Post by Dollface on Jul 28, 2014 18:49:37 GMT -5
“I don’t CARE what’s in season right now, I need to look like a LADY!”
Harris rubs a hand over his face, declining to point out that screaming at sales staff was hardly a ladylike behavior as the attendant crosses her freakishly thin arms over her nonexistent chest; the accompanying squeak of dry flesh on latex making Mark’s eye twitch. “Well I’m SORRY, little miss fancy, but the baroque PVC corset with matching garters and cage skirt is as close as we have to Sophia Coppola's 'Marie Antoinette'.”
Kelli glares for a few moments more, then turns on her heel and flounces out of the store (with many rustlings and rufflings of obnoxious, brightly colored fabrics), Harris not far behind her.
“What was THAT all about? And how do people even get that stuff ON, with a vacuum cleaner attachment?”
“Ha, wouldn’t that - SUCK? Get it?” Giggling helplessly at her own joke, she lets Harris guide her towards the center atrium of the mega-mall.
“Yeah, I got it. Unfortunately.” He smiles at her as she sticks her tongue out at him. “Really though. What are you actually looking for?”
“I just want to dress in a way Nathan might like.” Mark stares at her for a full moment before bursting into hearty laughter, earning himself an ineffectual slap on one huge bicep.
“It’s not FUNNY! He’s all... proper and gentlemanly and I just want to be someone he can... he can be proud of, I guess.” Her cheeks color a bright pink as she leans over to whisper in Harris' ear. "He... he gave me a KISS the other day. I just. I want to be properly special for him and all."
“Kelli... how have you dressed this whole time?”
“Well, like me.”
“Has he said a word about it at any point?”
“Well, no.”
“So that probably means he likes you just as you ARE, with the clothing you ALREADY wear, right?”
Kelli crosses her arms, a glittery pink pout on her face. “I GUESS so.”
“Okay then. I KNOW you have plenty of clothes at home, so can we please go now?”
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm actually really super worried about stuff and I can't go home yet because if I go home I won't have anything to distract me with!" The words come out in a rush, a light color rising to her cheeks as she bites at her lip in visible consternation.
Mark rubs at his forehead, taking a seat at one of the nearby tables. "What are you worried about, Kelli? Sit and talk with me."
Kelli hesitates, fidgeting in place. "Can't we just go to the candy store?"
"If we get done early enough - now are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"
Kelli plops herself into the seat opposite him, fiddling with a stray ribbon from her hair before taking a deep breath.
"Well you see this next match is a tag match with Nathan which is super awesome because I get to play with him but it's against Grimm and his brother Sadistic."
"Grimm - wait, Grimm has a brother?"
"RIGHT!? Because, you know, Grimm by HIMSELF isn't enough."
"You haven't lost to Grimm -"
"I haven't lost to him YET, that doesn't mean I WON'T, and now there's ANOTHER person there who's full of Grimm's Creepy Pain Farmer of Doom genetics and HIS NAME IS SADISTIC. That means he LIKES hurting people, and I don't like getting hurt! I mean sure a little spanking every now and then -"
She breaks off with a grimace as Harris claps his hands over his ears, squinting in protest. "I can't be hearing this!"
"Okay okay, so anyway, I don't LIKE getting hurt and I don't LIKE pain and these guys are going to hurt me a lot! Then there's Nathan, he'll be there, but they're going to want to hurt him TOO!"
"Nathan might be a gentleman, but he's a pretty big man and seems to know what he's doing out there. I think he'll be just fine, and so will you. When have you ever been afraid of a few scrapes and bruises?"
"Well when it's not so much scrapes and bruises as it is broken bones and crushed - dude, did you know they have a tag team move called 'Snap, Crackle, Pop'?! I mean, I'm all over here thinking of cereal and they're all 'Lol-no, no Rice Krispies for you' and you know Rice Krispy treats really do sound good right now but -"
"KELLI. The match. WHAT are you WORRIED about?"
"I'm worried they're going to kick my ass."
Mark smiles, reaching across the table to quiet her fretful hands. "Kelli. Listen to me. Worrying about this will get you nowhere. You can either go into this match afraid, or you can go into this match ready to do your best and have fun no matter what happens. Alright?"
Kelli sighs heavily, her frown brightening into a hopeful expression. “Alright. NOW can we stop by the candy store? You said we could if we got done early enough!”
“Kelli, we were out for SIX. HOURS.”
“But... but it's only 7 and the candy store is still open... that means we got done early enough!” The pout deepens, crystalline alligator tears welling up in her green eyes.
Mark sighs, shaking his head in a bemused sort of tolerance. “Alright. But then home, okay?”
Kelli settles into the bucket seat of the car, leaning forward to send the sounds of MSI’s newest album thumping and screeching through the stereo.
“Deal. Now tell me again how I shouldn’t be terrified right out of my rainbow glitter unicorn patterned tights about this match with Grimm AND Sadistic?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“A Mr. R to see you, Ms. Staronova.”
The voice of her receptionist over the intercom jarrs Iska away from her perusal of the month’s ending financial reports. Most high powered business people wound down a long week of meetings by heading to a spa, but not Iska. Instead she preferred to review the solid proof showing the fruits of her labor.
“Does he have an appointment? I thought my calendar was clear for the evening."
“No, ma’am, but he insists he must see you right away. Something about your sister." Iska sighs, delicately pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. What the hell has that girl gone and gotten us into NOW?
“Send him in, Lydia.”
Iska adjusts her fitted sportscoat, squaring her shoulders and leveling a stern gaze at the door as it swings silently inward to admit the late arrival. The tall, rangy man enters the room quietly, deftly removing his grey linen scarf and sunglasses as he meets her eyes. Iska gasps in sudden recognition, every semblance of cold professionalism burned away in an instant as she lurches from her chair and staggers back.
“YOU. You - no. This is not real. You are DEAD.”
“Ah, my dear, ‘dead’ is a surprisingly fluid term. To your reality? Perhaps. But,” He pauses, arms spreading wide with a chuckle. “Clearly I still exist.”
“You are dead in HISTORY BOOKS. Grigori Rasputin died in 1916!"
“I assure you, beautiful girl, I am most certainly not dead.” Rasputin, for indeed it is, settles himself comfortably into the dark leather chair opposite her desk. Long fingers interlaced over one knee, he regards her calmly until she eases herself back into her seat. “Please don’t trouble yourself with how I’m here. The only important thing is that I am.”
“Let us say I agree, and set aside the bizarre nature of this circumstance. WHY are you here?”
“I would be remiss if I shirked my family duties.”
“YOUR family has not acknowledged my sister or I since the last remaining member tried to drown us after -”
Rasputin raises a hand to stop her, doing his best to appear compassionate. “I know, zaichik, I know. I cannot claim that... individual as being of my lineage, I hardly knew his father existed let alone your father himself. Be that as it may, it is now my responsibility to step in and guide my lost family back into the fold.”
Iska stares at him thoughtfully, showcasing a remarkable immunity to the absolute weird factor of the current situation.
“What is it you can offer us?”
Rasputin moves closer, a disconcerting flicker of shadow that glides across her vision, his presence heavy at her back as a wave of unfamiliar longing washes over her. A light moan catches in her throat as she struggles against the alien sensations thrumming through her nervous system.
“I can offer you your deepest desires, child.”
Her icy eyes meet his own strikingly blue orbs over her shoulder as she fights the strange warmth spreading lassitude throughout her limbs with the iron control she had wrenched from the grip of Death itself. A wry smile creases his features as Iska wrests her mind from him, nodding at her with a glint of what might almost be considered approval in his eyes.
“Those are not my desires.” Rasputin’s eyes trace the contours of her face, taking note of the blush on her cheeks and the faint tremble of her lower lip.
“Your body betrays you...the desires may not be yours, but they are within you all the same. But far be it from me to force one so tender.”
Iska crosses her arms over her midsection, staring up at Rasputin in open challenge.
“Tell me why I should work with you.”
“Consider it a business deal, to a mutually beneficial end. You want your sister kept away from that oddity she insists on carousing with, and I have my own reasons to keep them separated.”
“What are your reasons? I cannot allow you to harm her.”
Rasputin’s grizzled features affect shock, his hand going to his chest in objection. “You wound me, my dear, I have no intent of harming either you or your lovely sister. I simply need her kept away from Nathan.”
“But why?”
His features darken, his preternaturally blue eyes seeming to absorb the light in the room rather than reflect it. “Because what he has taken from me, I will never allow him to find in another.”
Iska nods, a vindictive smile curving her lips. “Then you have every reason to do the job properly. What do you propose we do?”
Rasputin gestures broadly with one hand, her office door opening of it’s own accord as he offers her his arm. “Step into my office, zaichik, and I will tell you everything you need to know.”
