Sofia 'Sonya' Petrova Balakina (red_sonya) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-10-04 19:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | sonya balakina |
Vi Gavareetye Pa-Russkiy?
Who: Sonya.
When: After recent commotions.
Where: Las Vegas.
What: Russia invades Nevada and demands room service.
"Zdravstvujtye! Vi gavareetye pa-Russkiy?"
It was a phrase which was seeing a lot more use in Las Vegas, since one Sofia Petrova Balakina had shown up. She had turned up at the airport, all red hair, luggage and hurried smiles, emanating from that universal internalised fear of nobody knowing how to communicate and demanding she was placed on the next flight home. Her father, of course, had arranged for someone from the embassy to meet her, which had triggered a palpable sigh of relief and the young Russian had immediately burst away with enough chit-chat to rival a machine gun being fired in Moscow's defence.
It saw slightly less use, once Sofia - informally shortened to 'Sonya', to those who knew her - had haphazardly placed everything away, been furnished with some helpful paperwork and numbers, then was bid farewell. Telephoning her father wasn't her immediate course of action, even if he had advised her to do so. The first thing she did was to grow an excited smile, finally able to mentally process that she was in the bright, colourful land of America, then squealed and leaped backward on the bed - accidentally rolled over one side, hit the floor and reared up like a panicked meerkat.
Turning on the television didn't quite seal it until quickly figuring out from the hand-held remote's symbology how to surf channels at lightning speed. It didn't matter what was being shown, only that it was being shown. There was an option to switch audio over to Russian, but... Sonya had been deliberately watching familiar Western films with only Russian subtitles. It was a more compelling way to help her further learn English, compared to the drudgery of formal teaching materials. With much of the dialogue already known by heart, she just had to figure out how the same phrases were spoken and performed in English.
And the rusty, metal gears of Sonya's verbal comprehension were already starting to turn. They might not be the most well-oiled of gears, they might be clanking along like a Soviet tractor stuck in the mud, some of them might even be at odds with one another and grinding in different directions, but... There was some kind of movement on the educational front.
But! Now she was here, so! Lingual success was now sure to come! Sonya would conquer all!
She just had to... Figure out... Um...
"Yeees, I have... Uhh... Would haves... Ehhh... Egg-flower? Is..."
"Miss, are you OK? This is room service."
"Yes, servicings! I have the room needs! This, eh... Hope for sandwiching of... Are you breads?"
"Am I...? We have bread, would you like us to-"
"Ah, is goods! How is... If have breads with... How is be... Mmm, how say wordings! I eatings! I am want bone-meats!"
"I... Miss, we-"
"Bone! Meats!"
"I... I don't..."
"Breads! In hands! And eats on... Argh! How is say? Like... Drink hose of fire?"
"Miss, I-I need to-"
"Fire!"
"We'll... You know what? We'll see what we can do. Thank you for your order!"
"Ah, so goods! Much of be thankings! Good hellos-bye!"
Somewhere, in a Las Vegas hotel, Sofia Balakina had started exactly as she meant to go on.
Successfully!