[Griboyedov - May 04] Лишь только под маской Ты сможешь остаться собой (Marisa)

Sunday, 23rd May 2004

Her coach had been exceptionally nice during training the previous day, praising her for winning the Sportswoman of the Year award. Today things were quite different again. Aglaya was well aware that it was her own fault. She was unfocused, her timing was off, and she made way too many mistakes. However, Aleksandra wasn’t even trying to find out what caused this subpar performance. Admittedly Aglaya would not have told her anything about the letter she had received even if her coach had asked. Aleksandra was losing her patience and yelling at her. Aglaya felt that she deserved it, but she still wished that the older woman would have mercy and not be quite so harsh with her.

While practices were private in general, there were people watching today. Aglaya was not aware of them, though. She didn’t think of Marisa whom she’d meet for lunch just a little after today’s training and who had been invited to watch the training by one of her relatives. The lunch date was far away for her now. She was busy trying to keep herself together and do what her coach asked her to do. She couldn’t tell how many times she had fallen off her broom in the past hour but when she hit the softening line once again and soon afterwards found herself lying on the ground she was quite ready to give up and call it a day. She considered asking Aleksandra to let her go but when she saw her great aunt’s expression she knew that she wasn’t going to end the training just yet.

About twenty minutes later she heard a shrill whistle and Aleksandra told her that it was enough. Aglaya was sweating and, while the precautions at the flying school prevented most serious injuries, her whole body felt sore and she could tell that he had some new bruises. At least she had succeeded in doing her back flip cleanly by the end of the training. Exhausted, she went to take a shower and changed into black leather trousers, a white t-shirt and a light leather jacket. She dried her hair and applied some makeup. Then she slipped into her high heels and left the changing room.

There was hardly any time left until she’d meet her friend at the Griboyedov. She wondered if Marisa was already waiting for her there or if she was still at the school somewhere. However, as they had agreed to meet at the restaurant, Aglaya didn’t go looking for her. Ivo fortunately had taken the day off and so Branimir was her bodyguard for the day which was something she appreciated. She could trust him to protect her and stay in the background.

They took the floo network to the Griboyedov and were greeted by Igor who led them to a corner in the back of the restaurant. Aglaya had never asked to be seated at this particular table below the painting of herself but somehow Igor seemed to enjoy placing her there all the time. The first few times she had felt a little awkward about it, by now she barely noticed it anymore.

Marisa was already seated there when they arrived and Aglaya approached her with a slight smile. “Hello Marisa, it's so good to see you,” she greeted her friend, “it’s been too long.” While she dropped her handbag on an empty chair, Branimir checked their immediate surroundings, nodded at Aglaya and then discretely took a seat at a different table from which he could keep an eye on the two women and at the same time survey the rest of the place.

@Marisa Marchesi

Marisa blinked up at the big oil painting hanging over the table that host showed her to, a faint smile on her lips, wondering what her friend would think of this beautiful but very large rendering of her. If she were in her friend's place, it would be a very easy answer on her part: she might die from the attention. But Aglaya was in the public eye all the time, even more so lately after being named Sportswoman of the Year. Marisa was proud of her friend and also equally sympathetic after what had seemed like such a tough practice for her. Marisa had watched some of it before she had to go meet with a few more  clients, taking measurements and showing sketches of her ideas for their next performances, but what she had seen had made her wonder at Aglaya's innate strength and determination. No wonder she was receiving awards. Her effort was unparalleled.

As she sat, smoothing the wrinkles from the heavy fabric of her emerald skirt, she glanced around. The chatter of the other guests was a quiet din and Marisa found she liked this place, it had a quiet and cozy elegance about it. Her eyes flicked up to the waiter, one hand behind his back, as he poured her a glass of sparkling water and she smiled her thanks before she saw familiar red curls. She uncrossed her legs, standing with a smile as she greeted her friend, simultaneously eyeing the tall man who accompanied her with curiosity and apprehension. Despite her uncertainty, she settled back into her chair and looked at Aglaya. "Congrats again on Sportswoman of the Year, I'm so happy for you," she said with a genuine smile, her caramel eyes warm with the sentiment.

The man sat at a nearby table and it occurred to her that he seemed protective of Aglaya. A bodyguard? Ah, that made sense. She knew it should make her feel safer, but somehow it made her feel on edge at the same time. Two menus were given to them from the waiter who circled back and Marisa gave a quiet thanks before she met Aglaya's gaze over the top. "I saw some of practice," she mentioned, her voice soft, a note of sympathy at the hardship and challenges she had faced today while also trying not to sound too pitying. She knew everyone had bad days and Aglaya would surely bounce back just as quick tomorrow. "How did the rest of it go?" Or perhaps she had ended on a high note? Marisa could only wonder.

“Thank you so much,” Aglaya said automatically as Marisa congratulated her on winning the Sportswoman of the Year award. It would have meant so much more to her had the past months been different. It actually had meant more to her just a few days ago. She couldn’t talk about that, though. Nobody was supposed to know what she had really been through lately. In this she agreed with her family - it was nothing that should be publicly known.

Aglaya’s smile was like a mask and didn’t reach her tired and almost scared looking eyes. She knew that she’d have to try harder to convince the world that everything was normal and  okay, however, right now she felt that she couldn’t do it. The young witch almost wished that she could take a break from being herself.

Taking the menu, Aglaya was almost glad that she could hide a little behind it as she could feel her smile fading. When Marisa mentioned having seen some of her practice, the athlete’s lips formed a thin line. She could tell that Marisa was compassionate about it but that didn’t really make it better. Although she knew the whole menu more or less by heart, Aglaya stared at it, wondering what she could say about how the rest of her training had gone.

“Well,” she said after a second or two, “my coach let me finish the morning practice after I managed one backflip.” She smiled weakly. “It was a pretty horrid practice session. I’m sorry you had to watch it.” She wanted to add that she usually did much better but was that even true anymore? She had been fighting her way back to being in a decent physical state, and was almost competitive again, but with the recent letter of her stalker she wasn’t sure if she could really get back to being the outstanding athlete she had been in the past. Only recently she had signed up for a small competition to test her programs in front of an audience and had panicked, running away from the arena even before mounting her broom.

Part of her wanted to keep competing. Artistic flying was her life. She felt that there wasn’t really an alternative for her but to keep going. However, another part of her was longing to live a quiet life without the spotlight that attracted crazy people and resulted in death threats.

Her gaze found Branimir who just ordered a cup of coffee for himself and suddenly she realised that she should probably explain who he was. Marisa had seen him arrive with her, after all. It was only fair to tell her about him. She nodded in his direction as she looked at her friend. “That’s Branimir Georgiev,” she introduced the man, “my mother hired him…” her voice trailed off. Was Marisa aware that this was a first in the artistic flying scene? “When I go out in public he comes with me as my bodyguard.” Her voice was quiet as she said this. The word ‘bodyguard’ was strange to her, it felt awkward to mention it and she felt certain that it could result in further questions.

"Of course," she replied simply at Aglaya's thanks as she looked over the menu. Marisa had never been much of a flyer so she was that much more impressed by the skills and tricks that her friend did. It was mind-boggling honestly. It was like she was super human.

She couldn't help but notice the downturn in her friend's expression and her mouth turned down as well apologetically. She hadn't brought it up to make her feel bad, but she wasn't sure what to say to make it better so as usual, she defaulted to silence. The pause, however, felt too long. Marisa shifted in her seat. She was glad when Aglaya answered her.

"No, no, don't apologize," Marisa said quickly, already sorry for having mentioned it. "I can't even imagine how you do all of the tricks you do, honestly, Aglaya. It's very impressive." She knew how determined and competitive the redhead was though, how perfectionism seemed to be threaded into the very fiber of her character and it was something Marisa felt as well. "I'm sure you'll have a better day tomorrow," she added, wanting to express her confidence in her friend's skills, wanting to give her comfort even though she guessed she wasn't doing very well at it right now.

Marisa's gaze slid back to the tall man Aglaya nodded toward, watching as he sipped from a mug of coffee that looked small in his hands. Branimir, she called him. At the news that Aglaya's mother hired him, she glanced back at her friend, her head tilted slightly to the side. It confirmed her thoughts, but she still had questions. "Just for you.. or for everyone in your family?" she asked as she reached out a hand for her glass and realized too slowly that Aglaya was reaching for the same one. Their hands touched, making Marisa stiffen. A simple brush of fingers was enough, her eyes going glassy as the Sight overwhelmed her.

Marisa was so kind and tried her best to comfort her. Aglaya realised that and felt grateful and at the same time ashamed. She dropped the menu on the table and looked at her friend, her lips curved into a smile again but, again, that did not reach her eyes.

“Well, you can probably guess that that wasn’t quite the way I want people to see me,” she opted for a seemingly light and self-confident reply when she felt nothing like it. “It really wasn’t good at all,” she added earnestly. “I wish you had seen a better performance from me today.” Her voice trailed off as she thought about her evening practice which she’d have to survive later that day. Hopefully she’d be able to focus better then. She really didn’t want to add another set of new bruises to her collection.

Naturally, after she had told her friend who Branimir was, Marisa had more questions and Aglaya looked down at the table, her fingers trailing along the hem of the table cloth. She was hesitant to respond and reached for a glass the very moment that Marisa reached for the same.

She retreated at once. “Sorry, that was your glass, wasn’t it?” she muttered, feeling embarrassed. Why did everything unsettle her so much lately… She didn’t really feel like herself anymore.

“Just for…” she wanted to answer Marisa’s question but a look at her friend made her stop. “Are you okay?” she asked, a concerned look on her face now. Marisa’s eyes looked glassy and she seemed mentally absent. “Do you need anything?”

"Everyone has bad days, it happens," Marisa said with a soft smile, a hint of guilt that her friend thought she needed to perform well for her. As if one practice could change the measure of their friendship. But she knew that Aglaya was a bit of a perfectionist and Marisa admired her hard work and dedication and knew she was a stronger person because of it.

She could hear the start of Aglaya's response, but it was very faraway, almost as if she were at the other end of a long tunnel. And then her Sight snapped into place. Visions flickering through her mind's eye, so quickly that it disoriented her and made her nauseous at the same time. There were things that she could pick out. A shock of Aglaya's red curl against a whirling blue sky, her competition ensemble shimmering in the sun, a crowd cheering her on. And then words, written with care and a zeal that seemed obsessive, on parchment, Aglaya's name on it. One line standing out in her mind's eye: 'I must admit that I was a little disappointed that you didn't die in front of the crowd present in the arena.' The shock she felt was overshadowed by more flickers. A man's hand holding the quill, the sharp profile of his face in shadow, Aglaya deathly pale in a hospital bed, a figure standing over her, his hand petting her hair. The flickers blinked out of her sight, returning her to the present with Aglaya staring at her in concern and Marisa forced herself to draw in a slow inhale.

Her natural inclination was to cover, to smile politely and pretend like something hadn't just happened, but she couldn't get past the words she had seen. The threats laid against her friend. As something clicked into place, she glanced at Branimir and then back to Aglaya, licking her lips. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on, Aglaya? Are you alright?" her voice breaking on the last word as the emotion swelled within her. The Sight always made her feel fragile, like she was holding too much inside and was in danger of bursting at any moment and right now, she was bursting to the seams with concern for her friend. Death threats? Is that what she had been dealing with these past few months? All on her own? If Marisa didn't fear another vision, she would've reached out to touch her friend's hand in solidarity.

Marisa said that everyone had bad days. Aglaya knew this to be true but she also knew that she wasn’t allowed to have a bad day. She had to be at her best. People expected her to be perfect. It didn’t matter if it was in competition or in practice, she could not slack off, not even for one practice session.

A frown appeared on Aglaya’s face as her friend asked her questions that seemed to come out of nothing. Why did Marisa ask her this when she had just looked ‘not alright’ herself? For a moment Aglaya just looked at her friend, feeling puzzled and lost for words. Her mouth was dry and she reached for a glass, this time the right one, and took a sip of water.

She wanted to be strong, wanted to convince Marisa as much as herself that she was alright but something in her friend’s voice made her feel like the other witch knew more than she thought she did. Maybe it was time to be a little more open. Maybe she should allow herself a moment of weakness and confide in her friend. She trusted Marisa enough and yet she glanced at Branimir, feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable. What if she was wrong and Marisa’s questions didn’t mean what she thought. It was quite probable that she misinterpreted them because she felt like she was bursting because of the horrible secret she was keeping.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said feebly. “I’m… fine.” She knew that her eyes gave her away, they were watery now but she hoped that she could hold back the tears. “The last half year has been difficult, though, I admit that…” her voice trailed off and she took another sip of water to gain some time and to compose herself.

She met her friend's gaze head on and Marisa felt as if something was hanging between the two of them. Secrets they both kept and were still deciding if they wanted to share or not. Marisa wasn't upset her friend hadn't told her because she was accustomed to the need for secrecy, but she was still upset Aglaya had had to go through all of that at all.

And on top of all of that, she felt terrible her Sight had ripped that bit of privacy from her friend. She wanted to take back her questions, but the sight of Aglaya so ill, looking so close to death had rattled her. She was embarrassed to find she was almost misty-eyed. She hated feeling this fragile after her visions.

She saw that frown on Aglaya's face and wondered.. hoped that her friend wouldn't hold it against her. She honestly hadn't meant to invade her privacy and yet she couldn't give it back. There was something raw and vulnerable in Aglaya's gaze even as she denied the truth she had seen. Marisa simply nodded, understanding automatically. It wasn't her right to know or be told, though her heart did ache for her friend.

In times like these, it was when she hated her gift the most because she wanted to be able to give the comfort of touching her friend's hand or shoulder or something. "It's okay, I understand," she said softly instead, her voice warm but a little shaky. "I.." she hesitated as she glanced down at her hands, her fingers twisted together in her lap and nervously circling the gold ring on her middle finger before she brought her gaze up to meet Aglaya's.

"I haven't.. been through what you have, but I'm here for you, for whatever you need, to listen to whatever parts you feel comfortable sharing." Sincerity and honesty burning through her tone, her eyes feeling misty again as she tried to smile, knowing she was probably making a fool of herself. "Okay?"

Marisa’s words were confusing and Aglaya didn’t know what to make of them. How could her friend suddenly act as though she knew things she couldn’t possibly know or could she? Marisa seemed to feel emotional and showed more compassion than Aglaya was used to receiving. Usually people praised her after a good performance or tormented her with questions why she hadn’t been perfect after a bad one.

While she didn’t understand what had happened to change the atmosphere between them and what made Marisa say things as though someone had just told her about Aglaya’s poisoning, she was certain that they were not talking about the practice session anymore. It suddenly seemed insignificant, even ridiculous that they had been talking about a few falls she had taken during training when Marisa was now hinting at graver things.

“What do you know?” Aglaya asked quietly, willing her friend to give her a hint how much she knew about the things that had happened. She was not going to confide in her and to risk that she was sharing something that Marisa actually had been entirely unaware of.

However, if the other witch actually knew things that had been kept secret until now, Aglaya would definitely enquire to find out where she had got the information. Maybe, had the situation been different and Aglaya wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown all the time she might have come to the conclusion that her friend had skills that she did not have herself and had got a glimpse of her secret past. However, as it was, Aglaya didn’t think that far. She was busy keeping up the appearance and pretending that she was just the same person she had been more than half a year ago even if she had changed since then.

Despite her attempts to smooth it over, Marisa could feel that it wasn't enough. She almost didn't want to meet her friend's gaze to see the possible confusion or doubt or accusations she would see there, but she did anyway because she knew Aglaya deserved answers. Marisa already felt guilty about her Sight getting in the way again and now she felt it double because she was effectively lying to her friend.

What do you know? There it was. The one question she feared. Her Sight gave her the most inconvenient insights sometimes when she's rather just stay with her head in the sand and be none the wiser. A nice lunch had descended into something much different and she yearned for a return to simplicity. She knew, however, that it wasn't possible and she now faced another decision. One she always hated to make.

Did she tell her friend the truth or offer a lie instead and feel eternally guilty for it?

"I didn't mean to.." Marisa whispered, the truth in her tone evident, the apology clear. She really hadn't meant to intrude on her privacy. A simple touch, a simple mistake. She glanced down at her hands again, her dark curls hanging over her shoulder as she wrestled with her secret. She didn't like to tell anyone, friend or no, and felt a familiar lick of fear rising up within her. "There's something I haven't told you too, Aglaya," she said quietly, trying to keep her breath steady as she resigned herself to it, feeling like she owed her friend an explanation.

She licked her lips and made a furtive glance around them. The man seemed far enough away and she just hoped he didn't have a spell going to overhear them. "I have the Sight," she confessed looking down at her hands.

’I have the Sight.’

Aglaya stared at her friend incredulously. She knew that there were witches and wizards that had the Sight but she had never personally known one of them. That Marisa could see things was both scary and fascinating. Aglaya wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a gift.

From Marisa’s reaction, the athlete felt that her friend was uncomfortable with her special skills. As Aglaya processed the news she paled some more, realising that Marisa might have seen things that she didn’t want anyone to know, that she had tried hard to conceal.

“I see,” she said after a moment of silence. “I didn’t know.” It was obvious that she hadn’t known. Marisa hadn’t confided in her and she couldn’t blame the other witch. This was probably not something one wanted people to be aware of. It was bound to be difficult in personal relationships. It was a little similar to her own situation in some ways - she didn’t want people to know about the things that she was going through as it was probable that it would change their behaviour towards her.

“And you  see the past?” Given Marisa’s earlier question, Aglaya was pretty certain that her friend was a postcognitive Seer. She took a deep breath, still trying to make sense of the situation. “So you saw... something when we touched?” Her voice was brittle and she cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry you saw whatever it was that you’ve seen.” She whispered. She glanced at Branimir who was reading or pretending to read the newspaper now. He wasn’t overhearing them, she assumed, and even if he was, that would hardly make anything worse.