Nearly before she has dampened the flames, Maya knows that there is someone else out here. A man, she sees in the split second's afterglow left by the fire. A very big man.
She is less worried about his size, however, and more about--
"Goddammit, I'm sorry," she calls, and the apology sounds (and is) very sincere. "I didn't see you there." She takes a few steps, her boots crunching in the snow, and she leans on the still-warm rock, looking into the darkness. "Are you alright?"
"What is your home like?" he asks curiously, after a few minutes' comfortable silence.
The ambiguity there -- her country, her world, her childhood town -- is deliberate. Any answer will be interesting, and sometimes it's hard to guess what's a bad subject.
Or maybe it was just that she used to be proud of it.
"The United Republics of the Red Star. Times are harder now." Everything's harder; the government is struggling to hold itself together, much less also the few states that still belong to the Commonwealth-that-was-once-a-Republic. "Most civilians are struggling." They're losing hope. The cities are gray, she doesn't say, but she's thinking it.
"I don't see much of the Commonwealth, besides the capital city and wherever I'm stationed. There are still some beautiful places left, though." Ones that she was more inclined to seek out when she had Marcus seeking with her.
"What about your Russia?" she asks, glancing at Piotr.
"I live in New York now, in America. But Russia will always be home."
Even when it isn't, exactly.
"Siberia is a harsh land, but beautiful. Very cold in winter, much more than here, but in the summer it is lovely. Wheat fields everywhere, and many rivers. Huge taiga forests, too -- very old ones. I grew up on a farm. The Ust-Ordynski Farm. A collective farm, under the Soviets."
"It was a larger nation then, too. The USSR, in English. United Soviet Socialist Republics -- Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik, in Russian. But that changed years ago. Most of the republics broke away to claim independence." Piotr was twelve or so; at the time, he was aware of all this mostly as news on the radio, and policy changes that affected his family on the farm
( ... )
Maya shoots the man's form a swift, startled look.
"The same happened in my world. The republics broke away from the URRS, crying for independence. Your Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik -- did it try to stop them?"
Piotr's Siberia sounds beautiful, and ordinarily, Maya would be happy to learn of it. But this conversation takes parallels and turns that she does not expect, continually, and she has to ask about them.
"For a time. There was -- trouble. Unrest. The economy was bad, and growing worse. Political control was weakened -- a good thing, but it meant we learned of problems the government had covered up. Some wanted reform. Some wanted independence, or a return to the old iron control, and everyone had different ideas. Everything was unstable."
"But there was never war. Clashes, and fights with laws and supply lines. Everything was uncertain. But not war. It fell apart everywhere, very fast. All at once, it felt like. I was young, but the adults said so too. From the great Soviet Union to Russia and all the little nations in only a few years."
Maya listens, and for a long moment, she says nothing. Her eyes may be on Piotr, but her mind is on his words.
From the great Soviet Union to Russia and all the little nations in only a few years.
The lake is quiet under a sheet of ice.
"It all sounds very familiar," she says, finally. "Familiar enough to be exactly the same. Trouble, unrest, instability; different ideas, problems that the government had covered up, a fast crumbling -- that's how it happened. Except that in my world, there was war. The URRS tried to force the republics to submit to it, and the Commonwealth of Red States is still trying."
The key word here -- and her delivery more than suggests it -- is 'tried' and 'trying.'
Maya accepts the words for what they are -- real sympathy, kindness -- with a quiet smile, and a nod. "I am, too."
Enough of war and of sadness. It has to be faced when she returns home. It doesn't have to be faced right now.
"Would you mind telling me about your farm, Piotr Nikolaievitch?" Maya says with a wider smile, drawing her legs up. "I grew up in the capital city; I don't know anything about country life."
"If you will tell me more about your home," he answers, with his own smile. "The good parts."
The Ust-Ordynski farm -- the parts that are homeland and nostalgia, not the loss but the golden wheatfields and loving family of his childhood -- is something Piotr can talk about for a while.
She is less worried about his size, however, and more about--
"Goddammit, I'm sorry," she calls, and the apology sounds (and is) very sincere. "I didn't see you there." She takes a few steps, her boots crunching in the snow, and she leans on the still-warm rock, looking into the darkness. "Are you alright?"
Reply
The ambiguity there -- her country, her world, her childhood town -- is deliberate. Any answer will be interesting, and sometimes it's hard to guess what's a bad subject.
Reply
Or maybe it was just that she used to be proud of it.
"The United Republics of the Red Star. Times are harder now." Everything's harder; the government is struggling to hold itself together, much less also the few states that still belong to the Commonwealth-that-was-once-a-Republic. "Most civilians are struggling." They're losing hope. The cities are gray, she doesn't say, but she's thinking it.
"I don't see much of the Commonwealth, besides the capital city and wherever I'm stationed. There are still some beautiful places left, though." Ones that she was more inclined to seek out when she had Marcus seeking with her.
"What about your Russia?" she asks, glancing at Piotr.
Reply
Even when it isn't, exactly.
"Siberia is a harsh land, but beautiful. Very cold in winter, much more than here, but in the summer it is lovely. Wheat fields everywhere, and many rivers. Huge taiga forests, too -- very old ones. I grew up on a farm. The Ust-Ordynski Farm. A collective farm, under the Soviets."
"It was a larger nation then, too. The USSR, in English. United Soviet Socialist Republics -- Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik, in Russian. But that changed years ago. Most of the republics broke away to claim independence." Piotr was twelve or so; at the time, he was aware of all this mostly as news on the radio, and policy changes that affected his family on the farm ( ... )
Reply
"The same happened in my world. The republics broke away from the URRS, crying for independence. Your Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik -- did it try to stop them?"
Piotr's Siberia sounds beautiful, and ordinarily, Maya would be happy to learn of it. But this conversation takes parallels and turns that she does not expect, continually, and she has to ask about them.
Reply
"For a time. There was -- trouble. Unrest. The economy was bad, and growing worse. Political control was weakened -- a good thing, but it meant we learned of problems the government had covered up. Some wanted reform. Some wanted independence, or a return to the old iron control, and everyone had different ideas. Everything was unstable."
"But there was never war. Clashes, and fights with laws and supply lines. Everything was uncertain. But not war. It fell apart everywhere, very fast. All at once, it felt like. I was young, but the adults said so too. From the great Soviet Union to Russia and all the little nations in only a few years."
Reply
From the great Soviet Union to Russia and all the little nations in only a few years.
The lake is quiet under a sheet of ice.
"It all sounds very familiar," she says, finally. "Familiar enough to be exactly the same. Trouble, unrest, instability; different ideas, problems that the government had covered up, a fast crumbling -- that's how it happened. Except that in my world, there was war. The URRS tried to force the republics to submit to it, and the Commonwealth of Red States is still trying."
The key word here -- and her delivery more than suggests it -- is 'tried' and 'trying.'
Reply
Of course it is. No matter who's winning, there is no good in civil war.
And she's a military sorceress.
"I am sorry," he says, and it's clear that this is sympathy, and sincere.
Reply
Enough of war and of sadness. It has to be faced when she returns home. It doesn't have to be faced right now.
"Would you mind telling me about your farm, Piotr Nikolaievitch?" Maya says with a wider smile, drawing her legs up. "I grew up in the capital city; I don't know anything about country life."
Reply
The Ust-Ordynski farm -- the parts that are homeland and nostalgia, not the loss but the golden wheatfields and loving family of his childhood -- is something Piotr can talk about for a while.
Reply
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