you continually bite at the bait
You will probably spend most of your time not in the forge, he had said, but he had also spoke of indulging whims and she...
She needs to retreat.
Take a break, catch her breath, stop wanting to scream
(it’s not just him)
pull herself together
(it’s not just this)
regain her inner balance and all of that. If she can’t fly, can’t study, then she has to build something. It doesn’t matter what - radio, engine, and once she’d helped her grandfather build a sleigh - just...
Something.
When they come from the Volga steppes, she asks for pencils, architectural paper, a ruler and she sets to work. Sitting at his workbench, utterly ignoring him, Esfir just starts to sketch.
She draws; she plans; she designs.
At one point, she sleeps, and wakes to find herself in a bedroom. Still in her clothes, shoes by the door, the smell of breakfast coming from Mireille’s kitchen.
(she didn’t ask; he didn’t offer; the eerily silent Mireille just smiled)
Back to the forge, and this…this is…
She’s never had to actually make parts before. And oh, she can’t make everything, but it’s enough to make this new and interesting and…and…
Fun.
Occasionally, she even smiles - soft, delighted, enchanted.
(fool)
It’s not so different from before, this doing something she loves while under someone else’s control. She’d hardly been free in the Air Force, and you can forget about freedom in Star City with General (terrifyingly evil) Nikolai (malevolent) Kamanin (Stalinist bastard) in charge of the cosmonauts’ training. At least here she has tools and supplies at her fingertips.
It’s not so different.
Not really.
(right?)
She needs to retreat.
Take a break, catch her breath, stop wanting to scream
(it’s not just him)
pull herself together
(it’s not just this)
regain her inner balance and all of that. If she can’t fly, can’t study, then she has to build something. It doesn’t matter what - radio, engine, and once she’d helped her grandfather build a sleigh - just...
Something.
When they come from the Volga steppes, she asks for pencils, architectural paper, a ruler and she sets to work. Sitting at his workbench, utterly ignoring him, Esfir just starts to sketch.
She draws; she plans; she designs.
At one point, she sleeps, and wakes to find herself in a bedroom. Still in her clothes, shoes by the door, the smell of breakfast coming from Mireille’s kitchen.
(she didn’t ask; he didn’t offer; the eerily silent Mireille just smiled)
Back to the forge, and this…this is…
She’s never had to actually make parts before. And oh, she can’t make everything, but it’s enough to make this new and interesting and…and…
Fun.
Occasionally, she even smiles - soft, delighted, enchanted.
(fool)
It’s not so different from before, this doing something she loves while under someone else’s control. She’d hardly been free in the Air Force, and you can forget about freedom in Star City with General (terrifyingly evil) Nikolai (malevolent) Kamanin (Stalinist bastard) in charge of the cosmonauts’ training. At least here she has tools and supplies at her fingertips.
It’s not so different.
Not really.
(right?)