Anatoly Sergievsky is a doctor not a chess player (haventwonatall) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-06-29 19:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, anatoly sergievsky |
Who: Anatoly
What: Anatoly has some serious issues with his dream self. Also his dreams give him yet another trolling gift.
When: Morning 6/29
Where: His apartment
Warnings: Some language
Status: Narrative; complete
A year had passed in the dreams and Anatoly was back at the world chess championship in Bangkok. This time playing for the West instead of the East. Molokov, however, had not stopped in his tricks, having brought Svetlana to Bangkok to tell him to lose. Then there was Freddie telling him to fuck it all and win for the honor of the game itself, not for politics. In his waking life, Anatoly had all but given up trying to understand his dream self and his motivations. Everything he'd seen since his dream self had taken up playing chess professionally had betrayed all that he'd once stood for. Though Anatoly supposed that is what happened when power and pride went to one's head.
But what had the larger sway on his dream self, power or pride? It seemed to be equal parts of both, really. Pride had started it, and then the power had come once Anatoly had gained prominence. And there'd even been the feeling of freedom once he'd defected to England. Though that had died rather quickly once Anatoly had realized he was an utter stranger in a strange land. As much as he may have desired freedom from the oppression of the Soviet Union, to escape the clutches of Molokov and the rest of the KGB, the Soviet Union was his home. It always would be his home. And his wife and daughters were still there.
As such, Anatoly couldn't predict how his dream self was going to play the championship. The match was tighter than it really should have been, possibly because Anatoly was still wavering on what to do. Did he throw the match and lose as Svetlana pleaded him to do? Did he lose and go back home? Or did he make his move and win the match, thus allowing him the freedom of choice?
Well, ultimately he decided to win the match.
And that's when Anatoly woke up. He sat up, his longer, curly hair a complete mess as he rubbed his hands over his face. That was so not how he thought things would go. Then again, how was he supposed to predict how his dreams were going to go when he wasn't in the same state of mind as his dream self?
"What the hell was that?" He complained and pushed the covers aside only to hear a few things fall on the floor. Blinking in confusion, Anatoly looked and realized the dreams had bestowed him with a gift. "Really?" He exclaimed upon seeing the chess set from the Bangkok championship match. Sighing heavily, he got up and picked up the chess pieces he'd knocked on the floor, then grabbed the board and rest of the pieces and moved them to the top of his dresser. He went into his bathroom and flipped the light on, looking at himself in the mirror for several long moments without moving. He just stared at himself long and hard.
"Why the hell would he even do that?!" Oh he was disgusted to say the least. Which was also putting it very mildly. Anatoly ran both hands through his hair in frustration, which did nothing to help the uncontrolled curls. "He knew what was on the line if he won. And he won anyway. What the hell kind of asshole would be so heartless as to endanger his family?!" The level to which he was angry was off the scale. Anatoly ranted at his reflection for several more minutes, unable to contain his rage over what had occurred in his dreams.
In the dreams, Svetlana didn't even have to specify what would happen to her and their daughters if Anatoly had won the match. Anatoly knew what his winning would mean. And yet he'd put that aside and won so he could go back home with his head held high? Because he might be able to get Florence's father out of prison and send him home? No, Anatoly was sitting on the fact his dream self had won for pride. Nothing more and nothing less. He didn't want to lose his crown, especially not to someone like Viigand. And thus he'd more or less sealed the fate of his family because he couldn't do something selfless for once.
Pride goes before a fall, as the saying went. And it was hard to see anyone more egotistical and prideful than his dream self. He really was having a difficult time dealing with how his dream self went from being a dreamer that wanted to be a doctor so he could help people to being an egotistical asshole. Clearly that's what fame would do to people. Yes, he was susceptible to pride before Molokov ever came into his life, but Anatoly had been better at controlling it before then. His pride had been channeled into more positive things, such as the determination to save people's lives. And yet he'd turned his back on the medical profession to play chess professionally. And he'd made a deal with the devil when he did.
Grumbling to himself, Anatoly went about his morning routine as he got ready for work. At least once he got to work, he could focus on his patients' problems and forget his own for a little while. Or so he hoped anyway. The rage was still firmly in place, though. That wasn't going anywhere any time soon. He kept yelling at himself in his head, carrying on conversations about how this wasn't how things were supposed to go. He had a wonderful wife and beautiful children and he'd just flat out abandoned them. Only a true asshole would abandon his family like that.
And Anatoly was afraid that he might turn into that asshole one day. He didn't want to, he wanted to strive against becoming that man, but the fear was still there.
After all, what was the real difference between himself and his dream self?