( her eyes blur over the words once, twice. there's no quicksand-pit that opens in her stomach, slowly sinking her insides — she's known it, from the moment she woke without nikolai at the foot of her bed like a hyperactive puppy, waiting for her to acknowledge him on threat of finding him gnawing on her shoes for stimulation.
still, it's a good handful of minutes before alina responds at all, resentful that nami has forced her to address it at all. )
he's gone. i tried to look for him, but
( but. but she knew it was pointless from the start, even if she'd walked through never-ending rooms until her feet turned sore and her sense of direction went dizzy. )
he's gone. i don't know where he went, or what they've done with him. but he wouldn't have just left without me.
( surely that has to be true. somehow, deliberate over accidental abandonment seems (selfishly) worse to consider. )
( weight sunk to the bottom of her stomach — the one thing she hadn't let herself think could be true. this whole not caring thing seems more and more frayed the more she stews in her own misery, because — fine, maybe she found nikolai a little funny sometimes, and maybe his company was nicer than the otherwise silence of a too big house. )
sorry. that sucks. you know
( after she starts typing, she immediately thinks better on it. except, she's already started, so she may as well finish it out. at least it's better than being in the dark. )
i've heard sometimes people who act out of line get dragged out in the middle of the night and sent home. what counts as acting out, i've got no idea. you think maybe nikolai pissed the balfours off?
( about being equally as likely to piss someone off as nikolai is to become their best friend. and about being a loud yapper, whose never found a comfortable silence he couldn't defeat. none of this makes nami feel better — and she doesn't especially feel like laughing at his expense, when she doesn't know if he's alright or not.
dumb, stupid feelings. this is exactly why you don't get attached. )
well. listen. i don't know if you have any plans, or you'd rather do literally anything else, but i'm short a man and i heard you used to be a mapmaker. wanna meet up? i'll help you look for him, if you're up for it.
( unfairly, her first thought is you don't have to do that. it chafes to assume nami must think alina's in need of a babysitter, in case she toddles off to make a mess of her reputation with the balfours. she wouldn't be wrong about the impulse, but — still.
her second thought is as shallow as splashing around in a puddle: it's a nice shock that nikolai had thought her worthy of mentioning in passing at all. in his absence, it only worsens the urge to find and throttle him for leaving her without so much as a warning — another instinct alina recognizes as wholly unproductive. stupidly counterproductive, even. so, after a bracing breath: )
i don't know what nikolai told you, but he's been known to exaggerate. i'm not a very good mapmaker. so long as you're aren't expecting a masterpiece, it sounds like an even trade to me.
( and, unspoken — it's better than uselessly twiddling her thumbs. )
that's alright. i'm a great mapmaker. there's a statue outside the dining room with a ( hmmmm ) surprisingly (suspiciously? who's he fooling) large dick. meet there. i'll bring snacks.
he sounds as modest as you are. though maybe a little less honest.
( wryly, not derogatorily. (kindly, she does not point out those that have to brag about their endowments are, generally, trying to hide a deficiency. ) because it's a comfort to be dragged around on the leash of nami's confidence, truthfully — one less choice alina starkov has to weigh the merits of making. by comparison, slipping into reflexive obedient feels as warmly welcome on her aches and bumps as sinking into a hot bath's embrace. )
i'll accept one of those stuffed pastries as payment. see you there.
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no subject
still, it's a good handful of minutes before alina responds at all, resentful that nami has forced her to address it at all. )
he's gone.
i tried to look for him, but
( but. but she knew it was pointless from the start, even if she'd walked through never-ending rooms until her feet turned sore and her sense of direction went dizzy. )
he's gone. i don't know where he went, or what they've done with him.
but he wouldn't have just left without me.
( surely that has to be true. somehow, deliberate over accidental abandonment seems (selfishly) worse to consider. )
no subject
( weight sunk to the bottom of her stomach — the one thing she hadn't let herself think could be true. this whole not caring thing seems more and more frayed the more she stews in her own misery, because — fine, maybe she found nikolai a little funny sometimes, and maybe his company was nicer than the otherwise silence of a too big house. )
sorry. that sucks.
you know
( after she starts typing, she immediately thinks better on it. except, she's already started, so she may as well finish it out. at least it's better than being in the dark. )
i've heard sometimes people who act out of line get dragged out in the middle of the night and sent home. what counts as acting out, i've got no idea.
you think maybe nikolai pissed the balfours off?
no subject
you've listened to him talk.
nikolai has a talent for making as many enemies as he does friends.
it doesn't make any sense.
i know nikolai. he doesn't do anything quietly.
1/2
( about being equally as likely to piss someone off as nikolai is to become their best friend. and about being a loud yapper, whose never found a comfortable silence he couldn't defeat. none of this makes nami feel better — and she doesn't especially feel like laughing at his expense, when she doesn't know if he's alright or not.
dumb, stupid feelings. this is exactly why you don't get attached. )
2/2
i don't know if you have any plans, or you'd rather do literally anything else, but i'm short a man and i heard you used to be a mapmaker.
wanna meet up? i'll help you look for him, if you're up for it.
no subject
her second thought is as shallow as splashing around in a puddle: it's a nice shock that nikolai had thought her worthy of mentioning in passing at all. in his absence, it only worsens the urge to find and throttle him for leaving her without so much as a warning — another instinct alina recognizes as wholly unproductive. stupidly counterproductive, even. so, after a bracing breath: )
i don't know what nikolai told you, but he's been known to exaggerate. i'm not a very good mapmaker.
so long as you're aren't expecting a masterpiece, it sounds like an even trade to me.
( and, unspoken — it's better than uselessly twiddling her thumbs. )
no subject
that's alright. i'm a great mapmaker.
there's a statue outside the dining room with a ( hmmmm ) surprisingly (suspiciously? who's he fooling) large dick. meet there. i'll bring snacks.
no subject
( wryly, not derogatorily. (kindly, she does not point out those that have to brag about their endowments are, generally, trying to hide a deficiency. ) because it's a comfort to be dragged around on the leash of nami's confidence, truthfully — one less choice alina starkov has to weigh the merits of making. by comparison, slipping into reflexive obedient feels as warmly welcome on her aches and bumps as sinking into a hot bath's embrace. )
i'll accept one of those stuffed pastries as payment.
see you there.