Chapter Text
Rain gently pattered against the orphanage’s windows with a rhythmic tapping sound-which was soothing in a way - A soft hum of wind here and there, the result of wet weather, trees; specifically branches-near the stone building brushed against the structure, a faint scraping sound.
Candle light lined walls danced with shadows, illuminated by dull flame light, highlighting the slight imperfections in the stone. Amidst this-small children chatted, engrossed in conversations among themselves, giggles were shared as if gossiping in a spacious room with few beds; and a single shelf-lined with worn books.
Huddled together in a small circle - a few of them, about four; peering down at something, whispering, voices tiny, barely audible. A candle rested nearby, hot wax dripping onto its holder as it brought light to the specific spot where said children were.
Their hushed whispers and snickers came to an abrupt halt - heads raising in near perfect sync, swiveling around to stare over their shoulders, at the door, which remained closed as footsteps became apparent from outside. A gleam of warm, yet dull light gleamed through the cracks. Within an instant, like spooked mice, they gathered themselves, one swiftly blew out the candle with a huff; Foolishly leaving behind whatever they had been so curious about on the floor; hastily climbing into the nearest beds. Covers rustling with movement.
The door then creaked, the eerie sound making the children shrink back into the mattresses-heads ducking underneath fluffy covers.
“How many times have I told you not to stay up past lights out?” Said a honey smooth voice, kind and laced with a Russian accent - The door now opened fully, stepping inside was a young woman, warm candle light illuminated her features; pale complexion with soft skin - adorned a sweet smile.
Elmira Zaitsev.
Boots clacked against the wooden flooring, signaling her entrance as the door shut with a faint click; Sighs of relief came from the young ones.
“Miss Zaitsev!” Beamed one of the children; A little girl, Alyona, about nine years of age. Sitting right up with a quick movement, locks of dark hair - Thick curls to be specific - were slightly tangled from hiding beneath the covers. “We thought we were doomed!” She cried, her words an exaggerated whisper.
“Thank goodness it’s you.” Spoke up a little boy, Rurik, springing out from blankets; The fabric usually kept neat when not in use tossed around on the mattress. Hands moving to smooth the wrinkles on his sleep shirt; by muscle memory it seemed. “I might’ve died on the spot if you were Miss Morozova!”
He spoke of the head of the orphanage.
A dreadful woman to be around indeed.
Elmira merely gave a brief chuckle, the sound airy; With a shake of her head, hiding amusement, the young woman carefully placed down the candle holder upon a table; its handle clinked.
“I might not be Miss Morozova, yet that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you all being up this late again.” Said she; giving a wave of her hand as if dismissing their dramatic displays - Suppressing a chuckle. “Though.. I am curious, what were you all doing that disrupted your sleep schedule?” A dark eyebrow raised as she spoke a question.
A beat of silence.
Pyotr; Alyona’s elder brother wore a cheeky smile, dimple’s curved into his round cheeks - scrambled out of the bed he once sat upon, little bare feet thumping softly against the dusty ground, wandered back to where the five of them had been huddled close; chubby fingers grasped a sheet of paper as his knees bent to crouch down.
“Anastasiya fished out a newspaper page from the dumpster!” Declared Pyotr with a squeaky voice, jabbing an accusing finger in Anastasiya’s direction; the young girl merely gave a pouty huff, turning her head away in a harsh movement; locks of blonde hair brushed against her face. Annoyed yet she didn’t deny the accusation. "We were merely reading it." He added hastily.
“..I see.’’ Mused Elmira, her head tilted to the right, locks of thick; black hair falling in front of her face - Continuing to lean down beside Pyotr, the fabric of her long, floor length skirt pooled as her knees bent in slight; hands placed firmly on her knees as she curiously peered at the newspaper page.
The paper's edges were worn, ripped from being torn away from the remaining pages - dusted with specs of dirt and such from being in the dumpster where they claimed to have fetched it from.
Eagerly; Pyotr grinned, big eyes gleaming with sparkles as he spoke - tone exaggerated with plead, the type of exaggeration you’d witness in a low budget play with desperate actors looking to stuff their pockets with cash. “Oh! That old library has opened once more! Says the paper; if only we had somebody to take us..” Said with intent to sway Elmira, his hand shot up to press against his forehead as if he had suddenly fallen ill; too dramatic it was.
“Perhaps - Though I’d prefer if I went alone, you’re troublemakers.” Spoke Elmira as she stole the ‘well-loved’ paper out from Pyotr’s grasp, stuffing it underneath her armpit as she stood; her free hand smoothed out her skirt, the ruffles remained the same, if not; more apparent. “Of course.. I’d bring back books.” She added, swift enough for no frowns to grace upon the young one’s faces.
Her expression still wore a sweet smile, kind just as her words; caring. Her hand raised, now placed itself upon Pyotr’s head; giving his dark, full locks a hair a firm ruffle. The action one of a mother would do when teasing. “Off to bed, all of you. It’s late.’’ Her hand moved to the boy’s back, giving him a weak pat to usher him toward the free bed; her words finally brought frowns to each - minus Rurik - of their faces.
Anastasiya’s being the deepest. Pyotr cringed along with Aylona, noses wrinkling with annoyance. Finding amusement in this, Rurik snickered; careful to remain quiet throughout this - Pulling the covers over his form, sinking down into his mattress without a care.
“Enough of your pouting, you need rest.” Elmira spoke once they had all peacefully -or as peacefully as you could get- tucked themselves in; Approaching the door to exit, she grasped the handle of the candle holder she had previously set down earlier, the metal creaked as the metal attached to its handle shifted; swaying with movement.
‘’I won’t tell Miss Mozozova about this if you go to bed.” She added, her words a subtle attempt at swaying the children into resting; falling into the land of dreams where all worries could be forgotten until morning would arrive. “Goodnight.” Her free hand began to twist the doorknob, the door creaked softly.
The kids murmurs of ‘goodnight’s came quickly after; one after the other - Anastasiya’s voice was smaller than the others; laced with exhaustion from the day spent, even a hint of a yawn peaked through. And like that, the room was quiet like the exhaustion hit all at once like a pan to the face.
Pleased, Elmira nodded to herself; exiting the ‘cozy’ room with a final step out the door - mindful to not trip over the frame, which peaked up from the ground; the structure of this orphanage was strange. The warm yet dull light became muted as the door shut, a soft click announcing it’s closure. Leaving the children to enjoy their slumber.
Silly children, so curious and innocent.