dimitri:
what was the first lesson they learned? that they were so small and that they were so insignificant without the duty that they held so close to their hearts. that they became reborn the moment they stepped foot into that blood stained arena. that when their young eyes stared around the cages, that they were being put into the fire–waiting to be reborn into something great. they were forged from their steel bones and bronze knuckles. they were created as weapons, they will die as weapons.
he looked at the way she ran towards him, she’s going to favor her left side. he thought as he dodged the kick, blocked a punch. swung his body under her arm and moved to the other side. what is the purpose of living if the motherland falls? what is the purpose of living if they are no longer sharp, if they were no longer the weapons that they were created to be. they would be ordinary. they would be useless. they would be–soft. grimacing as she hit him once, running her nails down his skin. that’s going to leave a mark. he thought before he grabbed her wrist, and spun her around so he could move to the other side. he wasn’t as quick as she was. he’d never be as quick as she was. and hell, this match may have been over ; he may have pulled harder hits–if she wasn’t bleeding out.
he glared at the video camera he had disabled before he got to the room. he had seen what they saw. they that dared to call themselves family. they just saw her as a way to gain more more more. they all just wanted more. they were so greedy, like leeches sucking their victims dry. they just wanted power. the power to simply oppress those that were deemed weak. that’s all they wanted. that’s all they would ever want . they grew fat as they lusted for more, gluttonous americans. “are you getting tired, ivanov?” he said with an almost jolly tone. it was mocking as he jumped away and grabbed hold of the metal cage, before quickly dodging yet another kick. “don’t tell me you forgot that wearing the opponent down is the first way to get them to fall.”
THAT HURT. that stung. that dug deep like a knife. ( like the knife she had taken from him; he wondered whatever happened to that blade.) “you knew my beliefs didn’t stem with the so called motherland, anna. i’m not a nationalist. you know what they did to my parents. all in the name of the motherland. you knew why i went into that system in the first place. i simply–” but you had a reason to stay. he thought. and he was staring right at the reason. you could have stayed for her. but he didn’t know. he thought what he had with charlotte, what he had with anna–that it was gone. that their perfect little world was shattered. “ worthless. that’s where you’re wrong. after all, i distracted you from killing henry, right? but you’re right about one thing. i am a traitor to dear mother.“ he said with a dark tone before he grabbed hold of her flying fist and pulled her so that they were only centimeters apart. he stared into those blue eyes. “ i’m an anarchist that would gladly watch the world burn if that meant protecting what i deemed as more important than some fucking state.” he whispered in a low voice, their breathings heavy and almost in sync with one another. “ that look in your eyes–”
he stared and he stared and he stared. and he couldn’t see it. the look that she had when they first brought her in. he wouldn’t tell her he stole a glance when he wasn’t suppose to. that he saw them break her, drown her., made her scream. took away her innocence. that was the same look though. the same look that was the reason why he even took interest in the widow program. why he even took interest in the girl that everyone thought would die. she wouldn’t die. he thought as he watched her first fight, cuts and bruises on his own face from his own fight. it was the look of someone who even death couldn’t drag away from a fight. it was a girl that had survived so much. burned so bright and yet–no one noticed that she was still human. he didn’t think that such a split personality could exist. and yet there she stood; a look of pure fire.
and when he looked into the blue eyes, angry, red from the tears of suppressing all the pain. his hand gripping her hand as he stared, and he didn’t know how much time had passed cause it all seemed so slow. he looked into those eyes and saw nothing, he saw someone that wanted to die, he saw someone who was just so tired. he saw someone who had given up. he was going to murder that american boy. he was going to murder phillip lefurgey. he was going to murder every single person that ever hurt her ( but wouldn’t that mean you’d have to off yourself, dimitri? because she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. } “that look in your eyes.” was he fucking crying? was that a tear running down his face? of course it was. guilt, grief, and just–he was so guilty. she wouldn’t be here suffering if it wasn’t for you. more importantly. she wouldn’t have had to have suffered alone–( but she could have told the truth ) “–i hate it. it drives me fucking crazy to see that look in your eyes. like you’ve just accepted what they’ve given you. YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN THEM ANNA.” he yelled, his voice crack as he looked at her with a desperation that he had not felt since he had last yelled at her, believing that she killed charlotte, believing that she truly didn’t have a heart when it was so big that it was breaking her. “WHY do you let them do this to you?! didn’t you suffer enough? why do you let them RAPE you like this?!”
( YOU DANCE LIKE YOU FIGHT. alexei told her once, after she trained for three hours straight. wrong, she replied, putting her hair into a ponytail and wrapping her hands to train , i fight like i dance. IT IS DIFFERENT, you see. she learned how to dance before she ever learned how to fight. her FLEXIBILITY came along with it, as well as her DISCIPLINE. you can not be the best if you are not disciplined — she knew that from day one. )
it is as if it is a dance —- she moves from right to left, arms barely moving but legs doing all of its job. ONE, TWO, THREE —- disciplined, trained, PERFECTED. CUT FROM MARBLE, FORGED FROM STEEL. ❛ you’ve only ever been loyal to YOURSELF. ❜ words can be like knife. words can cut you open and leave you to bleed out. ( perhaps she is still BLEEDING . ) when he pulls her arms she wants to curse. HERSELF, HIM, THE ENTIRE WORLD. stupid, stupid, stupid. VOLATILE & WRONG. if only she had payed attention, if only —– ❛ рабочие всего мира, объединяйтесь ❜ she says.
LOYAL TO THE BONE, EVEN NOW. heart too big for her body, beating on and on and on. ALL THAT SHE HAS EVER DONE, has been for the MOTHERLAND. for lenin, for TROTSKY ( they punished her, she remembers. what of trotsky , a little girl asks, after watching a documentary. they dragged her through her hair and starved her for five days. she never spoke of his name again. ), for the people, for the W O R L D. perhaps she won’t live to see it, but someone else will. EQUALITY.
she stares into his eyes ( blue, blue, blue ). she remembers every single time they stared into each other’s eyes. ONE, his body pressed against hers, her back pressed against the floor. hands wrapped around his neck. it’s the first time they ever saw one another, first time she saw him. they were angry, and it showed. TWO, in the cafeteria. she sat alone ( always alone ), bruises scattered through her body, busted lips and purple eyes. she rebelled. they all knew it —- she could hear the whispers, the laughters. the perfect little daughter, tsc tsc tsc. their eyes met as he walked past her. she didn’t know why he was looking at her, and couldn’t tell what the look in his eyes meant. she forced herself to forget it. THREE, every time they fought. FOUR, every time they fucked. FIVE, then, when he left. she thought that would be the last time she ever saw him. all that she saw in his eyes was hatred and hurt and disgust. perhaps that’s how he always looked at her. perhaps she just fooled herself.
ANNA WON’T CRY. she won’t let those treacherous tears fall from her eyes, won’t let herself break. she’s BROKEN before, and she remembers what happened. ( his tears are like a punch in her gut. STOP CRYING – she wants to say. STOP CRYING – weak, pathetic, atrocious. STOP CRYING. ) . she swallows her tears ( ignores that her eyes burn ) , and smiles. SHARP & FORCED & TERRIFYING. ❛ i’m doing what i’ve always done. i’m SURVIVING. i’m keeping you —– ❜ DON’T SAY ANYTHING. no one will be safe if you open your mouth. she pulls her arms away from him, but his grip is too STRONG. he’s always been stronger than her. she has always hated that. ❛ you’ll RUIN everything. let me go. ❜