Perhaps it is a little bit too on the nose, the stereotypes of two Russians
walking on a winter evening. It isn't so terrible, hinting at a spring that
is not far off. The weather is by no means warm, but Russian winters last
far too long. Knowing that Anya still misses them, misses the tinge of
autumns and the glories of summer. She'd left a Parisian spring for a late
Darrow autumn and missed most of the year. Even thinking of simple things
like that makes her heart ache for a Russia that will never be hers to know
again. Glancing down at her shoes at his gesture, she lets out a small
laugh as she nods. "No, they really aren't practical for walking on ice. Or
for walking in general. They look pretty and weren't that terrible to dance
in, but..." Pausing she shakes her head again. "That would not be very fun
at all."
For now they aren't so bad. If they had truly bothered her, Anya would have
relented and called herself a cab as she was leaving the party. But she had
wanted the coolness and the fresh air after so much noise and glitter.
Walking herself home had been a temptation she couldn't resist. Her
reasoning had been that if it was too much then she could always hail a cab
and finish the journey that way. Now that she has encountered Gleb, she
feels even less inclined to give up on her walk now. There is something
nice about being out where with him, without the pressures of being in a
flat or the eyes of other people. Most other people do not care what
either of them do, it would likely make no difference either way, but she
feels better about this kind of open quiet.
"With good reason. If it had been sleeting, why would you risk walking out?
It would've been an entirely different night for both of us, each of us on
our own. But now, we are together." That seems to be the better way to end
the night of a holiday that is so focused on love. It isn't meant to be
celebrated or ignored in solitude, at least not in the way the people here
demand it. Looking up at the sky, she smiles as she looks back down at him,
at the lighter expression on his face. The early beard tugs at something in
her heart, a warm feeling growing in her abdomen. "How lucky for us."
no subject
Perhaps it is a little bit too on the nose, the stereotypes of two Russians walking on a winter evening. It isn't so terrible, hinting at a spring that is not far off. The weather is by no means warm, but Russian winters last far too long. Knowing that Anya still misses them, misses the tinge of autumns and the glories of summer. She'd left a Parisian spring for a late Darrow autumn and missed most of the year. Even thinking of simple things like that makes her heart ache for a Russia that will never be hers to know again. Glancing down at her shoes at his gesture, she lets out a small laugh as she nods. "No, they really aren't practical for walking on ice. Or for walking in general. They look pretty and weren't that terrible to dance in, but..." Pausing she shakes her head again. "That would not be very fun at all."
For now they aren't so bad. If they had truly bothered her, Anya would have relented and called herself a cab as she was leaving the party. But she had wanted the coolness and the fresh air after so much noise and glitter. Walking herself home had been a temptation she couldn't resist. Her reasoning had been that if it was too much then she could always hail a cab and finish the journey that way. Now that she has encountered Gleb, she feels even less inclined to give up on her walk now. There is something nice about being out where with him, without the pressures of being in a flat or the eyes of other people. Most other people do not care what either of them do, it would likely make no difference either way, but she feels better about this kind of open quiet.
"With good reason. If it had been sleeting, why would you risk walking out? It would've been an entirely different night for both of us, each of us on our own. But now, we are together." That seems to be the better way to end the night of a holiday that is so focused on love. It isn't meant to be celebrated or ignored in solitude, at least not in the way the people here demand it. Looking up at the sky, she smiles as she looks back down at him, at the lighter expression on his face. The early beard tugs at something in her heart, a warm feeling growing in her abdomen. "How lucky for us."