Post by Nikolai on Jan 25, 2013 2:06:06 GMT
Not once over the years had he forgotten the sound of her voice, the way it shaped her words, the different intonations and inflections. Every day he had conjured it, called it to mind and closed his eyes and listened to perfectly captured memories of conversations that had happened years ago, determined not to lose one of the only pieces of her he had. It was the same with her face, he'd kept it close to the surface at all times, a flawless mental recreation of the one person he was bound to, the one person he had dedicated his life to in every way that mattered. Hearing her voice out loud, speaking new words in a new conversation, seeing her face before him, it was like a gift, one he would be sure not to take for granted.
It was reassuring to Nikolai to know that Lidochka had been with people who had been good to her, that she hadn't been alone all these years. Nikolai was glad that he was the one who had spent all that time in solitude, on the hunt, resting in the vehicle he had acquired along the way and struggling to make ends meet. It was better that way. His nod was formal, businesslike, just like in the old days when he had been her constant companion, her silent shadow, always by her side or at her back, ready to do whatever she asked of him. Ready to die for her. Her hand in his was a strange sensation but it was comforting, it summoned a warmth from deep inside that he had not felt for more than a decade. Instead of pulling his hand back as propriety would have demanded back when they were in Russia he gave hers a squeeze and and followed her lead. That much, at least, was as natural to him as breathing.
CONTINUED IN: The Four Seasons; Side Street with Lidochka.
It was reassuring to Nikolai to know that Lidochka had been with people who had been good to her, that she hadn't been alone all these years. Nikolai was glad that he was the one who had spent all that time in solitude, on the hunt, resting in the vehicle he had acquired along the way and struggling to make ends meet. It was better that way. His nod was formal, businesslike, just like in the old days when he had been her constant companion, her silent shadow, always by her side or at her back, ready to do whatever she asked of him. Ready to die for her. Her hand in his was a strange sensation but it was comforting, it summoned a warmth from deep inside that he had not felt for more than a decade. Instead of pulling his hand back as propriety would have demanded back when they were in Russia he gave hers a squeeze and and followed her lead. That much, at least, was as natural to him as breathing.
CONTINUED IN: The Four Seasons; Side Street with Lidochka.