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Post by ress2 on Feb 24, 2012 19:18:37 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] Sometimes, Mikhail really had to question how pokemon were supposed to work. The egg that sat in his lap was dead, by definition - and assuming he had not been lied to, contained a little ghastly. It was an egg with a ghost inside, which made no sense by any definition of the word. That wasn't to say he wasn't treating it like a proper egg, with a proper baby, but... well, it was still a little bit odd. Mikhail let his hand rub the little egg absentmindedly as he leafed through an old book, the pages worn and tattered.
The library, as usual, was empty. Few people had any interest in reading anymore, and those that did only ever visited the very front of the library - where the pokemon manuals were kept. Fiction and anything that wasn't strictly about Pokemon were rarely touched, save by the select few, and as much as Mikhail liked to encourage reading, he was alright with being alone. He worked alone, the vast majority of the time, and none of his coworkers seemed to care in the slightest about the books. For them, it was a job - for Mikhail, it was his life.
Others had friends, lovers, family, and Mikhail had none of those. He was alone with his books and his pokemon. It was later in the day, and the library was relatively dark - the lighting dim, an unneeded expense in an already cash strapped city. It was a bit too bright for Mikhail's hair to be obvious, but Irving, his shiny Litwick, had taken up position on the desk beside the book, watching Mikhail read as he waited for the day to end.
(Ghastly egg: 1/10)
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Post by pasha on Feb 24, 2012 21:30:14 GMT -5
It’s too late to come back now
I’ve closed the doors to my heart He walked into the dim space, lit with the natural light and the walls reaching up as far as he could see, with little on his mind but work. New recruits were filing in like no tomorrow, many needed to be trained, and he figured he’d need to slowly build some lenience on who should actually be put under him, and who they should just let go out and get themselves killed. In his opinion, some of those who signed up for the job simply weren’t the type to do the job required. They flaked out after half the training, or simply died on the job quicker than he could’ve read the headline for the daily newspaper, and the months upon months of grueling training was for nothing. But it was later in the day, and he didn’t want to go through those files that sat on his desk; daily reports, new applicants, logs that needed to be signed off on… Everything. Unlike his usual self who usually got work done immediately, he decided to maybe hold off on all that for the evening and go find a new book. Pasha had always been the type for reading, the type for chess and puzzles and things that absolutely required a good working mind to operate. However, time was the issue. He never wished to say he didn’t have enough time, and so he often did what he could. So for today, he decided to spare himself a little, and went to the library. He was reminded immediately why he didn’t like going there too much in the first place. He much preferred picking things up at the book store and reading in the own comfort of his house; the high but inward leaning walls and the dimly lit space felt oppressing. The front was always filled with manuals on Pokemon and their training, but he felt like he didn’t need these. Ever since he got that transfusion, he had absolutely no difficulty taking care of himself. He had a single Pokemon tucked away in a Pokeball, but she rarely came into use and was mostly kept as a pet more than anything. In the other arm, he held an egg against the crook of his elbow, deciding to bring it along and make an attempt at hatching it. Wandering a little further in, he sought out the history section almost immediately. Though he knew the events of the past inside out in near every year, he always wished to brush up, or maybe learn a little something he didn’t know before. Pasha happened to brush by the circulation desk on his way, and it wasn’t until he walked right past it that something clicked. A pause sat heavy in the air. He turned only slightly, glancing over his shoulder to take a brief glance at the man sitting at the circulation desk. Now that you’ve pushed me away, I find it so hard to believe
And find it so hard to be me
Egg Hatch Count (Vulpix): 1/10 |
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Post by ress2 on Feb 27, 2012 23:31:47 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] Nothing, of course, clicked for Mikhail. He didn't even look up as someone entered the library. Why should he? People were always coming in and out, and few of them went anywhere past the pokemon reference guides. That was why those books were at the front, after all - to stop people from tracking dirt through the whole library.
It wasn't until the suspiciously large figure had passed the desk, pausing suddenly, that Mikhail's habits kicked in. He'd never been in the military himself, but he still had some of the habits - ingrained into him by his parents and brother. The pause was enough to make him look up, to properly register a person in a way he hadn't in weeks.
"Pasha?" It was out of his mouth before he could speak, because, in his own mind, it had always been 'Pasha', even if formality made him say otherwise. There was an awkward moment of silence as Mikhail's brain caught up to him, and he cleared his throat, quickly correcting himself. "Mr. Mikhaylichenko-Molotov." It was a point of honor that he could actually pronounce the monstrosity of a last name.
Seeing Pasha was unexpected - and more then a little surprising, He stood, shifting the egg onto the desk and leaving it there for the moment before snapping off a salute - imperfect, but good for a civilian. "It's been ages."
(Ghastly egg: 2/10)
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Post by pasha on Feb 28, 2012 11:47:27 GMT -5
It’s too late to come back now
I’ve closed the doors to my heart Things had been tiring as of late, and meeting people he knew from his past was not on his list of things to do for the evening. As he turned on his heel slightly to glance backwards, the pale hair registered first, seeing only the man’s back. There was really only one other place he’d seen hair like that, falling in light curls and so pale it might have been considered white, but with no shine that indicated perhaps silvery, as Conrad’s had been. For a horrifying fraction of a second, his thoughts pointed to an old friend. But no, Yulian was dead, and that he was sure of. It was somebody else with similar hair, and that would be it in his mind. Pasha turned again, beginning to leave when he heard a faint shuffle as the man stood up. Now he had a voice to attach to the hair, and the voice, though not his old friend’s, was familiar. When had he last heard it? Nobody ever called him ‘Pasha’ anymore; it was always Sir or some hacked up variant of his surname. The last time he’d seen that face, he was at a funeral… Thankfully, it wasn’t in the casket that time around. His eyes took in everything in the split second it took to snap back on his heels; the imperfect salute, the imperfect posture, but at genuine attempt nonetheless. However, just because Mikhail was a familiar face, didn’t mean he relaxed any more. In fact, Pasha’s whole body tensed immediately from the previously semi-relaxed state; his shoulders squared out and his back straightened up more than it already was, adding perhaps another inch or so to his towering height. With the mysterious egg still held in the crook of his below, balanced on the inside of his forearm, he managed a formal salute. His arm rose to his brow where his cap usually sat, and then he wondered vaguely why he was saluting to a civilian, before lowering it in the regular fashion. ”Good evening, Mr. Usenko.” The last time he’d seen Mikhail was at Yulian’s funeral, and he held back a cringe when he remembered it was closed-casket. Before that, throughout high school, he’d seen him much more often, but the frequency waned out as they grew older and he paid visits to the Usenko household less and less. It had gotten to the point now where they were vaguely aware the other was still alive, but that was it. ”Yes, it has been a while… How have you been?” There was the usual formality in his small talk, digging to remember details from before he was around thirty. Now that you’ve pushed me away, I find it so hard to believe
And find it so hard to be me
Egg Hatch Count (Vulpix): 2/10 |
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Post by ress2 on Feb 28, 2012 20:05:12 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] Mikhail had been hoping for so much more - a casual chat with the man that his brother had considered his best friend. The man he had, even as a child, thought was attractive - if a bit dangerous. More then a bit, really, but he had no real reason to fear Pasha. He'd stayed entirely within the rules, broken no laws, and lived a legal, if unimportant life. Even so, Pasha tensed just the same, and it took all he had not to flinch at how stiff the taller man was.
How long had it been? Years. Not since the funeral, at least, that alone a distant and bitter memory. Even so, he hadn't been stupid enough to blame Pasha for any of it, even if Yulian was dead - gone forever, never to be mentioned again. A painful memory to his remaining family, and nothing more.
"I've been well. I work here, now. A nice job, if uneventful." He responded, the unspoken words being 'not as exciting as yours'. He had no idea what Pasha had been doing, but somehow, it seemed rude to ask - to bring up those old memories, long buried.
"How have you been? Do you live in town, now? What brings you to the library?" It was far more questions then Mikhail would have spared for anyone else, but Pasha was Pasha. He was different, one of the few happy memories from Mikhail's childhood. Everything else was just so... grey.
(Ghastly egg: 3/10)
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Post by pasha on Feb 28, 2012 20:52:57 GMT -5
It’s too late to come back now
I’ve closed the doors to my heart Pasha blinked at the mention of Mikhail working at the library. He supposed somebody had to go around, shelving books and hushing up the teenagers, but he’d never actually put a face to a librarian before. He’d seen many in passing, but never personally known anybody who worked in a library, but he supposed they were people with lives too, as exampled by his old friend’s little brother taking up the job. Pasha couldn’t even imagine himself in a job like that, but then again, that was just him. The string of questions was unexpected, especially from Mikhail. From what he remembered of him, he’d always been the quiet sort, always hushing up whenever he came over to the Usenko household. ”I’ve been worse for wear, I suppose.” Only that would’ve been the understatement of the century. He’d gotten terribly ill by the virus and changed species completely, as well as having been forced to work for the company that ‘donated’ the procedure. Despite being healthy now, he was unhappy, to say the least. He decided to answer everything one by one. ”Yes, I live relatively close by now… And I’m just looking to brush up on my history is all.” Ah, now that sounded so incredibly drab. Still, it was the truth. ”I’ve been around here a few times… I don’t remember seeing you any of those times. Have you come recently?” Pasha relaxed a fraction, shifting the arm with the egg cradled against it just slightly to get more comfortable. Now that you’ve pushed me away, I find it so hard to believe
And find it so hard to be me
Egg Hatch Count (Vulpix): 3/10 |
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Post by ress2 on Feb 29, 2012 21:05:48 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] If Mikhail had known what Pasha was thinking, he'd have certainly agreed. The very idea of Pasha working in a library was absurd, ludicrous to the absolute max. The man doing anything that didn't periodically involve him breaking someone's bones was impossible. How would he manage?
He took a moment to look over Pasha's face - to see the scars that had been left behind. Last time he'd seen Pasha, the marks had still been fresh, still bandaged over for some. Now they were old, white and faded, giving him an alarming sort of look. It made him look dangerous, which wasn't something that Mikhail was really complaining about. He liked that sort of look.
He shook his head in response to Pasha's question. "No. I've been here a while, but I spent quite a while working on restoration of old books. They take a lot to preserve the older ones." It was so much work for books that so few would read, but it was worth it regardless. "I've lived here a while. Years, really. It's a quiet job, which is... pleasant."
(Ghastly egg: 4/10)
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Post by pasha on Feb 29, 2012 21:34:54 GMT -5
It’s too late to come back now
I’ve closed the doors to my heart Observing was one of the things Pasha was very good at, scanning over every detail with pale blue eyes and never allowing it to show until it was much too late. He noticed Mikhail’s high cheek bones, perhaps from weight loss or perhaps always there. He noticed the slight darkness under his eyes and the pallor to his skin and in the dim light… well, he could’ve sworn there was a mild glow. Of course he knew where that was from… Mikhail was thin as always, but no longer enough for his health to be worried over. Had he gotten better since last he saw him? Observations. Needless observations that would’ve saved his life if he were still in the field, which he wishes he was. But instead, he’s here living a life that disinterested him. He supposed he would deal with it for now, but he didn’t know how long ‘now’ was. With that thought, Pasha unconsciously began to rub at the scar on the fleshy part of his palm with his fingers. Whenever he thought of those days, when he thought of his limp and when he thought of shrapnel, he had a tendency to rub at his scars, whether they be on his face or his arms and hands. He shifted the egg in his arm again, trying to find a comfortable way to stand now that his hip was beginning to bother him again. ”Restoration… You must have come across quite a few historical books like that.” His one real interest was history, and everything else was on the side, so it seemed. This time, a bit more relaxed, he tilted his head a quarter of a fraction, easing the tension on his shoulder carrying the egg. ”But I suppose as long as you like it. I can never imagine myself doing what you do, to be honest.”Now that you’ve pushed me away, I find it so hard to believe
And find it so hard to be me
Egg Hatch Count (Vulpix): 4/10 |
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Post by ress2 on Mar 1, 2012 13:36:36 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] Mikhail nodded, a little acknowledgement of his passion, of restoring those old books that were falling apart. "There are lots. We get plenty of donations. Few people want to buy old books anymore - the interest is certainly waning." That was an understatement. Few people cared about the old tomes, and Mikhail seemed like one of the few. Even his other coworkers seemed genuinely uninterested. It was a job for them, and nothing more.
"It's suited for me. Indoors, dry... not so many people I have to talk to." He'd always been quiet, introverted. "To be honest, I can't imagine me doing your job, either."
Which was a lie. The first lie of the day. Mikhail had imagined that a million times over what it would be like, what would have changed. Would he have lived? Would he have died, as Yulian had? Would his parents be happier with him gone, and Yulian alive? Would he have saved more, or less? Would he have even gotten through basic training?
He'd spent far too much time, lingering on those questions. "You seem to have been doing well enough for yourself." He noted the limp, but said nothing. Considering how many people went home in body bags, Pasha was in remarkably good shape at his age.
(Ghastly egg: 5/10)
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Post by pasha on Mar 1, 2012 21:24:08 GMT -5
It’s too late to come back now
I’ve closed the doors to my heart Pasha couldn’t help but smile, even if it was just a tiny bit, at the fact that Mikhail liked the indoors. It seemed to be quite the opposite of his brother, and quite the opposite of himself as well. All he and Yulian really did in their younger years was run around outside doing something that wasn’t inside. He remembered his younger years fondly, but he supposed that was what old people did. ”I suppose I’ve been well…” Another understatement. In many ways, he’d entirely recovered and rebounded from the bout of the virus. His bone, if he were cut open, would be revealed to be a silvery colour instead of the usual dull white. If he recalled his Gijinka correctly, he wouldn’t be surprised if parts of him took on a golden hue either, but that was all on the inside and up to the autopsy doctors to be surprised with. Then again, despite his bouts of bad luck, he was still luckier than others. ”Well enough. Things have been rough as of late.” But he’d manage, like he always did, and come out with another scar on his shoulder and another bitter attitude towards just about everybody. How unfortunate. Now that you’ve pushed me away, I find it so hard to believe
And find it so hard to be me
Egg Hatch Count (Vulpix): 5/10 |
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Post by ress2 on Mar 3, 2012 12:55:41 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] Rough? Mikhail didn't enjoy the sound of that, frowning slightly as one hand wandered out, rubbing the egg distractedly. "Oh?" It was a half-invitation, a bit of curiosity that Yulian had so rarely shown. Mikhail was far more curios then his brother, but just as polite. If Pasha didn't want to share, he wasn't going to pry.
"You should drop by for dinner, sometimes. It would be nice to catch up properly." Properly, of course, meaning 'not in the middle of a public library'. He knew how Pasha valued his privacy, and had little doubt the man would be unlikely to say much in such a public location. "Do you need help finding anything? A book?" He could do that, at least. It was his job, after all.
(Ghastly egg: 6/10)
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Post by pasha on Mar 3, 2012 19:06:40 GMT -5
It’s too late to come back now
I’ve closed the doors to my heart It was only when Mikhail reached out to rub the egg on the desk did Pasha truly notice it for the first time. It was a very rounded shape, almost circular, and a deep purple as far as he was concerned. It might have had a faint mist around it too, but that might have been a trick of the dim light and dust on a dark object. Compared to the one he was cradling in the crook of his arm, it was sullen and serious; not that he minded anyway. The one in his arm was a rusted brown with darker swirls on it, for goodness sakes. He wasn’t even sure what was inside the thing. The corner of Pasha’s lips curled up a fraction, slightly knowing, yet almost unwilling to tell. As far as he was concerned, outside of his sister, nobody else but Epispect itself knew of his status as a gijinka, and he planned on keeping it that way. Instead, he just shrugged his shoulders a bit and left it at that. Mikhail would know what he meant, just as Yulian had known what he meant. He supposed that he shouldn’t let Mikhail remind him of his old friend too much, or else he’d begin to avoid him. When Pasha had first been informed of Yulian’s death, he’d been stoic, almost as if the news didn’t affect him in the slightest. It was what he was paid to do. ”Dinner sounds fine.” Though he didn’t quite like the sound of ‘catching up properly’. There were definitely things he’d prefer to keep in his closet, already overflowing with proverbial skeletons as it was. He had cover stories, of course; ones that the government fashioned for him as his ‘life’ in case he was asked. And then there was Epispect, who didn’t appreciate information being shuffled around, even by their top trainer. ”And… yes, actually. I’m not here very often; can you point me to where the history is?” Now that you’ve pushed me away, I find it so hard to believe
And find it so hard to be me
Egg Hatch Count (Vulpix): 6/10 |
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Post by ress2 on Mar 4, 2012 11:14:56 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] Mikhail certainly knew what he meant. It meant that it wasn't his business, and that Pasha, as always, wanted to keep it to himself. That was fine with Mikhail. Pasha and Yulian had always been secretive and quiet, and while Yulian seemed to be quiet because of his job, Pasha seemed to have his job because he was quiet. He shared little, spoke even less, and the odds of him revealing a secret were nonexistent. Pasha would bite his own tongue off before he leaked any information.
He gave a little nod to the comment about dinner, standing upright and reaching out, scooping the egg into the crook of his arm. "How does Italian sound? There's a nice place not far from here." He acknowledged, seeming to pay no real attention to his own egg, even if his eyes did pause on the swirls of Pasha's.
Heading into the library, he was more then happy to guide Pasha to the history section. Mikhail was always happier when he was discussing books, and the library was a second home to him. "This is the general history section. The war history books are over there." He paused, pointing with his free hand. "And area-specific histories are included with the section for said area."
(Ghastly egg: 7/10)
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Post by pasha on Mar 4, 2012 18:44:02 GMT -5
It’s too late to come back now
I’ve closed the doors to my heart Pasha personally didn’t care about what they had for dinner; as long as it didn’t interfere with anything else he had planned or his job, it would be perfectly fine. Some would call him a boring sod, but Pasha’s job was his life at this point. There was no other choice; it was out of necessity, not option. But sometimes, when he sat alone with little to do but stew in his thoughts, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he was doing with what he was given. ”There are always nice places not far from anywhere, it seems. But it’ll do.” Of course, his comment was meant to be light hearted. He followed Mikhail deeper into the library, far beyond where he usually went for literature with his egg carried against the back of his elbow. His gate was stiff as usual, but with a pronounced limp that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen Mikhail. In retrospect, he was surprised he could still walk at all after he refused help beyond ‘getting it fixed’ and then storming out of the hospital. His immediate interest was on war history and he picked his way over to the shelf of books that was disappointingly small. Perhaps not much had survived the virus, where they burned books for fuel once things got really bad. That was a pity, really, and he began to thumb silently through the various covers that were left. ”Did any of these need to be restored, Mikhail?” Simply out of curiousity. Now that you’ve pushed me away, I find it so hard to believe
And find it so hard to be me
Egg Hatch Count (Vulpix): 7/10 |
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Post by ress2 on Mar 5, 2012 14:30:36 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] Pasha sounded more then a little skeptical, and Mikhail couldn't blame him. Most restaurants were mediocre at best. This one wasn't, though. Mikhail was picking the very best. "Yes, well, I've had plenty of times to sample almost every restaurant in the area, and this one is the best. It's smaller, discrete, and I know the owner." That was one of the pluses of eating out a lot - you got to know people. Mikhail almost always ate out, opting to avoid eating at home. There were only so many meals he knew how to cook, after all.
Mikhail couldn't help it, eyes flicking to the limp. Had that been there after the accident...? No. It hadn't, and he was almost sure of it. He'd have noticed. Another man might have asked, but Mikhail opted to let it go. Even if Pasha did feel like telling him, he likely couldn't. Confidentiality was like that, and he'd grown used to Yulian not being able to say anything at all about his work.
Of course Pasha would go to the war history, and Mikhail watched with a practiced eye. At the very least Pasha was gentle with them, which was good. He couldn't stand those who would mistreat books - especially ones that were so old and fragile. "Quite a few. Those three.." He paused, pointing out three books in better condition then most. "Were dug out of a safe that'd been sitting around untouched for a few hundred years. They held up well. Some of the other ones have been rescribed - copied over and rebound, since the originals were degraded." It wasn't his favorite part of the job, but he did it anyway.
His eyes flicked with curiosity to the egg. That, at least, they could talk about. "What are you raising...?"
(Ghastly egg: 8/10)
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