Coming Home For Winter || Slavic Siblings

[Katyusha Chernenko]

велике спасибі She was exhausted. There was an accident happened near the hospital, involving no less than ten people. Everyone was admitted to her workplace. After that, Katyusha had to help three women delivering their babies. Aside from that she had two people from the underground resided in the spare bedroom. Both were gone by the time she got home - one of them even left a thank you note, which she thought as sweet. But they left a mess in the bedroom, so Katyusha had to clean it before she's resting. Katyusha sat down on the couch, unwrapping the towel on her head. A cup of tea was placed on the coffee table. She turned her TV on and switched it to the news channel. No news from Kasem lately, and she wanted to know if he was involved with something. Hopefully it would stay a secret as always, away from public's knowledge and the media. Speaking about the news, there was no message or call from Natalya too. They had met before and exchanged numbers. Apparently her little sister was now working as a weapons dealer. She didn't understand why she chose that job; couldn't she chooses something less dangerous, like being a baker or a seamstress. Natalya was fully capable to defend herself, she knew that, but it didn't mean Katyusha would stop worrying about her. The underground wasn't kind to anyone, be they strong or weak. The nurse reached for her phone and opened the contacts folder. Should she call her sister? Maybe they could plan for a normal meeting like every other normal sisters had: shopping, baking, or just chatting. Katyusha was unsure if Natalya would like that, though. She stared at her phone while her mind was working on what she would say to her. As she was thinking about that, Katyusha realized she hadn't heard a thing about her brother. She wondered about what he was doing now and his whereabouts. Maybe Natalya knew something? Katyusha could ask her later.

MADE BY MINNIE OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

Ivan wasn't sure what had happened.

To be completely honest, he wasn't even sure what was happening right now.

Где...?

Forcing his eyes open, the first thing Ivan saw was a pair of familiar boots somewhere far below his eye-level. Bloodied and worn, the black pieces of footwear stepped in and out of his vision time and time again in the rhythm of his walk, each step seemingly more difficult and tasking than the one before. It was a surreal sight, he thought, watching your feet move when you didn't feel them do so. He would have giggled at the oddity, but he didn't feel the strength in himself to let out a single sound. He had enough trouble trying to recall where he was and why, and how come his weight was not carried by his own feet alone.

Trying to focus on anything was nearly an impossibility; Ivan's mind was such a complicated mess of colors and shapes that he could barely fish out his own name and identity from among it all, and none of his senses offered him any help. His sight was hazy, figures swirling in and out of focus and blurring everything he laid his gaze on into a mess he could make no sense out of.

Yet, with relentless effort, he could still faintly recall a scene, playing out in his mind slowly and shakily like an old movie about to see its last day.

A room, and a conversation about something, somewhere Ivan couldn't recognize. It felt like it had happened such a long time ago by now when in truth, it must have been mere minutes. He remembered the tense atmosphere and the charged, dangerous words he and the other party had exchanged. He remembered taking out his gun - and he remembered that the shot first fired did not come from him. He remembered a jolt of pain and a moment of confusion, before he understood that there was a bullet buried inside is body, planted there not by his enemy - but by a comrade, from behind.

Ivan shifted his weight on the back of a man much smaller than him, a brief, sad whimper escaping through gritted teeth - and quickly molding into an angry groan. Someone had betrayed him, he realized, and that hurt him way more than the wound on his side did, or ever could.

The man helping him walk must have noticed him stir, as he was quick to say something - something that Ivan couldn't quite understand. Was it even Russian? Be it whatever, Ivan replied to it with nothing but (what he hoped was) a reassuring smile and a small nod of his head as if to show he was still capable of movement despite his dizzy, weakened state. After all, no matter the occasion, he could not look weak in front of those that served under him. It would be shameful to him, and it would disappointing for them. It was his duty as the leader to persevere and be strong.

Ironically enough, no sooner had those words of resolve formed in his mind, than his awareness started to deteriorate once more. In his half-awake state, he tried to move enough to catch sight of the face of the man that was helping him, so he could connect it to name. He wanted to know which one of his underlings this was, and whether it was one of those he'd personally chosen. He wanted to know if he had made a right decision.

But his eyes closed far before his gaze reached the man's face.

Barely conscious, the last thing he recalled was hearing a knock on a door, a panic-filled shout in Russian from underneath his arm, and a soothing, familiar voice suddenly filling his ears like a forgotten melody from his past, lulling him into a peaceful sleep like it had so many years ago.

Only this time, it was sleep without dreams.

[Katyusha Chernenko]

велике спасибі The longer she spent time thinking, the more confusing it became. Katyusha had been estranged too long with her sister, and even though they now live in the same city, they rarely saw each other. In the end, Katyusha decided to just make dinner and bake something for her. She dialed Natalya's phone, and while she waited for her to pick it up, she heard knocking on the door. Holding her phone on close to her ear, the nurse rose and opened the door. A man was standing there, shouting something in Russian at her. He carried another man; a larger, taller one. She didn't need to listen to him, one glance to the apparently unconscious man was enough to explain everything. Katyusha moved a bit to the side so he could carry him to the spare bedroom. When they passed her, the light from her living room illuminated the bleeding man's face. Pale blond hair. The roundish face. And among the words he cried out, Katyusha recognized a name. A name that she screamed in horror and panic. "IVAN!" He was undoubtedly her brother -- her beloved brother whose face had been away from her sight and whose whereabouts had been shrouded in mystery. How long had it been...? Why was he bleeding? Who did this to him? Thoughts and questions flashed quicker than lightning in her mind, but she didn't realize that she was screaming them all to the man who carried her brother here. She felt like watching a movie; sitting down while images and sounds came into life before her motionless body. In reality, she was in the movie. She was the one who screamed and cried, barely noticing the phone that slid off her grasp and bounced on the floor. The other man appears to be confused, his jaw opened widely; but he quickly regained his composure and brought Ivan to one of her bedrooms. He returned shortly after, grabbing her hand to drag the shocked nurse. She knew what she had to do. She knew she had to move now to save Ivan's life -- he's bleeding bleeding bleeding someone goddamn shot him on the back the bullet might take his life move move MOVE NOW-- How grateful she was to let this unknown person guided her back to her brother. Tears streamed down her face, pooling at the base of her neck and soaking her shirt wet. He had set Ivan's body to a sitting position on the bed -- oh God, he looked older and so pale -- and showed Katyusha where the bullet had entered and left his body. Muscles were definitely damaged or torn, although it didn't seem too harmful. Her shaking hands pulled open Ivan's shirt to check the wound-- he had grown bigger than the last time she saw him and when did that happen? -- then the man gave her a towel. She closed the wound with the towel and pressed it firmly. Katyusha felt her lips move, automatically forming commands with her sobbing voice. The nurse was barely aware of what she was saying or what the situation she had before her really was. Her instinct kicked in, reminding her that she had a wound that needed to be closed. So when the man returned with the items she asked, Katyusha began to work. It was a long night. When she finally finished, tears and blood had smeared on her shirt. Katyusha thanked the man -- a friend of Ivan, apparently -- for helping her. She glanced one last time to Ivan's bandaged shoulder and then his face, which she gently lifted a little. Leaning down, Katyusha kissed his forehead before sitting on the edge of the bed. She tried to say something -- he was still unconscious and probably wouldn't hear it, but who knows it might help him heal, right? Right? Right? "Y-you will be okay," Katyusha managed to whisper between her muffled weep, her hand grasped his -- like so long ago when he cried after falling and hurting himself -- and the other caressed his cheek. "You'll be f-fine." "Sestra is here."

MADE BY MINNIE OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[[ tell me if I screw something up :'D ]]

[Deleted]

words: 1,980
NOTES: UM I JUST--
TAGGED: KATYusha, IVAN

The ordinary and uneventful evening. The curtains on each of Natalya's windows were drawn, separating her from the world outside. It was late in the hour and the sun had fallen, casting its dark sky over all of London. The city was always lit and teeming with noises: cars passing, sirens going off, people yelling or talking over unnecessary distances. The Belarusian always had her wayS of drowning those things out. Her home was always her own lonesome little haven. The emphasis laid most heavily on lonesome, but most of the time, she didn't mind it. It was how things were meant to be.

Her lights were on in each of the main rooms. Music drifted from the radio she had turned on, always the more favorable way in which she smothered the other sounds of London. It was loud enough to enjoy, but not too much that she couldn't hear things like the phone ringing or someone knocking at her door, just in case. Not that those things happened often, anyway. From the speakers came the dull boom of rock music, and at that moment Natalya had been sitting on her couch, unsuspecting, carefully handling one of her favorite things: a knife with a beautiful, ornately carved handle. Not only did she enjoy looking at them, she enjoyed sharpening the blades. It made it seem like she was nurturing and keeping them healthy. A dull blade would never do for anyone.

It took her a moment to realize that the phone did begin to ring. Its sound became clearer as the song on the radio ended and faded to silence, only to give way to another song. Natalya placed the knife down on an empty couch cushion, in a way that it was halfway tucked underneath the pillow, and pushed herself to her feet. She moved quickly so as not to miss the call, picking the phone up to look at the screen. Seeing the name Chernenko, she hesitated. It was a curious sort of hesitance. She hadn't gotten a call from a sibling in a while. When she answered it, she spoke in a voice that was firm enough to compete with the music in the background: "Katya? Ya slushayu." I'm listening.

There were noises on the other end, but she wasn't sure she heard Katyusha's response to her. Trying to listen, Natalya found herself suddenly feeling anxious. It didn't show in her voice, but it made her eager that Katyusha must have had something to say to her, whether or not it was of great importance. The next voices that Natalya heard through the receiver were too choppy and too fast to grasp, but she could tell that they weren't in English. Her lips were slightly parted but she didn't know what to say, so all that came through was her sister's name, calmly repeated: "Katya?"

There was still yelling on the other end, which made it difficult to decipher anything. Natalya's heart continued to beat in an anxious flutter. Even if she didn't know what was going on, it felt like she was getting worked up rather quickly. The call must have come from her big sister's home, yes, and there couldn't be any good reason to hear Russian yelling and to hear the conversation drop away like that. What made things worse was that she could have sworn she heard Ivan's name said. No, not said. Shrieked. From all of that alone, she could gather that that call was meant to be important.

The younger sibling pulled the phone away from her ear and closed the call, biting down on her lower lip. The phone was placed back in its proper holder and Natalya turned away, thinking on a quick decision. She couldn't walk or run if she needed to get there. Katyusha's house wasn't that close. Panic was urging her to move quickly. She crossed the room to grab that knife off of the couch and tuck it safely into its holster underneath her dress. Her cellphone was the second thing she grabbed and gripped in her hand. Her other hand quickly swiped against the wall, turning off the lights before she went out the door. The only thing she forgot was the music, which was left playing within the house.

The evening air was chilly when Natalya stepped outside. She hastily shut the door and locked it behind her, assured that she had grabbed her keys first. Her fingers fumbled to find the right one to unlock her car door, and once it had been opened, she tossed her cellphone inside and situated herself in the driver's seat. It was difficult to abide by driving laws and speed limits on her way to Katyusha's house. The amount of passing minutes that she wasted made everything feel even worse. Something was unsettling.

She came to a stop outside of the woman's house, grateful, for one, that she didn't get held up by anything. The slamming of the car door marked her arrival, her feet quickly leading her to Katya's front door. Her fist hovered there, considering knocking, before she decided just to invite herself inside. Perhaps that was what was expected of her. Upon first notice, she couldn't see anyone. There didn't seem to be any yelling anymore, but the closer she listened, she could detect faint, choked voices coming from another room. 

Wandering closer, she discovered that that must have been her sister's bedroom. At least navigating her house wasn't too confusing, and Natalya was driven by her determination to find out what she was doing here. Stopping in front of the woman's room, she looked inside. Three figures were in there. One of them was unfamiliar, and the other two were--

Big sister's hands were moving. She knew that gentle movement, that gentle voice. There were spots of red on her fingers.

The world stopped when Natalya held her breath, blue-violet eyes looking aside to land on the quiet and troubled face of her brother. Then the world fell around her, and she could feel each piece being crushed under her feet when she walked forward. Her face demanded answers, but there was no way she could voice questions right now. "No.. n-no, what--?" was all that she managed.

Natalya honestly hated crying, and she could bet that Ivan and Katyusha both remembered that about her. When she was little, crying always frustrated her. Her face would turn red and she would insist that the tears went away, right now. Then she learned how to keep it bottled inside, and ever since then, she could hold it rather well. This was one of those times where, even though her throat felt like it was burning and her eyes were watering, she did not weep. Not yet.

She brought herself to stand by the bed, looking down at her brother's body, watching as Katyusha's hands worked. Her body felt weightless. She knelt down on legs that felt like they were no longer working, and continued to just stare. Wary, suspicious glances were often given to the other man that was there with them. What did he think he was doing here? And what did he have to do with this? Natalya was polite enough not to interrupt Katyusha while she worked, but each of her collected, panicked thoughts were sitting like fire on her tongue, waiting to be spoken.

The wound hurt to look at. By its shape, she could tell it must have been a bullet. The more she thought about the very idea of Ivan being shot, the more it felt like she had a bullet tear through her body. The pain it must have caused his poor soul.

Katyusha finished after what felt like ages. Natalya saw her bend down to kiss Ivan's forehead, which sparked a familiar sensation of jealousy throughout the Belarusian's body. Always that jealousy when Katyusha was there to help and soothe Ivan and Natalya wasn't. All she could do was stand to the side (or, in this case, sit) and watch.

Natalya's hands were on her brother's arm, squeezing its unconscious weight. "S-Sestra," she started, her stutter giving way to the emotion that was breaking through her. She was speaking in Russian to her, since that only felt natural. "Who did this?"

That was what felt most important to ask. Not what happened, because it was clear what had happened. Some worthless trash of a person decided to hurt someone precious to her, to her and Katya both. No matter what, Ivan wasn't deserving of any such attack - and neither was Katya deserving of what she was being put through now. She'd never envisioned that Ivan (or herself) would be one of big sister's patients. She was well aware that would be the hardest for the Ukrainian to have to go through.

This incident was churning all sorts of thoughts through the young woman's mind. One part of her was imagining finding the person who did this and giving them a fate even worse. Maybe not death, because Natalya had never killed anyone before (but if it meant avenging Ivan, she just might have), but some other torturous kind of pain. Another part of her faintly wished it was her who this had happened to. Ivan and Katyusha were both important parts of the underground world, she knew that much. They would always do much more ambitious things than Natalya did. But no. That would mean pain for Katyusha and Ivan both, and for Sera. She would be scolded for thinking such things and there was no working around this. It was better just to wish that this had never happened. How dare someone...

Her hand was gently, affectionately stroking the skin of Ivan's arm, waiting for the answer to her question. She didn't mind if Katyusha didn't know - she didn't want to push her right now, anyway. If anything, it would make Natalya all the more determined to find out for herself.

The woman's soothing words, although they were directed to the resting Ivan, were still playing over in Natalya's head. You'll be okay. You'll be fine. The hurt in her sister's voice tore through Natalya as well, like that feeling of a bullet from before.

She could feel her body shaking. Her face buried itself into her other arm, and no matter how hard she might try, those tears were finally beginning to spill over. Her vision was blurred and she heard herself make a noise like a whine.

Of course, big sestra was always better at the comforting words. "Sestra is here." Natalya's fingers, the ones which weren't on her brother, were clawing at the blankets, gripping them, squeezing them. Something like this was never supposed to happen. The third person that had been with them was now forgotten. She only sobbed into the bed and into her arm, choking sounds through which her voice spoke: "I-I am here too." 

For some reason, she wanted to add the word please. Please let him pull through this, please don't let him go anywhere. She dragged her hand over to hurriedly wipe the tears from her eyes, feeling them fall in streaks down her cheeks, down her chin and onto the bed below her. From now on, her gaze was on Ivan's face. She'd watch the gentle movements of his breathing and wait for his eyes to open. To see both of his sisters there, to let them know that he was still with them. How strongly she wished to see him smile, even more than any time before.

"Sh-she did good, big brother. Please wake up." Misery and a touch of frustration were heard in her voice, insisting that Ivan do what she asked. Even if it was pointless of her to try speaking to him. Just one little sign of reassurance, please.

LAIKA OF GS!

[Katyusha Chernenko]

велике спасибі It felt like time moved as fast as a sprinting sloth - so fast that a slice of night stretched into an eternity. A painful, cruel eternity that forced her to replay the same scene over and over again. The knock at her door. The unknown's man shouting. A familiar face came from her past. A body barely breathing. Bleeding. But alive. If the scene was happening in her workplace, the hospital, Katyusha wouldn't be alone. Doctors, nurses and surgeons would be ready to help her. Heck, she wouldn't even be there. They would advise her to stay outside the surgery room and wait and weep into her coffee cup while they were trying to put back all life force that had been seeping out from the wound. But in reality, there were no doctors. Only her and this man - whose name was still a mystery to her - who brought her brother's body into her nest. She moved her fingers, feeling the surface of her thumbs grazed the other finger's. They're no longer sticky. The redness had dried and caked on her nimble, pale fingers; forever imprinted in her memory. I stopped the bleeding, she whispered to herself. She had stopped the bleeding, therefore it's just a matter of time until he opened his eyes. Then she knew that all was well. At least, better than before. But waiting was hard. So the Ukrainian forced her neck to move - it became stiff from working, as well as her shoulders and arms. And then she saw it. A figure that as far as she could recall was not present in her bedroom before. Slim, small and weeping. Katyusha herself had cried too much, making her voice raspy. She opened and closed her mouth several times before speaking, "Na... Nata..." But she couldn't even finish speaking her sister's name. She was crying. Natalya was crying. The youngest of the three was the one who always managed to stay calm in stressful situations. Watching her crying sent another wave of pain to Katyusha's heart. She saw Natalya lifted her head and looked at their brother's face. "Sh-she did good, big brother. Please wake up." The nurse placed her hand gently on top of Natalya's. She wiped her own tears, knowing that Natalya never liked seeing her crying. "Ivan, we're here... if you hear u-us, please... open your eyes." Katyusha tried to find something to say to her sister, but she couldn't. Instead, tears began to roll down on her cheeks again. This time, without a sob.

MADE BY MINNIE OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Deleted]

words: 461
NOTES:
TAGGED: KATYusha, IVAN

Pleading words did not seem to work in this situation. No matter how long the young weeping girl stared at her brother's face, his warm eyes did not open. His only movements were the steady rise and fall of a breathing chest. He looked serene, but each minute that passed of Ivan's resting was painful for the two women in the room with him.

It was not usual that Natalya ever cried when her sister did, no. She could remember how much she hated seeing it when they were all younger. If her older sister and brother were ever upset, in fact, Natalya hated that she didn't know what to do about it. She still didn't, really. She hardly even knew what to do with herself now that she was crying.

Hearing Katyusha attempt to say her name, the woman's hands relaxed. Her fingers rested motionlessly upon the blankets and on her brother's arm, and finally her sobbing began to quiet down. The Belarusian hadn't thought about how long it had been since her big sister saw her cry. She was displeased with herself for having let that emotion out, but it was too late now. When she looked up to meet her sister's gaze, her eyes were almost apologetic. 

Just like old times, the hand on her head soothed her.

"Ivan, we're here... if you hear u-us, please... open your eyes."

Now both sisters had requested that Ivan opened his eyes - Katyusha's, naturally, was in a gentler voice - but Ivan still didn't seem to hear them. Natalya still felt some frustration, but she didn't try again. Instead she turned her attention back to Katyusha, watching the innocent tears that streamed down the woman's pale cheeks.

She wished more than ever that she knew what to do. She wanted to fix this, because this wasn't how their reunion was supposed to be. The younger sister's eyes were puffy and her breathing was unsteady, but she was going to try and calm herself down.

Although reluctant to let go of Ivan's body, Natalya stood up. Instead of being there on the floor, she climbed on the bed to situate herself closer to Katyusha, sitting at her sister's side so they could watch over Ivan's body from there.

She hoped that the three of them being so close would help. It was growing clear to tell that they might have to wait a while before Ivan woke up. It was difficult - but there were still questions swarming Natalya's mind. She kept her voice low as she started to question the nurse, not wanting to pressure her. She at least wanted to get a name. Something that would help her figure out who was behind this. "Do you know anything else about what happened?"

LAIKA OF GS!

[Katyusha Chernenko]

велике спасибі "Do you know anything else about what happened?" "What... what happened..." Katyusha looked around the room. There were only the three of them in the bedroom, but she remembered another person was there a moment ago. A... friend? An acquaintance of Ivan, perhaps. She vaguely recalled that he introduced himself as one of Ivan's people. Incoherent rants in Russian slowly made their way to the surface of her mind, accompanied by panicked shouts and half dried blood. "T-there was a... a brawl..." Katyusha shook her head, feeling unsure. Was that really a brawl? What did the other person say? She squeezed Natalya's hand. "I... I don't know. He said... he said Ivan was betrayed. I..." she glanced at the door, as if she hoped that other man was still standing there and take over the explanation. She had no idea when he left and where he went, but it didn't matter. Katyusha took a long breath. "He... he was shot from behind, Na-Natalya..." She sobbed again, her shoulders were shaking. "T-there was so much blood and..." and I'm afraid he's dead already before he's brought here, she continued in her mind. Her chest rose and fall slowly, her breathing was heavy from all the weeping she held inside. I'm afraid he will never open his eyes again. There was a creaking sound from her bed when Natalya moved to sit beside her. The tears had seeped through her mask, her usually calm expression. Katyusha lifted a hand, hesitated a little before wiping Natalya's tears on her cheek. She wanted to tell her that everything would be fine, things would be alright and Ivan soon would open his eyes and they could see his smile again. But the words were chopped by an invisible blade in her throat, every syllable butchered into more sobbing. The nurse laid a bloodied hand on her brother's lap. A muscle twitched under her palm. The blonde woman blinked. "Ivan...?"

MADE BY MINNIE OF BACK TO NEVERLAND