[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/jedPqym.png[/img][color=black][h1][sup][sup]✜[/sup][/sup][/h1]"I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma: but perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest." - Winston Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty, 1939[/color][/center]

[color=gray]Dmitry put on a suitably mild smile and assessed the situation in front of him. He knew Annushka was more unsure of her situation than her strong facade was admitting, and the man also knew that her ability to keep up this false but entirely befitting and in no way dishonest facade betrayed a true inner strength that she was only beginning to come to terms with. It was his role in this adventure to protect the fragile and tarnished flower that sat before him, and shelter her through the winter so that she could blossom fully as a full member of their Host. The matters currently before them were but small details in this larger endeavor, and it was his duty to balance the need to fully engage in the moment whilst not losing sight of the bigger picture, but yet, fully engage in the moment he must, and so with this moonlit backdrop in mind he leaned back, took in a deep breath and clapped his hands together suddenly, a boisterous [color=silver]“So!”[/color] lightly booming from his chest in suitable concert with the frost and snow which cascaded from his thick leather gloves, [color=silver]“You feel you can improve the food around here?”[/color]

[color=silver]“A welcome addition you will be indeed!”[/color] Dimitry let back a small chuckle with his jest so as to lighten the mood in the darkened night in hopes of making Annu feel more at ease. [color=silver]“But you do know it is not all fun and games, even with our less adventurous Host, no?”[/color]

Annushka’s eyes narrowed, peeking in amusement at his comment, all joyous and cunning at the same time. Dmitry seemed to be up for whatever direction she so chose, ready to to hunt her down and bring her back. [color=silver]“Hopefully you will not grow tired of such domestic things, even though we will ask more of you, and lose your calm, returning to the deep Ukraine like an untrained Mare, no?”[/color] As he spoke, the trees were tending to the forest, covering in snow and watching under the trumpets that he reigned. It was difficult not to fall under his influence. This was his territory, a blessing of the Host.

Not minding her surroundings or his previous comment about being a welcome addition (even if she was relieved to be such), she answered in two-fold with one word, [color=white]“нет,”[/color] Annushka spoke, falling deeply embedded in his comment, and she fell more than she ought to have been considering his jesting nature. He had caught her, again, again, and again. There was not much the man could not foresee. The threads of this knowledge were carefully  beginning to weave this bit of knowledge to her, and still, she wanted to refuse its offering despite how truthful they were. Her rejection, as internal as it was, planted slothful patterns into the journey by making it ever more tiring in her perspective, already worn from a long days worth of contemplation, [color=white]“I spit upon the witch,”[/color] and with that comment, she feigned the rights of disgrace upon the evil one by motioning her head quickly and falsely spitting to the ashen snow, no longer skirted by her long wardrobe, which was hiked for dramatic banality.

After the gesture was completed, a dark mit tapped her mouth, feeling the warmth of the fabric against her lips, not caring for the childish display to cause calloused discomfort upon her skin. Annushka let the mit rest now in her lap, not making a return to her [i]shashka.[/i] Dmitry was disarming her, and it was foolish for her to continue in such a brute manner. A man of his type could read her with no such problems like the men she had grown accustomed to entertaining. He was a livelier man, in more ways than one, and she was thankful his [i]eros[/i] could give such an attentive nature to her. Although, the jest still remained inevitable, and allowing him to come to close so early on was always unwise.

Dmitry enjoyed seeing Annushka rebuke his critique of her untamed tendencies in such a rogue and equine manner, and was glad to have her along for the journey, even though the journey was entirely caused by said equine manner. Though in his maturity he often seemed to have foreknowledge of some events by virtue of his experience, this actually was quite often not the case, and in many instances what appeared to be sagely wisdom was simply him applying what he knew of his own untamed and wild nature to the situation. Which is not to say he did not have some insight to Annushka’s state, having many times veered off into the wilderness on rogue journeys in his younger days before marrying his late Evgenia and rising in the ranks of the Zoprozhian.

[color=silver]“Well, it is of no concern. I am sure in no time you will see our journey to be worthwhile, and you will be reconciled fully, both to the past, in the present, and with your more certain and right future.”[/color] Dmitry paused to see if his words had a soothing effect.

Having lost herself in a dear childhood memory of her eldest sister’s friend who later joined the convent undertaking Saint Mara as her Patron. It made her wonder who she was truly spitting upon during that Hellenistic moment. She decided to pay this thought no mind, not wanting to hold any sadness of how she longed to embrace her sister once more. Dmitry seemed to pay no mind to her absent mindedness, and his words extended. His tune was strong, and it was for that of a leader to keep the Host in line as his conversation did.

He saw that Annushka said nothing to his response and proceeded with his service, [color=silver]“As you know we will be traveling up the river and will arrive at Trinity Monastery, I’m sure your offerings and prayers will be accepted, and that the calm of the dormitory will bring you much calm, and a much-needed new beginning to this chapter of our tale.”[/color] Dimitry paused to study Annushka’s face for signs of softening before resuming. [color=silver]“Some council with the Starets I think will do you well, and though his critique of your deviation may be harsh like the the Siberian winds, cutting through the icy landscape, he will be sure to apply this cold to aid you in keeping your heart warm for the coming months.”[/color] Seeing her veiled coldness re-cloak itself in a smattering of fearful joy, he continued [color=silver]“I know you are fearful of this reconciliation, for it means you will face your shame, but fear not, Our God is a Forgiving God, and you seem to me quite like the woman who feels much relief despite herself after the reconciliation is complete. Of course we will be with you in our contrition, many of us facing far worse sins than do you! Do not fear, little Annu, all will be well.”[/color]

It seemed unreasonable to Annushka that God should be ever merciful to her. Her mind could not understand how Dmitry could talk so whimsically and surely about something so great and mysterious. Her impression of him never seemed to falter, not since she had met him, [color=white]“I enjoy your confidence, dearest Misha,”[/color] she looked downward at the seat he had yet to take. It was useless to ask, again, and his words were fearsome and bothersome in their comforting style. An impatience no longer wanted to hear his lecture, and for such a reason, her mit re-tucked the lines of her pants into her boot, [color=white]“How is your confidence with dancing, then. Just as pious?”[/color] She feigned to stand her body upwards, next to the large man. He continued towering over her, and yet again she felt the same adoration for him, even if she could not yet show the proper respect.

Despite his general sense of confidence and his strong duty to display leadership at most all times, especially those such as this, Dmitry always felt a little bit unsure of his direction when faced in the presence the glow of such an intense and serious ember as Annushka. And all the more so owing to her most particular and unique ferocity in the world of all embers. It always made him chuckle to himself a bit, or perhaps feel a bit terrified, depending on his level of self confidence or self mockery, that he should be so strong in matters so unimportant, but in things such as these, so utterly without direction. But of course these were things he could never admit publicly, and tried to keep out of his mind, lest he dwell on them too much and unravel the many threads of woolen fabric he had woven together over the many years of harsh winters and terrible struggle. So he quickly placed the question out of mind and and hitched up his [i]Sharovary[/i] with his heavy leather gloves, pivoting on one boot with some gusto to plop down dramatically with a sigh on the log about an [i]arshin[/i] or so away from Annushka.

[color=silver]“You know, Annuska”[/color] Dmitry began with a slightly solemn and caring tone, [color=silver]“I do know it is not as easy as I try to make it sound sometimes. Many times I too face my own uncertainty and yearn to have a clear direction, or the strength to face the clear direction in front of me.”[/color] Dmitry peered out into the wilderness, glancing over to ensure Annushka’s attention as he confessed this to her, hoping to provide some assurance both of his assurances and of their true commonality despite their vast difference in years. [color=silver]“Thankfully,”[/color] he continued, [color=silver]“God has granted me great responsibilities despite myself which provides me with much motivation when I might not find it otherwise. In my younger years I would have rebelled against such things, but there came a time when I had to seek a different approach, finding strength in the challenges before me.”[/color] Dmitry paused, rebuking himself slightly in mind despite the generally good advice, for sounding too pompous and leaderly. It was a hard habit to set aside at times. Suddenly, he tilted slightly to the side and made a jesting face in Annushka’s direction. [color=silver]“Hopefully I listened!”[/color] he said, slapping his knees slightly to emphasize the point, and also the jest.


A small smile quipped upon her,[color=white]“I wonder if your ears ever rest.”[/color] Thoughts cast through her head, now that she had more of his attention. It was in vanity, and she wished they had gone to do something else. However, she respected his decision to continue talking instead of dancing and being so merry with the rest. Such was for her ability to ask, [color=white]“May I ask you something?”[/color]

[color=silver]“Of course, indeed I probably talk too much and listen too little”[/color], Dmitry nodded gently, imploring her to continue.

[color=white]“No, no…”[/color] Nushka's smile remained, despite the looming disposition. The man was jolly and light with his humor.  His comfort was a Trisagion to her, [color=white]“Do I mourn too much?”[/color] She cast her eyes away, embarrassed, and her fingers shifted towards each other, mitted with fabric.

[color=silver]“Ohh.. poor Annu”[/color] he exclaimed softly, yearning with his heart to gently sweep at the frosty hairs peeking out from her hat to comfort her, but stopping himself short as he knew her present fragility and didn’t want to be too familiar with her, lest his touch be misconstrued as somehow inappropriate and therefore damaging. [color=silver]“You care so very much that you chop yourself up with your own guilt.”[/color] At a time long ago, Dmitry too had such a butcherly problem, and so he knew it well. It took him much struggle to see and forgive himself his clear and obvious faults and yet also to see the damage the knife of his self criticism was causing, a task which was made all the more difficult by the fact that the knife was initially turned inward out of a desire to protect those whom he used to stab with it. [color=silver]“One can never mourn too much, and yet one must also still live the life one has yet before them. It is a difficult thing to balance on a log such as this. In my dark times, it took me much failing to find my true mourning, but also to let go of it when the time had come. I had to see in my own stubborn way that this particular contrition, while still seeming true, was keeping me trapped in the dark, and so it was still all the more hard to move on, when leaving it behind seemed so foolish and lighthearted by comparison. And so I still must go back there at times to make sure it is still there, should I need it and should my current path prove incorrect, as it still so often seems. Which is not to say contrition is wrong of course - it is the true path. But, if we deny joy we also deny the love of God. Such is the puzzle of our lost way in this world."[/color]

Annushka remained silent. His words were helpful and thoughtful, but she had nothing in response. The overtone of the conversation had turned her, and she was unable to say anything. Instead, she sat, staring at her mittens, where light snow had fallen and was suckling on the ruffled fuzz of the fabric.

Dmitry sat quietly with Annu in the cold stillness, the silence somehow made warm by their solitude in the wilderness. The stars twinkled softly in the distance, and the winter spread its comforting but harsh coldness over the scene. After a short time, the sound of the encampment grew impatient with their departure, and Dmitry sensed Annushka’s response would remain silent like the nature of their wider surroundings, for the moment anyway. [color=silver]“Perhaps, my words are too much for the moment,”[/color] Dmitry began, brushing the frost from his legs as he stood up. [color=silver]”You are right! Tonight affords us a chance to escape such solemnity and be merry with the group!”[/color] And with one nearly incomprehensible motion, Dmitry unsheathed his [i]shashka,[/i] twirled it several times above their heads, and spun himself whirredly in the air, landing in a crouched cossack dance position with hand extended to pull Annushka off of her perch and lead them both in a most comradely and jovial spirit back to the camp.[/color]