[ WONDER / OPEN, JOINING ]

[sharkbeak]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: auto; font-size: 9.2pt; font-family: helvetica; line-height: 125%; text-align:justify; width: 500px"]/ note: although i don't speak russian, konstantin does, so rather than using google translate, if you see text <like this>, then it's in russian! also, to make it easier to distinguish them, this colour is konstantin speaking, and this colour is anzhelika speaking!
also sorry for this post being bad; it's late, and my brain isn't working, so. this is just a mess of words. it should improve over time, but. for now, at least, i hope it makes sense? it's only really the last bit that matters anyway, lmao, so as long as that's coherent, then it's okay.

---

The snow— more slush than anything else now, wetter than it is solid and no longer giving way with a satisfying crunch— sticks to the soles of their boots, upsetting the grip of their soles and making it harder to balance. For the slightly-taller of the duo, this is less of a problem; he kicks his feet down with a little more force, striking the ground harder than he otherwise would with each step, and uses the momentum to dislodge the snow. His female companion, on the other hand, clings resolutely to his arm, her grip like iron, mercilessly using him as a sort of crutch in order to remain upright.

"<Having fun?>" he asks her, just as one of her feet slip out from under her, and she leans all her weight heavily on him (he, too, would have slipped, dragging them both down, were it not for his frankly-ridiculous power stance. The sight of him, legs splayed and bent in an awkward half-crouch, is enough to make her snort once she recovers.)

"<Absolutely,>" she replies, voice dripping with sarcasm, and he digs in, hauling himself — and her — up the last incline of the precarious path. Both now able to walk easily, they stop to catch their breaths, her with her hands on her hips and him with his in his pockets.

The Lodge, now only fifty or so metres away, is a sudden and undeniable reality. For Konstantin, it's an adventure, one of the longest — and most outlandish — journeys he's ever undertaken, and for Anzhelika, it's just another day. Wacky, sure, and nothing like their home city, but at least the climate is somewhat similar. In a war between social anxiety and a desire to see more of the world, the two had made a compromise. Flintlock is quiet, and the perfect place to start exploring this new world — but eventually, Konstantin was forced to agree, they would poke around elsewhere. Maybe permanently, maybe not, but he had to get out of his lazy comfort zone — or so Anzhelika insisted. He thought his performances were an example of confidence, but apparently it didn't count because he enjoyed it.

"<Do you have a plan?>" Konstantin asks, following Anzhelika up the far-flatter path to the Lodge. She looks back at him and grins, gesturing with one hand.

"<I'll do all the work, as usual, and you sit back and look pretty.>" At Konstantin's semi-incredulous glance, Anzhelika rolls her eyes, a scoff caught in her throat. "<Oh, come on, that was a compliment. If you're really so offended, why don't you go and write a song about it? You've got the perfect voice for gentle angst.>"

Breaking character, Konstantin laughs, a high, easy sort of sound that prompts a smile from Anzhelika, and the two stop somewhere near the front of the Lodge, arm in arm, waiting for someone to come and find them, or— whatever it is that they do here. (Things are far less complicated back home.)

[TAKANASHI]

[align=center][div style="width: 400pt; text-align: justify; font-size:9pt; line-height:1.7"]They look absurd. Joseph caught wind of the duo a little while back and he's been following them since, watching as they slip and slide on what's left of all the snow. It's been hard not to give away his position by snorting but he knows how to keep quiet and how to follow without quarry being aware of it. He can't hear what they're saying completely, and whatever it is can't be English. If he could hear them better he might be able to guess but he's not going to introduce himself yet, because honest to god they're the best entertainment he's had in a little while. They know each other well. Joseph doesn't know if he should call them a couple but they're definitely buddy-buddy, cozying up in each other's space. He's almost envious. Entering his brother's space was always a plea for getting smacked or shoved and picking up his little sister was sometimes denied to him when he smelled too strongly of cigarettes and alcohol. It's stupid to be jealous of a little display of companionship, yet he is. There's nothing he can do about that except ignore it and pretend it doesn't exist.

He can't go on hiding forever though and soon enough, the pair stops a ways from Flintlock. Joseph leaves his rifle shouldered and steps heavier, not pulling as much weight so they're bound to hear him coming now. That's the point. He keeps walking closer and shifting around, so now he's coming in from the side. It's better than talking to their backs at least. "Sorry to interrupt, but who are you and what do you want." He doesn't sound sorry at all because he isn't, and he doesn't sound like he's asking a question because he isn't.

[sharkbeak]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: auto; font-size: 9.2pt; font-family:helvetica; line-height: 125%; text-align:justify; width: 500px"]/ mobile + this is also bad, apologies !

An only child, Konstantin had never had any siblings to play with; his parents had loved him dearly (and still do), but they were never able to replicate the special bond between peers. He often attempted to create that unknown sensation in school — and it worked, in a way. Closeness was something he found a little difficult, but he made enough friends to be considered popular; and without the arguing and squabbling usually associated with siblings, it was as though schoolyard companionship was the perfect replacement to distract him from a distinct lack of brothers and sisters. Those with larger families often insisted that he was lucky to be an only child — he never had to fight for his parents’ attentions, and he didn’t have to share money for presents on holidays. He was never kicked, bit, or screamed at for the slightest offence, but he always felt like they were exaggerating. If his parents were ever busy and his friends weren’t available, home could be a lonely place. (For Anzhelika, it had always been the opposite — she comes from a much bigger family, and for her, loneliness had always been a solace.)

A man with a gun is unexpected (but then again, most things out here are. It makes sense for self-defence, but that doesn’t do anything to quell any brief flashes of nervousness). "<What did he say? Why does he have a gun?>" Konstantin asks, turning to Anzhelika as she unlinks their arms and fixes the stranger with a gaze obscured by sunglasses. (Both of them do, actually, carefully guarded behind opaque lenses.)

"<He asked who we are and what we want, but your guess is as good as mine for the gun,>" she replies. Konstantin nods, a quiet ah of understanding in his throat, before launching into a quick, easy tirade, hands featuring between the three of them before interlacing easily. "So," Anzhelika continues, falling contentedly into English, "I am Anzhelika Pavlukhina, and he is Konstantin Mikhailov—"

"<Surnames too?>" His lips curve into a smile, and she knocks her lower leg against his in a joking reprimand.

"<Let me do the talking, remember?>" She rolls her eyes at Joseph, gesturing at Konstantin as if exasperated, and he laughs at it, bright and unrepentant, mumbling something that makes her snort. "We want to stay, if this is good with you."

[TAKANASHI]

[align=center][div style="width: 400pt; text-align: justify; font-size:9pt; line-height:1.7"]/that is a lie these posts are great

Special bond. Sure. It's real special being the black sheep and the let down. He misses his siblings beyond words but he won't butter up the relationship they had because they're dead. His little sister was the angel, his older brother the example, and Joseph was the screw-up. Not every family has one, but when they do, it's not escapable, and the Takanashi fuck-up is the reason he's the only one left. It would have been kinder on his parents' lives if they just had his older brother. An only child, responsible and always on his best behavior. Never coming home at the asscrack of dawn before chores start smelling like he's been in a bar all night. The opposite of Joseph in every way and therefore perfect in every way. It made him bitter when he was younger but he was resigned later, and now it doesn't even matter what they thought about him. They're gone. He's still here and there's no one to know what happened and no one to know the kind of family they were except for Joseph. Memory can be a burden, but it's one he'll carry gladly. He's the only one who needs to remember anyway; he just wishes sometimes that he wouldn't see them everywhere, in the most random of places, and with faces he can't even picture as clearly anymore.

This is easier. Watching real people carefully, waiting for a reaction, preparing a response to that reaction. It's all interactions are anyway, just series of events one after the other, back and forth. Sometimes he gets tired of people even though he's spent his whole life vying for their attention in some way. He doesn't like being left out of a conversation despite his almost nonexistent social abilities, and Joseph doesn't like not understanding what's happening. If he knew they thought his rifle was for self-defense, he would laugh. Rifles are for hunting, primarily. If he wanted to keep himself safe by waiting for someone else to take action first he'd go for a shotgun or a pistol. Not a weapon with range, intended for catching quarry unaware. But he doesn't know what they're thinking or saying, and he tenses along the shoulders. It doesn't go away when the woman starts talking in English, but the names she gives aren't names he can pronounce, so he won't bother remembering them.

His eyes narrow when she rolls her eyes, like he's supposed to know what she's saying or what the joke is. His skin crawls. "Whatever. You want to stay, start walking to the Lodge. Don't do anything stupid." He'll bring up the rear, keep an eye on them.