nadia costa (treta) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-09-09 18:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2018 [08] august, marina scherbatskaya, nadia costa |
so give me a blanket for my cold, cold heart. you know that i've travelled far.
Who: Marina Kovalenka & Nadia Costa
Where: The Dog Park
What: Pseudo-sisters meeting for the first time
When: Hella backdated to afternoon of Saturday August 15, after this
As much as she liked her traveling partners and the man they’d introduced her to, she couldn’t stop casting her gaze and attention outwards, shifting to look beyond them and towards the sprawling residential area of the park. Despite her curiosity about the location, and her piqued interest about the various rough-shod tattooed men and women marching around the place, the Brazilian was practically vibrating out of her boots in her impatience to be off and to find the girl known as Marina. The missing link, the only anchor in an increasingly rudderless life, the scrap that might someday lead her back to Alejo. Hope. She was hope. Bishop had appointed her an escort (Nate’s trust had gotten her this far, but the stranger wasn’t going to have full rein of the Park unsupervised), and as she walked alongside the other woman—introduced as May—Nadia told herself in a sharp mental undertone not to get her expectations too high. Not to pin everything on this or get overwhelmed. (That sensible voice sounded a bit too much like her mother to ignore.) She wove her way through the mess of tents, which looked like some music festival gone permanent, entrenched and sinking its roots into the parched soil. They occasionally paused to ask for directions. No neatly-posted signage here: it was all word-of-mouth, following a trail of breadcrumbs that eventually led to an inconspicuous tent housing the Russian. “That’s the one, darlin,” May said brightly, withdrawing to a safe distance, but lingering to be sure that their guest actually entered that specific tent. Pausing on its threshold, Nadia was suddenly unsure—she couldn’t very well knock, there was nothing to knock on—but instead settled for tapping the fabric gently. “Hello? Is Marina here?” The past few days had been difficult to say the least. Marina had come to the Dog Park with a lot of baggage -- baggage she was trying so very hard to run and hide from -- only to have that baggage find her in a completely unexpected way. The Hellhounds were dealing Prax. She was so mad at Rodeo for infecting Austin and turning people into a different kind of living dead. Most of all, she was mad at herself for somehow finding herself in the same fucking situation again. Rodeo said he was trying to stop and she just needed to give him a chance to change. She’d been ready to storm out that night but she always did have a bad habit of trusting people she shouldn’t. She stayed with Vic the night after Chapel, mostly being talked down from running away and that paired with the fact Nadia was potentially coming to the Dog Park, Marina had reluctantly stayed put the past few days. Just as anxious to meet the girl (no, woman!) Alejo spoke of so fondly through the years, Marina jumped up instantly when she heard a voice outside her tent. It held an even heavier accent than Alejo had, which only made sense seeing as she lived in Brazil the majority of her life, but even still it felt so good to hear. It was familiar and felt like home, despite the fact that she’d never been there. Alejo had been her home for so many years and now she would have Nadia. It only took her a moment to stand and reach the entrance to her tent, pulling it open more forcefully than necessary but she was just too excited. “Nadia? Oh god, you look so much like him,” she said, the breath rushing right out of her in shock at finally seeing her. She was real and she was alive and Alejo would be so damn proud of the beautiful woman Nadia had turned into. Nadia stood there frozen for a moment, like a deer in the headlights, taking in the sight of the girl who’d taken her place. (Somehow, she couldn’t find it within her to be upset about it. Not now.) She had gotten very, very good at clamping down on her emotions over the past two years, but they still ran just beneath the surface—somewhere below the topsoil, there was a vein of passion and anger and fierce, fierce love and loneliness. And she’d kept the lid firmly shut, but just those nine words from Marina, the exuberant greeting, fractured something. Nadia’s hand fluttered to her mouth, as if she could press back that tide. It hadn’t seemed real until this exact moment, until she heard an actual human voice talking about her brother. Him. She looked like him. Nadia hadn’t even known that, not until now. “You’re real,” she blurted out, and in a complete departure from all of her wary caution, Nadia stepped forward and enveloped the younger woman in a hug, dark hair buried in dark hair, almost as if to reassure herself that there really was someone standing in front of her. Marina was laughing and crying and hugging Nadia all at once. Even though she could feel Nadia’s arms around her and could feel the woman’s hair tickling her face, it was still a shock and it wasn’t entirely real but so real all at once. There was a long while there where she thought they’d never get Nadia to America. It was always this ‘someday’ kind of dream that Alejo talked about and Marina just nodded and soothed him and reassured him that one day he would be reunited with his baby sister. They’d be together again and it would have all been worth it. All the things they went through, all the long nights, all the danger and despair… it would all be worth it because Alejo would have his family again. “I am so sorry about your mother, mija,” she whispered into Nadia’s hair, the tears definitely falling now. Nadia was technically older than Marina, but she’d grown up seeing baby pictures of the woman in front of her and developed her own fierce loyalty and sense of protection over the woman. She felt like an older sister despite their ages. The plan was to get Alejo’s mother and sister to Texas but then the outbreak had happened and Marina saw in Nadia’s interview that their mother hadn’t made it. It was a miracle that Nadia survived out there for that long, but she’d had Antón with her. He was strong and possibly one of the best people Marina knew. Who knew where he was now. If the smallest things could set off the hysterical women in the telenovelas, god forbid what was happening to Nadia now: it felt like a dam had burst inside her, all of the past two years welling up and catching in her throat, choked in her chest and unleashed on this poor stranger as she tried to bite back those tears, and failed miserably. This complete and utter stranger. Nadia had never even heard of the other girl’s existence (how could she have?). But there was that unmistakable warmth in Marina’s voice, the immediate acceptance and protectiveness, the way she spoke as if they did know each other—and just by saying it, Marina was making it so. It wasn’t until Nadia clutched at the fabric of the other woman’s shirt that she realised how starved for touch she’d been, just the simple comfort of a friendly presence, a lodestone to tether her. “Está tudo bem,” she managed to say in a strangled voice, before backtracking and remembering—it was close, so very close, but Marina spoke Spanish, not Portuguese. “Está bien. I miss her so much, but she—she was old, the chances were not very good. Antón and I. We always knew. In some way. I think.” Nadia’s words were halting, hard to wrench out of her through that breathless hug that she was reluctant to end. Her accent was stronger than usual now, raw and rough from emotion. Marina held on just as tightly, holding onto this new reality as if she would never let it go. Though Alejo was gone, doing God knows what at Emmanual’s request, at least she had Nadia now. Despite all the odds, they were here together in this gas and sun scorched landscape, surviving. She couldn’t even remember the last time she cried so the tears steadily streaming down her face were so foreign but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Growing up in a Cartel was far from ideal but now she could be different. Nadia didn’t have to know that life, which was a blessing really. That wasn’t to say Marina thought Nadia was soft. She was really anything but if she’d managed to travel all the way to Texas from Brazil during a zombie apocalypse. But there was a warmer quality about Nadia that Marina knew wouldn’t have survived if she’d had the same upbringing. “Doesn’t make me any less sorry,” she said simply, giving Nadia an extra squeeze before asking, “How long are you staying here?” Nadia finally, reluctantly detached herself from that vise-like grip—mostly so she could seize the sleeve of her own shirt and scrub at her face, trying to clean herself up a bit. The tears had streaked into the ever-present grime on her face, streaked lines like dribbled paint. And more quiet tears kept coming like a leaky faucet, her vision blurred: the Dog Park was all smudges of brown and orange now, scribbled outlines and hazy lines. But while struggling to clear her vision, it gave Nadia a chance to take a closer look at the other woman. Marina had said she was twenty-six. Just a couple years younger than Nadia, and Catarina would have been that age, wouldn’t she? The Costa that never was, the one dead in infancy. It was hard to look at her and not think of it. “I think just the day,” Nadia said. Voice still husky, and she had to keep swallowing to clear her throat. “I won my way in here because I knew Nate, and now you, but I think they’re quite a bit… guardador. Protective, I mean.” Marina’s actions mimicked Nadia’s, her own hands coming up to wipe away the tears from her moistened cheeks. If she wasn’t careful, the tears would keep coming and she might not be able to stop them. Usually she associated crying with weakness (or at least Emmanual and the rest of the boys had, so she had too--being the black sheep didn’t get you very far in Los Nahuales) and pain, but her insides were swelling with happiness, the pressure built up until the dam had no choice but to crack. Marina couldn’t find herself regretting a single tear despite everything that had been hammered into her brain the past ten years. “Will Nate be missing you now that I’ve stolen you,” Marina asked with a teasing smile, before nodding her head in agreement to Nadia’s statement. “They are, though. Protective, I mean. The woman officer, Teagan, told me that everyone who is a part of the camp is family. They certainly welcomed me like I was. I’ve never--It wasn’t like anything I ever experienced before.” Family. That word was like a live wire running through Nadia’s skin and buzzing in her skull: la familia, a família, everything she wanted and missed and knew she’d been wanting and missing. Nadia shook her head, still scrubbing at her face. Her tanned skin was blotchy, her eyes red-rimmed. Both women looked awful, but they both looked wonderful. “No, I think he’s probably very happily busy with his fiancee.” (And wasn’t that another tiny little jolt, like touching something only to receive a static shock prickling at her fingertips?) “They want us to visit the bonfire and have some drinks later, if you like. I think it could be nice.” Was that bitterness or jealousy that Marina detected in Nadia’s tone? She’d only interacted with Nate very briefly and didn’t have any idea about his fiancee. But on the same thread, she’d only just really met Nadia as well, so what did she know? “Yes, those bonfires are a nightly thing around here,” she responded, bypassing the other issue for the time being. She was still feeling a little off about being at the Dog Park, considering everything she’d learned about Rodeo and the Hellhounds. Things were changing but just knowing she’d gotten in bed with the same kind of man she’d run from was concerning. Apparently she had a type. It wasn’t exactly the same, though, because Rodeo really did seem like he wanted to turn over a new leaf. Marina just hoped that everything would really change for the better. She really did like it here. She liked the people and the sense of family and how everyone looked after one another. Leaving was a last resort, so for now she would wait it out and see where the pieces fell. “We should go. Give you the full Dog Park experience. But you’ll hang out with me until then. Let’s go inside. Get out of the sun.” And away from prying eyes and ears. She assumed she would have to answer questions later about how she knew Nadia seeing as she showed up to the Dog Park with nothing and said she didn’t want to go back to the people she was with. Her sudden connection to Nadia might raise some red flags. Nadia, on the other hand, no longer had any qualms to hold her back, so when Marina propped open the tent flap again, she immediately followed the younger woman into the cooler shade. She instinctively took a look around, taking in the details of Marina’s living space and absorbing it for whatever hints of the woman’s personality she could glean. The tent was small but Marina had done as much as she could with the space she had. A twin air mattress was pushed against the left side of the tent, covered with more blankets than a normal person living through a Texas summer like the one going on would ever want. On the other side of the tent were three wooden milk crates where her clothes were organized. One of the patches had given her a battery operated camping lantern that sat on another milk crate that had been tipped on its side, where she’d stored a couple jars of moonshine and a book inside. It wasn’t all that decorated, but it was cozy. Nadia nodded approvingly. More. She wanted to know more about this person who had lodged in her space for a decade. “You said Alejo was like a brother to you. Antón told me some things, but I will want all the stories. You will have to tell me about him, and then I want to learn more about you, too.” She’d already wrung as much as she could out of Antón, everything that was relevant about her brother: a thirsty plant drinking up all of the details it could. “I mean, no sé nada. What is your favourite colour? Your favourite food? What do you read?” Marina gave Nadia a fond smile, seeing so much of Alejo in her already. Their lightness and sweetness despite the darkness they’d endured. The lines that formed on their face when they smiled. She missed Alejo like crazy, but Nadia was already filling in that void for her. Focusing on silly little details like her favorite color paled in comparison to what Marina wanted to tell Nadia about her brother. There would be more time for them to get to know each other, but whether they would reunite with Alejo was uncertain. The least she could do was tell Nadia all she knew and keep those memories alive. “He’s an artist, you know. He can draw wonderful things and he was learning how to be a tattoo artist. He did a few of my tattoos, actually,” she said, reaching up and pulling the neck of her sweater down to reveal the birds along her collarbone. Nadia leaned closer, one hand drifting up and almost darting out to touch the drawing. It was one of the first tangible clues of her brother’s existence she’d ever seen; without them, he might well have been a sweeping lie, a collective delusion. But his hands had made this, had etched in these silhouettes themselves. “They’re so pretty,” she breathed. An artist. He was an artist. (That alone was encouraging: her brother may have been in a cartel, but he wasn’t all violence.) “I do not have any, but I would gladly get one if he was making it. What else?” More. She was greedy, and knew it, but didn’t care. Marina’s eyes followed Nadia’s hand and bit her lip to hold back a smile. She was glad she had something to show her that proved that Alejo had existed. Every time she saw the ink on her body it reminded her of the same thing. Though she’d lost contact with him a few months back and honestly didn’t know if she’d ever see him again, she knew she’d never forget him. “He was really gifted,” Marina said, finger tracing along the birds before she pulled her sweater back up. “But what else? Hmm, well, he’s obviously older than me. We met when I was still a teenager and he looked out for me. He never lost his big heart even though we were involved in some interesting things…” She trailed off, looking down. She’d tried her best to move on from her past but it was biting at her heels now more than ever, now that she knew that the Hellhounds were involved in dealing Prax. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it, though. Is, Nadia thought suddenly, though she didn’t say it aloud. Is very gifted. She’d started watching her own use of the past tense with people: it was a small needling reminder of loss. She hated thinking of the past gutted and hollowed out and empty, a blasted landscape that would never be the same. And she noted that slight ripple of tension which stuttered Marina’s description to a halt. “‘Interesting’ is almost always just a polite way of avoiding saying something else, querida. What is on your mind?” It was so surprisingly easy to fall into this balance with each other. They’d both found that thread of protectiveness, grasping it despite how fresh and new-found it was. Nadia may not have had the sting of a criminal life to harden her up, but she was still older and thus couldn’t shake that feeling—if Alejo had treated this girl as a little sister, then it followed that Nadia would do the same. She owed her brother that much, to take care of the people he’d left behind. “Antón really didn’t tell you anything?” Marina asked, brows furrowing together. They’d traveled together for two years and she would have assumed they only had each other as company. There was bound to be a lot of talking. But then again, Antón could be like Fort Knox if he needed to be. “I--they don’t know anything about me here. They don’t know where I came from or what I did. I told you the man I was with was bad. It just--it feels wrong to tell you things like this without Alejo’s permission.” “Antón told me some. He tried not to, but I got some of it out of him, especially after.” After what? The outbreak, of course. All bets were off when society crumbled; what was the use of keeping secrets when almost everyone was dead? “But I understand. I can wait.” Nadia wanted everything—just crack open each others’ skulls and hearts and pour out all of the information, all at once—but knew how unreasonable that would be. You couldn’t build on unsteady foundations. That trust had to be built first. She’d already lost two years, but what was a little more time? So she sank down onto Marina’s mattress, fussing with one of the chipped milk crates. She recognised Bishop’s moonshine; it seemed that stuff got everywhere. Noticing the corner of a book’s spine, Nadia asked Marina about it. And they whiled away the time like this, the minutes blurring together into hours, laughing and talking—calmer now—until they both, as one, seemed to realise what time it was. Nadia scrabbled for her phone and saw that it was past curfew. The Brazilian exchanged a few frantic messages with her fellow visitors, until it was agreed that they’d all go ahead and spend the night here anyway. Embarrassed, Nadia laughed into the roof of the little tent, sprawling back onto Marina’s pile of blankets and pillows. The sun was setting outside, which meant the bonfire would be seeing more action soon. “Mierda. I should have known this would happen, I was far too optimistic about how long this would take.” Any other time, the curfew might have been fine, but the library was still closing early and operating on serial killer hours. “But at least this gives us more time together, yes? We may have dinner. And a sleepover, even.” While Marina couldn’t tell Nadia everything, they had Alejo and Antón in common and already felt like family to each other. It was only to be expected that they’d talk for hours -- words flowing out of their mouths, their ears absorbing every word and always hungry for more -- and lose track of time. Laughing herself, and feeling lighter and happier than she had in days, she grinned at Nadia’s words, standing up and reaching a hand down to help the other woman up. “Come on, mi amor, let’s go to the bonfire and see what trouble we can find.” |