leave, pulling the door behind him. He trusted that she wouldn't send the bats after them. If she didn't want to see him, she wouldn't find out where he was staying.
She sat back down before he had even closed the door properly, letting a bat dance up her arm and curl itself in her hair. She wished she could touch them. They were the only things right now she could stand to be around, and they weren't even alive.
what: Kipling tries to be caring, and quite naturally, Anastasia doesn't care.
Finding the place hadn't been difficult for Valentina. Kipling wasn't surprised, but he didn't have the same access to address, nor the same savvy, that Valentina had toward these situations. It was weird approaching the building, because he knew that if he had the location much earlier, things might be different. He kept his mouth shut as he slipped inside with the hatted red-headed girl following behind him, and when they finally reached Anastasia's door, he nodded toward Valentina to stay away from the door and out of sight. It probably wouldn't do much good, but it was worth something.
Once she listened, he turned toward the door and knocked. If she didn't answer, she didn't, but he knew he'd keep coming back until he finally saw her.
She hadn't spent much of the last few days doing much. She ate when she needed to, showered a few times a day and read, not really paying attention to what she was reading. It could've been Bulgakov or a medical journal, and if you asked her an hour later, she wouldn't remember. When there was a knock on the door, she wasn't doing much of anything, staring out the window and braiding and unbraiding her hair.
Fact was, she didn't quite know who she was supposed to approach, or what she was supposed to do, now. The thought of leaving the city alltogether had crossed her mind, but St. Petersburg was her home and without Alexandra, the idea of returning to France seemed of little point.
She didn't move to answer the door, either.
He knocked a second time, and when no answer came, he started to turn to leave. Another day. But knowing Anastasia, she probably wouldn't answer it even in the best of moods, so he turned back to try the knob. Even if it was locked, Valentina would have been able to open it, but it wasn't this time. That surprised him, but at the same time, why would she bother? It wasn't like she had anyone to agitate her anymore.
The thought bothered him, and he quickly shoved it aside.
He turned the knob completely and pushed open the door, stepping inside and closing it behind him with a soft click. "Anastasia?" he called. After a second's hesitation, he added, "Or Alexandra?" His footsteps continued until he caught the sight of the red hair and the fact that the person attached to it was staring out the window. His steps stopped as he took in the sight of her. It occurred to him that it was probably a very good idea that he came here.
She couldn't disagree more.
"You know." She didn't turn around, however, and a small green creature crept into her lap before she batted her hand at it and it disappeared. "You're not supposed to enter without permission. It's considered rude."
It wasn't like he thought she would agree with him. Anastasia never seemed to want help.
"Could take that bit of advice yourself," Kipling said. He saw the faint flash of green before it vanished. That was Grigori's power, wasn't it? It unnerved him a little. "Hope you don't mind too much."
"You never seemed to mind." She got to her feet, and turned around to face him. He had no business being here, now, anyway. She wasn't a Seal anymore. Unless it was to kill her. But she'd already have vines around her throat if that was the case, wouldn't she?
"I don't care." It wasn't even her apartment. Not really.
The red hair bothered him. Although Valentina had it, he was used to seeing it on her. Seeing it on Anastasia--well, he was well-aware of the fact that she had it in her past life, but he was used to the blonde. Red hair didn't seem to suit her in his mind (which was an irony that he missed).
"I didn't," he agreed. It was almost something that he would have laughed at, in another time, but not now. "Suppose you know why I'm here."
"Because you care," she guessed. "Or because you're going to harp on me." Either way, it made no difference.
"Depends on if I have something to harp on you for." Kipling considered remaining on his feet, but that meant she would run him out of there faster. He moved toward the sofa and sat down on the edge of the cushion. "Do I?"
She watched him move, but did nothing to stop him from sitting down. "I don't know. Do you?"
His hands slid over his knees as he observed her. "Have you been eating?" Kipling knew that, in some ways, that shouldn't be priority question number one, but he didn't want to ask her about her new role. The longer he waited, the better.
She almost rolled her eyes at him and turned around to sit back down in the chair she had just vacated, pulling her legs up with her.
"Don't speak eye-rolling or arrogance very well, Anastasia," Kipling said. "Harping on you isn't so difficult with that. Makes it easier for someone to become irritated with you." He felt as if he was lecturing her, and he was here because he was worried.
"Perhaps you should leave, then." There was another wisp of green smoke crawling up the length of her arm, but she did nothing to brush it away this time. He should see, if nothing else.
"Still haven't answered my question," he remarked, eyeing the bat. There it was again. "Are you eating?" Kipling refused to ask about the bat just yet, even if she was probably practically coaxing him into it at the moment.
"Yes," she said after a bit. The bat sat on her shoulder and stared at Kipling for a second before slithering down the leg of her chair and disappearing into the woodwork. Anastasia turned to look at him. "Valentina is here, I hear."
Yes, he should have known that she would find out if the bats were there. He hadn't figured out just why they were there. "Wouldn't let me come alone," Kipling said with a small smile. "Shouldn't surprise you very much. Most of our types are a little too clingy and affectionate for our own good." He even managed to smile there, but the humor was lost on even him.
"Why the bats if he's dead?" he asked after a pause. "Didn't think powers worked that way."
She ignored the obvious jape she could make, and didn't smile back.
"They're mine, now." Here she did smile, and stood up again, walking to the window and placing a hand on it. Her jaw set and she stared out at the city. "Idiot." It obviously wasn't meant for him.
He left it open enough for her to make it, but when it didn't come, he wasn't disappointed. It wasn't as if she was extremely talkative right now.
"Imagine you know about your role, then." Again, not the question he wanted to ask, but he imagined she wouldn't exactly be willing to answer his small worrying questions that he really wanted to ask. "Don't suppose you're thrilled." He hoped not, or else everything he believed since January was wrong.
"Do you have to ask?" She turned around, her irritation clearly showing. Who was he to come here, and presume about her? As her about these things when it hadn't even been a week. Because he was a friend? Because he was worried? It was laughable. Everything about it, she could do nothing but want to laugh at. But most of all herself.
"Valentina seemed to think otherwise," he responded irritably. "Didn't think I had to ask but I didn't think it would hurt." Kipling glanced toward the door. It really wasn't that far away, but he was always too stubborn to finish a discussion before he felt that it was over. She was the one that always walked out.
"I'm sorry, Anastasia," he said, deciding that an apology would be more fitting than thoughts of leaving. "Know we had a truce, but it meant nothing, and ... well, don't suppose you want anyone around right now, but I haven't made myself much of a wanted presence."
Valentina did. Who cared? She'd never even spoken to the girl.
"You haven't."
He considered pointing out that she didn't make herself into very pleasant company herself. Kipling put up with it anyway. He didn't know why. Maybe it was the fact that beneath all that bitterness (justified) and bitchiness, she had actually cared about something.
"Not just about to stop worrying about you." Probably the last thing she wanted to hear, but he might as well confirm it. She probably figured it anyway.
"Thank you, you've made that perfectly clear already." Two bats pushed him off the couch as she took a step closer, and then the door opened. "Goodbye."
Kipling stumbled backward, but steadied his steps. If she tried anything more, Valentina would come to stop her. He reached out to the plants outside of the building, but they probably wouldn't grow fast enough if his next move wasn't particularly beneficial.
"This is always how it ends with you," he told her in an irritated voice. "Moment things are a bit too much, you just push them out of the way. Sometimes forget that you're supposed to be a Grand Duchess, or maybe it's easier to remember. Think you have a right to do this?" He exerted his focus when he was finished speaking toward the plants, but he still backed up a little.
"Do you think I care?" She gritted her teeth together. She hadn't wanted to talk to him in the first place, and she definitely didn't want to fight. But the one she had been a Seal for, the reason she was able to make the spirit shield had lost her will to be around because she killed the one person she could trust so what was left to care about? "Grand Duchess, the revolution, whatever. It's over now. It's finally entirely over. So no, I might not have a right to not deal with them, but I have a right to tell you you're not welcome here."
"It's not over yet," he said. "Still standing before me, aren't you? Seems that fate thought you'd be a fine as an Angel. Doesn't mean this is over yet." Kipling didn't bother to point out that she didn't seem to want him around even when they were fucking around. It was a little unnecessary at this point.
He didn't get it. Or he probably did, but refused to acknowledge it. In any case, she only shrugged.
No, he understood what she meant. But he always thought that was pretty stupid and ridiculous. Letting that lead their lives, not having a choice of their own--and then all the childish behavior that came from it. Not that he was acting much better.
"Don't suppose you'd be bothered if you never saw me again."
"You'd be supposing right."
The plants outside had already stopped their movement, but he considered doing something obnoxious with them, as if he would have some upper hand in the situation if he had some dominating factor. "I'll leave. If you ever need anything ..." He left it open-ended, but he knew she wouldn't. Or she would say she wouldn't. It didn't matter.
Kipling turned to leave, pulling the door behind him. He trusted that she wouldn't send the bats after them. If she didn't want to see him, she wouldn't find out where he was staying.
She sat back down before he had even closed the door properly, letting a bat dance up her arm and curl itself in her hair. She wished she could touch them. They were the only things right now she could stand to be around, and they weren't even alive.