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Vodyanitsa breathes out, watching her breath take shape into a mist of white. In those little puffs of air, she imagines animals forming. First a little dog, with a nose sticking out from a cloud of fur. She breathes out again, replacing the little dog with a dancing swan, its long neck stretched gracefully over an expanse of water. Or… the train's flooring.
Truth be told, Vodyanitsa is very cold. In her rush to hurry into the train, she had neglected to bring a thick coat, leaving her only in her performing clothes. She was relying on the train's heating system to warm her up, but just moments before, the train conductor made an announcement apologising for the lack of heating. It seems that her people can't forgo being kleptomaniacs for a day…
Odette sits quietly on her seat, with the only movement she makes being blinking and the occasional rise and fall of her chest. She's wearing a little less than Vodyanitsa, her legs concealed by white stockings as opposed to a full-length dress, but she's wearing a very large and puffy scarf compared to Vodyanitsa's bare neck. If she feels the cold, she does not complain about it– though she does feel warmer than Vodyanitsa. Whenever she presses into Odette's arm, warmth spreads through her body.
Alyosha, on the other hand, taps his knuckles against the train's window, leg bouncing with vigor. As always, he's dressed for every Snezhnayan occasion with layers of thick coats. She looks upon his fluffy hoodie with envy, though she knows she shouldn't. It's not like he can comment on it though; when he turns back to her all he sees is a blank expression.
“The world outside is encased in white,” she comments idly. “I suppose less people will show up for tonight's performance.” The words come out strained, as though her vocal chords have frozen over. This might be a problem.
“Is that easier for you or me?” Alyosha asks, his eyes moving back to the snowy expanse. He looks rather pensive. Perhaps it's because he left Tugarin behind? Though it's not the first time this has happened, perhaps it's the first time she noticed. She wonders why he didn't bring his dog. Having warm fur against her arms sounds rather nice, actually.
She hums thoughtfully, dropping her head against Odette's shoulder. “As long as your bullets aren't jammed, I think we'll be fine.”
Odette doesn't say anything, but she notices a small tilt of her lips. Finally, after a minute of being stared at, Odette murmurs, “You would hope they had the stage warmed for us.”
“Would you like me to ask the staff for blankets?” Alyosha asks. “We wouldn't want your legs to freeze up mid-performance.”
“Once I get moving, the cold won't be as biting,” she answers mildly. “You don't have to worry about me, I'm used to performing in this temperature.”
Alyosha smiles. “Archon forbid they found out you were complaining about ballet. You'll be dancing at sub-zero temperatures next.”
“While fighting a band of fae,” Vodyanitsa adds, beginning to form a braid in her hair. If she can't keep warm, then she has to keep herself entertained.
“Fighting while stuck to a particular dance routine,” Alyosha leans back, deep in thought. “I wonder how that would work out.”
“It wouldn't,” Odette responds flatly. “If the sub-zero temperatures don't get me, then the instructor will.”
“If we removed sub-zero from the equation, then…” Vodyanitsa trails off, feeling a shiver shooting through her spine. Thankfully, the others don't seem to notice.
“It's hard but it's do-able.”
Alyosha sighs. “So you have tried it. I knew those instructors were crazy.”
“No.” Odette examines her gloved fingers, searching for dirt on the fabric. It's such a minor detail that nobody will notice, but Odette has always been one for perfection. “It was my idea.”
The carriage lapses into a long but relatively comfortable silence, each person filled with their own thoughts. Odette flourishes a mirror from her pocket– Vodyanitsa has no idea how it fit– and adjusts her appearance. Alyosha begins to tap his knuckles against the train window again and Vodyanitsa begins to shiver uncontrollably.
It's rather embarrassing as she's a fae and she, out of everyone on this train, should be the most adapted to the weather, but she isn't. If the Tsaritsa saw her like this, she would be sorely disappointed– though that's not to say the Tsaritsa isn't already in a state of eternal disappointment. But it would be so awkward to ask for a blanket now when the conversation had already moved away from that. But would she rather that or freeze?
A perplexing conundrum indeed.
She could probably find a way to work around this.
“Alyosha,” she asks, unintentionally piercing the air with her voice. “Can you lend me your cloak for a moment? I just want to see it.”
She doesn't need to ask any further. Alyosha has always been kind enough to indulge her.
She takes it in her hands and examines the fabric. Her fingers glide smoothly over the fabric, as though it were some sort of animal hide. It feels nice.
And very warm.
“Is it safe to assume I won't be getting that back?” Alyosha asks, though there's no tone of disdain within his voice.
“You have a lot of layers, you'll be fine,” Vodyanitsa answers, already buried in fabric.
“You can have this too.” Odette unwravels her scarf with grace, before delicately wrapping Vodyanitsa within it. “It was getting rather warm here.
“I was waiting for you to say something.” Alyosha crosses his arms, gaze still trained out the window.
“Same.”
“Was there a reason that prohibited you from just… giving me your clothes?” She tilts her head as her posed question hangs in the air. It would've saved her the first half of the journey, freezing to death and all.
Unsurprisingly, the two remain silent, with their only interaction being exchanged side-long glances. Alyosha begins to whistle a tune and Odette pats down her dress faster.
“You didn't give me permission,” Alyosha answers, as if he were a dog. Vodyanitsa knows, Odette knows, even Alyosha himself knows, that this is not true. Alyosha has never been bound by orders not given to him by the Tsaritsa– he only ever uses the ‘permission’ excuse whenever he wants to avoid doing something.
“I wasn't sure how badly you needed it.” Odette's voice is barely carried across the wind, only just audible above the clashing metal and roaring winter night. And she says this despite the fact she had just been laughing at Vodyanitsa's shivering.
Some ‘tight-knit’ troupe they are…
Vodyanitsa hums, turning her attention out the window again. The warmth of Alyosha's cloak snakes up her veins, soothing the chills threatening to crawl down her spine. Odette's scarf nuzzles into her cheek and she feels blood returning to her pale skin. It's so nice under their clothes… Sleep cradles her in the crook of its outstretched arms and lulls her mind into a state of comfort. If she indulges it, it might just pull her in.
That won't be a problem; they should have half an hour left of the journey.
She turns to Alyosha and Odette to converse, only to find that they're curled in on themselves, holding back their own chills. It's rather hilarious, seeing the ever-stoic Alyosha nipping at his arms to prevent feeling cold and the elegant Odette twitching in her seat.
Covering her mouth, she leans against the window in order to obscure her face. “How long do we have left?”
“You look rather smug for someone asking the time,” Alyosha remarks with a scathing tone. He glances at the sky through the now frosted over window, watching the moon. “Twenty minutes or so. The moon hasn't fully peaked yet.”
Under her breath, Odette mumbles something about endurance, and if she wasn't referring to their current situation, Vodyanitsa would find it fitting.
“If you're so cold, why don't you start dancing?”
Odette shoots her a miffed look. “If it were that easy, I would've danced myself off the train by now.”
Alyosha sighs. “If the fae hadn't stolen the train components, we would've gotten there by now.” He casts a playful glance at Vodyanitsa. “Obviously this is your fault.”
“What, is she going to craft a new microphone with the train parts?”
“What's wrong with my microphone?”
Layered somewhat over the top of that is Alyosha's joking, “No, but she could've enchanted them to just bring it back.”
Odette huffs a laugh. “I wish I had her when I was dancing and fighting at sub-zero temperatures.”
“No really, what's wrong with it?”
“You know what,” Alyosha says as he stands suddenly. “I'm not scared to admit that I'm cold. I'm going to go ask for blankets.”
“I wonder if they have any types of coffee,” Odette murmurs mostly to herself. “I'll go see if they have anything.”
It's been a full hour, and only now are they looking for amenities? How selfish.
“If they do, bring back tea, please,” Vodyanitsa calls. Upon seeing Odette's brief nod, she sinks down into the plush cushions.
The door clicks shut and the silence ebbs at the conversation lingering in the air. She doesn't particularly like being alone, but at the very least she's allowed to drop all etiquette and cozy up into the warmth surrounding her. Sleep still tugs at her body intermittently and her thoughts continue to drift into idle daydreams.
They have less than twenty minutes left. She's allowed to sleep just a little, right?
The train continues to drift through the dusk, slow and gentle in its motion. Was this how it was moving all along? The cacophony of noise is nothing more than a snowflake against the layers of white.
She feels all too familiar with the idea; nestled under the piles of fluff, fur and wool is Vodyanitsa, and at her side is Alyosha and Odette, heads rested against both her shoulders. It seems the peace has caught them all in its grasp and handed them off to the awaiting hands of sleep.
Her troupe consists of liars, cheats and hypocrites. Acting like they're full of energy and ready for anything then passing out, pretending like they're so high and mighty under their clothing when they're all made of the same flesh and bones…
She giggles lightly. Deceitful masks can still have silly faces drawn onto them.
Odette stirs right as the intercom begins to chime.
“We're here,” she murmurs, nudging them.
Odette hums, untangling her conspicuously knotted hair. A glove hangs precariously off of her fingers and sleep is clearly weighing down her face.
Alyosha, on the other hand, stretches out while scrunching his face in preparation for a silent yawn. He tilts his head to face them. “Are you ready?”
Odette leans back and inadvertently knocks her head against the wooden frame of the seat. “We have plenty of time before it starts.”
“We'll be alright,” Vodyanitsa adds. She stands while the train pulls into the station, patting down her dress. The layers of accumulated warmth slide from her shoulders easily, but the chill gnaws at her skin once more.
The backstage feels so much friendlier compared to the vast array of eyes dotting every corner of the opera house. As she prepares to make her way past the curtains, she meets Alyosha and Odette's eyes.
We'll be alright.
The audience won't mind that she has bits of fur stuck to her clothes and a mismatched scarf around her neck.