we are the children of the world

Sonja Russo · 01-24-2010, 01:51 AM

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Word Count: 440

The woman felt Raskolnikov and herself were getting off to a good start in these new lands. She even managed to make a friend or two, despite the language barrier between them. Raskolnikov seemed at ease for the first time in months and to see him so relaxed made her happy. Formally, it was out of her control but he found safety in these parts and it was enough for her, even if she was not with her family. Raskolnikov was her family now, having dropped her maiden name and taken on his when they decided to run away from Italy and take the world on as a big challenge and a canvas for them to start their new family upon. It was excited and scary to think about and while it was a new adventure, she knew some day she would want to return to Italy and be with her family.

Sonja felt they would have objected to her leaving with someone she barely knew, someone who convinced her there was good in what he had done, but nothing could convince her otherwise. Raskolnikov was, despite their differences, her knight in shining armor. She was content back in Italy, in the small town she was born and raised in, but the thrill of this was new and exciting each day. There was something new to face. Besides, her mother had done something similar long ago and it was Sonja's time to take the reign of her life and experience things she might never get the chance to again. The naive woman had to learn someway and what better way than going through experiences with someone she felt safe with? Raskolnikov would protect her, she knew that much, and would help her when she called for him.

The man was inside the house, perhaps working on the doors inside while Sonja was taking a break from cleaning. It was a work in progress but it would take much more than a few days to complete. Several rooms were disarray and there was broken furniture to mend or replace and it took about an entire day to complete one. Several trips were made to the inner workings of the village but she did not mind. Now, however, she was taking a break and sitting on the slightly snow dusted porch steps and staring across the white terrain. It was a little cloudy with an overcast which caused her to squint but she did not mind. The air was crisp and fresh and had a completely different taste than Italy had but it was not something she could put a finger on.

Beppe Agapito · 01-24-2010, 02:17 AM

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Upon first seeing it, Beppe had found the little secluded village enchanting. It was a place that seemed timeless, as if it was in its own world where things stayed the same. Each day was like the next, and though the weather changed little else did. Since he had first found the place, there had been no other visitors. The snow that coated the roads between houses was largely undisturbed, and the only footprints that were there were his own. It was a place of his own, and Beppe valued that. He could wrap himself in a cloak of seclusion and loneliness and let it sink in. He was no longer by the ocean, a source of comfort, but it made the emotions that had been swirling around him stronger and unavoidable. He was miserable, and he loved being miserable. The wolf's self pity was becoming one of the things that defined him, and it seemed that many of the decisions he made had the aim of making it deeper. It was, in its own way, a comfort.

Seeing other, smaller footprints in the virgin snow surprised him, and he followed them. Rarely did he leave his home, save to get some water from the well or collect creatures from the traps he had left out, and on this particular trip he was making his way to another house to salvage the cooking supplies that might be left. Cooking kept him busy when he had nothing else to do, and he was also making his way through the single book that populated the village, which had been boring in the beginning, but was getting more interesting. As part of his nightly ritual, he spent the last hours of the day flipping through the wispy pages almost compulsively, struggling through the English words and the odd phrasing of the ancient scripture.

The footprints led him towards one of the houses, and the midnight black figure on the porch was not easy to miss. As soon as he rounded the backside of the house and she was in his view, Beppe stopped suddenly. How long had this woman been here, and why was she here? Furrowing his brow slightly, the Italian merely peered at the wolf he considered an intruder. This village was his, and he did not know her. Even though he could barely care less if he was rude, politeness seemed to be inherent in him. Still standing and staring rather awkwardly, he said in his heavily accented voice, "Hello."
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Sonja Russo · 01-24-2010, 02:29 AM

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Word Count: 346

Sonja's hands reached up to rub the outside of her arms and found little comfort. It was much warmer inside with the heat stoves burning and she suddenly remembered to remind Raskolnikov to search for an axe in order to break down wood for the stoves. If they ran out, it would be a cold winter and the woman was so used to a civilized sort of colony that without it it would be miserable. Her jaw tightened at the thought and she jerked herself to a standing position to remind him so she would not forget. Unfortunately, her mind stopped head in her tracks at the sound of a voice and she quickly spun around to look at the dark figure in her yard. Her eyes narrowed and her arms dangled by her side until she lifted one to grab the post of the porch to steady herself.

It was then his accent registered upon her ears and her jaw became slack for a second. "Hello," she said tentatively. Her own accent just as thick and she contemplated speaking. "Lei parla l'italiano?" she questioned carefully as if he might not understand. She always got blank looks when she spoke to someone in her own tongue and they did not understand, a similar look she always had when they spoke to her in words far from her understanding of the English language. Most times she had to get her husband in order to talk to her through the conversation but she hoped, over time, it would start to grow on her and she would be able to hold a conversation long enough to make a real friend.

His presence made her feel weird and out of place. He almost seemed defensive to her being here and she had the urge to explain. She currently held herself back should he not be able to speak Italian and she would have to find the words in English or turn to get her mate. Either way, her heart raced in anticipation to find out the answer to her question.

Beppe Agapito · 01-24-2010, 02:46 AM

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It sort of seemed to the wolf that there was some strange and suspicious plot going on. When he had first found the village Beppe had run into another Italian wolf, and here was another one. Perhaps the two wolves knew each other and Ehno had mentioned this place to the female that stood before Beppe now. The other's accent was much more pronounced than the other's had been, though, and it didn't take long for her to jump back into her native language. A smile broke through the tension and for some reason the other's words gave Beppe a fleeting sense of relief. It wasn't as if he was searching for something to save him from drowing in the murky water of his self-maintained unhappiness, but the male couldn't help but feel vaguely elated by the presence of another of his kind. "Si," he replied, nodding slightly and with the ghost of a smile on his face.

For the time being he could not think of anything else to say. Perhaps he could have questioned her on her purpose for being there, or ask her where she was from and how long she had been on this continent. These things didn't pass through the male's mind for now, though, and he merely stood and stared. He noticed that she seemed surprised and perhaps a little distressed by his sudden appearance, and he relaxed slightly. The words of his country, spoken so richly, made a warm feeling spread in his breast, and there was nothing like the familiar to bring one back to his senses.

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Sonja Russo · 01-24-2010, 11:10 AM

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Word Count: 346 What the hell, I got the same word count as my last post. I am just awesome.

The woman waited for the answer with anticipation, her heart racing and she did her best to contain any happy facial features should he say the huh? and think she was insane. However, she was having a hard time he spoke anything else other than Italian with an accent she could pick up so easily form one single English word. Her jaw tightened and her ears were erect upon her head as she waited, watching his lips for a moment that would give her the answer she was looking for. She felt a chill go up her back as he spoke and instead of blinking dumbly at her, he offered the Italian confirmation and she smiled wide and did her best to contain a shriek of excitement but she was too young to be able to full contain such a thing.

She wanted to reach out and take him in an embrace but that much she could handle. Instead, she clenched her fists to prevent herself and stood back to look him over. Her head turned to look toward her home, expecting Raskolnikov any second but he must be busy inside and lacking any attention to her taking a break. "Mi chiamo Sonja Russo," she said with her smile remaining on her features. "Mio marito e sono venuto da Europa poche settimane fa. È dalla Russia e sono da Italia," she explained with a flick of her thick tail. She hoped he would open up from his shell now that she saw him relax a few notched. Hopefully with someone of the same tongue, he would keep that beautiful smile on his face.

"È così piacevole per parlare così liberamente con qualcuno. I miei inglesi è brutti," she explained with a bit of a sheepish smile and wiggle of her fingers to show she was very comfortable in this strangers presence, as if they had been friends for years, but it was simply because there were no boundaries or barriers between them and she could say whatever she like and he would understand without a problem.

Beppe Agapito · 02-08-2010, 09:57 PM

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It seemed that the other was quite happy to find him, and he couldn't contain a coy smile. The Italian accent was such a pleasing one, and the male let himself sink into it and drift upon its rolls and folds. Perhaps that partly explained his fondness for the ocean; in many ways, it mimicked the flowing sound of the language. These were the words he had grown up with, and recently, had been without. This woman made Beppe miss his mother, and even his detached father. Like the waves, the words reminded him of a time when things were simpler, days in Italy where the water lapped at the shore and words flowed just as freely. It had been a long time since anything had felt so perfect, and while he could never return to such a place, the reminder of it brought confused tears to his eyes.

"Sono Beppe," he replied, quietly but happily, "Piacere." He wondered why they had come, why they had left the rolling hills of Umbria or the stone streets of Veneto. He smiled softly at her last statement, and realized that he could do more than just wonder why they were here. "Perché siete venuti qui?" he asked, tipping his head a little and taking two tentative steps closer to the porch on which Sonja stood.

Sonja Russo · 02-08-2010, 10:10 PM

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Even if he had a little sadness off him, Sonja could not help but smile. She hoped her own spirits would help him. She was a happy Italian with the man she loved and in a house she was building up to take care of. She wanted her family here as long as Raskolnikov did not decide to up and move. It would crush her, she was already attached. Her blue and gold eyes looked over him as he spoke and her smile did not falter. Even when he introduce himself, she did not get over excited. "Il mio più vecchio nome del fratello è Beppe," she said. It was not all that uncommon, she guessed. She unfortunately had not met her older brother. Her tail waved behind her as he moved up the steps and she pushed onward, letting her hand touch the door.

His next question made her think but she was not entirely sure. She knew what her husband had done but she believed him to be justified, right? "Mio marito ha voluto venire qui. Ha trovato la sua famiglia qui," she explained and pulled on the door to the inside and she realized her husband's scent was not strong. Had he gone out the back? She did not worry and assumed he was getting more supplies for the house.

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