owl (ex_owl38) wrote in regulation, @ 2008-03-10 13:44:00 |
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Current music: | bring the good boys home || the 1900s |
Who: Milena and Jascha Dimitrov, and Ben Dunstan
What: Ben comes to Bulgaria to visit his friend Jascha, where he meets Mila.
Where: The Dimitrov's house, Rousse, Bulgaria
When: January 2001
Rating: PG
Status: Closed; complete
Note: Mila does speak MUCH better English now, thank goodness.
"I thought you said that Bulgaria wasn't that cold in winter," Ben murmured to the man near his side, hands tugging the scarf he'd wound 'round his neck higher so it covered the entire bottom half of his face. His words became muffled and almost inaudible halfway during the sentence and he glared weakly over at Jascha as he started to rub his hands against his arms, in an effort to generate heat of some kind. "All the books say it doesn't get that cold over here either."
His feet kicked at the snow lying on the ground, the white of it almost blinding against the dark of the surrounding area. Some of the buildings looked old, dilipidated, brick and wood crumbling but they were mostly hidden behind the area's newer buildings, their largely gaudy shop fronts making attempts to obscure the more dull, grey and lifeless areas behind them. There were signs in the windows of the shops, written in a language that looked nothing like English to him and Ben squinted slightly at them in an attempt to possibly try and piece together what the English equivalent might have been. Failing almost right away, he turned his head, mouth opening to ask Jascha a question when he saw the other man veering off to the left and stepping inside a shop door. Hurrying after him, Ben stepped inside to warmth and a smile crossed his face.
"Thank Merlin. It's so bloody cold." For emphasis, he chattered his teeth, loosening the scarf so his voice was more audible, even if he still kept it pulled up slightly. Curious eyes darted around the shop's interior, searching the counter, stopping on the few customer's there, one of whom appeared to be reading before skipping on, past the last person, or object, and onto another.
Mila's head shot up at the sound of bells chiming, and immediately beamed at the sight of her brother's face. She had been waiting in the shop since it opened, anxious to see Jascha for the first time since he had left for England six months ago. In a flash, she had run across the floor and promptly threw her arms around his neck, squealing in her excitement and ready to burst out of her skin.
"Mama's baked you your favorite cake," she told him excitedly after they had separated just enough to talk to one another without being pressed against the other's ear. "But she promised me not to tell, so don't let her know I said anything, alright? You look so…" she pulled back a little and made a face at his clothing and clean-shaven face, "English. How have you been?"
He laughed at her and rubbed his smooth cheek against her own, knowing that it bothered her – Mila had always preferred her brothers with at least some stubble, she said it kept them looking like good Roma boys, and not the rest of the Gadje. So they almost always shaved to ignore her. "I'm good – and you've grown, Lena – look at you," she rolled her eyes at that, knowing it was untrue. "You look older, too. I can't believe you're getting married." That she glared at him for, not wanting to be reminded.
"Uh – Jasch, who's your friend?" She asked curiously when she caught sight of the man standing next to him, someone she had just assumed to be a customer when he entered.
"Oh," her brother answered, and let her go to introduce them. When he switched into English, Mila's face changed, and she eyed the man more than a little warily. "Mila, this is Ben, a friend from England. And Ben, this is my little sister Mila – she's a seventh year at Durmstrang."
Mila only frowned before her brother nudged her warningly, and only then did she offer her hand to the other man. This was supposed to be time for her to spend with her brother, not a week to show some stupid Englishman around. "I have much pleasure to be meeting with you," she told him kindly before shooting a glare in her brother's direction when he grinned at her attempts at English. "Shut up, Jascha, I'm trying."
Ben decided, after a moment of watching the girl and Jascha speak rapidly to one another, strange words tumbling out of their mouths at a rate that seemed impossibly fast to him that he felt extremely awkward standing there. His fingers tugged at a stray thread on the sleeve of his jumper, hunting it out under his coat, and he purposely turned his head away so they wouldn't think he was trying to intrude, taking a step back. He wondered what kind of a scene he was intruding on, familial or romantic but decided shortly after the thought scampered across his mind that it didn't matter. He still felt like an outsider.
Well, that's what you get for agreeing to wander half way around the world to Bulgaria. Language barriers and what not.
When Jascha spoke, he lifted his head and blinked a few times before smiling slightly at the girl, Mila, the smile growing when he saw the blatant wariness on her face. For some reason, it made him feel slightly more self-aware and he shifted his weight onto his right leg under the sharp gaze. His hand extended only when hers did, grasping the slim fingers in his own much larger palm and shaking it firmly. His lips quirked slightly upwards, a faint smile playing over them at the pigeon English and he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mila."
Dropping her hand, he lifted his own back to his face, tugging down the scarf and, after a moment, asked, "How's school?" before cringing slightly at the question. "That's stupid, innit?"
Mila frowned deeply at that, and immediately looked offended. "I am not stupid," she told him sharply. "Durmstrang is not school for - shta?" The last word was directed at her brother, who had started laughing at her. "Shta, Jascha?" She asked again, looking a little exasperated. She knew her English was terrible, and he wasn't making it any easier for her. After a moment to explain, and Mila found out that she hadn't actually been insulted at all, she winced a little and turned back to Ben. "I am many sorry," she told him softly, and she sounded it this time. "My English is not very well, and I thought you were offended me."
She smiled a little and added, "School is nice, thank you. I am many happy - very happy? Yes... very happy to have holidays now."
Jascha nudged Ben's side lightly, "She's not as stupid as she sounds, I promise." Mila slapped him immediately after that and he laughed. "Do you want to come upstairs? You can take off your jacket and I'll show you where your room is."
"I--I didn't mean, that it was," Ben managed to say, blinking slightly in slight shock and horror at the brunette who was snapping at him. She turned a second later, and after a moment the apology came. His shoulders relaxed slightly, gratefully, happy that the woman wasn't going to fly at him which, he was ashamed to admit, he'd expected her to do.
A hand waving through thin air, Ben shrugged and smiled. "It's grand, really. My Bulgarian is far worse than your English. I don't even know hello, which is bloody awful given I'm in the country, aye?"
Trying to smother his laughter at the interaction between brother and sister, Ben simply nodded, a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to keep it back. There was something odd and strange about the interaction to him; he'd never been close enough to one person in his family to act that way, to slap them and tease them and have everything be fine. The energy between the two Bulgarians was unmistakable and it made him feel slightly jealous, in a way.
"That'd be lovely." His arm hoisted up the bag that was hanging off one shoulder and he jerked his head at it. "This thing is practically screaming to be set down. It weighs a bloody ton."
"Lovely, Ben?" Jascha teased before taking the bag from him like any good host would do. "Who says lovely anymore? You do not need to show off in front of my sister - you can do much better than her - don't hit me again," he added as a warning and Mila let him get a few steps before she kicked him. "See, she's a bitch."
"I am not," she told Ben. "Jascha likes to put me down, because he does not pleasure himself."
Jascha turned at that and gaped, immediately looking at Ben. "She... means I'm not comfortable with myself, uh - Mila, we need to work on your English."
Mila shrugged and led the way up the stairs that were behind the counter. "It is not healthy to not be pleasured," she told him and Jascha stopped again, embarrassed. "You should make more love in yourself." She paused at the top of the stairs, the door opening to the small and cramped living room, filled and covered with photographs and paintings, almost all of the space taken up by the furniture and various musical instruments. What space they did have was covered in small piles of books, with just enough room left to walk.
After a moment of staring at the woman, blinking a few times in response, a choking sound gurgled from his throat and he burst out into peals of laughter, a fist lifting and attempting to shove itself into his mouth to stifle the laughter. His stomach ached slightly with the sheer force of his laughter and Ben knew he shouldn't have been laughing at someone who was still learning English but it was so hard not to.
"Yeah, Jascha, she's right. You should make, more, um, love in yourself." A snigger escaped him and he lifted a hand, wiping at the tears of laughter which had formed in the corner of his eyes.
Hands tugging the rucksack on his shoulder even higher, he thanked Mila when the door opened, arms sticking out slightly to try and keep his balance. It wasn't that he was horrified off randomly falling flat on his face--he liked to think he was a little bit more co-ordinated than that--but rather that he was sure there was a possibility his feet would knock against the stacks of books and send them falling, crashing down onto instruments, upsetting all the objects in the room. It caused Ben to eye the place warily.
"Maybe you could help me with that later," Jascha told Ben with a glare. "I think I might need help with all that love making."
Mila smirked knowingly and added, "Yes Ben, you should."
At that, Jascha glanced at her and shook his head, trying not to laugh or attack her. "Mila! You knew what you were saying all along?" She shrugged and moved away innocently. Jascha turned to Ben and added again, "She's a brat, I told you."
She only looked and Ben and said very seriously, "He has always been a little... uh - frustradid?"
"Frustrated - and I'm not," Jascha informed her.
"Da, frustrated, and you are, Jasch. I was only trying to be help. Where is Ben sleeps - sleeping?" She frowned a little and glanced down the hall. "Alexei room?" She didn't like that idea at all, it wouldn't be right for a stranger to disturb his things, so when her brother shook his head she was a little relieved.
"No, my room. I am staying in Lex's." That was a little better at least, although anyone staying there upset her. But better Jascha than this Ben person. "Can you show him there while I go down to talk to Ma and Pa?"
Mila made a small noise of protest at being asked to be alone with this man, but her brother only looked at her pleadingly and she sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. Jaw set, she turned to Ben and said simply, "Come." before stepping around the books, piano, and cello.
He laughed again, the sound easy and free though strangely muted in the cramped room. The many objects seemed to wait for noise of any kind, simply laying there in the desperate hope that someone would make a sound above a whisper and swallowing it when they did, absorbing it into them. Hiding it somewhere. Ben eyed the many musical instruments scattered about and, for one moment, entertained the thought that perhaps that was how music was made.
A snort escaped him. How ridiculous.
"Coming," he murmured and started after the woman's slight figure. "Also, I'm afraid to tell you your brother will be alone in his love making." Ben paused. "Perhaps not. But I shall be excluded from them. Or I hope to Merlin I will be anyway. Is Alexei your other brother? How many of you are there?" His mouth snapped shut then and, after a moment, he said, "Lovely weather out, isn't it?"
“Not really," she answered at the doorway to Jascha's room, pausing with her hand on the doorknob to turn to him and speak. He really was going too fast for her, and she wondered if it would be too rude to ask him to slow down. "It is very cold - your face is red from the chill. Winter is not so cold in England, yes?"
Mila opened the door to the room then, small like the rest of the house and covered in books and half-finished paintings. It was neat though, and organized because no one had been living in it for months. She waited for him to go in before following, the door left open behind them. She sat on the bed, cross legged and comfortable in the room, knowing that she couldn't just leave him here to sort things out while her brother was talking to their parents.
"Four," she answered after a moments thought to go through the numbers in her head. "Ilya - he is living in Stara Zagora as a uh... music teach - many of the instruments in the house are his, but we all play...just not as nice as Ilya.Me, of course - and Jascha. Alexei was older than me - before Jascha, but he," she frowned a little then and scratched her cheek in discomfort. She didn't like talking about it when she knew the words to describe what had happened, this was just strange. "He is... not here. Dead."
"Do you... have family?" She asked curiously, trying her hardest to be polite and welcoming.
"It's much warmer, aye," he nodded. "I don't think I've ever been anywhere colder in my life. I'm glad of it." Ben stood just outside the door, hovering there as he waited for Mila to enter ahead of him and when she did not he blushed slightly and walked slowly inside. It figured that he would decide to be chivalrous when the woman was so clearly opposed to it.
Hands pulling at the coat he had on, slowly taking off the first layer he had on him and shaking it slightly, Ben paid little to no attention as small flakes of snow fell to the floor, dissolving into water the second they hit the floor. He was still cold, much colder than he would have been at home, but the four layers he currently had on were helping and inside the house was much warmer than the outside. A glance towards the window, at a grey overcast sigh did little more than make him sigh loudly, the breath escaping him through his nose.
When Mila spoke, his head turned and, without really thinking on it, his mouth moved, repeating the name's she'd said. His accent made the words sound faintly ridiculous and his mouth twisted with it; he'd already been well aware he was prouncing Jascha wrong. "Ilya's a bitch of a name to say," Ben said. "Well, it is for me anyway. Aye, and I'm sorry about your brother." Ben wondered how many times the words had been uttered by strangers, words that essentially held little to no meaning.
The question surprised him and he couldn't have said why. "Er. I--well, I do. I'm not part of them though." A hand waved through air and shoulders shrugged. "It's not really important. I have who I need."
"Why are you not part of them?" She asked curiously, her head tilted a little to the side. She wished there wasn't a language barrier between them, it made things so messy. "And who... do you have?"
She didn't respond to his comments about Ilya's name, or Alexei's death. The first was unimportant, and the later was something that was only said because it was supposed to be. Both could be ignored.
"I was disowned," he said, bluntly. It was a topic he'd discovered was best not to try and dodge around. Most people felt too uncomfortable prying to ask many questions, anyway. "That and I'd not speak willingly to many of the living family I do have."
Fingers twisting stray strands of material at the bottom of his outer jumper around one another, he yanked at the thread, watching as it unravelled, a slight smile on his face. "I...well, I've a wee girl who was born there not long ago and I've my friends, a few good ones. If you've those you don't need family quite as much, I don't think."
"Daughter?" She asked curiously, forcing a small smile of her own. "What is her name?"
"Family... it is important thing, in my thinking," she frowned thoughtfully and looked up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of her thoughts in a way she'd know how to say and he'd be able to understand. "But family is not what runs though - uh," she gestured to her arms, tracing her fingers over her veins to explain. "These? Do you understand what I try to say?"
"Gaia," he answered promptly, and the pride in the word was unmistakable. A faint pink colour rose to his cheeks and his feet hit against one another as he tried to force down the urge to talk at length about the child; she was only a baby, after all. Most people did not care, he knew, and just because he did that did not mean he could ramble at anyone who would care to listen.
Or perhaps it would be forced into it, Ben thought, glancing over at Mila.
His eyes followed the movement of her fingers against her veins, the blue of them standing out against her skin. A crease appeared between his brows but was gone a second later as he nodded. "Aye, aye, I do. Family is not always those who share the same blood as you."
Ben was quiet for a second, just one, before a question blurted out of his mouth before he could hold it back. "Are all your family those that share blood with you?" He blinked and then said, "And I don't mean in the way reminiscent of vampires."
She quirked a grin at that, amused by a reference she actually understood. "Yes," she answered seriously, sure. "Ilya, Jascha, and my parents. People outside of them - they find it difficult to understand me, or they are frightened," she admitted. Stupid prejudices, really, because she had never once done any of the things she had been accused of. "Not - I am not fearful, but they have... ignored - uh," her brow scrunched up again as she tried to think of the word she needed. "Ignoredance?" She shrugged and continued, hoping he understood, "But we are very close to the others, so I have enough family without ones who are not parts of my blood."
"Do you have a wife?" She asked curiously. "Gaia's mother?"
"Why?" Ben asked, curiosity shining in his eyes. "Why are they ignorant and afraid?"
His head shook emphatically at the question and he wondered if Stella would have managed to kill them both if they had ever married--he suspected the answer to such a question would be a resounding yes. She told him often enough she could not stand him. "No. No, we were just together for a time. I don't think I'd want to be married at my age. It seems like something best left until your thirties or something like that, to me."
Mila looked a little surprised at that. The idea of children outside of marriage was a completely foreign concept - she couldn't even wrap her head around the idea of having sex with someone who wasn't her husband. It just wasn't the way things were done in her family, or their culture. But he seemed happy enough, so she left it at that. It wasn't her business after all.
"Oh, they - they just do not understand what is different," she told him, not elaborating any further. "You do get used to it."
"Is it because you're short?" Ben asked, seriously. "Do people over here discriminate against short people? I can have them hexed to Timbuktu for that, if you wanted." The sincere tone of voice was ruined slightly by the fact that his eyes were dancing slightly, a teasing light in them but he leaned back, further away from the woman in an attempt to hide it, at least a little bit.
"No," she answered seriously, not showing any signs of amusment. It was difficult to make Mila laugh when she wasn't comfortable, and she was rarely comfortable away from her family. "It is not my height. They do not like... uh," she sighed again, thought of the right word after scratching and her cheek, and added, "gypsies." That was enough explanation, although it was hardly the whole reason. Most of it had to do with her magic, and her quietness, but there was no reason for him to know that. She didn't want him to assume what everyone else did - that she was evil.
Ben was quiet for a moment, his head turned, eyes on the world outside. Snow had begun to fall again and he wondered at how many times it could fall within a few hours. Winter in Bulgaria was surely a fairy tale-esque thing. For some odd reason now he was inside, the only place he wanted to be was out there walking with the snow crunching under his feet. He sighed and mumbled, "If only heating charms really worked properly. Pity."
Sniffing slightly, a hand rubbing over his nose, he turned back to Mila, an eyebrow raising slightly. Gypsies. Gypsies, to him, were the people who did not inhabit a proper house, but rather tents, and did not have proper facilities. They were unkempt, unclean and generally Muggle. He was fairly sure those gypsies were not the kind the woman was speaking of.
"I'm sorry but...I don't know anything about gypsies. I'm, um, ignorant too."
She shrugged, "It does not matter. It is like being... Italian - you just are. But people like to hate - so they do."
"It is pretty, yes?" She asked him after turning to look where he was, her eyes on the snow. "I think I love winter more than any other times. Even if it makes your face red with cold. It is very... magical."
"I like research, you know," he said, idly. "I'm likely to go away and ask a million questions of other people, scour through a million books. Perhaps not literally but the fact of the matter stands that you've mentioned something I don't know much about, so I have to go away and find out at least a little about it."
Hand rubbing the back of his neck Ben said, "We're going to pretend that is an entirely normal thing to admit to upon first meeting another person, aye?"
Nodding along with her words, he stood and walked across the room to the window, fingers prising at the wood there and opening it. His head stuck out slightly and instantly the biting wind turned cheeks red with cold but he didn't mind so much this time because it hadn't been snowing when he'd been walking earlier, not properly like this was. The snow was actually settling on the ground and down below on the street he could see it starting to cover people's heads, their shoulders, the flakes of it falling gently on them.
"I love snow," Ben said. "That's typical, of course, but it's beautiful." His hand reached out, catching a flake in the palm and it turned instantly to liquid.
"It snows very much here," she told him from the bed, letting him play with the snow but unwilling to stand right next to him so she could as well. No matter how much she liked winter, Mila didn't like most people, and wasn't going to get that close to someone she didn't know. "And when there is not snow, it is very, very much hot. There is no happy between."
"What is where you are from like in winter?" She asked him curiously, the sort of intrigue that only someone who had never left their own country could have.
"It rains at home," Ben said, with a frown. "Absolutely buckets down." His eyes sparkled slightly with mischief as he said, "Did you know, in England, it rained cats and dogs?"
Clearing his throat, he continued, "Other than that though it's pretty much just grey. Grey skies, grey clouds, grey buildings, grey rain near enough and grey snow. It's only white for a short time before it gets ruined and then more snow doesn't fall until the start of spring. It's awful but our only real constant is the belief it's going to rain at some point in the very near future.
"It's not all bad, though. The rain's soothing, I suppose, at times." The words were followed by a slight waving of hands through the air, his limbs slightly resembling a windmill in full motion before he stopped himself when his hand hit against a shelf, his knuckle throbbing slightly. "Ouch," Ben said flatly, rubbing it.
"Mila!" Jascha said, clearly coming in at the wrong time. All he knew was that he had left his sister alone with his friend, and that Ben was hurt when he came back. It wasn't common for her to lose control of her music very often anymore, but it still happened sometimes when her mental state wasn't up to par. And merlin knew that his sister's psychological health was less than adequate. For all he knew they had gotten into an argument, Mila had been upset by something Ben said to her, and the next thing Ben knew his finger had been broken.
Mila though, only turned around in confusion to look at her brother. "Shta?"
"Did you hurt him? Milena, I left you alone for fifteen minutes... you couldn't have stayed calm for that long?" She opened her mouth to protest, but Jascha was already walking over to Ben. "I am sorry about that, it is not her fau-... how badly did she hurt you?"
"I didn't hurt him! Honestly, Jascha, maybe you should keep company with people who aren't so clumsy and not blame me for everything that goes wrong." Mila protested indignantly before standing up and storming out of the room.
Ben watched the slight woman storm out of the room, his mouth hanging open in slight shock. His head had shook when Jascha had started speaking, mouth opening to tell the other man that nothing had happened and that Mila had not hurt him but his voice had been cut off by Mila's own, indignation and anger evident in every lilt to her words.
Only after she'd left the room did Ben say lamely, but loudly, "She didn't hurt me. At all. She was being very nice, actually." Confusion in his gaze, he glanced from the door back to Jascha and then shrugged, feeling suddenly uncertain about whether he was supposed to stick up for the woman or just keep his mouth closed. There wasn't much he could do besides tell her brother she'd done nothing, was there?
"I was waving my arms about. Hit my hand off the shelf. It was stupid but," and he trailed off, shrugging.
"Oh," Jascha answered, equally lamely. "Sorry about that - the drama and everything. I suppose that I owe her an apology. Does your finger need bandaging, or is it alright?" He felt a little stupid, but his sister made it easy to jump to conclusions, and most of the time there was a good chance that whatever had gone wrong was her fault. "She's probably more upset that I embarrassed her in front of you, honestly."
He quirked an eyebrow then, "Did you say she was being nice? Mila? My sister - the girl who just stormed out of here? Either you've been confunded, or the apocolypse is coming." Jascha grinned at Ben, although he wasn't completely joking. There was truth to what he said, and it might have been the first time anyone had accused her of being very nice. "Anyway, is your room alright? Sorry that everything is so cluttered."
“It's fine. It doesn't even hurt all that much I'm just...unused to this." He glanced around the room, at the walls that seemed far too small for the cosily cluttered interior and his fingers flexed slightly before a hand lifted, tugging at the small curls of hair at the nape of his neck. He licked his lips somewhat nervously and then shook himself. It was stupid. He was stupid.
"Personally, I'd go for the apocalypse theory," Ben said solemnly, nodding. A smile teased his mouth, however, and it was impossible for him to say the words with a completely straight face. "Aye, she was grand. She answered all my questions, even. Not many people do that." Of course, he didn't think he'd bombarded the woman with quite as many as usual but he may have been mistaken.
He nodded at Jascha, his head turning and glancing around the room again, before he turned his head and stared out the door, eyes almost sticking themselves to the sight of piles upon piles of books. His fingers practically itched to go and read their titles. "It's grand. The room, I mean. I haven't said thank you for bringing me here yet, but thank you."
Jascha laughed a little, "She doesn't really speak English, you know. I mean, she tries, and she's not too terrible, but if she was just nodding or saying yes then chances are she did not understand what you were asking." He shook his head apologetically, because really, it wasn't right to put her down when she had only started learning a little while ago. "Well, anyway, I am glad that she was nice. My parents want to meet you, of course, but they are both working now - my mother wanted to know if you like chicken?"
"And it is no problem," he answered in response, waving away his gratitude. "I am just glad you wanted to come - most people are turned off by this country for some reason. Too cold, I guess. Too Slavic," he grinned. "I think the alphabet scares them away. The room is a little small, but," he shrugged, nothing could be done about that. "I shared it with my brother Ilya - he is coming tomorrow, by the way, you will meet him then."
"Um, no, I don't eat meat," Ben said and then scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry if that's a fuss. I can make my own stuff, if it is. It's no problem."
"Mila--she said something about Ilya. He's a good musician, aye?"
Jascha laughed, "It's not a fuss, but uh... my parents don't really understand what vegetarian means. My mother might look at you like you're about to die. I'll let her know, just prepared for a lot of potatoes, alright?"
"And yes, he is very good. He teaches music at an orphanage. He could probably be a professional if he wanted to, but Ilya has a 'bleeding heart' as you would say in English, and he wants to save the world. With his piano." He looked out into the hall, at the instruments and books, "Do you play? You are welcome to use them if you want, or read - but you will need to use a translation charm, I am afraid."
"Alright. I can survive on potatoes, anyway, aye, especially because I think I brought about a suitcase filled with chocolate." The thought of eating some of that seemed especially appealing to him at the moment and he wondered if he could dig some out. Humming happily to himself when he remembered the large bar of Aero chocolate that Stella had given him, he swung the bag 'round, opened the bar and, snapping off a bit, offered it to the blonde man. "Wanna bit?" he asked.
Eyes following the other man's out into the hall, over instruments, Ben said, "I was taught how to. I think every good little pure-blood is, at one point or another. Though I don't think I really remember which is a shame. I used to like playing the piano."
Jascha took a piece of the chocolate gratefully, it wasn't anything he had seen before but that didn't matter. "This is good," he told Ben. "It is English, yes? I do not think we have it here."
"It comes back easily, I think," he said. "And once you know one instrument, it is not too difficult to pick up the others. That is how we made money growing up," he told him with a grin. "We are like a circus - well, not really, but it was the only thing we had to get by on. Mila at least is acrobatic, and so was Alexei."
"I am not going to make you survive off of chocolate, you know," he told him seriously. "We can go down to the market tomorrow and find some things for you to eat."
"Yeah. Stella's a big fan if it and I can barely move without having some fall on my head or something like that." Ben's shoulders lifted and he shrugged, the baggy material of the jumper moving with the slight lift. "Mila was an acrobat? And Alexei? Did you have those wires--what're they called? Trapezes?" A crease appeared between brows as he tried to think for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip before he nodded. "Trapezes, aye."
"Thank you. That'd be lovely. As much as I love chocolate I think I'd get a bit sick of it after a while." His cheeks puffed out in thought before he said, "And it's good someone else would come with me. You've no idea how bloody confusing all this Bulgarian is."
Then he stopped and snorted slightly. "But you do, because of the English thing, yeah? Silly me."
Jascha laughed, "No, where would we have put them? Anyway, she is petrified of heights - Lyusha dropped her once and she broke her arm."
"Eh, Bulgarian is not as bad as you would think," he told Ben. "It is probably the alphabet that makes it seem so difficult, but that only takes a little while to learn. Romanian is awful though, consider yourself lucky that we do not live across the river. They have declensions and - well, it is probably the most difficult language to learn. Or at least one of them, I think that Finnish is supposed to be impossible."
Mila sighed from the doorway to get their attention, looking impatient. "Mama is wanting me to tell you there are pillows for Ben in closet. And that we should carry him to town if he would be liking to see it." She glanced at Ben indifferently, "Do you?"
For a moment he blinked at the brunette, startled at her appearance, and then he nodded. "Aye. Aye, I'd like that. If it's grand with you lot." His eyes skipped over Jascha and then Mila, hands in his pockets. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncertain. "If it'd be imposing, and you're busy, I could probably sit and read. I don't mind at all."
"We are not busy," Jascha answered with a cautionary glance at Mila, his next words lower and almost scolding in response to her attitude. Had she really been nice to Ben before, or was he just saying that because it was what a guest should be said. "Are we?"
"No," she answered with a glare right back at her brother. She wasn't busy, and she didn't mind showing her brother's friend around, but she was still a little angry at Jascha for blaming her for something she had nothing to do with. And she wanted an apology, but none of it was the Englishman's fault. "Ben, I would like very much to show you Rousse."
The grin on his face widened slightly and his fingers ceased their fidgeting with the threads of his jumper. "Thank you, Jascha, Mila." Mila, he decided, was a much easier name to pronounce than Jascha and seemed almost out of place among Jascha, Ilya and Alexei. All the others would have given him more trouble than should have been possible if they were written down.
Pulling at the small bundle of coat and jumpers he'd placed on the bed, he grabbed one, sliding long arms into the sleeves. "Rousse--is it that big? What's it like actually living here?"
"Like being trapped," Mila complained quietly, causing her brother to elbow her.
"She does not mean that," Jascha told Ben as he led them into the living room to take up their scarves and things. "Mila just does not like houses. It is," but what was it like, really? The city wasn't too small or too large, and while it was very beautiful architecturally, the people who lived there seemed to be torn in two - those that were very modern, and the rest who seemed to be stuck in the past. "Well, it is very cold right now, so you should keep warm - do you want a sweatshirt for under your coat?"
"No one ever stops to say their hellos," Mila told Ben as she sat on the edge of the couch, wrapping her scarf around her neck. "They are too much rushing to care about their neighbor. There is so much life... but no life at all. No heart."
"No thanks, I'm fine," Ben said to Jascha, indicating the three jumpers he already had on him, in addition to two T-shirts. It was a bit extensive, he knew, but he'd always been one to get cold faster than others would have. He was cold-blooded, apparently. Ben could remember that particular phrase being flung in his face a short while ago as an insult and snorted to himself at it, before shaking himself and, thus, shaking the memory from his head.
His head tilting to one side, fingers tugging the deep blue scarf he had lifted up around his neck and wrapping it so it covered half of his chin Ben said, "I hate cities for that reason and that reason alone. There's so many people in them, there's always so many people in them, and yet nearly every last one of them will walk past you. They don't smile and, no, they don't say hello. Sometimes I'd agree with that- that places have no heart." His head turned to the side, glancing out the windows of the Dimitrov's household and he said, "Of course, I don't know if it's true for here, but that's why I prefer the countryside.
"Cities need to learn the good a smile can do to people," he said.
"People need to learn the good a smile will do to people," she responded, to which Jascha laughed a little. Mila turned to look at her brother in confusion. "What?"
He grinned, "Nothing, it is just that the two of you sound like such hippies. Ben, if I had known you were going to plan a commune together, I would have brought you over sooner."
"Honestly, Jascha," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "Do not let papa hear you say that about Ben and me. He will be throwing us out if he thinks we are supporting of Communism."
"Being a hippie is supporting Communism?" Ben asked, curiosity flashing in his eyes. "How so? Or did you not mean that? I could've got confused; it's a regular occurance for me."
Not waiting for the answer to his question, he said, "Do you know something? If I see you on the street, I'll make a point to smile. Heck, I'll make a point to walk down the street smiling at everyone whose eye I catch. Do you reckon they'll think me mad?"
"Would you call them incorrect if they do?" Mila asked him with a very small grin. "Because you are the person who stuck his head out of a window so there could be snowing on it."
"Mad or not, you should look toward doing that," she advised him. "The world will be made better because of it. I am thinking so, at least."
Ben could feel his ears burning slightly, the tips of them turning crimson and he murmured, "I like snow." It seemed such an inane thing to say but it was the truth; there was very little more beautiful in the world than snow, to him. It was pure and untouched for just a moment, before humans started to ruin it as they did with everything else.
The scarf was twirled around one finger and he offered a smile in return for the grin of the dark-haired woman, his eyes soft as he looked out the window at the hurried, stooped figures of people who rushed past. They all seemed lonely, he thought. How could they not have when there was rarely anyone with them? And those who were with others well...they looked like they would have preferred not to be. Again, humans ruining something which should have been a comfort; family and friends.
"I'll do it then, aye. A smile never hurt anyone and I've always wanted to walk down the street and get looks as if I were insane," and he laughed with the words, because it wasn't as if it had never happened before.