Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 33-34/?
It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room; painfully tight, his throat constricted, his mouth drying almost immediately. A stray tear traced a watery trail down his cheek as he raised his head, the drop landing unceremoniously on the floor.
Alfred winced at the sound.
Knock, knock.
And then there was a flurry of motion.
The American was shoved into a nearby armoire, falling backwards into a large pile of clothes; inhaling a breath full of dust, he began to cough, eyes burning.
“You must not make a sound, do you understand? No matter what, you MUST be quiet until I let you out,” Ukraine gushed, her whispered words serious and hurried. Closing the doors before he could respond, the blonde watched the long-haired woman through a thin crack in the door. His eyebrows arched in shock as she deliberately brushed the still-full teapot to the floor, the fragile china shattering loudly on the wood.
“A-ah, oh no!” she said, rather loudly considering the situation, “Sorry, sorry, I’m coming!” Roughly messing her hair into tousled tangles and wetting her fingers with the lukewarm, dripping liquid, she finally made her way toward the door, which opened with muted creak.
“O-oh, it is only you, sister; I-I did not mean to keep you waiting, but I tripped and dropped my tea set-”
“Are you not going to invite me in?”
“H-huh? W-well, of course; you are usually so busy-” Ukraine fumbled; Alfred could almost see the furious heat that would be inching across her pastel cheeks. She was pushed aside as her sister entered, sharp eyes surveying the room.
Pale blonde hair was cropped short, brushing across a defined, alabaster chin; a fur hat was balanced perfectly on her head, matching the fuzzy fringe around her high collar. Light pink lips were drawn downwards, her rigid, raven-clad figure complementing her stern countenance. Shadow-gloved hands hovered near her pockets, the pants tucked into neatly shined boots.
She looked much older without her flowing navy dress and frilly bleached apron, the virgin-white ribbon glaringly absent from her downy tresses. She spared a glance to broken bits of porcelain, upper lip curling in distaste. As if sensing this, Ukraine kneeled, gathering the shards in milky palms as she tried mopping up the liquid with the ripped tablecloth.
“Who else is here?”
Ukraine blinked up at her sister, eyes wide and innocent as she paused in her cleaning.
“E-eh? No one, sister; only me.” The younger jerked her chin towards the mess on the floor, arrogantly looking down at the other woman.
“There are two broken cups, not one; who else is here?” Belarus said, her eyes flashing dangerously as she carefully stressed each word.
“No one, sister, no one; I was planning to call Brother to join me. I thought he might like some tea since he has been working so hard lately,” the elder said, her meek tone soft and quiet as she looked up to meet the other’s gaze, “As I was coming to get the door, I tripped; that is all.”
A metallic glint.
Alfred heard Ukraine’s breath catch as the knife was pressed against her throat, the sharp edge drawing a line of crimson as it pressed into supple flesh.
“You are a filthy, dirty liar, старшая сестра,” Belarus hissed, the words sounding even sharper in the foreign tongue, “Liars have no place in the People’s Republic.”
“Na-Natalia-” the elder managed, panting gasps rasping from her lips, “P-please, you-you’re hurting me.” The short-haired woman relieved some of the pressure, but kept the blade precariously close as Ukraine let out a shuddering breath, the corners of her eyes watery with tears.
“You always were such a child, Yekaterina,” Natalia sneered, “I am utterly oblivious as to why Brother tolerates you.”
“What happened to you, sister? You always used to be so warm and loving, especially towards Brother,” Ukraine whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “your ice, your front, never fooled me. Why, Natalia? I do not understand.”
“You know the answer to that as well as I do, sister,” the younger spat, venom lacing her tone. Grabbing a fistful of the elder’s long, silky locks, she yanked her forward, the latter emitting a weak cry of pain. “This hair,” Belarus said, utterly disgusted, “Why is yours so long, yet mine so short? Hm? Can you answer me that?”
“Br-brother said-”
“That’s right,” Natalia said, jerking her sister towards herself once again, “Brother told us to change, told us to prove our resolve to him. I had to cut the hair that I loved so much, that I grew for him; while you-” another harsh tug, “all you had to do was relinquish control. But that’s the one thing you hated the most, wasn’t it, старшая сестра? You hated Brother being in control.”
Hurling the elder to the side, the younger spun on her heel, steely gaze viciously searching the room. Natalia hurled pillows and blankets, roughly moving furniture as nearby trinkets trembled on their shelves. Ukraine pushed herself up on her arms, gaze still downcast as she mumbled quietly.
Then the short-haired woman spotted the armoire.
Alfred could barely breathe as she stalked ever closer, time slowing to taunt him in his misfortune. As leather-clad hands reached for the handle, Ukraine cried out.
“Belarus! Why can you not trust me-!”
Smack.
The sound reverberated loudly through the room, lengthy, shining strands glinting as the body crumpled to the floor, skin dyed an angry red from the backhanded hit.
The silence ebbed back slowly, broken only by the sobbing mass on the floor and Natalia’s loud, gasping gulps for air.
“Do not-” she began, tone strained and furiously deranged, “do not ever call me that again; do you understand? I said, do you understand you dirty, stupid шлюха?!” Belarus punctuated this statement with a swift kick to the woman’s back; Ukraine screamed in pain, curling in on herself as cried, choking and gasping into her chest.
“I’m one with Brother, now,” Natalia said, her tone saccharine and wistful, “I am part of the United Soviet-American People’s Republic and you will never take that away from me.”
Search now forgotten, the younger moved towards the door, not batting a lash as she turned from her only sister. Reaching the exit, she graced Ukraine with a backwards glance, ice-eyes freezing blood with their intensity.
“You are wanted upstairs,” Natalia said as if nothing had occurred, “we are going on another raid; meet me at the gate with your men in ten minutes. Oh, and Yekaterina? Clean this mess up.” And the door clicked shut.
Alfred tried to calm the anger racing through his veins, his shaking hands balling into fists; he forced himself to breathe, too afraid of the consequences of not quelling the burning feelings.
It was then he noticed that Ukraine had stopped crying.
The door to the armoire slowly opened, wood moaning loudly on antique hinges; she looked horribly disheveled, her hair in knotted tangles, snow cheek lashed with a crimson mark. Salty trails painted patterns down her face, the water glimmering slowly in the fading light as she brushed the rumples from her shirt and suspenders.
She was smiling.
It was broken; a twisted, sad expression that wrenched at one’s humanity as she looked down with glazed, violet-blue eyes.
“Do not be ashamed, dear America,” she said softly, eyes dead and glassy, “if you had been practicing as long as I have, you would be this good at acting too.”
She pulled him out of the clothes, placing a gentle kiss on his sweat-laden brow.
“We will finish our conversation another time,” she murmured into his hair, “for now, we must part. If Brother asks, tell him you got lost; he will believe you.”
Nodding numbly, the American peeked into the hallway, timidly looking back over his shoulder as he moved to leave.
“Do not worry,” words spoken with those eyes, hollow and wrong, “we will meet again. I believe in you.”
And the door closed behind him.
Uncertain footsteps echoed down the hall, at first slow and unsteady in gait; then, suddenly, he was running, panting heavily as he wished he could be anywhere, anywhere else.
Book clutched tightly to his chest, Alfred felt the tears prick his eyes just as he turned the corner, her room vanishing from view.
старшая сестра- older sister
шлюха- whore