Svetlana Sergievskaya causes lyrical chess wars (thegirlisme) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-09-14 22:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, stahma tarr, svetlana sergievskaya, twelfth doctor |
Who: Svetlana, Stahma and later, Duncan
What: Stahma needs some dirt on Svetlana, so of course breaking into Svetlana’s apartment was a good idea.
When: 14 September 2015, evening/night
Where: Svetlana’s apartment
Warnings: Violence, stabbing, blood
Stahma was needing to find something on Svetlana that she could give to her father for further use. The only problem was Svetlana was more than difficult to get information out of. Not that Stahma really tried that because the things she needed were not the type the blonde would just offer up to her of all people. No, Stahma needed another way to find what she needed. She wasn’t going to ask Nikolai to do it. It wasn’t that she doubted he’d do it, but it was something she both wanted and needed to do herself.
Perhaps underneath all the pretense and so forth, she was still on her father’s bad side for having let Datak get her pregnant in the first place and manufacturing her own marriage. And, well, perhaps it had been a very calculated move on Stahma’s part that she ended up pregnant in the first place. Considering everything, that was the only path she could’ve had to have an option of marrying Datak instead of the boy her father had picked for her. And her father most likely knew that, too, though Stahma did love her son quite strongly. There was no question about that, but she certainly had her dubious motives in the past. And her father did remind her of them now and again.
Such as now, and trying to finish what they’d started with Svetlana’s family. It was Svetlana’s turn to be the prime target considering Stahma had already done a number to the blonde’s brothers. Well, two of them, at least. But nevertheless, her father needed information and Stahma needed to provide it.
Stahma was good with computers, but she wasn’t good enough to hack. Besides, she doubted Svetlana would keep anything important just sitting on her computer, if she even used one regularly. So Stahma felt the only way to get anything was to break into Svetlana’s apartment. Which wasn’t as difficult as one might expect. Aside from slipping inside without anyone else noticing the stranger picking a lock, it wasn’t that difficult. Once inside, Stahma began her search of the apartment, beginning by locating what passed for an office or at least a desk where Svetlana might keep important papers. She hadn’t turned any lights on, not wanting to alert anyone (namely Svetlana) from the outside that someone was in the apartment. She had a flashlight that she was using to light her way.
At least she wasn’t yet desperate where she was making a mess. And so she was looking for anything connecting Svetlana to an NGO which could bring down a harsher punishment on her parents back in Russia. She simply needed the hard proof first.
Once again, Svetlana had been working late. There had been a crisis and so while she often worked late, it was later than usual. Which was fine, it wasn’t like the blonde woman had much else planned for that night anyway. It just meant she couldn’t stop by a fruit stand first. She’d do that tomorrow. Really, she wasn’t even worried about someone breaking into her apartment. Why would she be? She knew Stahma was in Orange County, the two had snipped at one another. But as her style was more manipulation and then the fact that there was nothing on Svetlana, apartment breaking into just didn’t seem on the top of her radar of things that might go wrong in relation to the other woman. Traffickers and pimps she might have pissed off? Those were the ones she worried about more in terms of being attacked.
It was a clear night as she walked back from the train. Dmitri was doing well and finally out of his slump that Stahma had brought about, months after the fact. But given what the woman had done to him, what it had led to, Svetlana couldn’t really blame him. Mikhail had flown back to D.C. And her mind was really just going through the things she would need to do in the morning.
Arriving at her apartment, Svetlana put the key into the keyhole, only to find that the door was unlocked. That… was extremely suspicious. Because while she might not be hyper worried about her apartment being broken into, she also didn’t leave it unlocked. She was still paranoid, still constantly aware. Body tensing, the blonde looked down the hall for anything that would tell her just who had broken in but nothing. And no note to say a neighbour saw anything. Even if Dmitri had come over, he would called her to let her know.
Something was definitely wrong.
There were a variety of options available to her. Leave and call the police would be the smartest one. But if whomever had broken into her apartment was already gone, it could be seen as a false alarm. And if they decided it was a prank or something, she’d probably be the one arrested. No. She needed more information first. Even though she knew she could call Dick, she knew he was a workaholic much like her and so that fell under not wanting to bother him on suspicion alone. Her need to know for certain basically cancelled out most of the things she could (and should) do, and left Svetlana with entering her apartment alone, phone in hand, just in case she needed to call the officer.
Listening carefully, Svetlana was aware of noise in her makeshift office, so that was where she headed, turning on the light suddenly. To see Stahma there and riffling through her papers.
“You have got to be kidding me….” The comment was said in shock that this was actually happening, staring at Stahma like she had lost her mind. Because Stahma Tarr did not do her own dirty work. She was a master manipulator, played people to do her dirty work for her. “What are you doing breaking into my home?!”
And that was the next question. Because seriously. What the hell. There wasn’t going to be anything there to pin on her parents. She never spoke to them about her work. They never promoted her work. They stayed out of the whole thing, kept to themselves. No matter what Svetlana did or whom she worked for, there was nothing to tie to them.
No, Stahma was not one to do her own dirty work, that was for certain. So the fact she was here doing this currently was highly out of character for her. She wasn’t comfortable with it by any stretch of the imagination, but it needed to be done. And she wasn’t about to ask Nikolai to do it, it was something she viewed as being below him. And she wasn’t going to manipulate any of the other bodyguards she had because they would undoubtedly just report it to her father that she had nothing on Svetlana.
Of course Stahma was aware that her father seemed to have quite the sick fixation on Svetlana, but she wasn’t yet to the point of questioning why she was here, why she still continued to do her father’s bidding. Well, outside of the whole need to redeem herself in his eyes, in a manner of speaking.
And yet, Stahma wasn’t finding anything. By the time Svetlana had come home, she was starting to get desperate and frustrated. There was nothing. She would have nothing to give her father, and she would find herself in a worse spot for it all. She was so caught up in her growing frustration that she hadn’t heard Svetlana come in. It wasn’t until she was temporarily blinded by the light turning on that she realized her mistake.
Recoiling from the desk and clamping a hand over her eyes, Stahma dropped the flashlight she’d been using. She let out a string of curses, some in Russian, some in Castithan as she got her eyes to adjust. The Castithan obviously bleeding through from her dreams. Shaking her head a bit she looked at Svetlana.
Okay. She couldn’t spin this in a way that wouldn’t make her look bad because there was no excuse she could come up with that would justify it. And she noticed the phone in Svetlana’s hand, which clearly only meant one thing: she was going to call the police. And in Stahma’s mind, calling the police was a given considering she’d broken the law here. Also it would be the easiest way for Svetlana to get rid of her. It would end up with her going to jail in America and she knew her father would not force the Russian Embassy to pull strings to get her out. And Datak would probably think it would serve her right to be in jail considering he himself had gone to jail for a bit.
No. She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t go to jail. So she did the only thing that seemed to make sense to her. She lunged at Svetlana intent on punching her. If she could knock Svetlana out, or just hurt her enough to put her down, she could get out of there before the police came.
And that was all that mattered to her in that moment.
Really, Svetlana just wanted an answer. She couldn’t think of a logical reason on why Stahma would be there. None of this fell in line with the way the older Russian woman worked. It also didn’t escape her that it seemed Stahma was desperate and that she had caught her off guard. Which, when dealing with a snake in the grass, was definitely not a good thing as being caught off guard and desperate led to reckless behaviour.
And instead of an answer, Stahma lunged at her. The motion caused Svetlana to side step, hitting the call button for whom she thought was Dick but was for Duncan instead, phone dropping to the ground as she ducked and grabbed a letter opener off a bookshelf. Why it was there? Svetlana couldn’t recall at the moment but it really didn’t matter.
At the moment, the only thing that mattered was defending herself.
There was so much stress falling on Stahma. She had pressure from her father and his demands. She had the stress from her dreams. Dreams that she didn’t want. So much had happened in her dreams, and she couldn’t quite handle it. The fact that Datak had threatened to kill her if she didn’t get rid of Kenya. The fact she had gotten rid of Kenya, a woman she had loved.
Desperation, frustration and a sense of loss that made no sense to her had driven her here. She couldn’t explain it nor did she wish to try. Instead, like the coiled viper that was backed into a corner, she lashed out, trying to clear the way for an exit. When Svetlana side stepped, Stahma stopped and turned, physical confrontation obviously not something she was used to doing. She thought she heard a male voice say something, but it was distant and she didn’t really pay attention to it. Instead, she was fueled by the need to not let Svetlana call the police on her.
The last thing she needed was for her father to get word back that she was in an American prison for breaking and entering.
“Shtako,” she cursed in a tongue that was obviously not Russian. It was almost alarming how much Castithan had started to creep into her vocabulary. She rushed at Svetlana again, hands going to grab her, intending to throw her against the bookcase.
Nothing was more dangerous than a cornered animal. The same could be said for Svetlana as well, given she didn’t fight and tried to avoid confrontation unless pushed. And she could see that Stahma was just that. Cornered and dangerous. This was more than manipulation and word games meant to strike someone down. Svetlana didn’t know what Stahma wanted or why she was there, which meant she had gone into this dark.
The use of a non-Russian word was enough to throw Svetlana in that moment. Between not being a fighter and the shock, her footing was off from when she had side stepped and this time the blow landed, Svetlana crying out in shock and pain as she hit the bookshelf hard, books falling to the ground. Dazed, Svetlana pushed herself up to face her adversary.
“What is your problem!?” She didn’t even care right now that she should be striking out. She wanted to know why she was there. And more than that? “What have I ever done to you?!”
Not that she was going to give excuses for her current actions, but Stahma wasn’t exactly thinking rationally. Which was perhaps obvious, but her dreams had upheaved most everything she held to in this life. In her last one, the one she’d had the previous night, she’d not only suffered a threat of being killed by her own husband, but she’d killed Kenya in order to save her own life. And in the end, it seemed she’d done that for nothing when Datak had ended up going to prison for doing something stupid.
Svetlana’s questions did give Stahma pause enough that she paused in her own attack. Though what was going through her mind and what came out of her mouth had no connection in the sense that what she said was half in Russian, half in Castithan and the parts that Svetlana would understand made little sense. In that all Svetlana would understand was something about Stahma’s father.
And then Stahma resumed her attack by lunging at Svetlana. She wasn’t a fighter, but she was at her wit’s end on all fronts. Her father was pulling her in one direction, the dreams in another, and she wanted to go in an entirely different direction. What was left was nothing more than a woman who was fraying.
Molokov? But…why?! And it wasn’t as if Svetlana could even follow half what Stahma was saying as she had never heard one of the languages she was speaking. She was pretty certain that it wasn’t even an Earth language that was being spoken. She had been around enough different accents and languages to tell that, even if she didn’t speak the language itself.
Grunting in pain as some of the attacks landed, the sound for the phone would be quite unsettling. Books having fallen, pained cries, yelling in Russian and..whatever the hell it was Stahma had been speaking.
Truthfully, Svetlana didn’t know what she was doing. Her own movements weren’t those of a fighter, just someone trying to defend themselves. She didn’t even realise it initially that the letter opener had gone into Stahma abdomen. It was only because they were close together and suddenly her grip on her weapon felt different that the blonde looked down at the damage, the blood coming out and her eyes went wide as she looked back up at Stahma, stumbling back, grip still on the letter opener which was now in her hand again.
There were curses coming from Stahma, though they were in Castithan as opposed to Russian. There was also grunting as Svetlana’s blows landed on her. It was a struggle that Stahma wasn’t sure how it would end. She was simply acting out of desperation.
She didn’t even feel the letter opener stab her. It wasn’t until Svetlana stopped and looked down that Stahma looked down and saw it. Seeing the blood was almost surreal to her. As Svetlana backed off, so did she, though Stahma more took a stumbling step backwards as she pressed a hand over her abdomen. Her blood was still red, at least. She hadn’t yet physically changed into her dream self.
Stahma looked up at Svetlana before she started to make her exit as quickly as she could while bleeding. Which was to say she stumbled her way out.
Meanwhile on the phone, Duncan could tell there was a fight going on, that something was happening. At least until it suddenly seemed to go quiet. At which point, he tried saying something again. “Svetlana? What is happening?” He said it loud enough that he hoped someone would hear it and respond somehow. And he was sincerely hoping that person that responded would be Svetlana.
In shock, Svetlana could only watch as Stahma stumbled out of her apartment, blood following after her. It only then she noticed a voice speaking from the abyss and she blankly looked around to see if she could spot where it was coming from. Oh. Her phone. Absently she picked it up and held it to her ear.
“Duncan?” Well, it was Svetlana, but her voice was strained, dazed. Partially from hitting her head on something during the fight, but mostly from what had just happened. Which was why she ended up responding in Russian. “It’s fine, I’m… oh god. I’m going to die.”
Because it was then Svetlana seemed to realise that there was no way in which she could survive this. Stahma would tell Nikolai and while they had a very strange accord, she had stabbed Stahma. It had been in self defence but she honestly didn’t know if that would matter to him as there was no way Stahma would explain the why of it.
Phone dropping to the ground again, the blonde woman just looked around. She needed to clean up the blood. And it would be on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor of blood, water in a bucket red that would greet anyone who came over now.
It was probably a good thing he was more Doctor now because he did understand the Russian. Which probably troubled him more than if he didn’t understand it. Even if he hadn’t understood her, he still would’ve gone to check on her. So of course when he hears the thunk of what he presumes is the phone hitting the floor and no further comment from Svetlana for a minute, he decided to just give up on the phone and go check on her.
Of course he had no idea what state he’d find her in, but it was in the back of his mind to call 911 if need be. But he wanted to see what had happened first with his own eyes before jumping to conclusions. Getting there, from the outside things didn’t seem amiss, but when he got to the door, he gave a knock before trying the door, finding it unlocked and he poked his head in carefully.
“Svetlana? It’s Duncan, I came to check on you,” he announced himself as he noticed that trail of blood. He managed to not step in it as he spotted Svetlana cleaning it up. Given how she was working, he deduced that she wasn’t the one bleeding. Or if she was, she hadn’t been the one to bleed badly enough to leave the trail of blood behind.
Calling 911 would logically be the thing to do. But not panicking and jumping to conclusions was also a good thing. Especially given the complicated ties and personalities at play made it all the more difficult to know what to do. It wasn’t like Svetlana was actually injured, not to the point she would need medical attention at any rate.
Hearing someone come into the apartment, Svetlana went and grabbed the discarded letter opener and held it as a lifeline. (Because obviously she would be able to defend herself against someone of the Vor with a letter opener.) Though once the haze in her mind cleared and she both recognised Duncan’s voice and face, the letter opener clattered to the ground again, seeming loud in the silent apartment.
She had no words. She was in shock, afraid and disheveled.
Logical to call 911 yes, but it wasn’t like Duncan even knew what to say had he instead called the police. He’d overhead a fight, yes, but that was all he could really give. He hadn’t known if Svetlana was conscious or not, injured or not, or if the person she was fighting with had still been there. So. It had been coming over to see for himself and then reacting accordingly.
When Svetlana reacted by grabbing a letter opener, he was more than glad he’d carefully poked his head in as opposed to fully coming in until she realized it was him. So once she dropped it, Duncan fully entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. He then looked at her, noting the fear and shock and disheveled appearance.
“Are you injured?” He asked, careful to not get overly close to her just yet in the event she’d still lash out. After what he’d heard over the phone, he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d lash out. So it was being careful, all the while also taking in the scene. Even if Svetlana didn’t seem to be outwardly injured, that didn’t mean she hadn’t hit her head or had some other injury. So he concluded the blood trail had been from her attacker whom she’d obviously wounded. He did note the blood on the letter opener itself.
“It’s nothing.” It was an answer. Not a comforting one, but an answer all the same. Admittedly she had been thrown into the bookshelf and Stahma had landed a few blows on her. But it was nothing compared to what she had done to the other woman. Who had ties to the Russian mafia. And Vor. Who would kill her and get rid of her body and she would just….disappear, as if she never even existed. No one would know.
No, there were those who might notice her missing, especially Dmitri. But that didn’t mean much because she’d still be dead. And for what? Defending herself.
Because of the shock, she seemed almost calm. Besides the whole grabbing of the letter opener to defend herself and being tense and ready to jump and fight in the blink of an eye. She blinked, looked around, blinked again and then went straight back to scrubbing the floor almost desperately. As if it would erase not just the evidence of what had happened, but the entire experience as a whole.
Well, Duncan was versed in getting, and giving, non-comforting answers to such questions. Sometimes it was the only response anyone could possibly have after a traumatic event. Thus it was easy for him to tell Svetlana was in shock. He’d seen it time and time again, both in this life and in his dreams. Mostly in his dreams, though. And while he wasn’t always able to easily show he cared and do what he could to help, it was easier in this instance.
For him, shock was easier to react to than outright emotions sometimes. So as Svetlana returned to scrubbing the floor, he did move a bit closer and knelt down.
“Here, let me help. It shall go faster with two of us working.” He would let Svetlana’s mind work through the shock on its own for the moment, but he was going to be there to help her as he could. And he wasn’t freaking out, he didn’t even try to ask what had happened or who had been the one to be stabbed. Those questions would be unhelpful currently. What would be helpful would be to clean up the blood as best as they could. Then perhaps he could find a way to help Svetlana out of the shock if she wasn’t out of it on her own by then.
She didn’t mean to curl up more into herself in the process of cleaning as he came closer, but that was exactly what Svetlana did. She knew she could trust Duncan. He had been in her life for a long time now from her conferences in England. There was a presence to him that was so similar to Erik that it was easy to let her guard down around him. But between Stahma breaking into her apartment and attacking her, and then stabbing her, Svetlana was raw and on edge. And in shock. Outright emotions weren’t exactly her thing. She was very good at keeping all the swirling emotions locked away inside. A storm brewing beneath the surface.
Beyond the slight recoiling though, Svetlana didn’t react as Duncan started to help her with the clean up. It wasn’t erasing the memories though. It wasn’t doing any good and the scrubbing got more desperate and vigorous as she tried to wipe it all away. The blood itself was gone, but the memories and panic within her? Those remained even as she started to rub her hands raw.
Any noise was met with her jumping up and going to investigate, shaking before she went back to scrubbing what was now a clean floor. Shock. Panic. It was all there.