проходит время но не лечит (Nastya)

Saturday, 20th September 2003

When Nastya had agreed to meet her in Döttrar Vik, Zhenya had been delighted. She was eager to see her distant cousin who was more like a close friend or an elder sister to her by now.Yevgeniya clearly felt closer to her than to Nastya's elder sister. Nastya was a lot more approachable, closer in age and much less intimidating than Aglaya. The multiple-time artistic flying champion was an idol for sure, though. Zhenya felt she could only dream of becoming half as good as Aglaya was, but she usually admired her from afar, barely daring to say more than a friendly hello to her. Aglaya's presentation skills on the broom were outstanding and Zhenya felt that she could never compare to her no matter how hard she worked on improving her own skills. Although it was a depressing thought, Zhenya kind of accepted that she did not have Aglaya's exceptional talent. Nastya at least could challenge her sister in the technical elements with her consistency and flawlessly executed programs. Without a doubt it had to be draining to usually come in second to Aglaya though. Zhenya feared that she would experience this as well with her younger sister. Zina was so incredibly talented and Zhenya thought that, if her little sister managed to control her nerves, she'd beat her all the time.

Zhenya went through a wild mixture of emotions when she made her way to Döttrar Vik. The sixth year was excited to see her distant cousin, worried what Nastya would have to say, anxious to see in which state the artistic flyer was, relieved that she'd finally get to see her in person, happy to be able to give her a proper hug, guilty because she hadn't told her siblings that she was meeting Nastya... Anyway, Zhenya felt they both needed this meeting after having exchanged quite emotional letters for the past almost three weeks. She was dying to get some more information from Nastya especially because the last longer letter from her cousin had indicated that there was a lot more to be said than she had allowed her to read.

She had suggested that they'd meet at "Nøkken", a restaurant quite at the end of the coastline marketplace. Zhenya did not know Döttrar Vik too well yet as she hadn't spent a lot of time there in the previous year. However, she had walked past the restaurant during the day once and it had been pretty empty and looked as though there were small booths where one could talk more or less in private. Hence it seemed like a good choice. She had no idea if the food was any good. The fact that it had been quite deserted might indicate that it wasn't, but Zhenya assumed that they'd have something they could eat anyway and, even if not, she was mostly eager to see Nastya, food had no priority. 

Wearing an oversized green wool sweater, blue jeans and white sneakers and carrying a little handbag in which she stored her wand and some money, the girl made her way to the restaurant. She did not really enjoy walking through the village alone. Somehow considering the recent events and how stressed she felt, she nervously glanced at the people she passed, hoping that none of them would take notice of her. She jumped a few times when sailors passed her, feeling rather intimidated by their loud voices and their unsteady walk. She could hardly believe it but they were apparently drunk already, or maybe still, at this time of the day.

When she reached the restaurant, the girl took a deep breath, before pushing the door open. It was, as expected, pretty deserted and since Nastya wasn't there yet, the Durmstrang student looked for a booth for them that was far away from the only one that was occupied at the moment. The dark wooden furniture looked old, there was a distinct smell of old wood, substantial food, smoke and alcohol in the air, but it was rather clean and not appalling at least. She took a seat from where she could see the entrance and smiled quite sheepishly at the overweight witch that was apparently running the place, hoping that Nastya would arrive before that woman approached her.

Finally, after what felt half an eternity but actually was hardly more than five minutes, the door swung open and Nastya stepped in. While Zhenya hadn't intended to draw any unnecessary attention onto them - which admittedly was hopeless anyway given that there were hardly any people around - she jumped to her feet and made a few steps towards Nastya, instantly pulling her into a hug.

"I'm so happy to see you," she whispered, unwilling to release Nastya from the hug yet.

@Nastya Tikhomirova

Anastasiya’s days had slowly been blending into one. It was getting easier in a way to act like everything was normal, but her existence was becoming so lonely that it was almost painful. She’d found that drilling her elements had helped her forget about everything going on, and she was running through them all relentlessly more than she ever had before. Nastya now finished everyday completely exhausted, but without a dreamless sleep potion, it didn’t matter how tired she was, she’d wake up in the night crying, in a cold sweat, and unable to return to sleep. Her mother had seemed hesitant to give her the potion to begin with, but when Nastya began begging her, she soon relented.

For the past few days as soon as she woke up, Nastya headed straight to the school for training and only returned in the middle of the night to go to sleep and do the whole thing all over again. She thought she was doing well keeping it together. It wasn’t exactly like this situation was an everyday mild inconvenience. Nastya found herself feeling rather numb about it or just uber stressed, and there was no inbetween. The constant flipping back and forth to ‘everything is fine’ and ‘I need help’, was playing havoc on her body.

She didn’t have time to worry about that though, or even notice it, as only two things in her World mattered; training and sleep. That was her entire life. It had taken her a few days to even reply to Zhenya’s last proper letter, only getting a paragraph or two done every day, just unable to make time for it. Nastya didn’t want to think about Aglayka at all.

When Zhenya had offered to meet her that morning though, Nastya jumped at the chance. No one really talked to her beyond her mother and her coach and she felt so isolated. Zhenya, at least, knew most of what was going on so Nastya reasoned that she could actually talk to her distant cousin without feeling guilty or paranoid. Zhenya wasn’t going to be scary. As soon as she arrived at the artistic flying school, she asked Andrey for an extended lunch break, something that happened so rarely. He had asked why she wanted it, and Nastya was truthful. He had smiled to himself, seemingly rather eager, and Anastasiya hadn’t known what to make of it. He agreed instantly, which Nastya assumed was because she never asked for it and he had seen she was working hard. That wasn’t the reason though.

To make up for the longer break, the artistic flyer worked doubly hard that morning, drilling her handstands and variations for two hours straight taking a mere fifteen minute break, before working on her various jumps for another two hours straight, before it was time to start getting ready to meet with Zhenya. Exhausted, Nastya slumped down by her bag in the changing room, noticing how all the others there were keeping a wide berth. The younger of the Tikhomirova sisters thought that she probably looked rather pitiful, not even sat on the benches there, but just slouched on the floor with her eyes shut. Her muscles ached from over-exertion, though none quite so much as her jaw, which was odd because she hadn’t needed to use it to talk or eat for a while. She hadn’t felt like breakfast that morning and she had been too tired to make dinner when she returned from training the night before. What she hadn’t noticed was the fact that her stress was causing her to clench it, and it was causing a headache already.

Somehow, she found the motivation to go into the showers to make herself somewhat presentable for Zhenya. She’d apparently already caused her distant cousin to worry unnecessarily, and so she was determined to make it look like she was doing well. She hadn’t seen herself in a mirror recently though, too disgusted by her own selfish reflection to check how she actually looked. Once she used a drying spell, she changed into a simple pale blue dress with a belt to pull in her waist, paired with some black ballerina flats. Grabbing a small handbag that she had prepared that morning, she checked to make sure that her smoothie recipes were in there. She remembered that Zhenya had asked about them.

Going to the office, Nastya grabbed the powder and threw it down as she called out the town name. As she stepped out the fireplace, the Russian witch took time to look at her surroundings. After all, she had never been to the town before. Immediately she could see the sea, and Nastya smiled properly for the first time in five days. She ran as fast as her aching legs could carry her to the coastline marketplace area, grabbing the railing to stop herself as she gazed out to the ocean. Quickly, she checked the time and began walking up the marketplace with Zhenya’s note in her hand looking for "Nøkken". Eventually, near the end of the marketplace, Anastasiya looked up and finally saw the sign. Taking a deep breath, Nastya straightened out her dress, rubbing her fingers along her under eyes, and just hoped she didn’t look as bad as she felt, with her aching muscles, jaw and pulsating headache.

Stepping in, Nastya was pleased to see it looked extremely quiet, not wanting anyone to listen in. The smell of the restaurant was completely different to what she was used to, but she found she quite liked it. She soon spotted Zhenya, and as soon as her eyes fell on the younger witch, Nastya felt a pit of butterflies in her stomach. She was the first person that Nastya would speak to who wasn’t her mother, father, coach or Aglaya since the actual poisoning which had felt so long ago. Nastya didn’t realise that it’d be rather intimidating and nerve-wracking. She swallowed hard, hoping it wasn’t obvious how nervous she suddenly was.

Zhenya jumped up and made her way towards her, and Nastya’s eyes involuntarily widened, instinctively wishing to back away but merely shifting her weight back and forth for a second instead. As the Durmstrang student pulled her into a hug, she initially flinched, before quickly relaxing into it and squeezing her distant cousin tightly. It was the first hug she had in a long time, and even longer since someone else had initiated it. She actually felt rather safe for once. She was okay. Everything was okay.

She smiled against Zhenya’s shoulder. “Not as happy as I am to see you,” Nastya murmered in reply. “Thank you for making the time to meet with me, I appreciate it.” Anastasiya really did mean what she said, she didn’t know how she’d have made it without Zhenya, which was why the butterflies causing havoc in her stomach were so surprising.

“No, thank you,” Zhenya whispered in response, unwilling to let go of her cousin just yet. She had been vaguely aware that Nastya had not immediately relaxed into this hug but she didn't really think about it. It did not matter now that they were standing there, squeezing each other tightly. It felt good to hug her distant cousin now. It was much easier to offer comfort in person than in writing letters.

Zhenya let out a relieved sigh and finally pulled away to take a proper look at Nastya. She frowned slightly as she took in the appearance of the senior artistic flyer. “Pretty dress,” she commented casually as the barkeeper passed them, grabbing Nastya's hand to pull her to the booth she had chosen for them.

Sitting down, she looked at the pale and tired face of her cousin. “You do not look well,” she muttered, glancing down, afraid how Nastya would react to the comment. She just hadn't felt able not to say anything. It would seem as though she didn't notice, didn't acknowledge that Nastya was going through a lot now. Yevgeniya herself did not exactly look her best either. The girl barely found time to sleep lately and the stress and pressure were wearing her down but she felt quite certain that she was looking a lot healthier than Nastya did.

“I don't know this place well,” Zhenya said, feeling guilty that she couldn't recommend anything properly. “You should eat something though. You definitely look like you could do with some food.” She offered a small apologetic smile and picked up one of the menu cards that lay on the table. “Maybe the stew?” She asked doubtfully. The stew at least did not seem like it could be really bad.

She put the menu down, not having made a decision yet and took a deep breath. “Nastya,” she said quietly, looking at the other witch with a worried expression. “how are you really? Don't lie to me. Tell me everything. What has happened that you are not visiting your sister any longer?”

The hug was longer than Nastya was expecting from Zhenya, but she was so very, very grateful indeed. She hadn’t realised how incredibly touch-starved she felt until that moment, and she wasn’t in any hurry to let go. She wondered if they could just stand there and hug forever. Eventually, Zhenya let go though and Nastya instantly missed the closeness and her hand twitched uncomfortably by her side, hoping that they could at least hug again when they parted ways and she returned to Rybinsk. Nastya blinked in surprise as her distant cousin commented on her dress, expecting her to say something completely different… and not complimentary either. “Oh,” Nastya stammered for a second, looking down at her outfit to check what she was actually wearing. “Thank you,” she smiled as Zhenya grabbed her hand and pulled her into the booth. Then as soon as the hand was there, it was gone again and Nastya frowned at the cooler air replacing where Zhenya’s comforting hand had been.

Anastasiya smiled wearily in resignation as the comment she had originally been expecting (and fearing) was uttered. Initially she just shrugged her shoulders, because what could she say in response to such a comment? “Yeah…” Nastya began, trying to think of anything to say in response because she couldn’t very well just say nothing. “I’m fine though.” Nastya laughed bitterly, knowing that if she didn’t laugh about the crazy scenario that was happening that she would certainly cry instead. The younger of the Tikhomirova sisters didn’t want to cry, she wanted to be exactly what she’d always been, what she had been raised to be; Anastasiya, the dependable, predictable, strong, stable artistic flyer. Anastasiya didn’t need emotions getting in her way, and Nastya felt like she was just an alter ego to the athlete that was getting in the way. “Are you okay though?” Nastya belatedly added, as she looked at her distant cousin a little more, she wanted to be courteous and at least ask. She did feel rather guilty about dumping most of her thoughts onto a poor teenage student.

“That’s alright,” Nastya replied quietly, trying to keep her voice down for the sake of her pulsating headache, “I quite like it.” The senior athlete added, truthfully. It was certainly different to what she would normally go for, but it had a sort of odd charm to it. “Hmm?” Nastya hummed, tuning back into the conversation near the end of Zhenya’s sentence. She felt a blush rising up her cheeks and she ducked her head in embarrassment; was it really that obvious that she’d not been eating like she normally would? It wasn’t like she was doing it on purpose as a form of punishment, she just genuinely either was too tired to care or just didn’t feel hungry. “Stew…” Nastya repeated, feeling like she was a million miles away as the steady pulse of her headache grew even stronger. “Yes. I like stew.” She offered, hoping that she sounded normal as she rubbed her temples.

Staring a spot on the wall, Nastya hadn’t even realised she was doing so until Zhenya called her name and she was forced to (rather reluctantly) tear her eyes away from the spot and look at her distant cousin, who was, in turn, looking at her with a worried expression. Anastasiya sighed as Zhenya asked her to be truthful. Briefly, she wondered if she could get away with lying and pretending everything was fine, but Zhenya would surely see straight through that. It wasn’t as if she had been lying up until this point anyway, so it didn’t make sense to start. She hadn’t confessed everything to Zhenya though, and Nastya figured that perhaps she should give a condensed down, kid-friendly version of the events. But, Zhenya wasn’t a mere child anymore! She hadn’t spoken to anyone about the open day, the poisoning, taking Aglaya home, Aglaya’s stalker and Nastya almost wanted to keep it that way. But, the thoughts of it were making her head feel like it was about to explode and she had to talk to someone about it. But what if they were heard? Or seen? What if Zhenya freaked out?

Nastya sat there staring past Zhenya for more than a few seconds in silence, debating with herself about what she should say and if she should even say them and then she realised that Zhenya was still waiting for a reply. This small thing tipped her over the edge, and all Nastya wanted to do was cry her eyes out, praying that this way she could get another hug, but she found that she just… could not. Her jaw clenched and she tried to squeeze some tears out but Nastya was totally numb. The tightened jaw worsened the pain of her headache, and Nastya finally focused her eyes to look properly at Zhenya for less than a second before shutting them and slumping forward, her elbow landed on the table with a quiet thud as her head dropped into her hand with a quiet whimper.
“It was the fan letters… those stupid, stupid letters.” Nastya muttered under her breath, hoping that Zhenya would be able to follow her train of thought. “One from… the guy who did… you know what.” Nastya added, her other hand joining in with supporting her head as she felt utterly broken.

When Zhenya mentioned that Anastasiya didn't look well, she hadn't really expected much of a response. She was well aware that this was not exactly anything one could respond to anyway. It was more that she felt that her distant cousin needed someone to actually give her some attention because she felt that with the whole drama with Aglaya's poisoning she felt that nobody would find the time and energy to look at the younger sister. She offered a small smile which she hoped showed her compassion. Although they were only distant cousins, Zhenya knew how far the family's professionalism went and how much pressure was put on the athletes, she felt it herself. The Shishkin as well as the Tikhomirov family were different from 'normal' wizarding families. Sometimes Zhenya was relieved that she was a member of the Shishkin side though – Nastya's side of the family did seem even worse. From what she knew about her distant cousin, she was pushed even harder and the rivalry between her and her elder sister went a lot further than the rivalry among her and her own siblings.

"You really do not have to pretend to be fine in front of me," Zhenya muttered. She wasn't sure how she'd deal with the older witch breaking into tears, but she didn't want her to force herself to keep up a façade either. It certainly cost more energy than the senior athlete seemed to have to spare. "I'm okay," she responded quietly to Nastya's question. Compared to what her distant cousin had gone through over the last weeks her life was a lot less dramatic. Sure, she was stressed and felt that it was all too much but she could not even imagine what Nastya had experienced.

Zhenya smiled slightly as Nastya said that she quite liked the restaurant. It clearly wasn't a place that a member of their family would usually choose but the student at least appreciated that it was pretty empty now so that they could have a chat without being disturbed.

“Okay,” she said as Nastya didn't seem to be opposed to the stew. Somehow she had the feeling that she had to take the initiative here. While they could both place their order in a bit when the waitress would approach their table, she felt that Nastya would not say anything if she didn't push her a little. Nastya did seem distracted, even detached, after all.

It was rather upsetting how long it took Nastya to react to what she said and Zhenya shifted on her seat, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. The other witch clearly wasn't feeling well at all and Zhenya felt all her worries confirmed now. When she heard Nastya's sigh, Zhenya hugged herself, looking at her distant cousin expectantly. She felt rather nervous, even scared now. Of course, she wanted to know the entire truth as her imagination was running wild anyway but somehow she wasn't sure if she was well enough prepared for whatever Nastya had to tell her.

Finally Nastya spoke about what happened but, unfortunately, it did not make a whole lot of sense. Zhenya frowned slightly, trying to make sense of the fragments that the senior artistic flyer offered. She wasn't sure what was worse now, the things Nastya had shared or the sight she presented. “Nastya,” she whispered anxiously, “can I get you anything? You do not look great. Maybe a glass of water?” She waved at the woman who ran the place and ordered two glasses of water and two stews for them.

Then she reached over the table to gently rub Nastya's upper arm. “So,” she summarised quietly, “among these fan letters there was one from the person who attempted to poison her?” Her mouth felt dry now and Zhenya was glad to see that the waitress was coming over to them to place the water on the table. Thanking her quickly, the sixth year waited for when she was gone until she spoke again.

“How do you know it was from him? What did the letter say? How did Aglaya react or didn't she read it? Nastya, I know it's not easy, but, please, tell me everything. You cannot possibly deal with this all alone...” She offered a sympathetic smile although she did not feel like smiling at all. It was strange how she wanted to know everything and at the same time dreaded the moment Nastya would share more information.

Zhenya smiled compassionately at her, and Nastya felt her heart ache full of love for her distant cousin. She tried to smile in return, but the corners of her mouth barely twitched, especially as Zhenya said Nastya didn’t have to pretend. She really did. If she pretended that everything was fine, then she wishfully thought that maybe everything would be. Besides, Nastya supposed that crying would draw the attention of the other people (few as they were) in the premises and that wouldn’t do. Her eyes narrowed, finding it difficult to believe that Zhenya genuinely was okay. “Good,” she softly replied after a beat or two, letting her suspicions slide, feeling that she was just being overly paranoid with everything right then.

Anastasiya didn’t even hear Zhenya acknowledge that she was okay with the stew, as she had immediately gone back to blankly staring at the wall, with the steady pulse of her head keeping her more than occupied. It was almost pleasant to just follow the rhythm of the painful throbs and let everything else fade away, the pain was almost enjoyable, and a fitting punishment for everything she had accidentally done to make her sister’s life complete hell.

Had Nastya seen Zhenya’s nervous reaction to her own reaction to her distant cousin’s question, then the senior artistic flyer would have caught herself and tried to smile and pretend things were better than they really were. She really didn’t want to stress her distant cousin out. But, Nastya couldn’t really see Zhenya there, feeling blank and disconnected with the World at that moment.

Her name vaguely floated around her head as she sat there, her hands being the only thing keeping her head up. All she could think was that this meeting was a terrible idea. At least in training she didn’t have to think, didn’t have time to care about her family. Now, she forgot where she was and who she was with, and the letter and her sister and mother’s reaction played over and over in her head, until she heard Zhenya’s voice cut through properly and bring her back to the room as her distant cousin said she didn’t look great. Zhenya was the purest of angels to care about her, but Nastya knew she didn’t deserve the attention. She’d brought this suffering on herself, and compared to what her elder sister was going through, this was nothing. Suddenly ashamed of herself for reacting in such a way, Anastasiya sat up a little straighter, trying to get her headache to spontaneously go away. “Yes… thank you.” Nastya whispered back, grateful for the idea of a glass of water to hide her face behind. Perhaps, hydration would ease her headache too.

The woman who ran the place was suddenly there, undoubtedly by Zhenya's actions that Nastya hadn’t seen. Immediately, the former champion removed her head from her hands, sat straight in the booth and put on a forced smile to make it seem like it was a simple, happy meeting. She didn’t want to let the witch know something was wrong, she didn’t trust her and was suspicious that she’d try to listen in. To that end, Nastya kept her eyes on the witch, until she left. “Thank you, Zhenya.” Anastasiya muttered under her breath, appreciating that her distant cousin had ordered for her. Her eyes turned back down to the table, and became unfocused and glassy once more. She was very glad Zhenya had ordered, for she didn’t know if she had the stomach to do so herself.

She hadn’t seen the movement from her blurry peripheral vision, so Nastya automatically flinched again when Zhenya began rubbing her arm. She quickly melted into it, however, very appreciative for the additional physical contact. “Sorry,” she whispered hastily, wanting to make sure she didn’t scare Zhenya away. Nastya only listened vaguely to Zhenya's recap of her broken information and slowly nodded, “Yes…” she confirmed, not able to find the words to say anything more. Now, the waitress came over to them to interrupt and give them the glasses of water. The senior athlete’s eyes followed the waitress as she came and left, utterly unable to thank her and glad that  Zhenya was able to be polite enough for the both of them.

She took a sip from the water as Zhenya asked her more questions. This didn’t surprise Nastya, as she realised that she hadn’t given much context. She looked down at the bottom of the glass for a moment, before putting the glass down on the table. Nastya remained silent again for several moments, though this time she tried really hard to actually think about the questions and give semi-decent answers. She picked up the glass again, to take another sip of water, sighing as the cool liquid ran down her throat. It was the first time that Nastya was thinking about the crazy events of the last few weeks properly other than when writing her letter to Zhenya. But Zhenya was now in front of her, and she wanted answers. Nastya couldn’t let her down, she couldn’t cry, she had to stay strong.

“He said so, himself.” Nastya began, her voice somehow in time with her pulsating headache, and surprisingly maintaining a level voice, as she placed the glass of water back down on the table. “What the letter said…” Nastya trailed off, thinking about the letter and suddenly seeing it firmly in her head; every word, every disgusting detail, and that awful photo. She couldn’t tell Zhenya all that. She just couldn’t. “I’d rather not say.” Nastya finished, rubbing her temple again, her jaw visibly tensed. “He...he had planned for her to die. And… I helped him do it.” Nastya murmured, her eyes almost dilated with a haunted look, looking frantically everywhere except where Zhenya sat. “He went there… to the hospital.” She clarified, her head in her hands again, “He enclosed a picture of her in the hospital bed. It was disgusting.” Her breath became a little more laboured, as she started feeling hot and uncomfortable and Nastya wiggled around in her seat to try to do something about it.. “He saw her, touched her, when I was forced to stay away and pretend that nothing had happened. If I had been there, I could have seen him, stopped him, something.” One of her hands fell down onto the table clenched in a fist, feeling how angry she still was, days later.

“I… I was the last to read it. Hadn’t even noticed when Aglayka read it herself, she just ran from the room to throw up.” Nastya’s skin felt all prickly now, like trying to contain herself, like she was about to explode from the guilt. “She hid the letter from me, but not the photo. I called Mama when I saw it…” Anastasiya trailed off, remembering how she’d ripped the letter from her mother’s hands, and that it was so obvious that neither Alyona or Aglayka had wanted her to know the letter’s contents. That they wanted to exclude her from something so important. “She found it under her mattress. Mother didn’t seem to know, but Aglayka… Aglayka seemed like she’d… I don’t know! Like she’d had letters from him before.” Her heart was definitely beating faster now, her headache was pulsating even stronger. Nastya let out an involuntary whimper again, her hand frantically rubbing her head as it cradled it. She felt like she was making less and less sense.

“They didn’t want me to read it… I snatched it from Mama and… I was so angry.” Her chin wobbled now, her breathing even faster and deeper, and a lump beginning to form in her throat. Nastya was fighting so hard to maintain some semblance of control and she was failing. “Angry at myself,” she belatedly clarified, “That all of this was my fault and I… I ran away from it like a coward. I didn’t even stay to help, I just ran away.” Nastya’s voice cracked, and finally the pressure in her head dissipated as her shoulders jerked up and down as she sobbed. She began to feel a little lightheaded, from just trying to breathe.

Yevgeniya had first and foremost asked for a meeting to comfort her distant cousin but she also wanted to get more information than Nastya had given her in her letters so far. She needed to see that Nastya was doing okay and she needed to know that Aglaya would recover, that all would be well again at some point. She had not considered just how intense this meeting would be though. She could see that Anastasiya was struggling to sit here with her. From how she rested her head in her hands most of the time and rubbed her temples she could tell that her distant cousin was having a rather bad headache. Now Zhenya wished that she was good at Alchemy (which she totally wasn't) and would have a vial of some helpful potion in her handbag (which she absolutely did not have). She sighed compassionately as she watched Nastya struggle, wondering what on earth she could do to make her feel at least a little better.

The girl's expression became even more worried as Nastya flinched when she tried to comfort her by rubbing her arm. She wanted to show her support, her love for her distant cousin but she seemed so detached now and it was hard to talk to her in this state. She felt her pulse quickening as she dealt with Nastya, trying to comfort herself that at least ordering a glass of water had been sensible and helpful even if it seemed to be so insignificant now. The woman who ran the restaurant had placed the two glasses on the table and had left. Finally Nastya confirmed that her summary had been correct and Zhenya wasn't sure if she wanted to hear more at all.

Her elder distant cousin had not been poisoned by accident but consciously by someone and that meant that there was a person out there who wanted to see her dead. Subconsciously Zhenya had been aware of this, but hearing Nastya talk about a letter stating exactly this made her feel almost sick anyway. What kind of person did such a thing? And why?

She gasped when Nastya went on. "No..." she whispered, her eyes filling with tears as Nastya blamed herself. "No," she said more firmly. "Don't blame yourself." However, Nastya already went on speaking and Zhenya wanted her to stop and at the same time she wanted to hear it all. She shuddered as her distant cousin mentioned that the person who had poisoned Aglaya had been at the hospital and had taken a photo of her there which he had enclosed. She shook her head, her expression disgusted and terrified. "What...?" she couldn't even find the words to express just how awful this was.

"He did what?" she shrieked, now hugging herself as she felt entirely uncomfortable. A hospital should be a safe place, one where people got help and could recover and not a place where criminals could walk in and visit their victims and touch them. "You couldn't have done anything," Zhenya said weakly. "You couldn't have known..." She quickly lifted her hand to brush a tear off her cheek. The emotional girl felt like crying now but for Nastya's sake she wanted to pull herself together. She could do it. Somehow. She could cry later. The Durmstrang student now took a sip from her water too, grateful that they had ordered it before Nastya had started to tell her about what had happened.

So Nastya had seen only the photo at first. Zhenya nodded, trying to offer a compassionate sad little smile but it was getting harder by the minute to pull herself together. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as Nastya said that she got the impression that Aglaya had had letters from this person before. Yevgeniya felt guilty that she made her distant cousin tell her about it when it was obviously causing her so much distress and she wasn't sure anymore if she really needed to know these awful details. It was way too much to take in and she wasn't even directly concerned. She could not imagine how terrifying and shocking it must have felt for Aglaya, Nastya, and their mother. It clearly was too much for anyone to endure.

"No," Zhenya said again, her voice high pitched. "It's not your fault." The girl got to her feet now and an instant later she was sitting right next to Nastya pulling her into a firm hug. "Shh," she soothed while patting her distant cousin's back.

The woman came with the stew now and Zhenya forced a smile onto her face. She kept her arm around Nastya, thanking the waitress as she put the dishes down. "She's lovesick," she explained, opting for a meek smile now and hoping that they'd be left alone. The restaurant owner nodded compassionately and asked if she could bring them anything else. Zhenya shook her head, thanked her and watched her until she was out of earshot.

"Hey," she whispered to Nastya again, stroking some strands of hair out of her distant cousin's face. "Nothing that has happened is your fault and you're not a coward. I think you are incredibly strong and it's admirable that you still manage to train after all that." She tried to smile but Zhenya was actually struggling not to burst into tears now. "They probably wanted to spare you... I know you don't want that. I wouldn't either, but..." her voice trailed off as she really didn't know how to finish the sentence. If one of her siblings was in the situation Aglaya was in now she'd totally want to know all about it and fight with and for them.

"So you haven't seen her for five days?!" Zhenya stated. It felt like Nastya hadn't received any updates on her own sister's condition for a long time. "Why aren't you visiting her? Did your mother tell you not to go? Did she explain why you shouldn't visit her? What does she say how Aglaya is doing?" Her voice trailed off as she was wondering if she should say what else was on her mind now but she decided that she had probably asked enough questions that would potentially stress Nastya out more. There was no need to mention that she couldn't even imagine how awful it must feel to be the victim of an assassination attempt and the recipient of such a letter.

Zhenya told Nastya not to blame herself, but how could she think otherwise? The younger Tikhormirova sister had literally handed her the pralines herself, she hadn’t pushed hard, or as hard as she should have to visit her sister in hospital, and she hadn’t made Aglayka stay in the hospital like she was supposed to. Though that turned out to clearly be bad anyway, so maybe, Nastya told herself, that was a good thing. But then she was also the one who had brought Aglaya the letters. It didn’t matter what her distant cousin said, it was all definitely Nastya’s fault. The senior athlete wanted to stop talking, seeing how Zhenya looked so disgusted and terrified with her words. It was too late though, for like Pandora's box, she just couldn’t help releasing everything now.

The junior athlete’s shriek startled Nastya, though the older witch knew that it was a totally reasonable reaction. Anastasiya wanted to comfort Zhenya and say it was all okay, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay. Yevgenia had asked for the truth, and unfortunately it wasn’t pretty. Zhenya seemed to be trying so hard to convince her that it wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t have done anything different and it really was so nice of her, but Nastya knew she should have fought harder to defy her family. “No… I should have defied mother and gone anyway.” Nastya voiced her thoughts, hiding her face from Zhenya, meaning that her distant cousin’s tear went unnoticed as she stared at the table, feeling like such a coward.

Briefly, Anastasiya looked up at Zhenya as the junior artistic flyer gasped. Though, without life in them, her eyes soon fell to the table again.

Zhenya tried to convince her again that it wasn’t her fault and Nastya couldn’t stop sobbing. “Yes. It is, it is!” She argued back, her hands balled into fists, Nastya’s breathing loud and ragged. She audibly sucked in as much air as she could as suddenly Yevgenia was right there next to her, pulling her into a hug. Nastya immediately relaxed into the hug, leaning into Zhenya’s arms, placing her head on her distant cousin’s shoulders. Tears rapidly flowed down her cheeks, as she cried even louder, completely falling apart. Zhenya tried to soothe her, patting her back gently but Nastya felt like her heart was physically in pain and she continued to sob, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

It wasn’t until the witch with the stews came and placed the plates onto the table that Nastya opened her eyes, as she heard the clatter of the plates. Nastya didn’t even try to pretend that everything was okay this time, as it was obvious that it was not, and all she did was sniffle pathetically. The stew, at least, smelled pretty good. Zhenya’s voice reverberated through her chest as Nastya’s ear was still close to it, and she gave a watery laugh as Zhenya made up such a mundane excuse as to why she was crying. The other witch was nice enough to ask if they needed anything else before leaving them alone, and as she went away, Nastya gave another wobbly little laugh. “Lovesick?”

She glanced up at Zhenya, smiling timidly as the other witch stroked some hair out of her face. Zhenya was so kind and compassionate and she really didn’t deserve it. In fact, Anastasiya couldn’t remember the last time someone she loved had stroked her hair. This revelation made her cry even harder, though Nastya briefly stopped for a second or two, as her mouth fell open as Zhenya called her strong, and even admirable. The senior artistic flyer didn’t feel strong at all at that point, breaking apart in her teenage cousin’s arms. She also wondered if continuing training as normal was actually admirable. Nastya felt like it shouldn’t have really been the priority, but that it was easier to train than to not train. Clearly that was the case, as this was the first time she was not training or sleeping and she was having a complete meltdown. “Really?” She asked Zhenya demurely, not believing her kind words. Did her family want to spare her unnecessary pain? It was possible, she supposed. But, it was also very frustrating. Sometimes their actions made no logical sense on the surface. At least Zhenya seemed to understand it from her side too. Her crying slowed a little now, her breathing less deep and uneven. Nastya was quieter too, merely sniffing every so often and an odd strangled sound here and there. “I guess so…” Nastya finally replied in a wobbly voice, unconvinced.

“Not even for a second,” Nastya murmured, as Zhenya asked when she’d last seen her sister in a roundabout way. She asked more questions and Nastya wanted her to stop, but they were all the questions that Nastya was expecting and she felt obligated to answer them. She raised a shaky hand to wipe one of her cheeks a little bit, not bothering with the other as it was busy probably soaking Zhenya’s top. “Mother forbade me.” Nastya clarified, finding that short sentences were easier to spit out without crying in the middle. Shakily sucking in a deep breath, Nastya held it for several moments before she breathed out. “I didn’t argue this time,” she added as she sniffed again. “I haven’t had time to see her anyway…” This was actually quite true, for she lived for just training and then sleeping to distract herself. “I almost don’t want to see her?” Nastya’s voice rose, trembling. Did that sound bad? Surely, that made her sound like a terrible sister. She was so awful. “Mother doesn’t say anything. But I don’t ask.” Nastya sniffed again. “We don’t really say anything to each other at all. I only see her for a minute or two and that’s for… that’s only for…” Her voice grew higher again as she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. She didn’t want Zhenya to worry about her. She didn’t deserve the comfort or care, Aglaya was the only important Tikhomirov. Nastya just considered herself the spare. She didn’t want to tell her about the nightmares, the horrible, blood-curdling nightmares.

Nastya broke down into sobs again, clinging onto Zhenya as if she’d die if she let go.

“Well, I had to say something,” Zhenya muttered, feeling how her cheeks reddened. At least her distant cousin seemed slightly amused. The Drakonya Krov student had just felt that she should be proactive instead of waiting for the woman to ask or make up her own theories what was going on in their booth. She figured that a girl crying because she was lovesick was actually a pretty good excuse. She could hardly give the woman a chance to figure out what they were really talking about.

Nastya was crying harder again and the sixth year student felt like her heart was breaking from compassion for her elder relative. “Shh,” she whispered, gently patting her distant cousin's back again.

Whatever she had previously said to make Nastya see that it was not her fault had been denied. It was obvious that Zhenya had no arguments left that were strong enough to convince the senior artistic flyer that nothing of what had happened was her fault. Of course, she had been unfortunate to be involved in it all but she had not done so consciously. Zhenya wondered how she could possibly make Nastya see that. For the time being she was lost for anything to say on that matter anyway.

“Well, yes, of course! Nastya, you are such a strong woman. I admire you so much for keeping this all up in these trying times...” Zhenya tried to soothe. Right now, Nastya wasn't keeping anything up though. However, all things considered the student looked up to her distant cousin and just wanted her to feel better about herself again. Of course she was worried, sad, scared… that was totally understandable and fine. What wasn't acceptable though was that she took the blame on herself.

“I'm sure they just wanted to spare you. Your mother anyway...” Zhenya's voice trailed off as she tried to imagine the scene. She shuddered as she thought about how Aglaya must have opened the letter just to find a message from the person who had wanted to kill her. “Aglaya was probably too shocked to think clearly,” she offered, unsure if that was making things better or worse for Nastya.

She took a deep breath, trying to understand what was going on in Nastya's part of the family and trying to come up with something to say to make the senior artistic flyer feel better. There wasn't a lot, of course. The situation was too bad to find even a slight hint of positivity. She bit her lips as Nastya said she hadn't had time to visit her sister, knowing that this was just an excuse and wondering what her distant cousin was expecting to see if she dared to visit her sister again. It was worrying that Nastya didn't argue with her mother and just accepted being kept away from Aglaya. To Zhenya this made no sense. If this had been one of her siblings she'd have argued day and night to get to see them.

“Why don't you want to see her?” Zhenya asked, her voice strangely hoarse as she was almost scared of the answer. She wanted to know what Nastya was not telling her about the brief meetings with her mother but didn't know how to ask without being intrusive.

Nastya was sobbing again, clinging onto her quite tightly. Again Zhenya didn't know anything better to do than to stroke through Nastya's hair, pat her back and say “shh”, hoping that it would calm her a little.

“Hey,” she whispered softly after a few seconds, “it'll get better.” She felt like she was lying though, because, truth be told, she didn't have the faintest idea if anything would ever get better again. This was all so awful and worrying and she could totally understand why her distant cousin was breaking down like that.

“So,” she finally dared to ask, “what do you see your mother for? You really need to talk to someone. I mean, I am here now and I'll be happy to see you whenever I am allowed to go to Döttrar Vik, but you cannot possibly try to deal with this on your own…” she felt a lump in her throat now, wondering just how dark Nastya's thoughts were getting when she was left alone with no one to interrupt her and tell her that it was not her fault. She wanted to suggest that she should see Aglaya again but Zhenya didn't know if seeing her elder sister would actually help Nastya now. Neither of them knew how she was doing and Zhenya couldn't be sure if Aglaya blamed her sister for the things that happened or not.

Zhenya’s quiet hushing, and comforting pats were the only things keeping Nastya partially grounded and not getting lost in her own, rather dark, head. Her distant cousin was trying to soothe her again, and Nastya started to believe what Zhenya was saying, feeling like she had no energy left for being stubborn and arguing against what she was being told. “Thank you, Zhenya, I…” She sniffed, taking a few deep breaths as she wiped her eyes. “That means a lot to me.” Nastya finished sincerely. Even if it wasn’t the situation she’d pictured hearing those words, knowing that someone admired her was very reassuring and even made her smile for a second.

“I guess…” Anastasiya sighed, still not entirely convinced that her family tried to conceal the letter from her for a good reason. Her mother trying to hide the letter from her was certainly not surprising; it hadn’t been then, and it still wasn’t. After all, Alyona had concealed many things from her throughout the years, and Nastya was used to being (quite literally) pulled away from situations. Yet, she had never figured out why her mother did this. Then again, Nastya supposed, she never really asked. Aglayka, on the other hand, had motives and thought processes that were a complete mystery to her younger sister. The former champion had no clue about her elder sister other than she was very competitive, and annoying, and liked to rub it in that she was better than her. Aglaya possibly was ‘too shocked to think clearly’ like Zhenya said, but Nastya wasn’t sure if that would have made such a difference. Anastasiya raised a hand to her forehead, rubbing it gently, feeling her headache start to return from overthinking such a minute detail.

Nastya uncontrollably shivered for a second as Zhenya asked why she didn’t want to see Aglayka. The senior artistic flyer wasn’t sure how she could put all her thoughts and feelings into words, her multiple reasons were complicated. “I don’t know… I…” Nastya bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t want to make things even worse? Every time I try and help, something goes wrong and I make it worse. I guess I'm scared that… that she hates me? And she won’t want to see me?” Nastya cowered, her voice small and quaking. “It is easier to pretend she doesn’t exist…” Nastya whispered, ashamed of even thinking such a thing.

Nastya felt like her heart was in physical pain as she sobbed, and she thought that perhaps this was the reason why her mother encouraged her to not pay attention to her emotions, because they really hurt. Perhaps, Zhenya really was right and Alyona had been trying to spare her this entire time. Suppressing them felt awful sometimes, but nowhere near as horrific as she felt in that moment, clinging onto her distant cousin for dear life. She was crying so hard that it was difficult to breathe in any way other than in loud, convulsive and short gasps which made it impossible to formulate words in her mind, let alone say them.

The feeling of Zhenya stroking her hair was insanely comforting, and Nastya gave her a watery smile as the junior athlete was so beautifully optimistic, whispering that it would get better. Nastya really wanted to believe this to be true, she needed it to be true. Slowly, her sobbing receded into a snivel and she felt her eyelids growing strangely heavy. She was lucky that Zhenya began to ask her more questions, or else she might have accidentally fallen asleep on her distant cousin’s shoulders.

There wasn’t really any point in hiding anything anymore, Nastya reasoned. It was pointless to lie. However, as Zhenya suggested that she should talk to someone about the situation, Nastya bristled and was tempted to lie anyway. It was the second time that her younger relative had suggested it (albeit the first time was in a letter, and judging by her physical state at the time… Nastya thought it was probably warranted) but Anastasiya thought she had been doing just fine without talking through it, and instantly told herself that she didn’t have time for a silly thing anyway. What would talking accomplish? Nothing, Nastya thought. The only thing that mattered was training, not her friends, not Aglaya, and definitely not her insignificant little feelings. Who would even listen to them anyway? No one at the school had time for such things, or were not informed of the situation enough that Nastya could risk telling them much about it anyway. It was far easier to deal with these feelings herself, and try and bottle them up again like she supposed to. This was just a moment of weakness, nothing more.

“She comes to administer dreamless sleep potion,” Anastasiya flatly replied after a few moments, as she began to pull away from Zhenya and sit up straight in the booth again. “I was just getting too many relentless nightmares and it was interfering with my ability to train,” Nastya explained, becoming less and less emotional with each word. “If I… don’t have the physical proof of Aglayka being alive right next to me… I really struggle to sleep.” Anastasiya wavered for a split second, dropping her eyes down towards the stew that they should have probably begun eating. “As I said, we don’t see each other for more than it takes for her to administer it and we normally just talk about how my training went for the day.” Nastya said, sounding like she was answering journalist’s interview questions instead of talking to a loved family member.

“I don’t really have the time to talk to anyone. And, I don’t need to.” Nastya stated adamantly, slightly shaking her head. “I had to ask Andrey Viktorovich for a longer lunch break today, but I don’t think he would approve of me making it a more regular occurrence… Plus, I don’t think mother or father would be happy either.” Nastya folded her arms as she blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Most people at the school don’t know many of the details, and I think we all prefer it that way. Besides, I start training at six in the morning and finish at six in the evening with only a few breaks in the middle, hardly long enough for a proper conversation.” Nastya decided it was in their best interests if she failed to mention that she often began working in the beam room sometimes at four in the morning and often continued training until nine or ten at night. “Honestly, Zhenya, I am fine.” Nastya tried to confidently appease her distant cousin as if she hadn’t just spent the last few minutes sobbing into her arms. “It isn’t anything I can’t handle,” she added, completely forgetting her little breakdown.

“Now, this stew is probably going to get cold if we don’t start eating it soon, and I am starving!” Nastya smiled surprisingly brightly, despite the fact that her words were quite true in their meaning. She picked up her spoon and dunking it into the bowl, sniffing at it appreciatively but not yet daring to actually take a bite.

It briefly seemed as though Nastya was calming down and Zhenya offered a small smile, hoping that her distant cousin would soon feel at least a little better. The student really meant it, she admired both Nastya and her sister. However, that Nastya managed to go on more or less as usual was a sign of mental strength that Zhenya did not have herself. She knew she'd break down entirely, unable to train if anything comparable would have happened to one of her closest family members. It was obvious that Nastya, too, was struggling more than just a little, seeing how she broke down sobbing and generally by her whole looks and behaviour. Nonetheless she went on and that was admirable.

The sixth year nodded reassuringly as Nastya seemingly considered the possibility that her mother had tried to spare her by not showing her the letter. It surely wasn't a bad sign that Alyona Igorovna did not want her daughter to see a letter like that. Zhenya could only see it as a protective gesture anyway.

Maybe she shouldn't have asked why Nastya didn't want to see her sister. The question seemed to make things worse again and Zhenya suppressed a sigh as she pulled her distant cousin closer. The words that Anastasiya voiced made the junior artistic flyer shudder. She was only slowly beginning to comprehend just how awful this all was for Nastya.

“She doesn't hate you,” Zhenya said, thinking that it was sheer impossible that anyone, let alone her own sister could hate Anastasiya. “How could she. You were there for her...” her voice broke off as Nastya said that it was easier to pretend that Aglaya didn't exist. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to work out something appropriate to respond to this but nothing really came to her mind. How desperate was Nastya that she felt that it was easier to pretend not to have a sister than to face her?

Zhenya would have liked to convincingly state that Aglaya would be glad to see her sister but she didn't really know the other witch well enough for such a statement. Instead she just gently pulled her into a tight hug, hoping that Nastya would calm down. “Shh...” she muttered soothingly for the lack of any consoling words to say.

Apparently her well meant suggestion that Nastya needed to seek help combined with her question about what she saw her mother for if they didn't talk made Anastasiya act quite differently than before. Zhenya felt almost taken aback as all emotion seemed to be gone from Nastya's voice.

“You're taking dreamless sleep potion?” Zhenya asked in a timid whisper. It made sense, she assumed. However, to her it sounded like her distant cousin, supported even by her mother, was trying to block out all emotions, all love for her sister. It was intimidating and disturbing to hear her go on and Zhenya let go of Nastya, not even leaving a hand on her back to offer the occasional comforting pat.

She suddenly felt useless and like she was imposing on Nastya, taking away precious time that the other witch could better spend elsewhere. What had she been thinking to offer to meet her if Nastya didn't really want to talk and was pretty content suppressing all her feelings? The way she made it sound the entire family thought that training was more important than the relationship between the sisters. Zhenya shuddered again, wondering if her family would act in the same way if they got into a comparable situation. She sure hoped not and she felt certain that she would not let anyone keep her away from her siblings but what did she know? She could not really relate to the Tikhomirovs there and hoped that she'd never have to experience anything comparable.

“Okay,” Zhenya said, her voice hoarse as she turned to look in a different direction. She didn't feel able to face Nastya now and while she thought she had done well being calm and collected, she now felt like crying. Nastya didn't want to make time to see her again and it was okay, of course. She had offered this meeting for her distant cousin's sake not for her own. However, she felt pushed away and chewed on her lip, forcing herself not to let Nastya see that she felt hurt. This was not about her feelings, Zhenya tried to remind herself but it was hard to try for a smile when this was all just getting a little too much.

“If you say that you're fine, that you don't need help, and can handle it all...” her voice didn't sound like her own now and Zhenya wasn't sure what she really wanted to say. “I'm glad if you can cope,” she added, playing along and pretending to believe her. Who was she anyway to insist that Nastya needed help? She was just a school girl. How silly she had been to think that she could help her distant cousin at all...

“Yes, the stew,” she nodded, glad for the change of topic. “You should eat. I hope it's good...” her voice trailed off again and she picked up the spoon and put it into the bowl, stirring the stew a little before lifting a spoonful stew to her mouth. She had no appetite now but she still felt obliged to eat at least a little, if only to encourage her distant cousin to follow her example and eat as well.

Zhenya was so nice and kind. Nastya was feeling incredibly guilty for putting this craziness all on her. After all, her distant cousin was just a kid still, and Anastasiya thought that as an adult she should have handled this better. But the Shishkins were much tamer and softer than her own family, and Nastya thought that they seemed to realise that their athletes were human beings. It was infinitely easier to relate to them rather than her own Tikhomirov family. She wondered what they’d make Zhenya do if she was in this situation. Not that Nastya would ever wish such a horrific situation on anyone, but she couldn’t help but feel like it’d be treated very differently in the Shishkin family. That it would be treated better.

Zhenya pulled her closer, and she could feel the junior athlete shudder. Nastya was really beginning to hate dumping all of this on Zhenya. She felt so guilty. Zhenya said that Aglaya didn’t hate her, but how could she be so sure? Nastya and Aglayka didn’t have the same relationship as Zhenya and Zina. It was more possible than Zhenya perhaps realised, Nastya thought. Zhenya tried to ask how Aglaya could possibly hate her and Nastya thought that she had the perfect answer. “I gave her the pralines. I took her home. I gave her the letters.” She replied in short detached sentences. It sounded as if the words had left her lips (in secret) many times before. And, they had. In her nightmares, in the showers. They were like a mantra on repeat.

Nastya looked at the younger witch with dead eyes as Zhenya repeated what she said about the potions. “Yes.” Anastasiya confirmed, as she went back to staring at the stew, watching the steam rise from it in little puffs. Her distant cousin removed her hand from her back, and Nastya immediately regretted pulling away. She felt the void coming back and felt much colder now. She was confused about what emotion she wanted to feel, while struggling to feel none at all. Her headache was quickly returning in full force, as she just stared at the table grinding her teeth. Anastasiya didn’t really want to push Zhenya away, she was exceedingly grateful for taking the time to talk to her. Nastya really did want to see her more often, but she felt it was out of her hands. Nastya just felt like a little nightingale trapped in a tiny cage with no escape. She didn’t want to make Zhenya suffer for her troubles, but didn’t want to hide it from her either. She didn’t want to keep her in the dark but didn’t want to frighten her either. It was too conflicting, too confusing, and Nastya wanted to scream.

All Zhenya said in response was “Okay.”   And then, Nastya was angry at herself again. She was really beginning to believe now, completely forgetting Zhenya’s comforting words entirely, that she was the metaphorical poison. She was destroying everything she touched. Nastya felt that she couldn’t blame Zhenya if she didn’t want to talk anymore, and just left her alone there and abandoned her. In her eyes, she truly deserved it.

It didn’t prevent her panicking a little though as Zhenya seemed to believe her words. She wanted to shout it out that she wasn’t okay, she needed serious help, she couldn’t handle it at all, and she wasn’t coping. But Nastya didn’t do anything though, she just sat there, blinking blankly at the stew, her eyes flitting to the table occasionally. Meanwhile, in her mind, she was screaming and clutching her head. It was so odd that she wasn’t able to make herself move. “Yes, I’m fine.” Nastya muttered, wondering why she was saying this. Why was she lying?  She had no choice but to lie, she replied to herself, having an argument with herself in her head.

“You should eat.”  This was the second time Zhenya said this. Defensive, Nastya wondering exactly what was that supposed to mean anyway? She dropped the spoon back down into the bowl, her hand just limply hanging there, propped up by her elbow. She watched a drop land on the table, her eyes soon flicked back to the original spot. Hesitantly, she forced her eyes up towards Zhenya as her distant cousin lifted a spoonful to her mouth. It would be suspicious if she didn’t eat, Nastya decided. She would have to, but she now wasn’t hungry anymore.

In fact, the smell of the stew was making her… angry? Nastya’s hand twitched as she grabbed the rim of the bowl. Her instincts told her to throw it at the wall, bolt from the restaurant and retreat back to Rybinsk and continue training where it was safe. Another part of her argued that it was cruel, and not professional to do so and so her hand hesitantly moved back to the spoon. Dipping it in, Nastya sat there for a few seconds. She didn’t want to eat. She wasn’t hungry. She picked it up anyway. She put a spoonful of the stew in her mouth, but it tasted of nothing and she relucatnaly swallowed. Nastya put the spoon back down, sat there for a few seconds unmoving before repeating the process again. Making any action at all was suddenly a battle, a war in her mind. Her head was absolutely throbbing. She started to feel sick. It was like Nastya, the little sister and Anastasiya, the artistic flyer were now two different people in her head fighting for dominance and neither were winning, leaving just a hollow shell of a human. Unknowingly, as she forced herself to dip the spoon in again for the third time, hot tears were rolling down her face again, dripping onto the table.

Zhenya felt so cold now. All that Nastya told her made her shudder. It was too horrible, too sad to deal with. The girl was glad that they were hugging now and she did not have to look into Nastya's eyes as the older witch explained to her why her sister might hate her. Zhenya could see what her distant cousin meant but at the same time she could not possibly believe that these things would make Aglaya hate her sister. They were family. Surely Aglaya knew that her sister had never meant to harm her in any way.

“You did not poison her. It was not your idea to bring her home, and you thought that the letters might cheer her up...” Zhenya's voice trailed off as she tried to figure out how to express her thoughts most adequately. “She did not tell you that she had a stalker,” she then added, “how could you have known then that there could be such an awful letter?” Again the girl paused, wondering what else she could say to make Nastya feel better about it all.

“I actually think that you might have rescued her? I mean, he has been to the hospital. You said he took a photo of her there, he even touched her,” the girl shuddered again, feeling entirely disgusted by the idea of that. “He could as well have returned to murder her there… Bringing her home surely was good. At least she's safe at home.”

The atmosphere had changed in the meantime and the student felt terribly out of place. She could see that Nastya wasn't fine even if she repeated that she was. If she wasn't honest with her now that clearly meant that Nastya didn't trust her enough, didn't want her close. Zhenya stirred her stew absently, staring into it just so she didn't have to look at her distant cousin any longer.

Zhenya ate a few spoonfuls of stew, hoping that she'd finish the meal soon so she could get away. Nastya's behaviour made her feel tense and the wish to get away was getting more and more pronounced. She couldn't tell if the stew was good or bad. She didn't know which ingredients were in it although she had looked at it for a while now and had eaten about one quarter of it. It was insignificant though. It was basically just a way to busy herself so she didn't have to talk to her distant cousin.

Although the girl didn't want to look at Anastasiya anymore and tried to focus on the meal, she couldn't help but glance to the side to check what her distant cousin was doing. She was crying again now and it was heartbreaking to see her like that. Her earlier sentiments that Nastya didn't want to talk to her and didn't trust her were forgotten at once as a strong feeling of compassion overcame her.

“Nastya...” she muttered, a sad little smile spreading across her face. She wanted to say 'don't cry' but the words just didn't come out. Why shouldn't Nastya cry if she felt like it? The situation clearly was terrible enough that no one could ever blame her for crying. In fact, Zhenya had the hope that letting all pent up feelings out might help her distant cousin. However, she wasn't sure if that really worked for her.

She dropped the spoon into the bowl and put her hand onto Nastya's back to rub it gently. “Things will get better again. Aglaya will recover and I'm sure she won't blame you for anything...” Her voice trailed off. The girl knew that it was unlikely that she could convince her distant cousin of any of this and she couldn't her blame her.

“You should try and talk to her. Tell her how you feel,” as soon as she said these words Zhenya wanted to take them back again. She really couldn't be sure that talking to Aglaya was going to be a good idea. Zhenya had always been far closer to Nastya than to Aglaya, she was closer in age and more approachable. She didn't know her eldest distant cousin that well and actually found her a little intimidating. What if Nastya really opened up to her sister and then got the response she was afraid of? Zhenya swallowed and took a deep breath. “Well, maybe you wait with that until she's better...” she muttered. “but I'm sure she doesn't blame you for anything and loves you.” There, she had again said something she could not be sure of. Zhenya looked down, feeling entirely stupid for trying to talk Nastya into believing something that might, after all, not be true.

“No… I guess not.” Nastya muttered as Zhenya tried to convince her that all of this wasn’t her fault. It did make her feel a little bit better, but she was mainly still unconvinced. Zhenya added that Aglayka had not told her, or told anyone really, that she had a stalker. “That is true.” Anastasiya half-scoffed, with a bitter laugh as she threw a hand up in the air in exasperation. “I still don’t understand why she didn’t tell someone, even if she didn’t trust me. Why not tell mother or father?” The senior artistic flyer shook her head. Aglaya made no sense to her, now more so than ever.

“Me? Rescue her?” Nastya gasped incredulously as she stared at her distant cousin with wide, teary eyes. How could Yevgenia think such a thing? Nastya curled in on herself as the junior athlete brought up that the stalker could have come back to do worse, he could have killed her sister, that Aglayka was at least safe at home. She had a good point. “Maybe…” Nastya hesitantly whispered as she shuddered at the thought of her sister dead. Anastasiya didn’t think it was possible for her to be in a world where her sister wasn’t in it. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” She added as she tensed her jaw, bringing back a twinge of pain in her head.

Nastya was pretty sure that she could tell that Zhenya didn’t want to be there with her anymore. She wanted to fade into the ground and disappear so that she didn’t have to deal with the situation any longer. Actually… Nastya wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. She wanted so many contradictory things. She needed to cry and hug and have her younger family member tell her that it would all be okay even if it wasn’t going to be. But, she also wished that she could stop thinking about it, go back to training and pretend that everything was fine. And then, Nastya also wanted to go home and curl up in a ball and just sleep her days away. Or, maybe she wanted to go throw some rocks (or perhaps even herself) into the river and let off some steam. Most importantly, Anastasiya wanted everything to go back to normal. Was that so much to ask?

Zhenya noticed that she was crying again before Nastya even really realised it herself, and just the kind way Yevgenia muttered her name in sympathy made her completely lose control again. The former champion let the spoon drop back into the bowl as she pushed the stew that she had barely touched away from her, not seeing any point in eating it anymore anyway. She glanced at her distant cousin for a second before placing her elbows on the table and burying her face into her arms to hide her face as she cried again.

Yevgenia rubbed her back gently and was somehow breaking down Nastya’s years worth of walls and pretending that everything was fine. She said things would get better, that her sister would recover and that she wouldn’t hate her. Nastya really wanted to believe that, needed it to all be true. And she chose to believe what Zhenya was saying, because she didn’t think she could live with the alternative. Nastya wished she was able to say something back, or ask Zhenya how she stayed so positive all the time, thank her for being so kind and patient, for being there when no else was. However, Nastya just couldn’t get any words out, only loud sobs that were being muffled by her arms.

Nastya immediately raised her head as Zhenya suggested that she should try and talk to her sister. She turned to look her distant cousin in the eye and laughed as if Zhenya had told the funniest joke in the World. Aglayka wouldn’t listen to how she felt. It didn’t even matter how she felt, Aglaya was the only important person in this. It wasn’t as if Nastya had a weird stalker person, or had been poisoned. Even if Nastya did tell her sister about her feelings, she didn’t think that Aglayka would actually respond well to it, or even care. “Yeah… I’m definitely not doing that.” Nastya muttered as she wiped the remaining tears off of her face. “I’m not in any hurry to find out what she thinks of me. I’m sure it is nothing good.” She added, as she glanced around the restaurant, suddenly eager to escape and run away.

Hurriedly Nastya stood up and pulled out her purse, depositing several coins onto the table to pay for the meal. “I’ll cover it. Least I can do.” Nastya muttered as she put her purse away again. “I… I have to go… back to training.” Anastasiya said as she avoided looking her distant cousin in the face, feeling so ashamed of her behaviour. “I promise I’ll write to you with updates when I have them.” Nastya smiled sadly down at the ground as she turned away before pausing and abruptly turning back. “Oh!” She exclaimed, as she pulled out some parchment from her bag and handed them out for Zhenya to take. “The smoothie recipes,” Nastya explained, “I remember you asked for them in your last letter.”

Sighing, Nastya flicked her eyes up to meet Zhenya’s for a split second before flinging her arms around her distant cousin for one last hug. “Sorry,” she whispered, “I don’t know when I’ll ever get another one,” Nastya sniffed as she let go again. “I really have to go. I’m sorry.” Nastya called out behind as she speedily exited the restaurant, and ran as fast as her legs could carry her back to the place connected to the floor network. She paused with her hand on her heart for a few seconds to catch her breath, before grabbing the floo powder and throwing it down as she said the address of the artistic flying school. As soon as she stepped out, she tried her hardest to pretend that she hadn’t just been in Sweden with Zhenya, rushing down the corridor down to the changing room to change back into a catsuit and return to her usual monotonous training schedule, busying her mind with all things artistic flying.

[out]

Nastya said that she didn't understand why Aglaya hadn't told anyone about her stalker and Zhenya nodded. “Yeah, I don't understand it either,” she confirmed. “I cannot believe that she hasn't confided in anyone. This is such a big deal and so scary. Being alone with it… that seems horrible.” The girl shuddered again and wondered why her eldest distant cousin would choose to keep it secret. Zhenya clearly would run to her parents as soon as she'd read the first letter, she'd ask them to help her. She would never even think of handling anything like that on her own, knowing that she wouldn't be able to deal with it anyway.

“Yes,” Zhenya nodded, “you saved her.” She suddenly felt quite convinced of this and her voice reflected it. However, the thought that was connected to her conviction that Nastya had rescued Aglaya was that the older one of the sisters had been in grave danger at the hospital. The thought made her feel sick. A hospital shouldn't be a dangerous place. In Zhenya's world so far a hospital had been a place where people got to when they were seriously ill or injured and they got a proper treatment there so they'd recover and feel better. It was an impossible thought that people might get into hospital rooms and kill helpless victims there.

Zhenya felt entirely helpless and actually quite scared as her distant cousin cried harder again. She wanted to say, to do something to help but what was left for her to do and say by now? She chewed on her lips as she patted Nastya's back, almost crying with her now. She didn't want to cry, though. Not now, not in front of Nastya who'd totally blame herself for that as well.

“Shhh,” she whispered again, lost for anything sensible to add what she had previously said. “It won't stay this bad,” she muttered but the conviction that she had offered earlier was gone from her voice. Anastasiya was a mess and Zhenya was terribly worried by now. How did Nastya keep up with her life if she broke down like this now? Had every mention of proper training in her letters been a lie? The senior artistic flyer did not make the impression as if she could actually train in this state.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Zhenya asked, a pained expression spreading across her face. “Your sister loves you, I'm sure of it, and, please, remember, you don't know if...” her voice was hoarse and she paused, clearing her throat. Her mouth felt dry now and she reached across the table to get her glass of water to have a sip. “You don't know if she'd even be alive if you hadn't found her in the office… And you don't know what would have happened if she stayed at the hospital where… this person could walk into her room…” the girl took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and not cry but it was getting harder and harder.

Suddenly Nastya stood up and Zhenya looked at her quite alarmed. What did that mean now? Was her distant cousin upset with anything she had said? Why didn't she eat a little more at least? The senior artistic flyer put coins onto the table and said that she'd have to go back to training. Zhenya was unaware that she had raised her eyebrows. She could not believe that Nastya was in any condition to train but she wasn't going to argue with her now.

“Oh, thank you,” she muttered, totally astonished that Nastya had remembered to bring the smoothie recipes. She stared at the parchment but didn't really read any of what was written on it. Then the two artistic flyers made eye contact and hugged again. Zhenya felt somehow both relieved and worried because Nastya was leaving now. She put all her love and compassion for her relative into the hug as she pulled closer. “You can always come to me when you need a hug,” Zhenya said in a quiet whisper, totally meaning every word of it but still a little scared that Nastya might take her up on the offer sooner rather than later.

“Take care of yourself,” she said as Nastya turned to leave. She watched her until she was out of the door and then sat down for a moment to compose herself before leaving the restaurant as well and going back to Durmstrang.

[end]