Papercut—Urjasz

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

ANASTASIA KIRILOVNA MARISOVA

→ IT'S HARD TO SEE THE PAIN BEHIND THE MASK BEARING THE BURDEN
SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE ←

Tossing and turning. She barely got any sleep. Her slumber was riddled with nightmares that kept her awake, making her not want to go sleep. Even her usual get up and go get a drink of water wasn’t helping. So now, for most of the night, she simply lied there in the bed staring at either the wall or the ceiling as she tried to fall asleep. It never came. Even when the sun started to rise, she had only gotten a few hours of sleep. It was better than none, at least. She wasn’t even sure why these dreams haunted her, but she always forgot what they were about when she woke, just that she was scared and she didn’t want to go back to sleep. She would try, hoping that it wouldn’t happen again, but she always woke up seemingly minutes later, scared and in a cold sweat. Finally, she gave up altogether and just stood from her bed, throwing the covers off of her and getting up, throwing on a robe over her tank top and matching shorts so she wouldn’t have to walk around the house wearing next to nothing.

Oh stop being so modest. If you’ve got it, flaunt it! the voice demanded. Anastasia simply ignored the thoughts, unsure what “it” actually was. She walked down the winding staircase, wondering where everyone was. Her shoulder still had a patch of gauze over the bullet wound she had sustained a couple nights ago, as she had refused to do anything special to heal it besides some stitches. It had healed rather soundly, but at one point in the night she had turned wrong and re-opened. That was an adventure, going down to the medical wing in the middle of the night to get a touch-up. At least most of the residents in the house were nocturnal. . . that made things easier. Walking into the kitchen, she headed for the fridge and pulled it open, looking through it for something to drink and to eat for breakfast. She wasn’t even sure what time it was. . . she’d completely forgotten to look. Oh well. It was unimportant, anyway. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to be. Pulling out a carton of milk, she grabbed herself a glass from the cupboard and poured herself some, standing against the counter as she drank it.

→ A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE ←

→ STARRING Urjasz
→ COUNTING 396
→ LOCATION The mansion
→ WEARING Click
→ NOTES x.x
→ LYRICS By Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

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Once he has dropped off Malakai in the streets Urjasz had decided to avoid the adventure night he had let Malakai into. Chances were that their paths would cross and it would defeat the point of throwing Malakai in the deep end. Deciding that a drink was in order, he had spent the night quietly drinking in a bar until the early hours of the morning. Sleeping for a few hours in the back of his car, he awoke more sober than he had been when he nodded off. After a quick breakfast in a cafe, he believed himself sober enough to drive. Malakai was to find his own way home, something that could take all day depending on what he got up to. Urjasz had no worries about him. After all the man could simply fly away if he got into trouble. Why was it that everyone else got the cool stuff?

Returning home in his usual safe manner of speeding like a mad man, it wasn't long until he was back at the mansion, tearing down the drive. Drifting the BMW around the circle before the mansion, he left the car parked sideways for the Novosi to park. Staggering into the house, he took one look at the stairs and decided that he was hungry instead. After a quick half-lost wander through the hallways he reached the kitchen only to find Anastasia already set up in there. "Morning" he groaned as he opened the fridge, looking through the contents. "Ah bacon. The one true friend a man can ask for" he happily declared, taking out several packets of the stuff. Throwing them onto the grill, he stuck them in and turned to face Anastasia. "So. It's been a few days now. What the fuck happened in the park with you. I don't mean the other shit that happened. I mean the part where you turned into someone else."

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[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

ANASTASIA KIRILOVNA MARISOVA

→ IT'S HARD TO SEE THE PAIN BEHIND THE MASK BEARING THE BURDEN
SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE ←

Anastasia opened her eyes mid-gulp when she heard someone approaching. She was far too tired and felt too safe at the mansion to be worried, and it turned out to just be Urjasz getting home from wherever he had been that night. Hadn’t he been picking someone up, or dropping them off or something? She couldn’t recall. Anastasia smiled at him as he greeted her and dipped her head as she returned the gesture. “Good morning.” Finishing off her milk, she rinsed it out in the sink and put it away in the dish washer. It wasn’t very full yet, and Anastasia wondered how long it would take to fill it. She had never really kept track, as Kyla and her had tended to go out and eat instead so they had something to do together. Kyla. Anastaisa’s face fell for a moment and she stared at the open dish washer, the door halfway closed. Oh suck it up already. Close the dishwasher, you look like an idiot staring at the dirty plates and bowls, the voice chided. Anastasia sighed quietly and nodded her head, closing the door before stepping away from it.

Urjasz seemed to have found some bacon to munch on, and the scent of the sizzling meat reminded Anastasia that she herself was quite hungry. Before she could say much else to her older companion, he had turned to her and was looking at her expectantly. She was a bit taken aback by the look on his face, but that was nothing compared to what he had to say. “So. It's been a few days now. What the fuck happened in the park with you. I don't mean the other shit that happened. I mean the part where you turned into someone else.” Anastasia nearly staggered and her mouth dropped open, a look of confusion crossing her, but more about what his question brought up rather than asked. She racked her brain for the answers to his question, but she couldn’t remember. All she remembered was being shot, and then it had all gone black, like she had passed out. “What do—I didn’t. . . I passed out. . . after she shot me. . . didn’t I? I woke up in my bed. . . with the thing on my shoulder. . . . I turned into someone else?” she asked, searching Urjasz for some sign that he was kidding. The voice had fallen silent.

→ A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE ←

→ STARRING Urjasz
→ COUNTING 410
→ LOCATION The mansion
→ WEARING Pajamas and a robe.
→ NOTES x.x
→ LYRICS By Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

Her surprise was shared with him. Urjasz gave her a puzzled look as if to wonder if she was pulling his leg. The last thing he liked was people playing tricks on him. But the look on her face suggested, no it told him that she wasn't joking. The fear itself made him believe her. Taking a deep breath, he walked past her and pulled some tongs from a rack. Heading back to the bacon, he turned them over and placed the tongs on the edge of the counter. "So you don't remember any of it? You got shot well before all the.....traumatic stuff. You talked more than I did. We both know there is something going on there. It wasn't just that. You spoke in a Russian accent. I don't mean the one you use now. I mean as if you were in Moscow and had never left. The only difference was that you spoke English. Broken English at that."

Giving her a moment to think it over, he walked to the fridge and opened it, taking out a pre-sliced load and some spread. Placing a chopping board on the side, he took out two slices and put the loaf back in the fridge. "I've seen it before though. Not in you. But what is happening. You're hyena in you is trying to merge with you. At least that's my guess. You could just be having a nervous break down." On that note, he took a knife from the drawer and began to spread the spread across the bread. "Guess it took these last few events to kick start it. Thank god Daktari never found out that to set it off you had to kill people you liked. He was halfway there with the killing part I guess."

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

ANASTASIA KIRILOVNA MARISOVA

→ IT'S HARD TO SEE THE PAIN BEHIND THE MASK BEARING THE BURDEN
SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE ←

“So you don't remember any of it? You got shot well before all the. . . traumatic stuff. You talked more than I did. We both know there is something going on there. It wasn't just that. You spoke in a Russian accent,” he was explaining. He seemed a bit surprised that she hadn’t remembered, but it was all blank after being shot. Anastasia opened her mouth to point out that she always spoke with a Russian accent, but he interrupted her as if he knew what she was going to say. “I don't mean the one you use now. I mean as if you were in Moscow and had never left. The only difference was that you spoke English. Broken English at that.” Anastasia stared up at the werewolf, her mouth slightly agape. So what he was saying was that she had spoken as if she had just learned to speak English. But. . . but why couldn’t she remember any of this? “I don’t—I don’t recall it. . . .” She searched her mind desperately, but she couldn’t think of any of it. The voice didn’t have anything to say about it, either.

Urjasz went on with his cooking, and Anastasia remained by the counter, trying to stay out of his way. Had she done anything else? No, she wouldn’t have. . . . “I've seen it before though. Not in you. But what is happening. You're hyena in you is trying to merge with you. At least that's my guess. You could just be having a nervous breakdown,” he mused out loud, tending to the slices of bread he had pulled out for himself. Anastasia furrowed her brows and tilted her head to the side, her hand going to her chest. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, looking down at the floor. Merge with you. It doesn’t want to merge. You won’t let it. It’ll just settle for being let out to play, the voice said matter-of-factly, finally showing up after a moment. There was an underlying hint of malice. Anastasia chose not to mention it. It didn’t make any sense either. “I never had any problems before. . . . I don’t know why it would now. . . ,” she mused quietly, fidgeting with her fingers. Maybe the voice. . . . No, it can’t be that, it suggested, disguised as a stray thought.

The wolf turned to her. “Guess it took these last few events to kick start it. Thank god Daktari never found out that to set it off you had to kill people you liked. He was halfway there with the killing part I guess,” Urjasz pointed out, speaking as if this was just a normal conversation about what they’d done the night before. Anastasia hunched her shoulders and turned her head away from him. “He’d already chased all of them away. . . he would have killed them all eventually if he didn’t kill me first,” she muttered quietly, drawing her index finger across the counter, dragging a crumb around idly. He’d come close, and her body throbbed with the memory of the pain she’d felt. It was hard for her not relive that night when she thought of that man, and she closed her eyes, hoping it would drive back the images. You proved your strength that night. . . it was a victory, not a defeat, the voice assured her. She shook her head and rubbed her temple. “It feels like a defeat,” she whispered.

→ A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE ←

→ STARRING Urjasz
→ COUNTING 587
→ LOCATION In the kitchen
→ WEARING Pajamas and a robe
→ NOTES ~
→ LYRICS By Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

Placing the knife down, he pulled the grill out of the oven and began to turn over the bacon. "Even though it was a fucking messy night, you've been through worse. So I agree, it's odd that it's not happened before. It's been awhile since I've had to sort out fledgling problems, and even longer since I was one myself. It's been like..... I don't know, maybe 140 or so years since I was turned. And it was a completely different world back then. Not to mention different country." Placing the grill back in the oven, he turned to look at her after speaking. She kept her answers short, clearly thinking it over, the confusion all across her face. "Daktari was a merge gone wrong. It's important that we help you get through yours if that's what's happening."

Moving along a bit, he leaned on the counter and sighed. "Daktari started off like you. A good person. He had family and a tribe that loved him for who he was. Then people from England I think killed them all. His future basically became all about revenge at first. I think he got some of them but I'm not sure how it ended. All I know is that he got a taste for the power that came with it. It's safe to say that you're in a similar situation now. Revenge aside, you've had your first dose of it and I'm truly worried that we might get a repeat. I'm stationed here for the next few months at least so I'll be around to help you through it as best I can. Malakai, who you've yet to meet, is the same. He's got an interest in knowledge and stuff. Pure blood, so he'll likely have access to family tips."

After speaking for a bit, he looked at his bacon and turned up the heat of the grill, not long to go. His concern about Anastasia was legit as she was pretty much family now. Catching her last statement, he turned to face her, confusion on his face. Looking at her for a moment, he was hesitant at first but he needed to ask. "Anastasia. Have you..... since Kyla......have you heard any voices?" Any shifter would have contact with their beast but it would be strictly agreeing and disagreeing about things. Even in the immortal world having a full blown conversation with your mind was pretty dodgy. It didn't mean that Anastasia was insane, it just put a new spin on the merge. Urjasz was sure that was the cause of her blacking out. Jekyll and Hyde to the core. Her sire had been a truly blood thirsty man; they were yet to find out what traits she had inherited.

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

ANASTASIA KIRILOVNA MARISOVA

→ IT'S HARD TO SEE THE PAIN BEHIND THE MASK BEARING THE BURDEN
SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE ←

Anastasia didn’t look up from the counter as Urjasz went on about how he and this new person could help her with the fledgling stuff she was going through. When did you stop being a fledgling, though? How long did you have to be a were-creature of any sort before you became a full-fledged one? Well, Anastasia figured it would probably take her twice as long. Yes, you’re just that pathetic, the voice muttered. Anastasia glared at the counter in response, but it was true. She sighed quietly and looked up at Urjasz finally as he went on his stint about Daktari’s past. For some strange reason—note the sarcasm—Anastasia couldn’t imagine Daktari as being a good person, a kind person. Happy, even. However, that wasn’t the part that kept her attention. “Revenge aside, you've had your first dose of it and I'm truly worried that we might get a repeat,” Urjasz said. It was only a bit of what he said, but it was the bit that struck her the hardest. She looked up at him with horror and shook her head. “You don’t think—I wouldn’t be like—I’m not like that man!” she exclaimed, desperate to reassure not only Urajsz, but herself.

It seemed that Urjasz had heard her whisper to herself, and Anastasia hadn’t even realized that she’d said anything aloud. “Anastasia. Have you. . . since Kyla. . . . Have you heard any voices?” Anastasia looked up at Urjasz and her mouth opened to respond, but she shut it again. Voices? How can you not hear your own thoughts? Everyone hears voices when they think to themselves. It’s only natural. There is nothing unusual about what he is asking. The voices he’s talking about are the ones that tell you to kill people and set things on fire, and you have not heard those voices, something told her. It was good at disguising itself, that was sure. Anastasia looked away from him and shifted uncomfortably where she stood, playing with the rope that normally held the robe around her, but it was loose and merely keeping her arms covered. The robe itself was open. “I. . . well no, not really. . . I mean. . . just some stray thoughts. . . but that happens. . . . I don’t have. . . anyting telling me to kill people like those. . . ah. . . schitzo. . . phrenic people? Is that it?”

→ A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE ←

→ STARRING Urjasz
→ COUNTING 412
→ LOCATION In the kitchen
→ WEARING Pajamas and a robe
→ NOTES ~
→ LYRICS By Martina McBride

[Urjasz Volkova]

When I am seen.
I am feared.
_______________________

[/size][/font]

With a great show of emotion she replied to his concerns of her connection to her sire. Which he could completely understand. "No you're not like him. Which means we have a goal now. We shall keep you....well you. There may be a few small changes, maybe some major ones. Time will tell. We'll deal with it as we're given each change." Pulling the grill out the oven, he moved the bacon over onto his sandwich and placed it back in the oven, turning it off. Cutting the sandwich in half, he took another plate from the cupboard and placed half the sandwich on it. Sliding the plate towards Anastasia, he insisted "Have some. It's good bacon. I'll feel bad eating it all in front of you." He was lying about the last bit, but she looked hungry.

Taking a seat, he listened to her answer as he ate. He may as well eat whilst she spoke, he had no real answer for her. There was hesitation in her voice and all his alarm bells were ringing. He wanted to get her to tell the truth. He wanted to so bad. But he knew her and knew she wouldn't tell. Her answer was too....human. "You know....it's a bad sign when an immortal doesn't think about killing every now and then. But ok. I believe you. More than that, I truth you. Promise me you'll talk to me if you notice the changes. I'm here for you yeah?" Wiping his mouth clean with a cloth, he got up and stood before her. In a slightly awkward manner, he gave her a hug and then a kiss on the forehead. Pausing for a moment, he then kissed her on the lips. Lifting his head back up, he suddenly realised what he'd done and he paused, waiting for a response.

[/color]

[Anastasia Kirilovna Marisova]

ANASTASIA KIRILOVNA MARISOVA

→ IT'S HARD TO SEE THE PAIN BEHIND THE MASK BEARING THE BURDEN
SHE STANDS HARD AS A STONE IN A WORLD THAT SHE CAN'T RISE ABOVE ←

“No you're not like him. Which means we have a goal now. We shall keep you. . . well you. There may be a few small changes, maybe some major ones. Time will tell. We'll deal with it as we're given each change,” Urjasz assured. Anastasia sighed quietly and nodded her head, relaxing against the counter a little more. She was still quite tense, but if anything came out of this, it was her not becoming like her sire, the only person she had ever truly hated with everything she had in her. She’d fought this transformation so hard for the past year. How would the pent-up side of her act once she finally started to let it get in? She was scared to find out, but if a change had to happen. . . she wanted to be less. . . pathetic. Yes, no one wants to be pathetic. You won’t be much longer. . . , the voice mentioned. Maybe she should have said something about it, after all. Anastasia hardly noticed when Urjasz handed over part of his sandwich, but she looked up at him and smiled, nodding her head. “Thank you. . . ,” she said, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. She really was hungry, but she hadn’t expected to eat anything until she found something worth snacking on.

It was good bacon, as Urjasz had said. However, she wondered if half a sandwich would be enough for the bigger man. . . . Maybe she shouldn’t have taken the sandwich. “You know. . . it's a bad sign when an immortal doesn't think about killing every now and then. But ok. I believe you. More than that, I truth you. Promise me you'll talk to me if you notice the changes. I'm here for you yeah?” he said after a few moments. Anastasia looked up at him from where she stood and nodded her head, swallowing the bite she had taken. “I’m not like your immortals. . . I don’t want to kill,” she murmured, not understanding why everyone seemed to want her to kill someone. She’d already played a part in the death of Daktari and had killed more than two dozen people on the full moons. Wasn’t that enough? Her thoughts were interrupted when Urjasz came to stand in front of her. She looked up at him curiously, but she welcomed the comforting hug he gave her. The small kiss on her forehead reminded her of something her dad would have done, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She needed this comforting.

Then he kissed her. It wasn’t very long, but it happened nonetheless. Anastasia’s eyes opened and she looked up at the werewolf, flabbergasted. Why. . . ? Was not. Expecting that, the voice muttered, just as surprised as Anastasia. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling a little trapped between the counter and the large wolf and she felt completely lost as to what she was supposed to do or why Urjasz had done that in the first place. Well. You’re incredibly cute and seem to just draw in people and make them like you. . . , the voice mentioned, still sounding quite taken aback by what had just transpired. He didn’t seem like he was going anywhere, and Anastasia started to squirm a little as if she was trying to leave. Wait, wait, wait. Don’t you go anywhere. What’s wrong with this man, eh? He’s not bad-looking. He’s the only person who’s shown you any kind of compassion as of late. . . . Anastasia looked down slightly, unsure. The voice let out what could have been an annoyed groan and then Anastasia was on her toes, Urjasz’s shirt in both of her fists as she half pulled herself up and him down to kiss him again. . . .

→ A FRAGILE SOUL CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF FATE ←

→ STARRING Urjasz
→ COUNTING 643
→ LOCATION In the kitchen
→ WEARING Bah
→ NOTES =O
→ LYRICS By Martina McBride