a bowl collecting blood, deathless, marya/koschei, part 1ghostinsweatsNovember 25 2011, 17:59:30 UTC
This time, she is not born in Russia.
This is notable because it's a first, what you could refer to over here as a 'red letter event'. Marya is born to one mother, with a thin curtain providing some illusion of privacy, a shield from the other slaving, grunting women in the ward. Marya, for the first time, is born to just one mother.
That is America, they say. Her father insists that she call him 'dad', amid arguments between her parents, he is an American and he will take on their words, even if the words are simple and childish, even if they are ugly.
English is a common tongue and it curls its way into their house like any other.
Bits of Russian lay themselves in her mouth, heavy, like ghosts, to be used when shouting or perhaps as a card, a last ditch to impress an American boy who will not be impressed.
Speaking it always feels like lying.
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This time, Marya Morevna is an only child.
It's ironic, really--in this capitalist country, in this newfound space, but perhaps her parents think there is something civilized about it
( ... )
This is notable because it's a first, what you could refer to over here as a 'red letter event'. Marya is born to one mother, with a thin curtain providing some illusion of privacy, a shield from the other slaving, grunting women in the ward. Marya, for the first time, is born to just one mother.
That is America, they say. Her father insists that she call him 'dad', amid arguments between her parents, he is an American and he will take on their words, even if the words are simple and childish, even if they are ugly.
English is a common tongue and it curls its way into their house like any other.
Bits of Russian lay themselves in her mouth, heavy, like ghosts, to be used when shouting or perhaps as a card, a last ditch to impress an American boy who will not be impressed.
Speaking it always feels like lying.
-
This time, Marya Morevna is an only child.
It's ironic, really--in this capitalist country, in this newfound space, but perhaps her parents think there is something civilized about it ( ... )
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Knives don't stay in the kitchen here, she learns. A man dies in the back room, Koschei sliding the blade up beneath his ribcage, quick, easy.
He looks at her as though it is a test. Her eyes flick downward and then an eyebrow goes up.
Is there something more you want from me, husband?"So it's a cover business," she says ( ... )
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