Black gloved fingers curled tightly around the ceramic mug, and even the thick cloth couldn’t keep the frost from seeping into the near black coffee she’d barely taken a single sip of. Svetlana stared at the wall at the far end of the dining hall, ignoring the nip in the air because she hadn’t turned on the heater. There was no one here to heat it for, not yet. The paint was still fresh on the walls.
“Hell, Svet, are you trying to get frostbite? It’s freezing in here.”
“I don’t get frostbit, Ryta. You know that.” She parried the comment with a distracted tone, then dragged her gaze fro mthe wall as if coming out of some kind of a trance. She offered her heart sister a smile, going to sip her coffee only to have the ice thud against her lip. Setting the mug down she frowned, wrinkling her nose in annoyance.
“You’re angry.” The draconian made it a statement. Svet knew she hadn’t been shielding their connection very hard, but she rarely did. She didn’t have anyhing to hide from Ryta. The ice elemental gave a slight shrug.
“Just thinking about the war. That ass hole last week got to me.” Bastard had called her naïve. Childish. Ignorant. It still manaed to piss her off. The war had touched everyone. Everyone. There were no exceptions. With a heavy sigh, Svet raked fingers through her inky black hair and began to loosely braid it. Ryta watched her in silence, patient.
“I’m tired of watching people die, Ryta. Every time I see the battlefields, even separate by miles and ice, it makes me sick. I haven’t seen the fighting up close since before I met you, and I don’t want to see it again.” Those memories were increasingly hard to bear. Every time she summoned that orb it took a little more out of her. Every image of a dying person, friend or foe, made her feel like her organs were being pulled out, one by one. Finally, she shook her head and picked up her cup, heading for the kitchen.
“I’m just moody. It’s that time of month, you know? When does the first batch of victims come in?” The mood shift and subject change were equally abrupt. She hummed as she fled to the kitchen, tapping the ice out of her mug and rinsing it out, mentally reining her gift in, trying to keep it from leaking out quite so much.
“A few days. It’ll be nice to liven things up a bit.”
“Yeah.” The words fell to silence as Svet put her mug in the dishwasher and pretended to find other things to do, wetting and ringing out a dish towel until she heard her heart sister leave, the door closing softly shut behind her. Her hands slowed in their motions, towel dropping from her fingers before she stepped back, her back hitting the fridge before she slid to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees as she stared blindly at the cabinets across from her.
It normally wasn’t this bad. It was sitting idle, no distraction, nothing to do but wait. She hated waiting. Svet remembered patience, and it made her wonder why it was a virtue. That agonizing wait, watching the sun creep across the sky until it sank below the horizon so she could scramble out of whatever sewer or abandoned basement she’d hidden in to try and find something to eat, a safer place to hide.
“I don’t know what the war is like.” She muttered to herself, then snorted derisively. “Everyone knows the war. Maybe I don’t know it as well as the soldiers, but I have a damn good reason for not wanting to be out there.” She sighed and reted her forehead against her knees, closing her eyes. The anger was gone, replaced by a dry sort of bitterness. He’d been angry, she knew. He’d lost more to the war than she had. Still, it bothered her. Perhaps because it was, in part, truth.
Taking a deep breath, Svet collected herself and pushed herself to her feet, stretching. If she’d stop moping, she could find work to be done. She could make things, or maybe play a prank on Ryta. Anything to get moving. Maybe if she iced all the toilet seats…
I don't write Svet enough, considering she was my first character for Grey. And I really do like her. I don't have her character sheet anymore, probablly lost it when my hard drive crashed last time. This is supposed to be about the time the Academy first opened, even before they had students. Sorry if Ryta sucks.... I try not to write characters that aren't mine too much because I'd rather not get them wrong. I have one more Svet fic in mind so far, it might go up tonight, it's supposed to be short. I don't really remember what I wrote bout Svet's history, which is a problem, because now I'm sort of flying by the seat of my pants... That's okay though. How many times have we made over our characters anyway? I like the history I have in mind for her.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
wilsonek's journal