Ivan Braginsky [Soviet Union circa 1941] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
meatysoviet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
route_10652012-05-15 12:49 am
meatysoviet) wrote in route_10652012-05-15 12:49 am
Entry tags:
The Minnie Connection
Who: Ivan (meatysoviet) and Gorthan (shakespearianalien)
Where: Goldenrod
When: After the weather situations have calmed down a little
Summary: Ivan and Gorthan need to work out the 'Minnie Situation'
Rating: Can't see it getting higher than PG.
Log:
He wasn't usually one for get-togethers, but there was one person he really did need to speak to before he set off for his desired location.
The call had been brief, something for which the Russian was thankful for- he'd never had the best phone manner, and talking through the video option of the gears wasn't good enough for the topics they needed to discuss. There was always a way of getting through filters, walking into conversations and other coincidences that the Russian would prefer to avoid.
After all, this was about the list, and most likely a few people on it.
He now knew Lightning's location and, while it was a perfect opportunity to do away with one of the names in the long run, he had to assess the risks- Minnie knew he was a Rocket, and he was most likely the only Rocket that was actively going to Olivine... Still, perhaps there were other ways to use the girl's injuries to his advantage...
That could wait however. He needed to speak to Gorthan first.
He'd forgone getting anything other than the essentials from the Rocket Headquarters before moving to where he wanted to meet the scientist; he'd changed into casual attire for one, the gear thick and hard-wearing to endure riding his Onix for however long the trip was going to take, a map (paper of course) of where he was going and, of course, the pokémon he was going to be giving back to the woman once they reunited. There were other things as well that he had brought with him, but they weren't for the eyes of anyone in this restaurant other than his own... Gorthan's too perhaps depending on how well this conversation ensued.
The meeting place itself was large and bustling, the Russian picking out the largest eatery in Goldenrod he could find. Despite it's popularity the Russian had found himself a pocket of space a small distance from the main doorway, and had perched himself at the head of the quietest table within it. He wished he had a watch right now, so he could look at it in the act of at least having something to do...
But he didn't. All he could do now was wait and pray the other man only enjoyed theatrics on stage, not off of it.
meatysoviet) and Gorthan (shakespearianalien)Where: Goldenrod
When: After the weather situations have calmed down a little
Summary: Ivan and Gorthan need to work out the 'Minnie Situation'
Rating: Can't see it getting higher than PG.
Log:
He wasn't usually one for get-togethers, but there was one person he really did need to speak to before he set off for his desired location.
The call had been brief, something for which the Russian was thankful for- he'd never had the best phone manner, and talking through the video option of the gears wasn't good enough for the topics they needed to discuss. There was always a way of getting through filters, walking into conversations and other coincidences that the Russian would prefer to avoid.
After all, this was about the list, and most likely a few people on it.
He now knew Lightning's location and, while it was a perfect opportunity to do away with one of the names in the long run, he had to assess the risks- Minnie knew he was a Rocket, and he was most likely the only Rocket that was actively going to Olivine... Still, perhaps there were other ways to use the girl's injuries to his advantage...
That could wait however. He needed to speak to Gorthan first.
He'd forgone getting anything other than the essentials from the Rocket Headquarters before moving to where he wanted to meet the scientist; he'd changed into casual attire for one, the gear thick and hard-wearing to endure riding his Onix for however long the trip was going to take, a map (paper of course) of where he was going and, of course, the pokémon he was going to be giving back to the woman once they reunited. There were other things as well that he had brought with him, but they weren't for the eyes of anyone in this restaurant other than his own... Gorthan's too perhaps depending on how well this conversation ensued.
The meeting place itself was large and bustling, the Russian picking out the largest eatery in Goldenrod he could find. Despite it's popularity the Russian had found himself a pocket of space a small distance from the main doorway, and had perched himself at the head of the quietest table within it. He wished he had a watch right now, so he could look at it in the act of at least having something to do...
But he didn't. All he could do now was wait and pray the other man only enjoyed theatrics on stage, not off of it.
no subject
He had chosen a casual attire, his long dreadlocks falling on a turquoise dress shirt. He still bore vestiges of the battle with Suicune: for all his attempts at a normal gait, he still limped slightly as he walked. There were injuries other than his leg, but his clothes concealed them.
He raised his eyes long enough to recognize Ivan, and kept them averted as he joined him at the table. There was nothing theatrical about his demeanor, grave and silent.
He wasn't sure how to start this. Once again, his conscience, his feelings would damn him. It seemed inevitable now. But there was a difference this time. This time... there was a chance he would not be alone in his rebellion. Was that true? Or was it just another delusion, caused by the fact that he admired Earthlings way too much for his own good, and would sometimes idealize them?
He sat heavily on his chair, the abrupt action causing him to softly grunt in pain. A few slow, deep breaths followed, before he acknowledged the other man's presence with a simple greeting. "Ivan."
no subject
Perhaps this was the start of a rebellion, and he was too used to them nowadays to notice it? Stranger things had happened.
The limp didn't go unnoticed, but there was no comment on it, the Russian slouching just a moment to kick the chair adjacent to him, the movement angling it towards the scientist to ensure quicker sitting. It would save barely any time for the other man, but it was Ivan's way at least of acknowledging Gorthan's hopefully temporary weakness and accomodating for it. While he sported his own trophies of the battle, his weren't quite so serious, or in the very least a lot easier to hide.
"Gorthan." He returned the greeting in kind, his gaze moving to the table, focused on the leg he could no longer see under it.
"Have you got that checked?" His tone was curt for now, though the tones of the question were, in the very least, ones of concern.
"That looks painful- imagine it feels so also."
Aah, I never got the notif. ;A; Sorry.
He kept his eyes down, averting Ivan's gaze. His large fingers were oddly restless, rubbing against each other or repeatedly tapping the table's surface. Nervousness. Anxiety. Shame. Uncomfortable feelings that are only increased by the fact that all of this is familiar. Is this time different, now that perhaps there is someone he can share his concerns with?
It's cool brosis.
The Russian took the other man's answer without question, signalling for one of the waiters to take a drink order, the Russian ordering tea for both of them, even if the urge to ask for something stronger was almost too strong to pass up. Gorthan might do well to loosen up, but he needed the scientist to be sober for at least part of this conversation.
"I take it you know why we're here?" His tone was gentle enough to still be conversational, but there was a deliberate emphasis to his consonants, his words punctuated rather than falling from his lips in their usual half-slur, his eyes glancing back to the waiter who had taken their order, making sure he wouldn't be back soon enough to interrupt the two Rockets talking.
"You already know I have been asked to check Ms. Mouse off our hit list, yes?"
no subject
At Ivan's question, Gorthan closed his eyes and remained silent for a few moments. His hands stopped their frantic movement, but he shifted uncomfortably on his chair, once. His reply was spoken in a soft voice, barely above a whisper.
"Surely you don't actually mean to do that."
Because that is what he had been assuming all along. Please, let it be true... but he also braced himself for a negative answer.
no subject
"I said this to Cobra, and I say this to you- attacking Ms. Mouse is pointless." He took a sip from his cup, deciding against the sugar present at the table, moving the pot closer to the man adjacent.
"While it would perhaps be a show of our power to break her, is a pointless show to a number we still do not even know. I would rather not be target of an army just because a braggart wants to slap around a woman."
He took another draught from his cup, his eyes on Gorthan, looking for any signs of acceptance, or... Anything other than tense, guilty anxiety.
"She is no threat, and as long as I can attest to that Gorthan, then she will be safe. If she does become a problem however, I can not promise I will not act accordingly.
If it ever gets to that point however, I will do my best to make you aware of it, so you can at least try to avert something... unfortunate, from happening."
no subject
"Your reasoning is sound. But admit that, even if it came to it, you wouldn't have the heart to do it."
A pause, during which Gorthan still insisted on averting his gaze, inspecting the contents of his cup instead.
"What you are really doing with your arrangement with Cobra is protecting her. And for that, you have my thanks."
no subject
He was protecting the woman that much was true, but it wasn't entirely without his own gains- hell, with the way things were now, he could probably tell Gorthan about the bugging equipment he would be taking, spin a story about it being for her safety and have the other man at least hold the line to his tongue, if not swallow it entirely.
While he could and, if it came to it, would knock the Disney Queen down, he decided to keep that tidbit to himself, the porcelain still hiding his expression as he got his thoughts together and his smile back to his features- it wasn't as if she was the first monarch he would have forced to fall from grace if it came to it, but he needed Gorthan to, at least for now, feel like that was the farthest thought from his mind, the practised smile on his lips falling to form a business like front once more.
"As I said--" He didn't quite dare move the cup from his mouth as he spoke, the smooth surface of the utensil soothing on the bow of his lip and his words echoed ever so slightly "--I do not think it should come to that.
Is best also, I think, to save thanks for when I am earning it- we have no idea how successful this shield operation is going to be."
He finally put his cup down, his hands coming together on the table behind it- while it was somewhat hypocritical, he disliked the fact that it seemed like there were things going on he was unaware of.
"Tell me this conversation you had with Cobra. I want to know."
He was unsure when it suddenly became a good idea to air the concern, but he found the words leaving him before he could rethink the idea.
no subject
"It was nothing worthy of particular note. Simply, when I attempted to set something in motion to protect Minnie, I found that someone had preceded me. You." He took a sip from his cup. "That is all." He punctuated that last sentence by setting the cup back on the table.
These two are obviously the best body language experts EVER.
He had no idea that it was his own change of pace had been the cause of it, and if he had, perhaps he could be doing a better job in easing it.
He didn't however, and all he could see was the man getting defensive over the questioning, which immediately put him on edge, that fact and that fact alone bringing a smile to his face. It was practised, perfectly fake, and obviously hid a far grimmer emotion than he was willing to exhibit in such a public setting.
"Do not lie to me, Gorthan. We are both better men than that."
no subject
"I have already told you much more than I should have. In fact, I'm considering leaving this place at this very moment."
He was referring to the restaurant of course. There was still a long way to go before he was anywhere near ready to leave Team Rocket, especially now that he had been awarded a promotion.
"That said, what I just said to you was no lie. That is really all there was."
Well. That, and him trying to debunk the rumors about himself. But that wasn't anything that anyone else needed to know about, especially now that that issue had been solved.
no subject
The words were just below caustic in their execution, the Russian's arms and back rigid, the muscles tense enough that even the faintest movement was visible; His lack on knowledge when it came to just about everything in this organisation was finally starting to bubble to the surface- while he didn't care for promotions or advancing, the information given to the lowly cadet seemed to lack any sort of substance, and the other man had done something, knew something, that got him promoted...
He felt his body sag, the motion more than visible in his shoulders, his dominant hand moving to his face to rub away the manic expression that threatened to make itself present, instead staring at the other man in a way a little too world weary. This place, for how little sense it made, was far too familiar, and perhaps it was time to pull away from his comfort zone.
"Gorthan..." The words clung to his one like molten ore, the feel of them almost searingly tangible on his tongue "Do not get me wrong- I feel for the Tsarina, if I did not, I would not be here, with you, talking like this. I know you feel similar..."
He counted his breathing for a moment, his inhalations heavy as he pushed himself through his admissions, suppressing the urge to fall to one of his many crutches- while a cigarette or a shot of Dutch courage would be more than welcomed, he had a feeling that, if his eyes were off the other man for more than a second, he would have lost his attention. His eyes stayed on the an in question and, when possible, did his best to meet the other man's more than agitated gaze.
"I'm going to put some equipment in Minnie's house Gorthan- was meant for the police department but am more than able to make two trips. I want to keep an eye on her, and is the best way I can do it..."
He took his cup into his hands once more, bringing the vessel to his lips to sip at it in a bid to wet his throat and hide the trembling of his lips as his mouth tried vainly to find the best expression to detract from his statements.
"Is the only way I can think of doing it with Team Rocket's full approval. There is no point in making my actual affections for her known, otherwise it is more than likely that she will no longer be my target, or worse, someone will just follow me and do the job, regardless of official orders..."
He wanted to say more, that much was obvious, but the word's were stuck in his throat, his eyes no longer able to hold even a ghost of a gaze towards the scientist across the table. It was only the second time since he had been sent to this godforsaken that he had said anything akin to his own, personal opinions, and this time he was doing it sober.
He had to admit that this was far from an enjoyable experience.
no subject
The nervousness. The difficulty in the man's expression. How he tried to push the most obvious hints of his true state of mind, of his feelings way out of Gorthan's reach, only to remain watching as they floated to the surface on their own anyway...
... In Ivan, he saw himself.
And Gorthan's eyes lost their coldness, compassion and solidarity now trembling and gleaming within them.
He leaned forward to place a large hand on Ivan's shoulder.
"Well done." was all he could say as he attempted a smile, which wasn't the easiest of feats as the corners of his mouth were visibly twitching downwards.
no subject
The tone of his voice didn't suit the curt response- it was too weak, too relieved to receive the action that had bought it about. It might as well have been the 'Thank you' it was most likely masking, his lips still curved all to easily into the almost painful looking mask of a grin it had curled into before, though this time his eyes didn't mirror it.
"... I can not do this alone Gorthan, but I doubt any of the hero group would trust me, let alone aid me." He didn't hold that against them however, after all, he only disliked it because it made things for him harder. His hands moved idly, each one pulling the glove of it's counterpart firmly at the wrist, the leather creaking audibly with the strain.
"Minnie is the weakest link in the list, not through her capabilities, but her compassion..." He let his eyes move upwards to meet the other man's again "She will befriend anyone, despite past experiences. You do not need to think very hard to figure out why this is a problem."
The Russian sat up a little, finally able to hold his weight it seemed, though his shoulders were still lax enough to show his growing comfort with the situation and, admittedly, with the man in front of him.
"I need to keep an ear to the ground when it is coming to her, for her sake- I do not trust this group; groups such as these are usually full of people who either enjoy the chaos... Or just the sounds of their own tirades."
no subject
"And... I mostly agree about our group. Though there are a few... caged songbirds." A wistful, despondent sigh. "Some of whom will not fly out even when the cage is opened for them..."
With a new grunt of pain, Gorthan sat back down. But his eyes did not leave Ivan. They were wide open, lakes on whose surface was Gorthan's distress. "Truly, compassion is a rare treasure to be cherished... which is why we must protect the Tsarina, Ivan."
no subject
It wasn't the most attractive expression, but he was trying to talk to the other openly, not woo him, so he paid it as little heed as he was able.
"I think I can trust you, but you can tell nobody else our exchanges." His arms moved quickly to fold across his chest as the man sat back down- that sigh had been a little unnerving, and the widening of his eyes aired his anxiety.
"What happens is between me and you when it comes to Tsarina- if I find other's with this knowledge, do not expect me to take it lightly..."
He fumbled around in the jacket he was wearing, finally unable to resist his addiction, the low gurgle of the clear spirit he was so partial to lingering in the air as he added it to his beverage, supping from it quickly to steel his words, his expression softening just a little as all his thirsts were quenched.
"Like many things here, I do not think it will come to that... IF it does however, consider this my only warning.
Are we of the same understanding?"
no subject
As Ivan searched in his jacket, Gorthan's curious eyes surveyed his motions. And his eyes widened mildly when Ivan produced the alcohol, as if Gorthan had not been expecting it. When he spoke next, it was in a much softer, almost conspiratorial tone. "Believe it or not, where I'm from, Ivan... I am a rebel." Another wistful sigh. "Trust me, I know how to maintain secrecy all too well. That said..."
He blinked at Ivan's drink. And again, the curiosity in his blue eyes was almost childlike.
"... What is that?"
no subject
The confession of Gorthan's rebellion was... Surprising to say the least, though it was quickly sidelined by his almost laughable question. He was unsure whether that had been intentional, but he decided to take up the latter tangent, if only to lower the severity of the conversation.
"You have never seen alcohol before Gorthan?" The tone held glimmer of mirth the Russian didn't even attempt to hide, giving the flask a hard enough shake to initiate another heavy slosh from inside it.
"Is meant to be vodka, but I assure it is far from it." He gave something of a snort as he took another draught from his teacup "This world has no taste when it comes to essentials."
no subject
He knew of alcoholic beverage, of course. Of how its properties were extolled by many works of art and literature; of how some of Earth's ancient civilizations had even revered alcohol as a powerful god... And now he would get to witness it and its effects without the filter of art or cinema. How fascinating...
Sorry to keep you waiting, for a myriad of reasons.
He watches as the man eyeballs him, the scene almost funny as he's questioned, even as the last one hits ends on a note rather morbid. He gave the man something of a shrug before simply pulling the flask back out of his pocket, his fingers deftly unscrewing the lid.
"There's a poem Gorthan- is called 'The red flag'... Have you heard of it?" He let a little more of the spirit drizzle into his tea, stirring the brew before leaning in for a moment, his smile almost whimsical as he continued.
"The people's flag is deepest red,
It shrouded oft our martyred dead,
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold,
Their hearts' blood dyed its ev'ry fold.
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.
Look 'round, the Frenchman loves its blaze,
The sturdy German chants its praise,
In Moscow's vaults its hymns are sung
Chicago swells the surging throng.
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.
It waved above our infant might,
When all ahead seemed dark as night;
It witnessed many a deed and vow,
We must not change its colour now.
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.
It well recalls the triumphs past,
It gives the hope of peace at last;
The banner bright, the symbol plain,
Of human right and human gain.
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.
It suits today the weak and base,
Whose minds are fixed on pelf and place
To cringe before the rich man's frown,
And haul the sacred emblem down.
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.
With heads uncovered swear we all
To bear it onward till we fall;
Come dungeons dark or gallows grim,
This song shall be our parting hymn.
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here..."
His gaze was no longer on the other man through his verse, but instead on the liquid in his cup, the Russian barely noticing that he had been slowly stirring the drink through the entirely of his solo and, even now, only just realising he was performing the action. He removed the spoon from his cup and lifted it to his lips, the emotion on them a myriad of emotions, but none strong enough to be the major player in his thoughts; pride, sadness, guilt and anger all seemed to work their way into the curves and lines of his expression, and none of them outweighed the others.
"Is an Irish song, they have always been lyrical. Vocal too..." His smile widened a little, the sudden lessening of emotion evident with the change of face. "I suppose you knew that already though- you seem to be, if anything, a very well-read fellow."
It's okay.
As Ivan recited the poem, Gorthan's eyes did not leave the other man's face one second. Every small change, every new emotion Ivan put into it did not go unnoticed. Not only that, but Gorthan's lips trembled with emotions of his own, and at times, there was a tell-tale hitch in his breath. Those words stirred something in his soul, just like Ivan was stirring spirit into his otherwise innocuous drink.
Gorthan remained silent for a long moment after the poem was over, averting his eyes, only apparently looking at his lap when the space he was staring at was actually deep within himself. "A song of unity and rebellion... What is the meaning of this, Ivan? What are you implying?"
After he spoke, he slowly lifted his head to look straight at Ivan with demanding curiosity.
no subject
His words were plain, simple, the Russian taking a heavy sip from his intoxicated cup now that he had met an apparently satisfying ratio.
"I have hundreds of these poems Gorthan- odes to the glory of war, only to be marred by the mud-soaked stanzas that never got finished, left the corpses of their authors for their comrades to find on the battlefield.
Music that shrills strong and victorious, and then the pictures that show the birds singing it caged in bloodshed and barbed wire... Nothing more than sweet whispers of rotting tongues thrown to the gluttonous dogs of politics."
He was suddenly far less emotional now, any and all feeling on the matter sucked and coiled deep inside the man like a spring. It was almost visible. Audible. Tangible.
"This song... Is just one of those that shows the pride, the gall, the spirit and the innate stupidity of man... Such things, in my home, such signs of rebellion, have been banned."
He wasn't sure when he'd started looking at Gorthan again, but he was, his gaze on the man in front of him, but not focusing on any part of him in particular.
"That, in most simplest terms, is why I drink. I could go on, but boring intelligent men with long life-stories has never been one of my hobbies..."
He stopped to sup at his drink, the smile he gave the other man as he licked his lips dry was almost coy.
"Is likely, with how studious you are, that you remember it better than myself anyways~"
no subject
"I once met a man here who was the embodiment of the country of France. And you are saying you are...?"
Without awaiting the other's reply, he simply nodded to himself.
"No story ever bores me, Ivan. And I am absolutely certain that none of yours would."
As the initial surprise subsided, Gorthan leaned a little closer to Ivan, almost conspiratorially, smiling an utterly joyless smile.
"I know how it feels... to have someone, a child, die for you. Mine were no dreamers - they were incapable of dreaming to begin with - but that did not make them any less loyal. How do you feel when you think of them?"