dimitri:

             { was she always this way? } he recalled charlo–melody asking him one day as she sat the edge of her bed and he was catering to the marks on her back. her voice had been soft, the kind of softness that didn’t last long here in the cold. no, it would freeze and die like the rest of all the good things that entered through those concrete doors. she had asked him if she was always this cold. and he couldn’t answer her. for he did not know. they had been in different groups. he had volunteered to join while she was taken from some far off land. he was known to be a prodigy. she was thought to be the first body to fall.  they were never meant to interact, they were never suppose to entangled like this. { he suppose he has lottie to thank for that. sorry it’s melody. } 

             he couldn’t answer when the first impression he had of her was that she was small. she was small and she had this weird look in her eyes. that her dark blue eyes seemed to be both confident and scared. when they first fought, it was a lot like this one, except back then, she wasn’t careless. she wasn’t practically asking for him to break her arms. { maybe if he did, they would stop sending her on missions. it was tempting. } 

            no. but you need me. he thought as she hissed at him, angry at him, wanting to snap his neck. that was better than the shell of a woman she had become. she wasn’t suppose to be an old bullet casing, no. she wasn’t suppose to be something that was once lethal but now tamed. she wasn’t some sort of thing that they could control. they had no right.  they had no power over her. he wouldn’t let them. “к сожалению, товарищ, это не до вас .” he whispered in a low voice, not threatening, rather–he didn’t want unwanted ears to listen. 

         and that’s when he stopped, that’s when his grip weakened. scarlett. his eye twitched, he felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. that name. it was what they gave her . after the put her in a pretty dress and proclaimed her as the prodigal daughter. he wanted to puke. they were all smiles and fake sobs. if they really cared. if they really wanted to find her, they would have all those years ago. they had enough resources, they had enough power. but that was the thing, they tried to the same thing as they did with charlo–FUCK, melody.  they had tried to play her off as some lost princess when anna was never a princess. she was–just anna. “ ivanov. you look pathetic right now. i thought we taught you how to lie better than that.” 

            (   THERE IS NO ONE QUITE LIKE YOU, IS THERE, ANNA?   they told her once, right after she snapped  IRINA’S  neck.  she was the only one standing in the way of   ANNA  and the prized TITLE, and no amount of intimacy could keep her away from it   —-   they knew each other from age SEVEN. eleven years had passed and only the coldness had stayed. it takes and it takes and it takes. later that night, after being reminded that she, too, can be REPLACED, she ate steaks and golden potatoes. she couldn’t remember the last time such thing had happened, but she slept better than ever before. EVERYTHING GOES ; ONLY THE COLD STAYS.  ) 

        ❛  мы в Америке, наш выбор это все, что у нас есть.  ❜    she SPITS, teeth showing like fangs — BLOODTHIRSTY  &  HATE FILLED.  his tone is soft — too soft — and she can’t help but to look into his eyes, even if for a second. ONCE, somewhere, she found comfort and solace in them. somewhere, she made a home to herself, but that was but a ILLUSION.   a sickening stupidity of a FOOLISH mind, drunk on the idea that it could be anything but a monster. it can’t. it never could. 

           (   THEY NEVER TOLD HER HIS NAME ; THEY TALKED OF THE MOONLIGHT AND ASKED THEM TO FIGURE IT OUT.  she had heard tales of him — the WOLF, sharp  &  better than anyone, anyone, anyone. she knew before any of the girls  — VIPER  &   DEATHSTALKER  &   HONEY BEE. she asked nina, that night, in a low voice, how he was. she knew what she meant then. she told her of his neck. she didn’t forget it then, and she never will. he beat every single one of them until she was the last one standing —- & THE REST IS HISTORY.   )

           ANNA NOTICES IT RIGHT AWAY.   call it years of practice or only instinct, but she sees a chance   &  takes it. as soon as his grip is looser, she kicks him on the legs, before yanking her arms away from his touch. she hits his head against his, not caring about how much it may hurt, how much it may BLEED.   she has never cared about her physical appearance   (  somewhere, from a corner of the room, she feels his eyes burning a hole through her. he cares about it.  )  .   she rolls her body away from him, tying her hair with a band on her wrist.       ❛    you should take a look at YOURSELF, volkov. you’re the one who looks pathetic.  ❜