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kingdomsofrain2024-01-24 08:25 pm
onefellswoop) wrote in kingdomsofrain2024-01-24 08:25 pm
texts texts texts
this one is for texts!
Fuck almighty, you’re expansive of late. I can only imagine something has you excitable; said imagining doesn’t shape the “what” of it, but I can level a guess that it’s bigger than a breadbox and one inch shorter than myself.
What got me speaking to Rin? Dying will do it. No motivating factor to bite a bullet than knowing it won’t matter one way or another.
And they kissed me.
At 7:34, matter of coincidence.
Funny how determined to live I became when I realized it wasn’t an unrequited sentiment.
They steal the blankets, you know. They snore (but I already was quite aware of that.) They hide tomatoes for being liars. They require an eternal audience and praise to thrive in their happiness. There are teeth all over the flat, god knows where from.
They nag me, Nova.
What I mean here is that I’ve probably died. This is my heaven. They can have the blankets; I get to sleep in their bed. Fuck tomatoes, they’re all flavorless, genetically-altered monstrosities anyhow. I adore Rin’s dramatics and have more praise for them than I could ever speak. Teeth are easily procured.
I think the nagging is precious.
I’ll give them anything they want, do all they ask - because all I’ve ever wanted is to love them.
Forgive me this moment of crassness, but my god, they are energetic. With a perfect body, I‘ll note, which would be remarkable if they were aging at all, which they are not.
Related: the stitches come out at last on Tuesday. Popped the fucking things twice because - well, no fault of Rin’s.
My own fault for not bracing properly.
You did ask.
What got me speaking to Rin? Dying will do it. No motivating factor to bite a bullet than knowing it won’t matter one way or another.
And they kissed me.
At 7:34, matter of coincidence.
Funny how determined to live I became when I realized it wasn’t an unrequited sentiment.
They steal the blankets, you know. They snore (but I already was quite aware of that.) They hide tomatoes for being liars. They require an eternal audience and praise to thrive in their happiness. There are teeth all over the flat, god knows where from.
They nag me, Nova.
What I mean here is that I’ve probably died. This is my heaven. They can have the blankets; I get to sleep in their bed. Fuck tomatoes, they’re all flavorless, genetically-altered monstrosities anyhow. I adore Rin’s dramatics and have more praise for them than I could ever speak. Teeth are easily procured.
I think the nagging is precious.
I’ll give them anything they want, do all they ask - because all I’ve ever wanted is to love them.
Forgive me this moment of crassness, but my god, they are energetic. With a perfect body, I‘ll note, which would be remarkable if they were aging at all, which they are not.
Related: the stitches come out at last on Tuesday. Popped the fucking things twice because - well, no fault of Rin’s.
My own fault for not bracing properly.
You did ask.
Right; Vitaly.
I’m unconcerned that he’ll discover my misadventure. It’s been so long now, he won’t fault me. I’m concerned about whether a grudge is being held, but it seems not.
It’s unsurprising that he isn’t bothered by your situation. He’s dated along the spectrum before. You may be the first who’s had bottom surgery. I can’t recall about Leo; do you remember him?
Fucking shock he married a woman. Vitaly, I mean. He does all right with them, but he clearly has his preference.
And clearly that preference is narrowed to one man, given how unsubtle he’s been in asking about you. Picture, if I’d be so kind. Do I know a good restaurant you’d enjoy. Your feelings about children, dogs, Russia, pastries. If you’re well and good with taking time to get to know one another.
I told him to ask you himself. You’re a big boy. You can handle anything he throws at you.
He finally broke and asked if he was your type, because you haven’t seen him in person and good lord, the outpouring of nerves.
Asked me what he ought to wear “for Nova” as though I have any sense of fashion at all.
It’s almost adorable.
“Enamored” is an apt word, Nova-Love.
And yes, he is quite real, with a plenitude of flaws to accompany his wondrousness.
Glad to hear you’ve healed up. I wish I could have been there to be an assist, but I doubt it was good enough a reason to request clemency.
I am sorry, though.
Verne and the girls were with you?
I’m unconcerned that he’ll discover my misadventure. It’s been so long now, he won’t fault me. I’m concerned about whether a grudge is being held, but it seems not.
It’s unsurprising that he isn’t bothered by your situation. He’s dated along the spectrum before. You may be the first who’s had bottom surgery. I can’t recall about Leo; do you remember him?
Fucking shock he married a woman. Vitaly, I mean. He does all right with them, but he clearly has his preference.
And clearly that preference is narrowed to one man, given how unsubtle he’s been in asking about you. Picture, if I’d be so kind. Do I know a good restaurant you’d enjoy. Your feelings about children, dogs, Russia, pastries. If you’re well and good with taking time to get to know one another.
I told him to ask you himself. You’re a big boy. You can handle anything he throws at you.
He finally broke and asked if he was your type, because you haven’t seen him in person and good lord, the outpouring of nerves.
Asked me what he ought to wear “for Nova” as though I have any sense of fashion at all.
It’s almost adorable.
“Enamored” is an apt word, Nova-Love.
And yes, he is quite real, with a plenitude of flaws to accompany his wondrousness.
Glad to hear you’ve healed up. I wish I could have been there to be an assist, but I doubt it was good enough a reason to request clemency.
I am sorry, though.
Verne and the girls were with you?
No, she isn't likely to speak aggressively; for the most, we were civil to one another. Cold, but polite. I thought it best to stop speaking to her when I filed for divorce this time because I thought she would do something as she had the last two times. It was never her way to shout; she knows how to wound without raising her voice at all.
She doesn't need your presence to speak that way, or any other reason at all save that I'm not relenting this time.
But of course, I'll take care.
I won't say I'm not disappointed, though. More caution becomes necessary when I know she might be watching.
[...]
Unless
[...]
Nova, would you
We [...] could meet before. Sen (Rin, more likely) is collecting me at some unnamed hour from my hotel. In someone's limousine, I hear, in order to perturb Esma. "Spilling out rogues, wretches, thieves, and peasants like a clown car," he claims.
Maybe you could come have a drink with me before. If the meeting goes poorly, we can sit at separate ends of a limo and pretend it never occurred, eh?
[...]
Or - suppose it were to go well. If I were to hold your hand in the car, no one would speak of it to her
Either way - drinks or at the party - it makes no difference; I'll meet my Vevay. I'll see you, know your presence near my own. That means the world.
She doesn't need your presence to speak that way, or any other reason at all save that I'm not relenting this time.
But of course, I'll take care.
I won't say I'm not disappointed, though. More caution becomes necessary when I know she might be watching.
[...]
[...]
We [...] could meet before. Sen (Rin, more likely) is collecting me at some unnamed hour from my hotel. In someone's limousine, I hear, in order to perturb Esma. "Spilling out rogues, wretches, thieves, and peasants like a clown car," he claims.
Maybe you could come have a drink with me before. If the meeting goes poorly, we can sit at separate ends of a limo and pretend it never occurred, eh?
[...]
Either way - drinks or at the party - it makes no difference; I'll meet my Vevay. I'll see you, know your presence near my own. That means the world.
May I see the tattoo? It isn't anywhere of questionable nature, eh, and surely the artist took a photo?
I enjoy tattoos, and I am often awed by those done over scars.
And I have a suspicion that you've already seen many of mine if Senan showed you photos of me. It's only fair!
[...]
Unless you'd like to wait for some future situation. I could respect that.
[...]
For the rest.
I think you know how I feel. What there is growing within me, what has grown enough with these talks of ours that I no longer feel lethargy about my divorce. I feel urgency to end it, to meet you as you should be met. To end any waiting as soon as I can.
[...]
Whatever door it is you're trying to open, I should say that I don't take hints well. I speak English well, but sometimes [...] context clues? I miss them.
Do you want to tell me personal things?
Academically, of course.
Or are you looking to ask me questions, as I've pried so about you?
If either, I've been a willing participant in this conversation from the start.
[...]
I think here is where I should say - I'm not particular about whether my partner is polyamorous, so long as we discuss it before I learn they have another in their life.
I'm not so.
There's only one for me.
I'm growing more certain of it by the hour.
[...]
No, don't ignore the meaning of anything I've said. I told you to know your place with me, after all. Know your importance and your right to every word I've said.
I enjoy tattoos, and I am often awed by those done over scars.
And I have a suspicion that you've already seen many of mine if Senan showed you photos of me. It's only fair!
[...]
Unless you'd like to wait for some future situation. I could respect that.
[...]
For the rest.
I think you know how I feel. What there is growing within me, what has grown enough with these talks of ours that I no longer feel lethargy about my divorce. I feel urgency to end it, to meet you as you should be met. To end any waiting as soon as I can.
[...]
Whatever door it is you're trying to open, I should say that I don't take hints well. I speak English well, but sometimes [...] context clues? I miss them.
Do you want to tell me personal things?
Academically, of course.
Or are you looking to ask me questions, as I've pried so about you?
If either, I've been a willing participant in this conversation from the start.
[...]
I think here is where I should say - I'm not particular about whether my partner is polyamorous, so long as we discuss it before I learn they have another in their life.
I'm not so.
There's only one for me.
I'm growing more certain of it by the hour.
[...]
No, don't ignore the meaning of anything I've said. I told you to know your place with me, after all. Know your importance and your right to every word I've said.
[ In a separate message, he includes the name of the hotel bar, an address, and his arrival time. ]
Please come
Please, only consider it.
Please, only consider it.
Knave’s gallery of a limousine, how could I pass it over? Count me in for one ticket to the circus, aye.
Moreover and more critical, meeting you before’s precisely to my liking. Read your proposition and my eyes lit themselves, is the thing. A chance to find you one to one, have time to take you in and begin to learn your voice, know your presence?
There’s nothing needs considering about it. I’m in and I’ll be there, that’s counted on. And I’ll consider the car ride with yourself and at your side a savoured bonus, nor will I hear talk of staking out opposite ends.
Fact is, I’d’ve otherwise shown up at Boyle’s and begun seeking you straight off. There’s something of the romantic in finding your not so stranger through a crowd, aye, but I’ll choose one to one time with my Talik any day.
Got a lot to look forward to once that plane's landed, I do. Got a place I mean to find, and stay beside, often as I can.
Moreover and more critical, meeting you before’s precisely to my liking. Read your proposition and my eyes lit themselves, is the thing. A chance to find you one to one, have time to take you in and begin to learn your voice, know your presence?
There’s nothing needs considering about it. I’m in and I’ll be there, that’s counted on. And I’ll consider the car ride with yourself and at your side a savoured bonus, nor will I hear talk of staking out opposite ends.
Fact is, I’d’ve otherwise shown up at Boyle’s and begun seeking you straight off. There’s something of the romantic in finding your not so stranger through a crowd, aye, but I’ll choose one to one time with my Talik any day.
Got a lot to look forward to once that plane's landed, I do. Got a place I mean to find, and stay beside, often as I can.
Edited 2024-02-14 21:06 (UTC)
That suspicion of yours is well placed and played, as Sen did send a few pics, aye, and aye it was at my asking.
Caught me, eh? c:
And fairness sake, you yourself revealed some of your marks, that sofa shot with Dodo. For Sen’s, eh, there’s you and he and couple of bathroom signs. You and the motorcycle I’m guessing’s yours or was? (The longer hair’s good on you, though fair to say all hair looks good on you, or all I’ve seen.) Yeah and then the, eh. Yourself in what looks for all the world like a pool, cigar in hand tattoos bared.
To quote myself, words redacted once for propriety’s sake, now given with total appreciation: Fuck me running.
See. Right. For sake of full disclosure and at risk of coming off shallow, not to say I’ve no touch of the superficial in myself, you are a full on stunner of a man.
I’d be wild for you even were you not, that’s so, the way you had my interest from the go, the way you’ve gleaned it further every word you’ve sent. Add in that face of yours, that laugh that smile, that body and fuck me you’re a tall one, I’m slain five time’s over’s what I am.
Five times, minimum.
Won’t pretend I didn’t save every photo for my keeping. Won’t say I’ve not reviewed em time and again, the ones Sen sent and yours with Dodo.
I’ll take any and all photos you’ve got. You’ve a face and you’ve a self a man couldn’t begin to tire looking at, that’s so. What I mean to say is jesus, my suspicion’s I won’t be keeping my eyes off you, nor my attention off your speaking.
Well, right, but that still leaves me with a view of your ink, and you with no shot of mine. So here’s the photo, or rather photos.
[ The first photo shows most of the tattoo’s breadth: It begins gathered at Nova’s thigh, spreading up across his back, to his shoulder, ending with a few searching ends of vines, leaves, and a small floral bloom at his neck.
The second focuses on the graft site, where the tattoo’s colors are particularly vivid, the flowers most numerous.
The third gives an image better showing the way the tattoo’s climb foray’s along Nova’s side, his chest, where the tattoo nears but doesn’t cover the scars left by years’-old top surgery.
The tattoo is a spread of vines and flowers, somewhat abstract and twined here and there with music staves that read a partial, darting melody. Through this series of photos, it’s clear the colors turn softer, more muted as the tattoo winds its way up Nova’s back, his shoulder, until the ink that shows upon his neck is unfilled, its lines lighter than the rest. ]
Took a fair few sessions, aye?
Caught me, eh? c:
And fairness sake, you yourself revealed some of your marks, that sofa shot with Dodo. For Sen’s, eh, there’s you and he and couple of bathroom signs. You and the motorcycle I’m guessing’s yours or was? (The longer hair’s good on you, though fair to say all hair looks good on you, or all I’ve seen.) Yeah and then the, eh. Yourself in what looks for all the world like a pool, cigar in hand tattoos bared.
To quote myself, words redacted once for propriety’s sake, now given with total appreciation: Fuck me running.
See. Right. For sake of full disclosure and at risk of coming off shallow, not to say I’ve no touch of the superficial in myself, you are a full on stunner of a man.
I’d be wild for you even were you not, that’s so, the way you had my interest from the go, the way you’ve gleaned it further every word you’ve sent. Add in that face of yours, that laugh that smile, that body and fuck me you’re a tall one, I’m slain five time’s over’s what I am.
Five times, minimum.
Won’t pretend I didn’t save every photo for my keeping. Won’t say I’ve not reviewed em time and again, the ones Sen sent and yours with Dodo.
I’ll take any and all photos you’ve got. You’ve a face and you’ve a self a man couldn’t begin to tire looking at, that’s so. What I mean to say is jesus, my suspicion’s I won’t be keeping my eyes off you, nor my attention off your speaking.
Well, right, but that still leaves me with a view of your ink, and you with no shot of mine. So here’s the photo, or rather photos.
[ The first photo shows most of the tattoo’s breadth: It begins gathered at Nova’s thigh, spreading up across his back, to his shoulder, ending with a few searching ends of vines, leaves, and a small floral bloom at his neck.
The second focuses on the graft site, where the tattoo’s colors are particularly vivid, the flowers most numerous.
The third gives an image better showing the way the tattoo’s climb foray’s along Nova’s side, his chest, where the tattoo nears but doesn’t cover the scars left by years’-old top surgery.
The tattoo is a spread of vines and flowers, somewhat abstract and twined here and there with music staves that read a partial, darting melody. Through this series of photos, it’s clear the colors turn softer, more muted as the tattoo winds its way up Nova’s back, his shoulder, until the ink that shows upon his neck is unfilled, its lines lighter than the rest. ]
Took a fair few sessions, aye?
Edited 2024-02-14 21:26 (UTC)
You’ll have to tell me what’s behind your marks sometime, hey?
Meant and I mean the ink, but while I’m on it, the scars as well, if you’re of a mind.
No need talking what’s discomforting, of course, but all that’s writ on skin has stories and so forth. My own, there’re the obvious, those taken on through surgeries and choices. Got plenty of others beside, origins more grown from impulse, my own or others’, and from not shying out of what’s rough in life, sometimes not having much say in shying or no.
[ … ]
Bears saying also I’d like you to see my own tattoo in its fullness and in a future situation, supposing that future situation should ever be, which I’m thinking it won’t surprise you to hear I’ve hopes toward. I’d like it, that’s sure. To have you see my full self. To see you in your own.
Like to trace the outlines of your tattoos, that’s true as well.
Not pushing nor rushing, I mean it for when time’s rightand if you still feel, but then why give voice to doubts I’ve no interest or belief in. Take it careful Talik, aye? I’ve seen enough of Scarlett’s eh more social circle based acquaintances to know there’s vindictiveness aplenty and money to back it up. Which is telling you precisely nothing you don’t know, sure, but what I mean’s I know the need for keeping cautious til all’s sorted with you and Sergiy.
And, bears repeating, I’ve no grudge against a wait, however long. And whatever keeps for waiting, still speaking with you’s worlds itself, and now I’ve got this meeting, these drinks for looking ahead to.
Got a lot for looking ahead to, could be and I’d like to think it’s so.
What you said, re polyamory and discussing, that’s the rub of it for myself as well. I’ve had partners who had other partners, more power to em. I’ve no call toward it myself [ … ] and less so at the present moment than I’ve known before. Having myself a certainty that there’s one match for my self, and one man I’d wish.
I’m getting toward saying transparency’s what’s needed or it’s what I ask, and I’ve got no cause to think it’d be a trouble with you. You keep speaking, I’ll keep speaking, we listen alike and don’t leave each other blind, yeah?
Chattering away again, I am. Last to say for now, I don’t know there’s any particular door I’m opening. More pushing what I come up against, giving a nudge to see what follows, what’s for speaking what’s for knowing. Showing also, or trying to show maybe, there’s no flinching on my own end from talk of any sort, casual convo or Real Talk or flirtations or talk of body, talk about desires.
All’s open for the speaking, and nay, there’s no ignoring every meaning held.
[ … ]
Thank you, Talik. It means more than I’ve words for telling, your speaking that your meanings stand. I’m holding each one dear, and would like to keep them so. Between yourself and I at least, until all’s sorted.
Speaking it again, you’ve a wondrous heart. Sets me reeling all of its own.
Meant and I mean the ink, but while I’m on it, the scars as well, if you’re of a mind.
No need talking what’s discomforting, of course, but all that’s writ on skin has stories and so forth. My own, there’re the obvious, those taken on through surgeries and choices. Got plenty of others beside, origins more grown from impulse, my own or others’, and from not shying out of what’s rough in life, sometimes not having much say in shying or no.
[ … ]
Bears saying also I’d like you to see my own tattoo in its fullness and in a future situation, supposing that future situation should ever be, which I’m thinking it won’t surprise you to hear I’ve hopes toward. I’d like it, that’s sure. To have you see my full self. To see you in your own.
Like to trace the outlines of your tattoos, that’s true as well.
Not pushing nor rushing, I mean it for when time’s right
And, bears repeating, I’ve no grudge against a wait, however long. And whatever keeps for waiting, still speaking with you’s worlds itself, and now I’ve got this meeting, these drinks for looking ahead to.
Got a lot for looking ahead to, could be and I’d like to think it’s so.
What you said, re polyamory and discussing, that’s the rub of it for myself as well. I’ve had partners who had other partners, more power to em. I’ve no call toward it myself [ … ] and less so at the present moment than I’ve known before. Having myself a certainty that there’s one match for my self, and one man I’d wish.
I’m getting toward saying transparency’s what’s needed or it’s what I ask, and I’ve got no cause to think it’d be a trouble with you. You keep speaking, I’ll keep speaking, we listen alike and don’t leave each other blind, yeah?
Chattering away again, I am. Last to say for now, I don’t know there’s any particular door I’m opening. More pushing what I come up against, giving a nudge to see what follows, what’s for speaking what’s for knowing. Showing also, or trying to show maybe, there’s no flinching on my own end from talk of any sort, casual convo or Real Talk or flirtations or talk of body, talk about desires.
All’s open for the speaking, and nay, there’s no ignoring every meaning held.
[ … ]
Thank you, Talik. It means more than I’ve words for telling, your speaking that your meanings stand. I’m holding each one dear, and would like to keep them so. Between yourself and I at least, until all’s sorted.
Speaking it again, you’ve a wondrous heart. Sets me reeling all of its own.
Romantic, Vevay?
[...]
I ask, as though I can pretend I hadn't thought the same. To be in a crowd, to turn and see you in a parting of bodies like water. I've been thinking all this time of what I would say to you, of whether I would take your hand. I'll confess to you that I'm oftentimes imaginative, and in one or ten of these hypotheticals, the meeting took on a very cinematic nature, accompanied by a soundtrack. One of the composers you mentioned before. Or a blues strain.
(I'll leave you to draw conclusions on your own about how I greeted you then.)
My romantic notions didn't involve an interruption to our meeting at all, much less by - Well.
It's a disappointment.
Less so with this new possibility. I do want you to myself, for many reasons. We all act differently in a crowd of known faces, isn't that so? And conversation would be difficult. Of course, I mean nothing untoward! I won't invite you to my room or sequester us in some shadowy corner.
How fortunate I'd be to have a few precious moments apart with you.
[...]
I suppose if any text might damn me should she read it, this would be the one. I still mean not to be caught in breach of that contract, but what can be done about maybe-wishful thinking?
It's still only that. What I would like, what I dream, how [...] a single word wakened my heart in a way little else has. 'Romantic'.
(And 'my', echoing 'my'. Yes, Vevay, I think I am that in a way I have been for no one else.)
[...]
An offer - one which you might not need, but which I feel is only right. Please, at some time in New York, let me show you the divorce papers. Let me give you evidence that I'm being truthful about my situation.
If you mean to wait, then you should be sure of my intentions.
[...]
You asked early on in our conversations to say what I want.
I want my son.
Oh, Nova - I want you, too.
More than either, I want to be the kind of man who would do anything forthose he l you both.
[...]
I ask, as though I can pretend I hadn't thought the same. To be in a crowd, to turn and see you in a parting of bodies like water. I've been thinking all this time of what I would say to you, of whether I would take your hand. I'll confess to you that I'm oftentimes imaginative, and in one or ten of these hypotheticals, the meeting took on a very cinematic nature, accompanied by a soundtrack. One of the composers you mentioned before. Or a blues strain.
(I'll leave you to draw conclusions on your own about how I greeted you then.)
My romantic notions didn't involve an interruption to our meeting at all, much less by - Well.
It's a disappointment.
Less so with this new possibility. I do want you to myself, for many reasons. We all act differently in a crowd of known faces, isn't that so? And conversation would be difficult. Of course, I mean nothing untoward! I won't invite you to my room or sequester us in some shadowy corner.
How fortunate I'd be to have a few precious moments apart with you.
[...]
I suppose if any text might damn me should she read it, this would be the one. I still mean not to be caught in breach of that contract, but what can be done about maybe-wishful thinking?
It's still only that. What I would like, what I dream, how [...] a single word wakened my heart in a way little else has. 'Romantic'.
(And 'my', echoing 'my'. Yes, Vevay, I think I am that in a way I have been for no one else.)
[...]
An offer - one which you might not need, but which I feel is only right. Please, at some time in New York, let me show you the divorce papers. Let me give you evidence that I'm being truthful about my situation.
If you mean to wait, then you should be sure of my intentions.
[...]
You asked early on in our conversations to say what I want.
I want my son.
Oh, Nova - I want you, too.
More than either, I want to be the kind of man who would do anything for
The tattoos are beautiful artistry; the one on your thigh is masterful, yes? I would like to know whether the music is anything. What do all of them together mean for you?
I'll hold my comments on the rest for now. Words for speaking in person someday - perhaps if I am ever able to see the entirety of the tattooing?
But I think you might have sent more limited photos if you didn't intend me to say that you are breathtaking.
[...]
Strange to think you find me attractive. I'm not [...] what is it. Fishing? Fishing. I don't feel myself to be particularly so. I will tell you I wish Senan hadn't sent the bathroom sign photo; I was at least drunk and at most on three other substances. I barely remember it.
...The pool photo? I don't remember that one at all. Would you send it to me?
The most recent of what you've seen is the one I sent of me with Dodo, but my hair is still a little long. Comes and goes. The motorcycle, I crashed, but I'm not opposed to another.
And that is the story of some of my scars; motorcycle accident.
The one on my face, a soldier with a knife. It isn't as bad as it could have been.
If I missed any questions, ask me again, won't you? Each time I try to read back, I'm caught on the same words and feel -
Closer to myself than I have in a very long time, Vevay. Closer to someone I once was, and liked.
[...]
Something more!
May I see other photos of you?
Perhaps with clothes on, eh?
[...]
Hold, now, how tall are you?
I'll hold my comments on the rest for now. Words for speaking in person someday - perhaps if I am ever able to see the entirety of the tattooing?
But I think you might have sent more limited photos if you didn't intend me to say that you are breathtaking.
[...]
Strange to think you find me attractive. I'm not [...] what is it. Fishing? Fishing. I don't feel myself to be particularly so. I will tell you I wish Senan hadn't sent the bathroom sign photo; I was at least drunk and at most on three other substances. I barely remember it.
...The pool photo? I don't remember that one at all. Would you send it to me?
The most recent of what you've seen is the one I sent of me with Dodo, but my hair is still a little long. Comes and goes. The motorcycle, I crashed, but I'm not opposed to another.
And that is the story of some of my scars; motorcycle accident.
The one on my face, a soldier with a knife. It isn't as bad as it could have been.
If I missed any questions, ask me again, won't you? Each time I try to read back, I'm caught on the same words and feel -
Closer to myself than I have in a very long time, Vevay. Closer to someone I once was, and liked.
[...]
Something more!
May I see other photos of you?
Perhaps with clothes on, eh?
[...]
Hold, now, how tall are you?
Ah. One other comment I'll make now, because I think there's more than call to trust your intentions.
Madeline can be vindictive, yes, as we can all be now and then.
Madeline does not have money.
I do.
Our contract gives her access to a portion of my assets.
Of course, too, I provide for Sergiy - and whether I like it or not, I provide for her...well. And whoever's filling her bed these days. Deforest, I suppose.
Madeline can be vindictive, yes, as we can all be now and then.
Madeline does not have money.
I do.
Our contract gives her access to a portion of my assets.
Of course, too, I provide for Sergiy - and whether I like it or not, I provide for her...well. And whoever's filling her bed these days. Deforest, I suppose.
That way you put it, just so.
The parting of a crowd and music with its motion, collision of discordant notes to harmony, something eliding high and rooted deep, prelude to the limitless. Not a point of ending, nay, and the song to follow’s not been written yet.
[ … ]
Related, I’d say. My tattooing, the music therein’s bits and pieces. Phrases from songs written I’ve played, from music I’ve writ myself. Nothing culminated, nothing that begins nor ends nor forms a eh completion outside myself.
Romantic I am, and I’ll make no claims otherwise. Try to keep grounded, but there’s room for a daydream always, and hope for daydreams brought to life.
So I’ll dream on how you’d have greeted me, and how I’d greet yourself. How I’d like to greet my Talik, and someday shall.
When that contract’s a past thing, and no act, no text can turn to hazard.
Know that I’d have let my hand seek out your cheek and settle. Know I’d have met you with all the romance kept within this frame. Know I’d’ve stared at you like looking to a universe new born.
Aye, and I warrant you’ll see that look, regardless. No harm in nor helping the way a man looks when he’s stricken. Happens it’s more propitious still, this taking drinks before, this meeting you apart from any crowd’s disrupting. Means there’s one man only who’ll bear witness to the way I look at you on first sighting.
That’s yours, for my Talik alone.
Others can see my look in recurrence and renewing, but that first’s yours to have, and yours alone. Can’t say that I mislike the idea. Couldn’t say that, at all.
The parting of a crowd and music with its motion, collision of discordant notes to harmony, something eliding high and rooted deep, prelude to the limitless. Not a point of ending, nay, and the song to follow’s not been written yet.
[ … ]
Related, I’d say. My tattooing, the music therein’s bits and pieces. Phrases from songs written I’ve played, from music I’ve writ myself. Nothing culminated, nothing that begins nor ends nor forms a eh completion outside myself.
Romantic I am, and I’ll make no claims otherwise. Try to keep grounded, but there’s room for a daydream always, and hope for daydreams brought to life.
So I’ll dream on how you’d have greeted me, and how I’d greet yourself. How I’d like to greet my Talik, and someday shall.
When that contract’s a past thing, and no act, no text can turn to hazard.
Know that I’d have let my hand seek out your cheek and settle. Know I’d have met you with all the romance kept within this frame. Know I’d’ve stared at you like looking to a universe new born.
Aye, and I warrant you’ll see that look, regardless. No harm in nor helping the way a man looks when he’s stricken. Happens it’s more propitious still, this taking drinks before, this meeting you apart from any crowd’s disrupting. Means there’s one man only who’ll bear witness to the way I look at you on first sighting.
That’s yours, for my Talik alone.
Others can see my look in recurrence and renewing, but that first’s yours to have, and yours alone. Can’t say that I mislike the idea. Couldn’t say that, at all.
Won’t say it wasn’t on my mind at all, how those photos make a showing of myself. Happens they’re also the best, eh, most inclusive of the tattoo.
And I’ll look forward to those someday words in person. Something more for I to dream on, aye? Truth.
Guess I started on the meaning in the ink above, because part of it’s that eh it’s a thought on continual creation yeah? Creation and discovering, something grown of what I’ve always been, given chance for [ … ] flourishing, that’s it.
[ … ]
All these words I’ve sent you and still I’ve trouble pulling speech together on that art. Feels pretentious when I set it out in texting, that’s half the trouble. Worrying I’ll speak it wrong, might be. Part of what I mean or what it means for me’s that there’s no barren land about this body, or it’s nothing needs to feel unnatural, aye? The way it did before, I mean. And sure, what flourishes is from the ways I’ve had it changed to meet myself, be one self more whole.
The music’s intrinsic, aye. The reaching upward, toward what’s beauty, that as well.
[ … ]
Here, look. There’s more to be said sometime if you’re for hearing. More I’d put maybe better into speaking than to what’s before me on a screen for thinking and rethinking. I appreciate your asking, means a lot your asking. It’s my responding doesn’t meet with the occasion, and I [ … ] want to say it right, or maybe what I mean’s I want for you to see it for thine self before I speak it more.
That. That, I think’s the case.
And on tattoos, here’s this for you, that photo sent by Sen.
[ And there it is, the infamous pool-maybe-a-pool-def-a-cigar photo. That Nova gives himself a minute to appreciate before sending along. ]
Don’t mind sending it at all, nor the chance to look it over once again. More than once again, I’ll gladly cop to that.
I say again, jesus shite but you’re heart stopping. Breathtaking, as well. Christ alive.
At the risk of [ … ] steering into troubled waters, I’ve got to wonder what’s got you thinking yourself less than mesmerizing. Not something you need to speak nor dwell upon (don’t I know the causes for eh self misliking or else downplaying can be rancid), nor is this to say I doubt you at all, only it’s strange to me you’ve not seen it. Even setting aside my own tastes, there’s no refuting the beauty you are, the absolute appeal.
Added to which. Much as I admire that photo above, I think my favorite’s that with Dodo. Both touch my heart, aye, but there’s something something to the sight of you, in your home relaxed looking alight with happiness, effected so by your girl’s presence.
Does me in, it does.
[ … ]
I’d like to set it to my phone’s background, if you’d not object?
Before I neglect answering your question, my height’s dependent on the shoes, yeah? Truth of the number stands 5’8” so middling I suppose.
Yours I can guess at right enough, having seen that shot with Sen. Guessing that’s part of the reason he passed it on, alongside his habit of quenchless trolling. Man’s of the fae, he and Rin alike.
Man knows my tastes, no denying. He’s also been speaking well of you, hopes for you, so figure it wasn’t too hard on the trolling there.
Any rate, fair’s fair and I’ll give you for that photo you’ve no remembrance of one I can’t recall myself.
[ The photo’s taken in what looks to be a particularly grimy dive bar or pub, location unknown. Nova - his shirt a neon-bright tank top, head adorned with a wreath of strung-together napkins - has one foot up on the bar, one on a precariously balanced stool. In one hand there’s a bowl of crisps half-tilted, their contents spilling through the air. The other’s fixed in a three-finger point toward someone out of frame and he seems to be attempting adamantly to assert some point or other. Behind Nova’s someone’s clearly approaching, could be a bouncer or a patron, arms out to pull him off the stool.
A second photo follows, taken shortly after the first. In this, Nova has indeed been restrained by the figure from the first photo, arms crushed at his side feet not quite touching the floor. He’s evidently aware his picture’s being taken, because he’s giving the camera an exaggerated wink and grin. ]
Like I said, there’s no memory of this night remains in my head. Gone out drinking with Lolly, Sen, whoever was around. I’m told there was some point I was making about the ascendency of simply salted crisps, none of that bbq shite.
Shame of it is, I’ve no quarrel with barbecue. Don’t know what had me up in arms that night. Do know or understand that’s where I chipped a molar. Also’s where the eh, there’s a burn scar to my wrist, came from that one.
Speaking of. That knife wound of yours, pub fight or something other? Know you said soldier and there’s no need elaborating should you prefer not, just had a few encounters of the military much inebriated stripe.
Ah, fucking [ … ] what I mean to say’s I don’t care to assume one way or another, and also I mean it about your not needing to say.
There’s other photos I’ll send your way, not leaving you with those two alone, though the rest’ll take some thinking and I've likely poured enough on you as is by way of words. Anyway, figure I’ll let those two stand in their glory.
And I’ll look forward to those someday words in person. Something more for I to dream on, aye? Truth.
Guess I started on the meaning in the ink above, because part of it’s that eh it’s a thought on continual creation yeah? Creation and discovering, something grown of what I’ve always been, given chance for [ … ] flourishing, that’s it.
[ … ]
All these words I’ve sent you and still I’ve trouble pulling speech together on that art. Feels pretentious when I set it out in texting, that’s half the trouble. Worrying I’ll speak it wrong, might be. Part of what I mean or what it means for me’s that there’s no barren land about this body, or it’s nothing needs to feel unnatural, aye? The way it did before, I mean. And sure, what flourishes is from the ways I’ve had it changed to meet myself, be one self more whole.
The music’s intrinsic, aye. The reaching upward, toward what’s beauty, that as well.
[ … ]
Here, look. There’s more to be said sometime if you’re for hearing. More I’d put maybe better into speaking than to what’s before me on a screen for thinking and rethinking. I appreciate your asking, means a lot your asking. It’s my responding doesn’t meet with the occasion, and I [ … ] want to say it right, or maybe what I mean’s I want for you to see it for thine self before I speak it more.
That. That, I think’s the case.
And on tattoos, here’s this for you, that photo sent by Sen.
[ And there it is, the infamous pool-maybe-a-pool-def-a-cigar photo. That Nova gives himself a minute to appreciate before sending along. ]
Don’t mind sending it at all, nor the chance to look it over once again. More than once again, I’ll gladly cop to that.
I say again, jesus shite but you’re heart stopping. Breathtaking, as well. Christ alive.
At the risk of [ … ] steering into troubled waters, I’ve got to wonder what’s got you thinking yourself less than mesmerizing. Not something you need to speak nor dwell upon (don’t I know the causes for eh self misliking or else downplaying can be rancid), nor is this to say I doubt you at all, only it’s strange to me you’ve not seen it. Even setting aside my own tastes, there’s no refuting the beauty you are, the absolute appeal.
Added to which. Much as I admire that photo above, I think my favorite’s that with Dodo. Both touch my heart, aye, but there’s something something to the sight of you, in your home relaxed looking alight with happiness, effected so by your girl’s presence.
Does me in, it does.
[ … ]
I’d like to set it to my phone’s background, if you’d not object?
Before I neglect answering your question, my height’s dependent on the shoes, yeah? Truth of the number stands 5’8” so middling I suppose.
Yours I can guess at right enough, having seen that shot with Sen. Guessing that’s part of the reason he passed it on, alongside his habit of quenchless trolling. Man’s of the fae, he and Rin alike.
Man knows my tastes, no denying. He’s also been speaking well of you, hopes for you, so figure it wasn’t too hard on the trolling there.
Any rate, fair’s fair and I’ll give you for that photo you’ve no remembrance of one I can’t recall myself.
[ The photo’s taken in what looks to be a particularly grimy dive bar or pub, location unknown. Nova - his shirt a neon-bright tank top, head adorned with a wreath of strung-together napkins - has one foot up on the bar, one on a precariously balanced stool. In one hand there’s a bowl of crisps half-tilted, their contents spilling through the air. The other’s fixed in a three-finger point toward someone out of frame and he seems to be attempting adamantly to assert some point or other. Behind Nova’s someone’s clearly approaching, could be a bouncer or a patron, arms out to pull him off the stool.
A second photo follows, taken shortly after the first. In this, Nova has indeed been restrained by the figure from the first photo, arms crushed at his side feet not quite touching the floor. He’s evidently aware his picture’s being taken, because he’s giving the camera an exaggerated wink and grin. ]
Like I said, there’s no memory of this night remains in my head. Gone out drinking with Lolly, Sen, whoever was around. I’m told there was some point I was making about the ascendency of simply salted crisps, none of that bbq shite.
Shame of it is, I’ve no quarrel with barbecue. Don’t know what had me up in arms that night. Do know or understand that’s where I chipped a molar. Also’s where the eh, there’s a burn scar to my wrist, came from that one.
Speaking of. That knife wound of yours, pub fight or something other? Know you said soldier and there’s no need elaborating should you prefer not, just had a few encounters of the military much inebriated stripe.
Ah, fucking [ … ] what I mean to say’s I don’t care to assume one way or another, and also I mean it about your not needing to say.
There’s other photos I’ll send your way, not leaving you with those two alone, though the rest’ll take some thinking and I've likely poured enough on you as is by way of words. Anyway, figure I’ll let those two stand in their glory.
Edited 2024-02-15 04:25 (UTC)
About that offer, you’re right thinking I don’t need proof. Wouldn’t’ve thought to ask it. Your word’s better than enough, Talik.
If you prefer it, I’ll take a look. Fact is I’m sure of you, and sure of your intentions as it is.
Put otherwise, I know and I believe it well that you’re precisely the kind of man you want to be.
On the matter of papers and contracts, think is I’ve been speaking with some people. Lawyers, like, trombonist and another professional she knows, and from the sounds of it there’s a chance that contract’s been
Nay. More to be looked at yet, and maybe best left out from texts.
[ … ]
Thing about me, I never know what to say around matters of money, not really.Seems right fucked, her taking from you all this time Save to say it can’t strike me as right, this having been taken on top of everything else. And that Deforest Scarlett’s a fanged fuck of a weasel. Didn’t say it before, but I won’t believe for a moment your the only man’s brought him up against a threat, nor that he doesn’t call each one on hisself. Watched Rin near lay into the boy once, ended in Senan’s hand bloodied in intervening.
Can’t say I wouldn’t end in a punch up with the shite, were I in his company long enough.
It's right fucked, Vitaly, and that's a fact.
If you prefer it, I’ll take a look. Fact is I’m sure of you, and sure of your intentions as it is.
Put otherwise, I know and I believe it well that you’re precisely the kind of man you want to be.
Nay. More to be looked at yet, and maybe best left out from texts.
[ … ]
Thing about me, I never know what to say around matters of money, not really.
Can’t say I wouldn’t end in a punch up with the shite, were I in his company long enough.
It's right fucked, Vitaly, and that's a fact.
Edited 2024-02-15 04:40 (UTC)
Never change, Senan.
Knew what I was in for in asking, and not a regret to be had. It’s good hearing yr expounding, now given this tenor of fulfillment.
7:34, no codding? Nay, but I believe it easy, always was something enchanted in the two of you. Couldn’t’ve happen to a better man nor null.
Rin wouldn’t be themself if they weren’t stealing the blankets on top of every other thing they lay hands on. Gives me an idea where to get that hat, come to think it. Eh, and got to say those’re harsh words for the humble tomat, though it explains them throwin that one when I gave it them.
Guess this means you’re Pasta Alfredo for life, hey? Tomato being off the grid’s limits.
Name Leo’s ringing no bells. Which was that? Eh, but what with Vitaly’s queries and the framings thereof, thinking he’s not had witness with the like before.
[ … ]
Could be I’ve gone expansive in my speaking to meet your match, like for like word for word and all that. Nah, but I’ve been inspirited. By that self same man’s been growing bolder but never the less careful, or it’s a kind of tact dealt with consideration’s crux. Flaws he might and must have, whomst among us and I’ve got mine own foibles to be accounted for, snoring and all.
(Good knowing that ain’t only myself, by the by. Not saying a word of one null’s snore or any other to one soul or any other, secrets being secrets, and this one being yours for them.)
Man’s not had an easy life as I’m understanding. Not that he makes a point dwelling on it. Not that it’s unusual, an unsteady life’s path among the circle of shitheads.She did a number on Fucking vile, she is. There’s a mighty heart within that mightily broad chest, and there’s life he’s got in holding, waiting its chance for breath.
Life, vivacity, aye.
For myself, it’s getting beyond enamored to fully attached.
You met his parents at all?
Also to say, fuck if his asking those questions don’t charm me through and through, and my blessings to you Sir Senan for fielding this all. Patient as a bona fide owl, you. You happen to tell him just how much my type he is? Told him myself, or I’m in process of conveying, only trouble is there aren’t words enough to say it, or I don’t have em rightly.
And for a sharp change in subject matter, ey ey, fuck you mean my dick’s no good cause for reduced sentencing??
Nah. Chrissake, I’m only sorry myself I wasn’t better up on the letter writing.
Got mithered and then some thinkin on all of it. Wasn’t sure I’d see you Not any kind of excuse, that, and you’ve ever been a lasting one, matters of the liver aside
The girls were there more or less throughout, aye, and Verne when he was able. (Maungey shite takes good care when he has a mind to, credit to him and likely I ought to be easier on him about the current situation with the twins.) Roza was in and out as well, bless her for it. Ey, you know she married? Recently, half a year back or so.
That husband of hers is a good one, truth, spent some days with the both of em and I couldn’t ask better for her than him, I’m thinking.
[ … ]
Still, happens I’ve found a better man.
[ … ]
He called them my kids, Sen. Nicky and Liza. No prompting just took it on himself and spoke it. That alone did me in, doubt I need to tell why or just how far off the cliff it dropped me.
Happens I’m growing lucky in my middling age. Aye, well may wonders never cease.
Knew what I was in for in asking, and not a regret to be had. It’s good hearing yr expounding, now given this tenor of fulfillment.
7:34, no codding? Nay, but I believe it easy, always was something enchanted in the two of you. Couldn’t’ve happen to a better man nor null.
Rin wouldn’t be themself if they weren’t stealing the blankets on top of every other thing they lay hands on. Gives me an idea where to get that hat, come to think it. Eh, and got to say those’re harsh words for the humble tomat, though it explains them throwin that one when I gave it them.
Guess this means you’re Pasta Alfredo for life, hey? Tomato being off the grid’s limits.
Name Leo’s ringing no bells. Which was that? Eh, but what with Vitaly’s queries and the framings thereof, thinking he’s not had witness with the like before.
[ … ]
Could be I’ve gone expansive in my speaking to meet your match, like for like word for word and all that. Nah, but I’ve been inspirited. By that self same man’s been growing bolder but never the less careful, or it’s a kind of tact dealt with consideration’s crux. Flaws he might and must have, whomst among us and I’ve got mine own foibles to be accounted for, snoring and all.
(Good knowing that ain’t only myself, by the by. Not saying a word of one null’s snore or any other to one soul or any other, secrets being secrets, and this one being yours for them.)
Man’s not had an easy life as I’m understanding. Not that he makes a point dwelling on it. Not that it’s unusual, an unsteady life’s path among the circle of shitheads.
For myself, it’s getting beyond enamored to fully attached.
You met his parents at all?
Also to say, fuck if his asking those questions don’t charm me through and through, and my blessings to you Sir Senan for fielding this all. Patient as a bona fide owl, you. You happen to tell him just how much my type he is? Told him myself, or I’m in process of conveying, only trouble is there aren’t words enough to say it, or I don’t have em rightly.
And for a sharp change in subject matter, ey ey, fuck you mean my dick’s no good cause for reduced sentencing??
Nah. Chrissake, I’m only sorry myself I wasn’t better up on the letter writing.
The girls were there more or less throughout, aye, and Verne when he was able. (Maungey shite takes good care when he has a mind to, credit to him and likely I ought to be easier on him about the current situation with the twins.) Roza was in and out as well, bless her for it. Ey, you know she married? Recently, half a year back or so.
That husband of hers is a good one, truth, spent some days with the both of em and I couldn’t ask better for her than him, I’m thinking.
[ … ]
Still, happens I’ve found a better man.
[ … ]
He called them my kids, Sen. Nicky and Liza. No prompting just took it on himself and spoke it. That alone did me in, doubt I need to tell why or just how far off the cliff it dropped me.
Happens I’m growing lucky in my middling age. Aye, well may wonders never cease.
I think I do know what you mean: the constant growth from the essence toward perfection, or towards flourishing. Vibrancy. What you are, Nova. What I hope you show me and speak of to me while I learn your tattoo.
By touch, if you'd let me.
[...]
It feels disrespectful to ask that of you. Seeing it written out so, it's unworthy. Something to be spoken, not asked in a text. [...] I've never been good at that sort of thing. Intimate texting. You see, I'm anxious for having asked to touch your tattoo? The irony of it is, I don't have reservations about intimate acts -
Only speaking of them.
I don't mean sex. Or I do, but everything else, as well.
...All of this, for academic knowledge. Of course.
[...]
Something else of intimate nature:
Vevay, will you play your music for me? What you've written: I'd like to hear it.
For the rest, I won't say more except that my daydreams have new depth to them. New suppositions of touch and sights.
And that my heart is pounding as though it hasn't beat at all - for a lifetime. I feel [...] anticipatory? Yes, that word. As though I'll shudder apart with waiting for two weeks to pass.
Well. I've waited this long already; what do two more weeks matter?
You spoke 'romance' first. Remember that when you grow tired of a fool's romantic notions, eh?
By touch, if you'd let me.
[...]
It feels disrespectful to ask that of you. Seeing it written out so, it's unworthy. Something to be spoken, not asked in a text. [...] I've never been good at that sort of thing. Intimate texting. You see, I'm anxious for having asked to touch your tattoo? The irony of it is, I don't have reservations about intimate acts -
Only speaking of them.
I don't mean sex. Or I do, but everything else, as well.
...All of this, for academic knowledge. Of course.
[...]
Something else of intimate nature:
Vevay, will you play your music for me? What you've written: I'd like to hear it.
For the rest, I won't say more except that my daydreams have new depth to them. New suppositions of touch and sights.
And that my heart is pounding as though it hasn't beat at all - for a lifetime. I feel [...] anticipatory? Yes, that word. As though I'll shudder apart with waiting for two weeks to pass.
You spoke 'romance' first. Remember that when you grow tired of a fool's romantic notions, eh?
I hadn't realized you knew Deforest, or else I missed your saying so.
For a moment - only a moment! - I felt that dreadful sinking when one sees the worst is coming. Or simply dread.
He took something from me; I've been stranded in this entropic fucking marriage -
Well. What if he took something I think I might value beyond measure?
[...]
What if. So many 'what ifs', but then I remembered that I'm thinking of Deforest, but not of Nova.
Would my Vevay ever, after all we've spoken? Could I imagine you doing anything like that?
Not to me, no, but as well, not to anyone else.
All at once, I felt warm again - confident.
Why am I so certain of you?
For a moment - only a moment! - I felt that dreadful sinking when one sees the worst is coming. Or simply dread.
He took something from me; I've been stranded in this entropic fucking marriage -
Well. What if he took something I think I might value beyond measure?
[...]
What if. So many 'what ifs', but then I remembered that I'm thinking of Deforest, but not of Nova.
Would my Vevay ever, after all we've spoken? Could I imagine you doing anything like that?
Not to me, no, but as well, not to anyone else.
All at once, I felt warm again - confident.
Why am I so certain of you?
My scar. I don't know that you can see it clearly in the photo - which, yes, please, do as you like with it! (And perhaps send me something in kind? This of you on the stool is adorable and funny, but I think it's not phone home screen material.)
The scar, though, runs from my [...] by my hair. [...] Hairline. From my hairline, across my eye, to above my lip. It isn't disfiguring, and my eye was unharmed, thankfully.
No, it wasn't a pub fight.
You know what's happening in Ukraine, but probably were surprised like the rest of the world?
We weren't. We knew it would happen sooner or later. Everyone had been preparing for it for years - soldiers and people like me. Citizens. Irregular or partisan warfare, that's how it's called in English. Children - teenaged, but children - learned to shoot Kalashnikovs. Mothers learned how to hear and what to report.
When the Russians came to Kharkiv two years ago, I went, also. And then Pripyat, and then Obolon. Me and my brother, several more besides. What the military couldn't do - for whatever the reason, a crime or because they're too obvious - we did.
I like to plant explosives and disable vehicles.
We did other things that I'm not proud to admit, but were necessary.
We killed - ah, but we still kill - traitors. Informants.
The soldier was Ukrainian. He was passing information to the Russians. I [...] imagine he didn't want to die; he struck out at me with a piece of glass.
Andrii shot him.
Russians, we left as warnings to other Russians. Signs over them, like "If the Americans bombs don't get you, we will" and "Putin is sending you to die."
We left him face down in the dirt.
[...]
If you ever want to see evil, look in the face of a Ukrainian man who helps Russians murder his neighbors and steal his country's children.
[...]
I don't fight anymore; too many close calls. Too many scars - you'll see, if you would like to see. And Sergiy -
Well.
A bullet too close to the artery in my leg made me decide I could do other things. So, I find help. People who know explosives, people who can teach new things to our irregulars. People who know how to make traps.
Other things.
The scar, though, runs from my [...] by my hair. [...] Hairline. From my hairline, across my eye, to above my lip. It isn't disfiguring, and my eye was unharmed, thankfully.
No, it wasn't a pub fight.
You know what's happening in Ukraine, but probably were surprised like the rest of the world?
We weren't. We knew it would happen sooner or later. Everyone had been preparing for it for years - soldiers and people like me. Citizens. Irregular or partisan warfare, that's how it's called in English. Children - teenaged, but children - learned to shoot Kalashnikovs. Mothers learned how to hear and what to report.
When the Russians came to Kharkiv two years ago, I went, also. And then Pripyat, and then Obolon. Me and my brother, several more besides. What the military couldn't do - for whatever the reason, a crime or because they're too obvious - we did.
I like to plant explosives and disable vehicles.
We did other things that I'm not proud to admit, but were necessary.
We killed - ah, but we still kill - traitors. Informants.
The soldier was Ukrainian. He was passing information to the Russians. I [...] imagine he didn't want to die; he struck out at me with a piece of glass.
Andrii shot him.
Russians, we left as warnings to other Russians. Signs over them, like "If the Americans bombs don't get you, we will" and "Putin is sending you to die."
We left him face down in the dirt.
[...]
If you ever want to see evil, look in the face of a Ukrainian man who helps Russians murder his neighbors and steal his country's children.
[...]
I don't fight anymore; too many close calls. Too many scars - you'll see, if you would like to see. And Sergiy -
Well.
A bullet too close to the artery in my leg made me decide I could do other things. So, I find help. People who know explosives, people who can teach new things to our irregulars. People who know how to make traps.
Other things.
I don't know at all how Senan has this photo.
This is from Majorca four, maybe five years ago, when we took Sergiy.
We. Me, my family. Not her.
[...]
I still look so - well, I think. I don't often look at my own back.
This is from Majorca four, maybe five years ago, when we took Sergiy.
We. Me, my family. Not her.
[...]
I still look so - well, I think. I don't often look at my own back.
Aye, Talik.
[ … ]
[ … ]
I’d give my apologies for dredging up [ … ] the abject horrors of war and its brewing. But I can’t regret knowing it, not when it’s your truth and not when it’s what you’ve lived among.
[ … ]
Sen mentioned something touching guerrilla tactics. Hadn’t known whether it was bombast in speaking and sort of figured it was so, Sen being Sen. My mistake, there, and I ought to’ve been more careful in asking. Had cause for suspecting, and whatever I don’t know or haven’t gleaned about your country’s no cause and no excuse for ignorance or rough trodding.
As if it would’ve been a pub fight for fuck’s sake on myself
Shite.
Point being, ain’t fucking easy, any of that. For you, I mean, not that you need my telling it. And it goes without saying, maybe, but who’m I to let sleeping words lie when I mean to say I appreciate your telling, and would rather you hear it’s so.
That informant you’ve spoke of. Sounds no less than what he brought down on hisself, or called to coming for him. Needs to be that fist driving restitution, fuck of it being there’s human costs at every side. Gift of yourself and your fellows being you’ve brought it, some piece of what’s needed.
Rank betrayal it is, what calls a threat to living, to keeping free in life, and that’s a crime can’t be denied or left on rampage. Some destruction’s only to be met in its own kind.
Not an eye for an eye, what you said about the fruitlessness in that’s correct as I see it, but where there’s lives at stake and protection to be made, there’s blood must run and messages to be driven.
Seen some evil myself. Can’t say I’ve witnessed it in that same form, and fuck me if that’s a betrayal doesn’t speak hell itself gazing through.
I’ve naught but respect for what you’ve done and where you’ve been. Aye, and sorrow, though neither’ll do a spit of good for atrocities occurred and underway.
Glad your brother was with you.
Can’t say I’m not selfishly glad you’ve stepped back from the fighting, and glad moreso for your own and your Sergiy’s sake.
Well and. Can’t be denied there’s prodigious use in gathering aid. Brings more than a body can do on one’s own, or that’s the case most usually. Builds the scale a little larger, tilts odds further from those forces and them beings perpetrating.
Fucking costs, and fucking calumny.
[ … ]
Might’ve said. I know people who know people, more in the way of products but not only so, and know a few things myself. Might be people might be things you know yourself already, but. Might be matters worth discussing, when there’s no gap of space to separate us.
Regardless and any rate, one more thing for saying this part of my message.
I’d like to see those scars or yours. Hear every word you have for sharing, whatever you’ve a mind to speak.
Your marks and your knowledge, your speaking, worthy of witness, I’d say.
Worthy as more so and above any else, you are yourself.
Let me witness you in perpetuity, Talik. With all the open scope you've offered up to now. With everything you can and care to give in sharing. That’s my ask, and always shall be.
[ … ]
[ … ]
I’d give my apologies for dredging up [ … ] the abject horrors of war and its brewing. But I can’t regret knowing it, not when it’s your truth and not when it’s what you’ve lived among.
[ … ]
Sen mentioned something touching guerrilla tactics. Hadn’t known whether it was bombast in speaking and sort of figured it was so, Sen being Sen. My mistake, there, and I ought to’ve been more careful in asking. Had cause for suspecting, and whatever I don’t know or haven’t gleaned about your country’s no cause and no excuse for ignorance or rough trodding.
Shite.
Point being, ain’t fucking easy, any of that. For you, I mean, not that you need my telling it. And it goes without saying, maybe, but who’m I to let sleeping words lie when I mean to say I appreciate your telling, and would rather you hear it’s so.
That informant you’ve spoke of. Sounds no less than what he brought down on hisself, or called to coming for him. Needs to be that fist driving restitution, fuck of it being there’s human costs at every side. Gift of yourself and your fellows being you’ve brought it, some piece of what’s needed.
Rank betrayal it is, what calls a threat to living, to keeping free in life, and that’s a crime can’t be denied or left on rampage. Some destruction’s only to be met in its own kind.
Not an eye for an eye, what you said about the fruitlessness in that’s correct as I see it, but where there’s lives at stake and protection to be made, there’s blood must run and messages to be driven.
Seen some evil myself. Can’t say I’ve witnessed it in that same form, and fuck me if that’s a betrayal doesn’t speak hell itself gazing through.
I’ve naught but respect for what you’ve done and where you’ve been. Aye, and sorrow, though neither’ll do a spit of good for atrocities occurred and underway.
Glad your brother was with you.
Can’t say I’m not selfishly glad you’ve stepped back from the fighting, and glad moreso for your own and your Sergiy’s sake.
Well and. Can’t be denied there’s prodigious use in gathering aid. Brings more than a body can do on one’s own, or that’s the case most usually. Builds the scale a little larger, tilts odds further from those forces and them beings perpetrating.
Fucking costs, and fucking calumny.
[ … ]
Might’ve said. I know people who know people, more in the way of products but not only so, and know a few things myself. Might be people might be things you know yourself already, but. Might be matters worth discussing, when there’s no gap of space to separate us.
Regardless and any rate, one more thing for saying this part of my message.
I’d like to see those scars or yours. Hear every word you have for sharing, whatever you’ve a mind to speak.
Your marks and your knowledge, your speaking, worthy of witness, I’d say.
Worthy as more so and above any else, you are yourself.
Let me witness you in perpetuity, Talik. With all the open scope you've offered up to now. With everything you can and care to give in sharing. That’s my ask, and always shall be.
Seems I took up a talent for hitting multitudinous nodes of distress, that last string of messages.
Seems as well, and is as well, the case you’ve been forthright with myself, more than I’d have thought to ask.
What I mean here again’s my thanks for your offering. Speaking what you’ve known and what’s brushed by you.
I expect I didn’t say about Deforest, no. ‘Knowing’s a generous word for it; I’ve met the fucker at a distance, seen him in some action, but anything that rancid’s made for keeping clear of and aye I’ve been in a same proximity as him. Guessing he’s no knowledge of my self, and I’m pleased for it to keep that way, fucker’s got no right, nay.
Eh. Still, that’s closer knowing than anyone ought ask for, and I’ve no fault to you for feeling alarm. After everything stolen from you and what he’s done, can’t see how his spectre wouldn’t grow beneath the skin in ways difficult to guard against.
It’s how some of the direst ghosts a long lasting pains get started and attach theirselves, or that’s the way I think it, have seen it.
What’s gratitude for me is that my bringing about that name didn’t call you downward fully. And as much as a man’s own word can be believed, I’d say you’re right in trusting your Vevay. Won’t say I’ve never fucked up with anything, but in partnerships, aye, I take my care, guard any heart I’ve touched to with the caution I’d best grant my own, whether that care runs deep or shallow. There’s something to be said for defense, something to be said in keeping caution for the ones brought close. That’s a responsibility I take above all else.
Aye, see, line from a poet, American maybe, about responsibility’s in keeping the ability to respond. Means an exchange and recognition, means liveliness and keeping with awareness, not always draining inward, means a leaning into attentiveness. Responsibility of the self’s one thing, less thorned to track because its language is your own, known better to you than to any other. Responsibility external brings a work of moving pieces.
Fuck, my point, my fucking point, is I’ve made a point of taking care with others, and I mean to take care with yourself, as well. All the more with you, as you speak all the clearer to my heart, and I’d like to think your heart my own.
[ … ]
Like or not, granted or not, I think it is. And I call my own heart yours, if you’ll have it.
Might be our trust springs from a source similar, mutual. Call it the font of the romantic. Call it what grows of adhering to the heart and heart’s care.
[ … ]
There’s a word for that, as well. Older language, older form of English might be, hert hært or heorte something. Eh, fuck the finding of it, point is the phrase I’m fixing on is heart’s care, and point is I’ve got that fixed on you from my heart, and feel a mirror of it in yourself.
Point as well is I mean to be equal to any trust you care to give, and I’ve no cause to believe I can’t be that. I’ve my downfallings and errancies, that’s so, but lacking steadfastness’s not among em.
Seems as well, and is as well, the case you’ve been forthright with myself, more than I’d have thought to ask.
What I mean here again’s my thanks for your offering. Speaking what you’ve known and what’s brushed by you.
I expect I didn’t say about Deforest, no. ‘Knowing’s a generous word for it; I’ve met the fucker at a distance, seen him in some action, but anything that rancid’s made for keeping clear of and aye I’ve been in a same proximity as him. Guessing he’s no knowledge of my self, and I’m pleased for it to keep that way, fucker’s got no right, nay.
Eh. Still, that’s closer knowing than anyone ought ask for, and I’ve no fault to you for feeling alarm. After everything stolen from you and what he’s done, can’t see how his spectre wouldn’t grow beneath the skin in ways difficult to guard against.
It’s how some of the direst ghosts a long lasting pains get started and attach theirselves, or that’s the way I think it, have seen it.
What’s gratitude for me is that my bringing about that name didn’t call you downward fully. And as much as a man’s own word can be believed, I’d say you’re right in trusting your Vevay. Won’t say I’ve never fucked up with anything, but in partnerships, aye, I take my care, guard any heart I’ve touched to with the caution I’d best grant my own, whether that care runs deep or shallow. There’s something to be said for defense, something to be said in keeping caution for the ones brought close. That’s a responsibility I take above all else.
Aye, see, line from a poet, American maybe, about responsibility’s in keeping the ability to respond. Means an exchange and recognition, means liveliness and keeping with awareness, not always draining inward, means a leaning into attentiveness. Responsibility of the self’s one thing, less thorned to track because its language is your own, known better to you than to any other. Responsibility external brings a work of moving pieces.
Fuck, my point, my fucking point, is I’ve made a point of taking care with others, and I mean to take care with yourself, as well. All the more with you, as you speak all the clearer to my heart, and I’d like to think your heart my own.
[ … ]
Like or not, granted or not, I think it is. And I call my own heart yours, if you’ll have it.
Might be our trust springs from a source similar, mutual. Call it the font of the romantic. Call it what grows of adhering to the heart and heart’s care.
[ … ]
There’s a word for that, as well. Older language, older form of English might be, hert hært or heorte something. Eh, fuck the finding of it, point is the phrase I’m fixing on is heart’s care, and point is I’ve got that fixed on you from my heart, and feel a mirror of it in yourself.
Point as well is I mean to be equal to any trust you care to give, and I’ve no cause to believe I can’t be that. I’ve my downfallings and errancies, that’s so, but lacking steadfastness’s not among em.
Said I’d like to see your scars, and everything you are as well, and so I do.
(I'll have a look at that back of yours while I'm at it, shall I? Let you know its comparison to the Majorcan photo, though I'm guessing now no photo can compare with the honest sight of you.)
With the self same fervour, I want your knowing on my tattoos, every mark and every corner of my skin, my self. I want to know the shadow of your hands, my Talik, and your breath against my neck.
Academically speaking, and then non-academically speaking in future times, when all can be discussed and acted without hazard of reprisal. At present, it’s a thought to dream on for my self. Warm in shivers through my being, and true it’s kept my company each day, each night since the potentiality first showed itself.
Going to be a lengthy two weeks, full on interminable, but it won’t lack dreaming, and there’s more company in a message written from you than I’ve known in years. Closer and more wanted company than ever I’ve known.
There’s nothing you’ve said that takes me as disrespectful, nor unworthy. Nothing you’ve said that doesn’t match my wishing, or what I’d care to hear.
Every line you give, I value. Bright or romantic warmed or sharp with grief, I wish it all and value all.
What’s this worry or wariness for speaking, Talik? Take that question rhetorical or meet it with an answer, no censure either way. What I’m finding’s there’s not words enough to say the measure of my meaning fully. Might be there never can be words enough, and part of speaking waits in gesture and in eyes meeting eyes, hand slipped into hand.
For myself, there’s meaning can be spoke only through playing it, that cello of mine filling gaps where I lapse inarticulate. Which is also to say I’d like to play for you and shall first chance I get, aye those songs I wrote and rarely play for hearing. Might also be to say I’ve songs for writing yet, outside my glimpsing before knowing you and now, see Talik, now I long to find em.
Don’t for an instant think your Vevay could weary of what’s romantic, particularly when it’s from your self. If you’re a fool, then I’m your fool to match, and we’ll keep these romantic notions as an arboretum of our own, to flourish and bask in precisely as we please.
(I'll have a look at that back of yours while I'm at it, shall I? Let you know its comparison to the Majorcan photo, though I'm guessing now no photo can compare with the honest sight of you.)
With the self same fervour, I want your knowing on my tattoos, every mark and every corner of my skin, my self. I want to know the shadow of your hands, my Talik, and your breath against my neck.
Academically speaking, and then non-academically speaking in future times, when all can be discussed and acted without hazard of reprisal. At present, it’s a thought to dream on for my self. Warm in shivers through my being, and true it’s kept my company each day, each night since the potentiality first showed itself.
Going to be a lengthy two weeks, full on interminable, but it won’t lack dreaming, and there’s more company in a message written from you than I’ve known in years. Closer and more wanted company than ever I’ve known.
There’s nothing you’ve said that takes me as disrespectful, nor unworthy. Nothing you’ve said that doesn’t match my wishing, or what I’d care to hear.
Every line you give, I value. Bright or romantic warmed or sharp with grief, I wish it all and value all.
What’s this worry or wariness for speaking, Talik? Take that question rhetorical or meet it with an answer, no censure either way. What I’m finding’s there’s not words enough to say the measure of my meaning fully. Might be there never can be words enough, and part of speaking waits in gesture and in eyes meeting eyes, hand slipped into hand.
For myself, there’s meaning can be spoke only through playing it, that cello of mine filling gaps where I lapse inarticulate. Which is also to say I’d like to play for you and shall first chance I get, aye those songs I wrote and rarely play for hearing. Might also be to say I’ve songs for writing yet, outside my glimpsing before knowing you and now, see Talik, now I long to find em.
Don’t for an instant think your Vevay could weary of what’s romantic, particularly when it’s from your self. If you’re a fool, then I’m your fool to match, and we’ll keep these romantic notions as an arboretum of our own, to flourish and bask in precisely as we please.
[ Two photos follow. The first is Nova's newly established lockscreen, Vitaly's laughter with Dodo sprawled on the sofa. The second is the photo from Majorca, taken by indeed god knows what methods Sen employed, not set as the homescreen of Nova's phone.
The third is a recent photograph of Nova, taken by a fellow player during an out-of-doors quartet rehearsal. He sits relaxed in the dappled shadow of an ash tree, arms wrapped above the body of his cello, bow caught loose in one hand, chin settled on his forearm, hair ruffled by a breeze. He might be listening to strands of song or conversation, might be watching a bird or cluster of park-goers in the distance. Whatever the case, his expression's dream-laced, smile soft and pleased, as if the world might be not so rotten; as if knowing there are wonders in the world yet to be found. ]
Maybe that?
The third is a recent photograph of Nova, taken by a fellow player during an out-of-doors quartet rehearsal. He sits relaxed in the dappled shadow of an ash tree, arms wrapped above the body of his cello, bow caught loose in one hand, chin settled on his forearm, hair ruffled by a breeze. He might be listening to strands of song or conversation, might be watching a bird or cluster of park-goers in the distance. Whatever the case, his expression's dream-laced, smile soft and pleased, as if the world might be not so rotten; as if knowing there are wonders in the world yet to be found. ]
Maybe that?
[ Nova's messages are met first with a string of Cyrillic - Who are you? Vitya looks at his phone every five minutes [...] and then English: ]
English? Okay, English?
[ A video follows; in the frame are a slim, mousy, blond woman with round glasses and hazel eyes like Vitaly's, and a darker-haired man of around fifty, likewise similar in appearance. Both of them seem to be putting on their best efforts to look intimidating, but the man can't stop almost-laughing.
In the background, Vitaly can be heard laughing while half-protesting, half-pleading in Ukrainian.
It's the woman who speaks first in broken, half-remembered English. To her credit, she’s extremely confident in her attempt: ]
[Iryna:] What is your name - Nova? Nova, Nova, okay. Why you Vitya are wanting, eh? Is a nice photo-
[Andrii, correcting, his brow raising at his sister’s efforts. His own are much more coherent, his accent not particularly thick:] It is a nice photo. When was the last time you spoke English?
[Iryna, ignoring him:] - you are very nice boy for looking. At you always he is smiling. For why you -
[Andrii, in English, the Ukrainian, as he reaches for the phone:] Iryna, you sound like fucking Yoda. Let me talk to him if you can't remember how to speak English, he’ll think you’re stupid -
[Vitaly, off-screen:] Neither of you talk to him! Give me my phone! Max, let go! I brought you all chocolate, this is the thanks?
[Iryna, raising her voice and jerking away from her brother as she gestures brusquely at the phone:] I speak English, he is understanding, okay! Look at how he talks! That’s not correct, either, so why does it matter if all of my grammar is perfect? He’ll understand. Novako! For why you are wanting to Vitya this, mm, talking so? Vitya is looking like he is eating rocks.
[Vitaly:] Eh! Don't be rude! Give that back-
[ Andrii moves suddenly, reaching to shove away something behind the phone with a youthful laugh; there's a scuffle and the sound of a dog barking, as well as another female voice shouting about Dodo getting in the house. Iryna lithely ducks out of the way, phone now clutched in both hands. ]
[Iryna:] We are watching, Lover-Boy. Like the hawk! [ She points two fingers at her eyes and two at the phone. Then she lowers her voice to a stage whisper: ] He always your text is reading when he wake until he at night is sleeping with phone in his hands. Two nights like so!
[ She emphasizes with two fingers held up. ]
[Iryna:] Two! Maybe more nights than this. Vitya...Andrii, how do you say he is in love?
[Andrii, weakly from off-screen, possibly because Vitaly has him in a headlock:] ‘He is in love.’
[Vitaly, aghast:] Andrii!
[ There's a smacking sound and Andrii mutinously shouts Hey! ]
[Iryna, playfully musing:] 'In love.' Pretty! 'He is in love.' In love, in love. Good. Novako, I you am telling our words. Ya tebe kochayu. 'I you in love.' Maybe you are saying 'Ya tebe lyublyu', but so is not correct for Vitya. Not correct for lover. Is for family. Ya tebe lyublyu is for Dodo. Is correct how I you am telling. Ya. Tebe. Kochayu. Okay? I you in love, ya tebe kochayu.
[Vitaly:] Iryna, don't you dare, don't send that to him NO! -
[Iryna, smiling serenely now:] Is my number, okay. Text to me.
[ The video ends there; it's followed immediately by a phone number. ]
English? Okay, English?
[ A video follows; in the frame are a slim, mousy, blond woman with round glasses and hazel eyes like Vitaly's, and a darker-haired man of around fifty, likewise similar in appearance. Both of them seem to be putting on their best efforts to look intimidating, but the man can't stop almost-laughing.
In the background, Vitaly can be heard laughing while half-protesting, half-pleading in Ukrainian.
It's the woman who speaks first in broken, half-remembered English. To her credit, she’s extremely confident in her attempt: ]
[Iryna:] What is your name - Nova? Nova, Nova, okay. Why you Vitya are wanting, eh? Is a nice photo-
[Andrii, correcting, his brow raising at his sister’s efforts. His own are much more coherent, his accent not particularly thick:] It is a nice photo. When was the last time you spoke English?
[Iryna, ignoring him:] - you are very nice boy for looking. At you always he is smiling. For why you -
[Andrii, in English, the Ukrainian, as he reaches for the phone:] Iryna, you sound like fucking Yoda. Let me talk to him if you can't remember how to speak English, he’ll think you’re stupid -
[Vitaly, off-screen:] Neither of you talk to him! Give me my phone! Max, let go! I brought you all chocolate, this is the thanks?
[Iryna, raising her voice and jerking away from her brother as she gestures brusquely at the phone:] I speak English, he is understanding, okay! Look at how he talks! That’s not correct, either, so why does it matter if all of my grammar is perfect? He’ll understand. Novako! For why you are wanting to Vitya this, mm, talking so? Vitya is looking like he is eating rocks.
[Vitaly:] Eh! Don't be rude! Give that back-
[ Andrii moves suddenly, reaching to shove away something behind the phone with a youthful laugh; there's a scuffle and the sound of a dog barking, as well as another female voice shouting about Dodo getting in the house. Iryna lithely ducks out of the way, phone now clutched in both hands. ]
[Iryna:] We are watching, Lover-Boy. Like the hawk! [ She points two fingers at her eyes and two at the phone. Then she lowers her voice to a stage whisper: ] He always your text is reading when he wake until he at night is sleeping with phone in his hands. Two nights like so!
[ She emphasizes with two fingers held up. ]
[Iryna:] Two! Maybe more nights than this. Vitya...Andrii, how do you say he is in love?
[Andrii, weakly from off-screen, possibly because Vitaly has him in a headlock:] ‘He is in love.’
[Vitaly, aghast:] Andrii!
[ There's a smacking sound and Andrii mutinously shouts Hey! ]
[Iryna, playfully musing:] 'In love.' Pretty! 'He is in love.' In love, in love. Good. Novako, I you am telling our words. Ya tebe kochayu. 'I you in love.' Maybe you are saying 'Ya tebe lyublyu', but so is not correct for Vitya. Not correct for lover. Is for family. Ya tebe lyublyu is for Dodo. Is correct how I you am telling. Ya. Tebe. Kochayu. Okay? I you in love, ya tebe kochayu.
[Vitaly:] Iryna, don't you dare, don't send that to him NO! -
[Iryna, smiling serenely now:] Is my number, okay. Text to me.
[ The video ends there; it's followed immediately by a phone number. ]
Edited 2024-02-17 08:10 (UTC)
[ Fifteen minutes later:]
Well, now you've met Andrii and Iryna.
Neither one of them is sorry for taking my phone and humiliating meto my b; if it's of any consolation, I'll be teased mercilessly for sending you the photo from Majorca - which I did not do, but do they care?
I got the phone away before they could see your tattoos, but not the pub photo, which they are reenacting in front of me just now.
Well. Iryna and Andrii haven't seen one another in several years, and I have not seen Maksym for some time, either. It's only exuberance at being reunited, even if it is at the expense of you and me.
Oleksei has helpfully documented my attempt to reach the phone before Iryna could send that video.
[ So he has. Vitaly sends a photo of himself in a dogpile with two other men - Andrii and Maksym. He has Andrii in a headlock and is trying to look back over his own shoulder; he has one foot drawn up as though aiming to kick at Maksym, who is pinning him down by his leg. Andrii has a fistful of Vitaly's hair.
The family resemblance is there, but so are the clear differences in age. Maksym is much younger than all of them, perhaps in his late twenties.
Notably, they're all laughing.
Even Vitaly. ]
If this makes you decide I'm not worth your trouble or wait, I'll understand.
But I'll be very surprised.
Please don't hold that against me, Vevay. I couldn't help having them for siblings.
[...]
Maybe don't hold any of it against them, either, please? Talking of love and what I do or don't with my phone - they're teasing.
You. They're teasing you as well as me.
Not cruelly; I only mean that they didn't try to scare you. I think [...] -
I think perhaps
Their excitement isn't only reunion. They would like to see my marriage end and for me to be happy.
[...]
And they see you have been making me happy.
Andrii read your last messages. What you said in apology, in support of what he and I do. Of Sergiy.
Of my heart.
You said many things that might make them like you.
[...]
Iryna has asked me to say that she plays the violin. Which she does. So, there you are. My siblings approve of you before you and I have even spoken beyond the academic.
I tried to say I've only known you a week, and that I'm withholding judgement until we meet in two weeks, but they can see how much we've been talking. They can see how I hurry to check my phone when a message from you arrives. How I've been smiling.
How full of hope I am.
You'll forgive me, won't you?
Well, now you've met Andrii and Iryna.
Neither one of them is sorry for taking my phone and humiliating me
I got the phone away before they could see your tattoos, but not the pub photo, which they are reenacting in front of me just now.
Well. Iryna and Andrii haven't seen one another in several years, and I have not seen Maksym for some time, either. It's only exuberance at being reunited, even if it is at the expense of you and me.
Oleksei has helpfully documented my attempt to reach the phone before Iryna could send that video.
[ So he has. Vitaly sends a photo of himself in a dogpile with two other men - Andrii and Maksym. He has Andrii in a headlock and is trying to look back over his own shoulder; he has one foot drawn up as though aiming to kick at Maksym, who is pinning him down by his leg. Andrii has a fistful of Vitaly's hair.
The family resemblance is there, but so are the clear differences in age. Maksym is much younger than all of them, perhaps in his late twenties.
Notably, they're all laughing.
Even Vitaly. ]
But I'll be very surprised.
Please don't hold that against me, Vevay. I couldn't help having them for siblings.
[...]
Maybe don't hold any of it against them, either, please? Talking of love and what I do or don't with my phone - they're teasing.
You. They're teasing you as well as me.
Not cruelly; I only mean that they didn't try to scare you. I think [...] -
Their excitement isn't only reunion. They would like to see my marriage end and for me to be happy.
[...]
And they see you have been making me happy.
Andrii read your last messages. What you said in apology, in support of what he and I do. Of Sergiy.
Of my heart.
You said many things that might make them like you.
[...]
Iryna has asked me to say that she plays the violin. Which she does. So, there you are. My siblings approve of you before you and I have even spoken beyond the academic.
I tried to say I've only known you a week, and that I'm withholding judgement until we meet in two weeks, but they can see how much we've been talking. They can see how I hurry to check my phone when a message from you arrives. How I've been smiling.
How full of hope I am.
You'll forgive me, won't you?
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