katyafeline | (no subject)

(no subject)

Bizarrely, despite months of being a night owl in the bar, Katya has almost resumed a 'normal' human sleep cycle. Still, she wakes up in the early morning hours most days before the sun has bothered to show up, and spends the hours watching the sleepy peaceful world through the window.

One of those mornings, she feels that with a new world, and a new (and possibly, scarily Watchless) reality, she needs... a little more newness.

One hopes that Skellig isn't too easily spooked.

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"That is just sad." She snorts, pulling him along. She is apparently oblivious to the stares that follow.

It's possible she's causing them on purpose.

Silly people. They're just getting in the way of her journey to bread.

Skellig notices the staring, but it does not bother him. He once sat in a subway tunnel for two days, just to earn enough money to buy a loaf of that plastic-wrapped 'not-real-bread'. Lots of people stared then. He didn't care then and he doesn't care now.

"Beggars cannot be choosers," is all he says, grinning.

"This beggar will choose, and you will see what I mean tonight." She retorts defiantly. She's practically dancing down the (not quite sparkling) street, happy to be amongst people again.

A passerby raises an eyebrow at Katya's comment - probably due to the way Skellig laughed when she said it.

Some people, he man thinks, with no lack of disgust.

She blows the poor human a kiss, since clearly his world needs a little lightening up. The next one who frowns at them is going to get his bum pinched, just you watch.

He is able to avoid most of the negative energy that surrounds them (it is a nice day outside, after all if it was raining or cold, moods might be worse) and it helps.

So does the sound of screeching (happy screeching, mind) children coming from a schoolyard playground up the block.

If she could turn flips without being potentially hauled away as a madwoman, she just might. Children and lovers - they've been the greatest source of strength (for both sides) for ages.

"Come on." She pulls on his hand impatiently, with most of her old energy.

Skellig obliges, quickening pace to match that of hers.

"All right!"

She is insistent, and it is one of the things he likes about her most.

While it might be easy to scale the fence, she stays put on the sidewalk. Even the craziest mamma can be an angry bear if an unknown gets to close, and she has no desire to get into that particular fight today.

"Better." She assures him, however, leaning on the fence. It's possible she's even forgotten about the real bread for the moment.

He also leans against the fence, keeping an eye on their surroundings while she watches the children.

"Good," he says, and he means it - it is very good that she's better, because that will make it easier, in the long run. Bread can wait, if it means this.

"They help," he adds.

"They do. They always have - the youth camps were one of the best things Communist Russia achieved." Which is a sad thing for a Light Other to admit, buttragically, their grand coup didn't exactly work right.

"I don't remember Communist Russia," he says.

(He has been around for awhile, but not anywhere near Russia. The details tend to get fuzzy.)

"But anytime they are together," he nods at the kids. "They believe in the unseen easier."

And Skellig will soak that up like a sponge.

"They are so easily pleased by such little things." Of course, they are so easily and deeply upset by the littlest things, which is what the Dark Others appreciate. It is like downing one of those high-amp energy drinks, being around them.

"And are full of chances."

He will wait until she is ready, before the move on to continue to explore.

"Mmm." She gives him a sidelong look, then shoulderchecks him. "Like a chance at real bread?"

No, she hasn't forgotten.

She's been deeply traumatized by the Wonderbread.

"We will get real bread. I promise."

This time, he is the one who takes hold of her - if he throws an arm around her shoulders instead of taking her hand, it is only to keep her from knocking him out of the way?

"Come on, it is this way."

He is clearly wise in the ways of battle tactics. She's going to have to keep an eye on him.

"Is it far?" She's still a little weirded out by the vastness. Sure, it isn't as if Moscow is by any stretch of the imagination a small city, but it is compact. This is so...

Sprawly.

"Only a few blocks."

Not far enough to consider a bus or a taxi, and the people around them will help - as long as none of them are complete jerks.

So not far then - not far enough for him to take it into his head to go airborne again, which she can only approve of.

Far enough though, for people to get the wrong impression about two people walking that close together.

Someone mutters about how they should get a room.

That someone yelps five steps later. Katya attempts to look angelic.

Skellig manages to avoid laughing, but only because he turns his head to press a slightly punch-drunk kiss against her temple before muttering something congratulatory in barely-passable Russian.

(Or he just told someone to hug a fish.

The specifics are unimportant?)

"If I could find one worth hugging, I would." She assures him cheerfully in much better Russian. Perhaps they can find one where they are going!

He has absolutely no idea what she just said - but it doesn't matter, because shortly thereafter they have made it to the entrance of the upscale market.

The place is crawling with health-nuts and hipsters.

"Real bread should be here," he says confidently.

Her eyes have gone wide - this is ridiculous. It's all so... shiny. But she's quickly distracted by a giant bread portrait (whut) and figures that she must need to go there.

Initially, she's disappointed. It's not as bad, here - at least the bread has a crust to it, and some even have proper color, but...

And then she finds it.

And squeaks happily.

And properly kisses him.

What? It's good bread. Really good bread.

He is incredibly startled when she kisses him - he has not been kissed like this in several decades, and for a moment he has no idea how to respond.

But rust, when shaken off quite forcefully, falls away very fast.

The patrons in the bread section likely think the pair is drunk, high, or possibly both. Skellig hears a hushed whisper behind them, so he does what one must do in this situation.

(Con the unwitting.)

He pulls back and winks at her, beaming, and looks at the woman standing beside the baguettes.

"She said 'yes'!" He exclaims, picking Katya up and giving her a twirl - careful not to send the bread flying, of course.

She laughs, landing as lightly as a dancer.
"Of course I did, silly." She snorts, "He always thinks I will not like things, it is ridiculous, no?" She turns to give the poor lady the entirety of her charm all at once.

Within five minutes, she's gotten a twelve-person team to work on find all the properly made (i.e. Russian) things in this place, for a 'romantic getaway'.

Sorry, thirteen.

...

Fourteen.

She is a bit of a force of nature when given encouragement.