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Post by obviouschild on Jan 1, 2012 22:49:29 GMT -5
 
Plant your hope with good seeds
[/font][/right] The day before classes began, a large young man with a heavy pack on his back and a violin case in one hand stepped into the Krushka café and ordered a coffee in easy, fluent Russian. When his order came, he murmured a curse in what was definitely not Russian, mixed with a chuckle at his own foolishness. It was espresso. If you ordered ‘coffee’ in Europe and didn’t ask for Americano, you got espresso. He’d known that, but his time in Montréal had made him forget.
Pasha chose a table by the café’s far window and set down his coffee and violin case, dropped his bag on the ground, then sat down heavily, his eyes on the window. The sparse landscape outside was very familiar. But it had a ghostlike quality, an aching strangeness that went along with every memory it evoked. He hadn’t been in his home country in - G-D, coming up on eight years now. The time had passed so quickly. Sitting here now, having ordered the cup of coffee in Russian and paid for it with rubles instead of colourful, goofy Canadian dollars, Pasha could almost convince himself he’d never left.
Frowning with thought, Pasha wrapped his calloused hands around the espresso cup to catch whatever warmth was left. He still had conflicted feelings about being here. He still wasn’t sure there was any part of Russia that he could still trust completely. But he had missed it. Feeling betrayed took too much effort to keep up over a lifetime. Something still told him that this exchange program had been the right choice. Pasha knocked back the espresso, grimaced briefly, and then looked out the window again, this time with a smile.[/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by VALENTINA AKILINA IVANOVA on Jan 2, 2012 13:20:30 GMT -5
  Valentina had arrived in Russia two days earlier. She took her time to explore a bit of Moscow, taking pictures of Red Square, the Kremlin and other places that interested her. The day before classes were to start, Valentina boarded a train to go to Kamchatsky, the town near to the academy. She got settled in her room, surprised she had a boy living with her. It didn't phase her, and she put away her clothes and stuff, heading back to the village to explore a bit.
She spotted a little cafe, and decided to stop in for a bite to eat and a coffee. In fluent Russian, she ordered a coffee, being careful to not order espresso, and a chocolate chip cookie. With her drink in one hand and a cookie in the other, she looked around for a place to sit. Spotting a boy who looked to be her age seated by the far window, she smiled.
Once she reached the table, she set her drink and cookie down, smiling at the boy. In fluent Russian, she asked him if she could sit with him, telling him she was an exchange student at the acedemy. Valentina took a moment to take in his features while she waited for a response. He was very hansdome, with bright brown eyes and dark brown hair. He looked to be about 18, which was a comforting thought, since she did not want to befriend any older people before she got used to it in Russia.
Taking a seat, Val shot him a smile, taking a sip of her coffee. My goodness! He is quite handsome. I wonder what his name is... she thought to herself, taking her cookie out and setting it on the bag it came in. "Would you like half?" she asked, gesturing toward the cookie, speking in Russian. "By the way, my name is Valentina, but please feel free to call me Val," she said, smiling. "What's your name?" Val asked, wondering if his name would suit his good looks.
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thoughts;; Hope we end up friends! |
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Post by obviouschild on Jan 2, 2012 22:15:57 GMT -5
Plant your hope with good seeds
[/font][/right] A female voice cut into his thoughts, and Pasha looked up. There was a girl standing before him, a dark-haired girl with huge brown eyes and a pretty, innocent face. There was something about her features that implied youth. If she hadn’t told him she was a student at the exchange school, Pasha wouldn’t have trusted himself to guess her age. Her Russian was flawless.
After a brief moment of surprise - usually the attention of pretty girls went to guys who were thinner than him - Pasha stood, and pulled out the chair opposite his own, breaking into a beaming smile. He was inherently friendly, and always happy for company. Especially now, when he knew no-one in the entire school. “Please, have a seat,” he told her, in Russian. “I’m an exchange as well. I literally just got here,” he added, with a rueful glance at the huge backpack on the floor. He hadn’t even been to his dorm to drop off his things yet.
She sat down - he noticed she hadn’t made the mistake of failing to ask for western-style coffee - and put her cookie at the center of the table, offering him half. Pasha smiled, and hesitated for a split second before nodding. Ten seconds of conversation and she’d already figured out his greatest weakness. It was probably some kind of faux-pas for a chubby guy to take desserts from a skinny girl, but the offer seemed so sincere that refusing would have felt rude, and anyway, he was hungry. “Sure, thank you. I didn’t get a chance to eat on the train.” He cast her a grateful smile. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Val. I’m Pavel, known to all as Pasha.” He offered her a handshake.
To make a little more room in front of them, he shifted his violin case from the tabletop to the floor, setting it own by his feet with almost reverent care. Then he straightened, offering her a sheepish smile. “Sorry about all the stuff. So, Val, where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking? You said you were an exchange student, but from your Russian, I would have guessed you were from around here.”
notes: Oh, I think we shall. :) [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by VALENTINA AKILINA IVANOVA on Jan 2, 2012 22:39:10 GMT -5
Valentina sho him a smile when he mentioned he was an exchange student as well. He was so polite, and with his flawless Russian, she would have thought he was from around here. She let her gaze wander to his bag and violin case, causing her to smile lightly. "I am pleased to meet you, Pasha," she said in Russian, shaking his hand lightly. "Don't worry about the stuff, I don't mind. Actually, since you haven't been to the dorms yet, do you know what room number you are in? Your assignment should have been sent to you in the mail," Val offered, finishing her half of the cookie and taking a sip of her coffee.
When asked about where she was from, Valentina couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm sorry, it's just that everyone asks me that. They think because I am fluent in Russian, that I am from Russia. However, my parents moved to Iceland before I was born because my father got a job there. So technically, I am Icelandic but with a Russian background," she offered, smiling and drinking the rest of her coffee. "What about you? You from Russia?" Val asked, shooting Pasha a small smile.
Val sat in silence for a minute, her gaze shifting from the man in front of her, to the scenery out the window. She had always wondered what Russia was like, but only had the stories her parents told her to go on. But now, she was in Russia for the year, her last year of high school.It feels nice to be in Russia, but I am not sure what will happen. I hope that I find love here...It would be nice to meet someone while I am here, she thought, turning her attention back on Pasha.
"I couldn't help but notice the violin case. I can only assume that you play. How long have you played, if I may ask?" she asked him, giving him yet another smile. She was definitely starting to like this guy, though she was cautious about going into a relationship too early.
* * * words;; 254
thoughts;; These two would be SO cute together! ^.^ |
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Post by obviouschild on Jan 2, 2012 23:53:28 GMT -5
Plant your hope with good seeds
[/font][/right] Pasha reached for the uneaten half of the cookie and frowned slightly, trying to remember. He’d written his room number down someplace, but he was often absentminded, his thoughts on a new piece of music or an interesting line of reasoning. “Ah. Room one hundred, I’m pretty sure. God, I should really know that, shouldn’t I? Brain like a, what’s the word, thing you strain pasta in.” He grinned to show he was kidding. “I’m maybe ninety-five percent sure it was room one hundred. You?”
He held up a hand, signalling that no apology was needed. Pasha more or less the opposite of the kind of person who’d take offence at a laugh. It made him glad he had taken the trouble to ask and hadn’t assumed she was Russian, though. “Iceland, really? So you speak Icelandic as well?“ He returned her smile, shrugging slightly. “Yes, I am. From Kostroma, pretty close to here. But we moved to Montreal when I was eleven. So now I’m just culturally confused.” A small laugh. Then his expression sobered slightly. “It’s strange being back. I’ve missed it.”
Val had seemed pleasantly talkative before, but now she sat in silence for a moment, staring out the window. Pasha followed her gaze, wondering what she was thinking. Maybe something similar to what he had been thinking before she’d come - how being here, despite everything, had somehow felt right? There was a sense of possibility in those flat horizons. He snuck a glance at her face, admiring her eyes and lips. Then slapped himself mentally. He wasn’t supposed to be dating right now. Thinking like that would get him nowhere, even ignoring the fact that she was out of his league.
It was Val, after a moment of thought, who broke the silence. She directed his attention to the violin case, asking how long he had played. Pasha had to chuckle. “Oh, since - before I developed conscious thought, I think. My father taught me. He says I played my first note when I was two, but I think that’s a well-meaning lie. Do you play anything?”
notes: Agreed. Pasha might have some familial issues to get around (He's not allowed to date outside the faith), but that'd make it more interesting, if anything. [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by VALENTINA AKILINA IVANOVA on Jan 3, 2012 22:32:16 GMT -5
Valentina chuckled lightly at Pasha's joke, though her heart fluttered when she heard him say what room she was in. Oh my! Did he really just say he was in room 100? That's my room! she thought, trying to keep her cool. "Really? Well, when I got my letter, and when I put my stuff away, I was in room one hundred as well," she said, chuckling. "So I guess you're stuck with me, huh?" Val said, smiling and letting Pasha know that she was only kidding. Well, she wasn't kidding about her room assignment, but she hoped he would be okay with it.
Val nodded when Pasha asked about Iceland. "It's true. I was born in Reykjavik, but I live in Akureyri, the second largest city in Iceland. As for speaking Icelandic,I speak and write it at school, but since my parents are from Russia, I speak Russian at home. What about you? Do you speak Russian at home?" she asked, turning her warm brown eyes on Pasha's face. There was just something about him that she liked, but she couldn't place her finger on it.
She laughed when Pasha told her that he had been playing since he was two. Perhaps it was true, but Val figured it was just his father trying to brag about his son. Still, from what he said, it would appear he had been playing for quite some time. When asked if she played anything, Val shook her head. "I played violin for two years when I was quite young, but I gave that up when I started dance. I do ballet, jazz and tap right now," she said with a smile. "Did you do anything besides music as a child?" Val asked, laily tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she listened intently for Pasha's answer. He was very interesting to talk to, and since they'd be living together, Val figured there would be more interesting talks to come.
* * * words;; 359
thoughts;; Well, this will be interesting. Vlentina is half Jewish, with her mother being Jewish and her father not being religious. Wonder how that will turn out... |
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Post by obviouschild on Jan 4, 2012 0:09:14 GMT -5
Plant your hope with good seeds
[/font][/right]
When Valentina told him she’d been assigned room one hundred as well, Pasha felt a split-second bolt of shock. He’d completely forgotten the rooms were co-ed. He was going to be living with a girl, a gorgeous girl who was already fun to talk to and who seemed to like him reasonably well. The thought was both pleasant and scary. Mostly pleasant. He broke into a full laugh. “Oh. Well. I’m alright with that.” a bit of an understatement. “It’s you who should be worried. I hope my parents don’t know about this, though,” he added, making a face. “Co-ed dorms. They’d freak out.” Single men and women weren’t even really supposed to touch the opposite gender in his hometown. Nobody actually abided by that rule, but still - he tried to imagine his grandfather’s face at the idea of Pasha sharing a room with a girl. He met her eyes and couldn’t help but laugh again, both embarrassed and pleased.
As he listened to Val, Pasha leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his hands. It was almost a good thing he’d gotten espresso. If he’d had a whole cup of coffee it would have been long cold by now. “Ah, so you’re a city girl?” In response to her question, he shrugged. “Sometimes. More often we speak Yiddish. And a lot of English, since we live in Canada now.” He smiled, glancing upwards in exasperation. “But if you get my mother mad, she’ll lapse into Polish, and on Saturdays we make a pathetic attempt to only speak Hebrew. We’re kind of a mess like that.” Even in his head, Pasha lapsed between Yiddish, Russian and English, and if he didn’t pay attention while he was writing he would switch between alphabets at random. “Do you speak any English? I don’t know how much it’s used in Iceland.”
Pasha flushed slightly, pleased at having elicited a laugh. Part of him was sad that she’d given up violin - he wanted everyone to experience the kind of joy playing violin gave him - but he was intrigued to hear that she was a dancer. He had a sudden, insane mental picture of himself, playing Tchaikovsky while Valentina danced. “All three? You must be pretty serious. Are you thinking about doing it professionally?”
Pasha took a moment to think before answering her question. “Besides music - Well. My father taught me carpentry, but I spent most of my time reading.” He wished he could have told her he’d danced or fenced or done something similarly athletic and impressive, but he hadn’t. Pasha was strong, by virtue of being big and hardworking, but he was no athlete. “I got through all Dostoyevsky’s work by the time I was nine, and didn’t understand a single word of it.”
notes: Ohh, really? Then there'd actually be very little trouble. Her being matrilineally Jewish would be more than enough for his parents. Let's DO this thing! [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by VALENTINA AKILINA IVANOVA on Jan 4, 2012 0:50:59 GMT -5
Valentina smiled when Pasha said he would be alright with the two of them being roommates. She even chuckled when he said he hoped his parents would not find out about their living arrangements. "That's alright. I won't tell if you won't tell. My mom would kill me if she found out, but my dad would be alright. Of course, I would never you know, do anything in the dorms, but my mother is Jewish, and she would definitely not think it would be proper for girls and boys to live together," she said, giving Pasha a small smile, hoping he would understand.
When Pasha said she was a city girl, Valentina couldn't help but laugh. She laughed so hard she began to snort, covering her mouth with her hand, her face several shades of red. "I'm so sorry! It's just that I wouldn't classify Reykjavik or Akureyri as 'cities.' Reykjavik has about 250,000 people and my town of Akureyri, well it has about 18,000. Even then, we live on the outskirts in a little farmhouse. I've only known the country, but when I went to New York City this past summer, I sort of liked it. But I never imagined that in a few city blocks that there'd be as many people as my city. I guess it is something I'd have to get used to," she said, shrugging lightly. To be honest, Val had never thought of herself a "city girl," but she would like to live in a bigger city than Akureyri, to get out into the world and to explore.
Val heard Pasha explain that he spoke Yiddish and Hebrew. Those two languages began to register with her, seeing as her mother is Jewish, and she began to put two and two together. Vl toyed with the idea of asking him if he was Jewish, but was unsure if she should ask, because he could take it the wrong way and undo everything that they had. "With your knowledge of Hebrew and Yiddish, I think I conclude that you are Jewish. If I may ask, are you?" she asked, suddenly remembering that he asked her if she knew any English."I do speak some English. I learn English in school, and in Reykjavik, there is a lot of English, even in Akireyri there is some. Still, in the smaller towns, Icelandic is still the main language spoken, so I don't have a lot of opportunites to practice. My parents speak Russian at home, though we will sometimes speak English, just so we can improve," Val explained, giving Pasha a bright smile.
Before he had mentioned it, Valentina had never really thought about dancing professionally. Granted, she had been dancing for years, but dancing as a career never registered on her radar. "Honestly, I have never thought about dancing professionally. I suppose it is because I wanted something to fall back on, just in case my dancing dreams don't come true. I want to beome a nurse, actually. I just love helping people. What about you? Do you want to pursue music professionally?" she asked, curious to see if he wanted to be a professional musician, or if he wanted to do something with caprentry instead.
Time had passed quickly while the two of them were chatting, and when Valentina glanced out the window, the sun was starting to get low on the horizon. "It's starting to get a bit late. Would you like to go for a walk with me? I'd love to see the town in the twilight. I've also heard there is a lake near here. Want to try and find it so we can watch the sunset?" she asked, wondering if he was willing to go on a little "date" with her.Perhaps this could be the start of something wonderful... she thought, waiting for Pasha's answer.
* * * words;; 682
thoughts;; Perfect! I am quite interested to see where this goes. ^.^ |
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Post by obviouschild on Jan 4, 2012 1:53:22 GMT -5
Plant your hope with good seeds
[/font][/right]
When she mentioned her mother being Jewish, he felt a burst of relief and happiness that was immediately followed by guilt. Was it right to care so much what her religion was, since he’d decided he didn’t have an ideological problem with relationships outside the faith? But all the same he felt relieved. He didn’t want to have to fight with his parents. They meant too much to him. Shelving that line of thought, he let out a laugh. “I know what that‘s like. No, I shouldn’t think so. Mixed dancing is already bad enough. You know, when I was five my grandfather dragged me a whole block by my ear for holding hands with a girl?”
Apparently, the idea that she was a city girl was enough to sent Val into hysterics. Pasha watched, amused. Alright, not a city girl. He offered her an embarrassed smile. “Forgive me, I know more or less nothing about Iceland. So you’re really… the opposite of a city girl.” He nodded, thinking of his own first experiences in Montreal. “I came from farm country too, and it really didn’t feel real at first, living in a city. It was like a crazy dream. You get used to it mostly, but not entirely. I still miss the silence.”
Pasha blinked, then smiled. It wasn’t a question that anyone had really bothered to ask him, before. According to his Montréal friends he was the Jewishest person ever. Pasha had replied that the Jewishest person ever was probably Abraham, but he could see their point. “Val,” he said, slowly, trying not to laugh, “My full name is Pavel… Itzhak… Moskowitz. Yes, I’m definitely Jewish. Um. Shalom.” And then, being himself, he started to laugh. He wasn’t laughing at her, of course, just at the slightly ridiculous idea that he could be anything else. He nodded at her explanation of how much English was spoken in Iceland. “So, much like Russia, in that respect. Are you most comfortable is Russian, then?”
Pasha sighed slightly. Life in the performing arts was tough. “It’s not an easy life, either, though if anyone could do it I bet it would be you. A nurse? That’s very admirable. I'd hate to be doing something where I couldn't see I was doing good, wouldn't you?” Her question was one he’d been thinking about a lot, lately, though he hadn’t reached a decision yet. “Well, I’m not really sure. I mean, I love music, and I wish I could always be playing. But I don’t really want to be in the spotlight. My father wants me to take over his carpentry business, and I know I enjoy that. But I might like to teach.”
For perhaps the fourth time in as many minutes, Pasha’s eyes widened with shock. That sounded… almost like a date. Had that been her intention? It was a little hard for him to believe she was actually asking, because she was gorgeous and he was some fat guy she barely knew. But that was a stupid way to think, the product of stupid insecurities, and he knew that. Not worth losing his chance to get to know her better. Pavel tilted his head. “I’d like that.”
notes: oh, me too. [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by VALENTINA AKILINA IVANOVA on Jan 4, 2012 16:29:26 GMT -5
Valentina smiled, waving her hand at his apology. "Don't worry about it. Most people don't know a lot about Iceland, so you're not alone. Come to think of it, I doubt a lot of people know Iceland exists," she said, chuckling softly. When she heard about Montreal, she smiled. "What's Montreal like? I have heard it is quite large and French is mainly spoken there. Are there nice things to see and do?" Val asked, curious about where Pasha lived.
She supressed yet another ouburst of laughter when he told her his full name. Valentina had to admit, it was very Jewish. "Shalom to you too. I must say, your name is very Jewish," she said, letting a small chuckle slip through. It's much like my name, though everyone says that my name is the most Russian thing ever, apart from my first name. It's Valentina Akilina Ivanova," she said, nodding quietly. "So yeah, I have a really Russian name," Val said, smiling. When asked if she was more comfortable in Russian, Valentina nodded, giving Pasha a small smile. "Yeah. My parents only really speak Russian at home, so I am most comfortable speaking and writing in Russian. What about you? Are you most comfortable in Russian?" she asked, wondering if he spoke any French at home, seeing as he did live in Montreal.
Val listened as Pasha explained how he wanted to maybe take over the carpentry business or teach. Both seemed like good options, though she didn't know if he was wanting to combine the best of both worlds. "Pasha, have you ever thought about combining music and carpentry? Perhaps you could make instruments or repair them, maybe even teach on the side?" she suggested, an innocent expression on her face.
"I'd like that." This was confirmation enough for Val, and she gathered up what little she had brought, pushing in her chair and tossing the cookie bag in the trash as she headed toward the door. Before she went out into the cool air, she looked back to make sure Pasha was not too far behind; she'd hate to leave him there. Once she had waited a couple minutes, Valentina turned to Pasha. "I'd like to go down to the lake. I hear the sunset is lovely there," she said, heading in the direction of the lake. As she walked, she began to notice just how pretty the street and the shops were at twilight.
Just as the sun was beginning to set, Valentina rounded a corner, stopping when she saw the lake shimmering below them in a valley. "Oh Pasha, isn't it beautiful?" she thought out loud, sitting on the ground, patting the grass next to her for him to join her. "We have beautiful lakes in Iceland, but it feels...different watching a sunset over a lake in Russia. Thanks again for agreeing to come here with me," Valentina said, turning to Pasha and giving him a small smile. Deep down inside, she hoped that he would want to lean in and give her an innocent kiss, and make the night just magical.
* * * words;; 583
thoughts;; <3 |
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Post by obviouschild on Jan 4, 2012 19:17:09 GMT -5
Plant your hope with good seeds
[/font][/right]
“Ah. Well, at least I knew it existed,” said Pasha, making a joking attempt to seem proud of this extremely minor accomplishment. “Mostly because of Jónsi, but it still counts, right?” and then, more seriously. “What’s it like to live there? The landscape, the culture? What’s the food like?” At her question, he nodded. “Well, not large compared to, say, New York, but not insignificant either. It is very French, though it isn’t like any French I’d ever heard before I got there. Lots to do, though. There’s a theme park and a zoo of sorts and a very good performing arts scene. Montreal has a reputation for being the ‘cool’ Canadian city. If such a thing exists.”
“Valentina Akilina Ivanova,” he repeated, with a smile, exaggerating its Russian sound but also simply trying it out. He liked how it felt to say it. “You’re right, that’s really Russian. Oh, is Valentina something else? Now that I think about it, it almost sounds Italian, or something. But that can’t be right.” She hadn’t mentioned anything about being Italian, and it was one f those names that could have been used all over Europe. “My first name doesn’t match, either, it’s just Russian. It means ‘small’, which is a bit of a misnomer.” He let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. Pasha shrugged at the question. “I think I’m a little more comfortable with Yiddish, actually - that’s what I usually think in - but it doesn’t really matter. I’ve spoken both of them for so long. The only language I really can’t deal with is French. It’s just… weird.”
Her suggestion was so striking that it took a moment to sink in. Then, fully grasping how good that sounded, Pasha grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently in an impulsive gesture of gratitude, his face lighting up. “Val, you’re a genius! I mean, we do occasional body repair on violin, but I never thought of actually making them… I mean, it’d be hard, there’s a lot I’d have to learn that my father couldn’t teach me, but - ” Suddenly realizing what he’d done, he let go of her hand, turning slightly pink. “Um. But it would be amazing not to have to choose.
Val stood, and Pasha began to gather up his things, hefting the huge pack onto his back. Lastly he tucked the violin case under one arm. He was just in time to get the door for Val, a gesture that came second nature to him. Pasha had a streak of chivalry a mile long. Val suggested the lake, and he nodded. “Lead on. I haven’t had a chance to look around here yet. That sounds great.”
They got there just as the sun set. Pasha let out a breath. “It is,” he murmured, “I’d forgotten.” And for a brief moment he was almost moved to tears, remembering everything he’d been feeling when he left this country seven years ago. But the feeling was gone as fast as it had come; he turned to Val, whose brown hair was glowing russet in the gold sunlight, and everything else went away. Gratefully, he set down his things and took a seat next to her, close enough that his leg almost touched hers. He glanced over, retuning the smile. “You’re welcome, I’m - honoured you asked. Does it feel like coming home in a way, for you?” If he’d known what she was thinking at that moment, Pasha would have kissed her in an instant. Instead, he let his hand drop to the ground, less than an inch from hers, lacking the courage to do anything more.
[/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by VALENTINA AKILINA IVANOVA on Jan 4, 2012 22:23:18 GMT -5
As she sat watching the sunset, Valentina remembered that in her rush, she did not answer questions Pasha had asked back in the cafe. "I'm sorry. I forgot to answer your questions back there, you know, the ones about Iceland," she said, discreetly looking down and noting that his hand was very close to her own. Val ignored this for a moment, thinking about what he had asked her. "Iceland is a very interesting place to live. It's very quiet, especially since we are out in the country. Even Reykjavik is quiet, for the 'major' city in Iceland. In the summer, it's fairly warm, but I do admit that it gets really cold in the winter. The culture is very much steeped in tradition; what we do is what people have done for hundreds of years. As far as the food goes, we rely a lot on seafood. I eat fish almost every single day, though I don't get tired of it. My family also grows some of our own food, though we do have limited options because of the short growing season, Val explained, suddenly remembering that she had a picture of Ieland with her. She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone.
Val searched through her pictures, finding one she had taken during the summer. She leaned over, showing Pasha the screen, showing him the image. "That's a place called 'God's Waterfall. It is SO beautiful, though I took better pictures with my digital camera. I just don't have it with me," she said, chuckling softly. Val put her phone back in her pocket, turning to face Pasha. "So what do you think of Iceland so far?" she asked, shooting him a dazzling smile.
Valentina thought about Montreal, thinking that the city actually sounded nice, like someplace she would like to visit. She then remembered the conversation they had about names, and how good it sounded when Pasha said her full name. Val also remembered him asking about her first name, why it was not Russian like the others. "I also forgot to mention about my name. I don't know what language it's from, but my mom told me why I was named Valentina. You see, as cliche as it sounds, my parents met on Valentine's Day. 3 years later, they married on Valentine's day. Mom always said that if she had a girl, she would name her 'Valentina' and so here I am!" she said, laughing and smiling. It sounded cliched and so old fashioned, but Val liked how her name came to be.
When asked if it felt like coming home for her, Valentina had to think for a moment. "To be honest, it is like I am coming home, in a sense, but I've never been outside of Iceland before this, so in that sense it isn't. It just feels like I'm home, if that makes sense?" she offered, giving him a sweet, charming look. "What about you? Is this like coming home for you?" Val asked, looking deep into his eyes as she spoke. Glancing down at Pasha's hand, Valentina slowly and carefully took his hand in her own, feeling the warmth spread through. She looked at him, her cheeks flushing a light pink. She was too nervous to lean in and kiss him, but hoped that Pasha could read her body language and respond appropriately.
* * * words;; 613
thoughts;; I want them to kiss SO badly! |
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Post by obviouschild on Jan 4, 2012 23:34:41 GMT -5
Plant your hope with good seeds
[/font][/right]
Pasha listened with a peaceful expression, his eyes on her face. Iceland sounded strangely familiar; the quiet, the climate and the aspect of tradition sounded much like his old neighbourhood. Really, only the seafood was different. “There’s a lot you can do with fish,” he said, with a light laugh. “You do? Which crops? Sorry, I keep asking about the food, it’s just a subject that’s close to my heart.”
She showed him an image on her phone, and Pasha’s eyebrows shot up. He’d never seen anything like that. What Quebec had, in terms of scenery, was wide blue rivers, mountains that had been worn by time into hills, and huge rolling expanses of pine trees. There were no dramatic fjords. “It’s still an amazing picture. Is the rainbow always there?” he asked. At her question, he smiled slyly. “Well, from what I’ve heard, it sounds wonderful. And I certainly like the people it produces.”
Pasha had never really gotten all the hype about Valentine’s day before, but even so, he couldn’t help letting out a small, “Aw,” at the story. It was cute. Romantic. A lot more so than how his parents had met - two weeks before their arranged marriage, so nervous his father had barely said two words - although in the end his parents were extremely happy together. He raised an eyebrow. “Your mother named you after a Christian saint? I think Valentine was a Roman - which would make it Latin. Haha, I was right!” He made a face of mock pride, then dropped the pretence. “I like it. Me and my sister both got Russian first names - probably my parents’ blind optimism. For my little brother, they reverted to Hebrew. You’ll never guess what they named him. Go on, try.”
He nodded. “It makes sense. It’s in your blood.” That kind of atavistic longing for a place did not strike him as at all odd. Pasha’s mother, the only one in their family with even an inkling of Zionism, sometimes talked about Israel like that, even though she’d only been there one week after generations in eastern Europe. His own feelings towards Russia were so messy that he considered just answering ‘yes’ and leaving it at that, but there was something about the look she was giving him… It was like a secret smile, one made just for him. Looking into those huge eyes made it impossible not to trust her. He sighed. “Yes and no. I mean, it was home. But we … left for a reason. This country’s been in trouble for centuries - first the Tzar, then the Soviets - and the damage hasn’t gone away yet. There’s still an undercurrent of distrust and desperation and I felt like I couldn’t live here anymore.” He looked up and met her eyes again. “That was why I came back. I didn’t want to leave things the way they were and start hating the place I came from.”
He was suddenly aware of a warmth on his hand. Pasha looked down and saw with amazement that Valentina had wrapped her hand around his. She was looking up at him, her cheeks pink, and even Pasha, who’d always been a tiny bit oblivious, could guess what she was waiting for. Without leaving himself time to hesitate or think better of it, Pasha leaned in and brushed his lips to hers, a ghost of a kiss. It was a completely impulsive gesture, but he let it linger, so that if this was what she wanted, she could deepen it. Not that he’d thought that far. He had no idea what he was doing.
notes: In the words of Westley, 'As you wish.' [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by VALENTINA AKILINA IVANOVA on Jan 5, 2012 0:31:09 GMT -5
 When Pasha asked what crops they grew, Valentina merely chuckled. "Well, we don't grow as many crops as you would in Canada, but my family grows turnips, carrots and potatoes. Those are the main staple foods in my diet. I'm kinda of glad I can get something other than fish, potatoes, carrots or turnips here!" Val said, laughing. She was finding Pasha very easy to talk to, and she honestly hoped that she could talk to him forever.
Val smiled when Pasha asked if the rainbow was always there. "Well, when there is no sunshine, there is obviously no rainbow, mut there is a rainbow there most of the time," she said, not letting go of his hand. It felt too good to let go of, and she didn't want to ruin the moment.
She had never thought of being named after a Christian saint, until Pasha brought it up. Even though she knew it was probably coincidence and not purposely after St. Valentine, Val couldn't help but think what her mother was really thinking when she chose Valentina. Still, she liked the name and thought it suited her. As Pasha urged her to guess the name of his little brother, she thought of all the Hebrew names she could think of. "Hmm... Abraham? Isaac? Malachi? Noah? Gabriel? Micah?" Valentina had exhausted all the Hebrew names she could think of, chuckling happily to signal her defeat. "Okay, I give up. What is it?" she asked, wondering what his brother's name was.
Val listened intently as Pasha explained why his family left Russia, and why it felt odd being back. Even though she was not from Russia herself, she had heard stories from her parents that solidified why they left in the first place. "Oh Pasha! I'm glad you came back, even if you left un such...unfriendly terms," she told him, giving him a small smile. "Your story sounds very similar to that of my parents. They were looking for a reason to leave, and when my father got an opportunity to get a job in Iceland, they jumped on it. I wanted to come to Russia so I could see my roots, to see where my parents and my grandparents were from. To add detials to their stories..." Val explained, sighing lightly. She had hoped it would have been 'just for an adventure' or some other happy time like that, but it wasn't that case, and she was seriously hoping for Pasha to do or say something to take her mind off of things.
And boy, did he ever. A satisfying warmth spread through her whole body as Pasha gave her an innocent kiss. It was one of the most romantic things she had ever been a part of. The sunset, the lake, the wonderful afternoon. It all felt surreal, like she was living in a dream. Val squeezed his hand lightly, just to reassure herself that this was real. Taking a deep breath, she leaned in, placing her lips on his, though a bit firmer than he had with her. She lingered for a moment before pulling away, her cheeks flushing a light pink as she gave him a tiny smile. "That was wonderful, Pasha. One of the most romantic moments of my life. I...I kind of want to stay here a bit longer. Maybe we could kiss again? Or lay here together and watch the stars?" Val suggested, scooting a bit closer to Pasha so that their legs were touching. Of course, she did not want to take things too far, but she also wanted to get a bit closer to this wonderful man who happened to be in the coffee shop at just the right time.
* * * words;; 662
thoughts;; AAWWW! |
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Post by obviouschild on Jan 5, 2012 23:28:12 GMT -5
Plant your hope with good seeds
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Pasha chuckled, shaking his head with mock despair. One of the things he remembered less fondly about living in Kostroma was the food; they had eaten less fish and more beef, but the pervasive presence of root vegetables had been just as strong as what she described. It was coming to Montreal, where fresh produce was fairly plentiful and there was a restaurant somewhere for every cuisine under the sun, that had made him get really interested in cooking as something more than just trying to make beets taste like they weren’t beets. “I think I may have to introduce you to one or two things,” he said, with a friendly wink. The offer would pave the way for him to take her out to dinner sometime, or better yet, cook for her himself.
He laughed, feeling slightly foolish but not caring. “Well. Of course it’s not there at night. Although I have heard of lunar rainbows - rarer, fainter.” She was still holding on to his hand; her own hands looked so slender and delicate next to his that it was almost comical. He was amazed and thrilled that she hadn’t let go. Pasha shook his head as she rattled off names, trying not to laugh. “Good guesses, all. Especially Malachi, I like that one. But no, they chose ‘Solomon’. Solly for short. A bizarre and very energetic little boy.” He glanced down for a moment, smiling with a mixture of pride and exasperation at the thought of Solly. Then he looked up again. Not even his beloved little brother could distract him long from Val. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Pasha nodded. He thought he could imagine what her parents had felt. But he also knew why she wanted so badly to return. He had both feelings in him now. “You want to know where your family came from… to more fully grasp who you are. I think I understand.” He also understood why she had trailed off; it was a bittersweet topic at best, and like her, he was happy to let it drop. He still hadn’t told her the full story, and he didn’t really want to, not quite yet. He hadn’t really told anyone.
Val did just what he had hoped, deepening the kiss slightly. Now there was a hint of a promise in it. There was a moment of stillness, during which he could hear his heart pound, and then he felt nothing but sheer, calm joy. He squeezed Val’s hand in return, looking down at her flushed face. Val had a small smile that did not quite give everything away, but Pasha’s facial expressions had never been so restrained. He broke into a huge, stupid grin. It took him a moment to remember how to use words. “I. I don’t see why we should have to choose between the two,” he said, putting an arm around her. The sun had just set for good, but the sky was still bright to the west, but fading to purple with every moment that passed. Right now, he just wanted to be close to her.
After a moment, her turned to Val, still smiling uncontrollably. “I’m perplexed, you know. You’re amazing. You’re not like anybody I’ve ever met. What am I? A fat Canadian git. You must be crazy.” He still couldn’t stop smiling. Pasha drew their joined hands to his lips and kissed he back of her palm. “And I’m glad you are.”
notes: We win. [/blockquote][/size] |
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