Walking on Coals

Anatoliy Russo · 01-09-2011, 10:21 PM

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apologies for delay

She did not know. Anatoliy have a sigh and shook his head in frustration, glancing down the street to see if any signs stuck out to him. He wanted to find a good store with plenty of unopened bottles, be they in the shop front or in the back. But he just wanted to find something. He ignored her posture, her primness. It was nothing important to him. He was not a fan of the girls who were so delicate and had to act like young ladies. That was just the kind of upbringing he himself never had nor would have probably cared much for. Instead, Anatoliy grew up raised under the tutelage of fishermen and vicious housemothers. He had been disciplined well but it was only his manners that had been questioned. He could be a wild rumpus and if he still respected women and his elders, everything was okay.

He gave her an uninterested look when she asked him where he was from, but his interest instantly spiked when she said she was from Moscow. No wonder he had missed something. She had the accent but he had gotten used to hearing his family's accents that he disregarded her nationality. But he could also detect the Muscovite accent in her tones; it was different from other cities, but it had the flair of the city dwellers. He himself was a country boy, born and raised. Well, almost. He was more of a country sailor but that was just the genetics playing out. Everyone was a sailor in his family if not a pirate. "Sobirat'sya." It was kind of obscure. "It's also Arkhangel'sk. Way north of Москва. You probably have never been on zhe Vhite Sea," he said casually, thinking someone like this lady probably had stayed in the shiny falseness of Moscow. "Vhen did you get here? And how? Ship?" Tha was the only way to get here, really, so it was silly to be asking such a question. But he could not help but think she would turn her nose up at her if he even suggested he was a pirate's son.

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