Chapter Text
Two days later, Hélène found herself standing in front of the steps to Marya’s home once again. She knew vaguely of her brother’s elopement plan– not as well as Dolokhov, but well enough to know she was supposed to make sure Marya was distracted. The entire arrangement seemed unreliable, but Hélène wished her brother the best. It was a shame this mess will probably ruin the poor, young countess. But no one had forewarned Hélène before her life became a mess, so why should the countess be rescued from the storm heading her way? Hélène tried to ignore the feeling of dread clinging to the back of her throat.
She decided not to utter a word of her secret concern for the young Rostova’s wellbeing. And so the beast of silent petty vengeance unlocked itself from it’s cage.
She swung the knocker once. No answer. Twice. No answer. Just as she lifted the knocker for the third time, the door swung open.
“Hélène. Kuragina .” Marya’s voice remained both sharp yet welcoming. Something Hélène felt in her knotted stomach and a childlike giddiness seemed to wash over her. She didn't think she could've prepared herself for this response in a million years.
“What are you doing here?” Her sharp eyes focused on Hélène in suspicion.
“Let me in and I'll let you find out,” Hélène’s smooth voice draped around the stagnant air.
To her surprise, Marya reached out for her hand and pulled her inside the house.
“Please, sit down.” Marya jutted her chin at the sofa. “The girls are upstairs.”
Hélène sat and Marya took her place in the chair opposite to her. A servant ran up to Marya and laid a tray containing two dainty glass cups, a teapot, and a large ornate plate, decorated with sweets. Marya nodded in acknowledgment, then clapped to send the servant away. She turned back around so Hélène could resume studying her sharp grey eyes– the color of frost reflecting the winter sky. Hélène felt an overpowering emotion sweep over her—the same sensation as the burning in her stomach after taking a swing of tonic.
She pursed her lips to take a small sip of her tea, pleasantly surprised to discover the touch of rum.
How Marya.
“Never changed, did you?” Hélène wrapped her fingers tightly around the cup, twirling with a strand of loose hair with her other hand.
“I wouldn't say that, but this the only acceptable way of drinking afternoon tea when the girls are around.”
Hélène raised an eyebrow. “And when they're not around?”
It could have easily been a trick of the light, but Hélène swore she saw Marya staring much too far below her eye level.
I must find out what she's thinking… Hélène thought to herself.
“With vodka.”
A coy grin played upon Hélène’s lips as she took another sip.
“A respectable choice– well I respect it, so it's probably not such a respectable choice in your eyes.”
Marya let out a small chuckle, her icy gaze softening ever so slightly, hiding her smile behind her teacup.
And for the first time in her life, Hélène felt a hot blush, evoked by feelings of attraction race across her cheeks.
She noted the chairs must've danced forward, because she and Marya were now sitting so close she could nearly feel Marya’s breath against her cheek.
Hélène decided it was time.
She leaned closer, waiting and watching to see Marya’s reaction.
Marya, the Great Dragon, leaned even closer.
Then Hélène.
Then Marya.
They were now touching noses.
“We have much to catch up on,” Marya stated in a businesslike manner.
“We can always talk later,” Hélène replied in a voice that sounded much more confident than she felt.
“We lost so much time.”
“Let's not waste any now.”
Hélène felt Marya’s eyelashes flutter against her cheek as she blinked.
“You very well know I am very organized with my time,” The Dragonwoman let a smirk tug at the corner of her lip, as she leaned, if even possible, closer to Hélène.
And as if a million troikas set on fire stampeded over Hélène all at once, she felt her entire body red, hot and ablaze. Her cheeks became crimson as she planted her lips on the smoldering reds of Marya Dmitrieyvna. Marya kissed back, with the same amount as passion and fervor as Hélène. She pulled the rest of Hélène’s body closer, wrapping her arms around her back with the strength of a boa constrictor. Sliding off her chair and onto Marya’s lap, Hélène licked Marya’s lip before promptly biting it down. Marya dropped her jaw, her tongue crashing into Hélène’s as they explored each other's mouths.
Hélène’s hands began roaming around Marya, tracing her figure with her palm.
“Beautiful,” she muttered breathily, her hands running up Marya’s back, her neck, her hair.
Marya smirked against Hélène’s teeth. “Usually, people with histories like ours don't just jump to this the next chance they see another after all those years.”
“That's exactly what grossly sick romantic people do.”
“Does that mean you're insinuating this is what we are, right now?” Marya quickly pecked the corner of Hélène’s mouth.
“Maybe I am–” Hélène dragged her tongue down from Marya’s lower lip to her mid neck. “Or maybe I just want to see if I can get a certain Dmitriyevena fall for me again .” She began sucking on Marya’s neck, eliciting a soft moan from the other woman.
“ Please , as if you weren't the one who marched up to me and then pulled me into the other room and asked me “if the rumors were true, and I really had slept exclusively with women”.”
“I don't remember that,” Hélène lied, savoring the softness of Marya’s milky flesh. “I do remember you stuttering and nervously tapping your nails when I asked out to dance.”
Hélène sucked harder, making a popping sound as she released her grasp and relished the prolonged moan from Marya.
“And then, before I could reply, you mysteriously vanished from the party all together.”
“I got swept away by the crowd, I couldn't find you again.”
“I would've said yes.”
Hélène froze, her heart pounding in her throat and her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth.
She forgot what it felt like, to feel so openly vulnerable. She detested it.
“Unfortunate. That I got lost in the crowd, then.”
“Most unfortunate.” Marya tilted her head ever so slightly to the side.
“Lenochka, I know you're thinking of something...are you thinking of–”
“No, and I don't want to talk about it. Let's go back to entertaining our shared interest that is me discovering every surface of your mouth,instead.”
Marya rolled her eyes at Hélène’s intentionally ridiculous statement. She gave her a quick kiss and left a trail of red lipstick stains down her neck.
“I never stopped wearing this shade,” Marya professed, as she kissed Hélène’s collarbone.
“Much, much after you gave it to me I realized it really was my color. You were right.”
“When am I not with such important matters?”
Marya let out a small chuckle. “That is true. You are, however, unwilling at best, to discuss the way you feel about this.” She quickly pointed from Hélène to herself.
“You don't seem that eager to talk about it either.” Hélène leaned to nibble on Marya’s ear.
“It did not say I wanted to, but I find it necessary at the very least.” Marya suddenly sat up straighter, her composure back to how it was before.
Hélène reluctantly pulled herself away, but kept her hands casually resting on Marya’s hips.
“What do you want me to sa—”
The sound of a dozen distant hooves click-clacking against the road interrupted Hélène’s question.
“It's a strange time for rushing troikas,” Marya commented, her eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. As she started to rise, Hélène quickly pulled her back down.
“It's probably nothing, Maruysa, darling, come back here and kiss me.
The noise grew louder, accompanied by loud yelling and cheering. It was almost as if the troika was parked directly in front of Marya’s house.
Marya stood back up and walked to the door.
“Someone needs to tell those hooligans not to contaminate my very well-kept house.”
One of Marya's servants ran up to her and whispered in her ear. Marya turned around to face Hélène.
The rage imprinted on her face was a new level of horrifying. Hélène could practically feel the smoke fuming from Marya’s flaring nostrils. Suprisingly, she managed to keep a calm tone.
“I think it's best if you leave. Now,” her voice edged towards the end.
Hélène stood up, feeling a pang of worry for her brother strike against her chest. “Marya, I'm–”
Marya struck her arm out, her talon-like nails pointing sharply at the door. “Go. And don't come back unless you want to see true extent of my wrath.” Marya hissed, melting a chasm in the back of Hélène’s skull with her glare.
There was an old saying about a every person in the world manifests their own sort of apocalypse at some point in their life. Hélène tried not to let her tears burn holes in the ground crumbling before her. The choking smoke suffocated her as she walked slowly backward, edging near the door. Her eyes met again with Marya's burning twin suns, carrying the blinding fury of a good man who had been cheated by life. Hélène let out a sharp cry and flung open the door, sprinting off of Marya Dmitreyena's steps. The cold hail hit against her cheeks but she couldn't stay in the center of the dystopian mess she made of her life.
And so, she ran.
The winter air sliced open her exposed flesh, her lungs stung with fire and her footprints were like acid holes from a nuclear wasteland.
She ran until she arrived what most called her "home".
For once, she was relieved when she discovered she was completely alone.
She let the tears fall fast as she stared blearily into the street, unsure if it was the hail or her tears that made everything so blurry.