06-15-2017, 11:11 AM
"Name?"
"Reznikov. R-e-z-n-i-k-o-v."
"Are your grandparents immigrants?"
"No, I just moved here." The thick Russian accent caused a few heads in the office to raise in curiosity.
"What part of Russia did you come from?"
"Samara,"the owner of the accent spoke lowly, tucking a curl of brown hair behind one twice- pierced ear.
She was tired of the questions. Without much more time passing, her enrollment was tracked down and the schedule was printed off.
"Natalya, your father asked me to look after you today." a voice sounded next to her. Looking over, it was her neighbor.
"My father has been dead for almost 200 years, actually," Natalya muttered darkly. It was a moment before Emily understood what she was saying. "You know what I mean. Your adoptive father. Speaking of, why didn't you take his last name?"
Natalya turned on her. "Because I'm proud of where I come from. It was a lovely city and I came from a lovely family, and if I had my way, I'd be rotted in a forgotten cemetery, while my great grandchildren get their chance at life. And I like to think it'll help maintain my accent. I'll be damned if I'm going to sound like one of you Americans," she murmured, walking down the hallway alongside her friend.
Emily laughed, despite the rude comment. She was one of the very first modern "military wives." She was a young girl, about eighteen years old, freshly married, just saw her brand new husband off before he left to fight in the Civil War for the Union. Shortly after, she was changed. Her husband never returned, so she didn't need to find someone to come up with a tragic tale of her death.
"Hey, that's offensive you know. I'm as patriotic as it comes. Who won the Cold War, exactly?"
Natalya smiled slightly, looking over at her.
"Reznikov. R-e-z-n-i-k-o-v."
"Are your grandparents immigrants?"
"No, I just moved here." The thick Russian accent caused a few heads in the office to raise in curiosity.
"What part of Russia did you come from?"
"Samara,"the owner of the accent spoke lowly, tucking a curl of brown hair behind one twice- pierced ear.
She was tired of the questions. Without much more time passing, her enrollment was tracked down and the schedule was printed off.
"Natalya, your father asked me to look after you today." a voice sounded next to her. Looking over, it was her neighbor.
"My father has been dead for almost 200 years, actually," Natalya muttered darkly. It was a moment before Emily understood what she was saying. "You know what I mean. Your adoptive father. Speaking of, why didn't you take his last name?"
Natalya turned on her. "Because I'm proud of where I come from. It was a lovely city and I came from a lovely family, and if I had my way, I'd be rotted in a forgotten cemetery, while my great grandchildren get their chance at life. And I like to think it'll help maintain my accent. I'll be damned if I'm going to sound like one of you Americans," she murmured, walking down the hallway alongside her friend.
Emily laughed, despite the rude comment. She was one of the very first modern "military wives." She was a young girl, about eighteen years old, freshly married, just saw her brand new husband off before he left to fight in the Civil War for the Union. Shortly after, she was changed. Her husband never returned, so she didn't need to find someone to come up with a tragic tale of her death.
"Hey, that's offensive you know. I'm as patriotic as it comes. Who won the Cold War, exactly?"
Natalya smiled slightly, looking over at her.
[div style="width: 400px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; color: #3E3C43; font-family: georgia"]watching every motion in my foolish lover's game ———
on this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame ———
turning and returning to some secret place inside ———
watching in slow motion as you turn around and say ———
[shadow=#AE9669,left]take my breath away[/shadow] ———————— [abbr=Signature by Bryne]♛[/abbr] —
[abbr=discord: cygnus#7690]discord: cygnus#7754[/abbr] — Gallery