Anastasia Romanova (nasha_anya) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-04-19 14:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, anastasia romanova, natasha romanoff (black widow) |
Who: Anya and Natasha
Where: A tea shop near the studio
What: Having the same last name, and talking about it!
When: 4/16
Warnings/Rating: Low, no warnings
Status: Complete
It was a much delayed lunch meeting, but Natasha had finally managed to clear her schedule enough. She decided she needed a vacation, or a hiatus. Just two weeks. Once the current filming was complete she was going to take some time for herself.
Of course she always said that, and she never did. She ordered an iced tea while waiting for her fellow Russian.
Anya needed a breather after the unsettling talk she’d had with Julian. Meeting a television star was a lovely diversion. She’d tried her best not to be late, and walked in only about a minute behind time. It wasn’t hard to spot the woman, though, and she walked over with a hand outstretched. “Hello. I am Anastasia Nikolaevna.” Natasha knew her surname, obviously; no need to repeat that.
The red-head smiled, taking her hand and squeezing it. She hadn't had a greeting like that in years. "Natasha Alianovna. It's pleasure. Have a seat! Do you prefer Ana, or...?"
“Anya is fine. It is easier for Americans to pronounce, so I am used to it.” She smiled, sitting across from Natasha. She’d watched the show, and while it was highly fictionalized, obviously, Anya counted herself a fan. One great trait of her countrymen had always been laughing at themselves. “Likewise; I enjoy your work!”
“Thank you. Anya has the benefit of being a very pretty name, so I don’t mind saying it.” She tasted her ice tea and made a pleased sound. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
“I can say the same. I can only imagine how busy you have been.” Anya chuckled. “I know your shooting schedule must be very difficult. People tell me this is the time when all American television shows are moving toward their finales.”
She nodded her head. “There’s some serious stuff coming, and then next season should hopefully blow the last one away. That’s really always our goal, to do better with ourselves than we were before. Without going over the top. We don’t want to turn into a show like CSI: Miami.” She winked.
“I have heard of this CSI.” Anya chuckled. “People have told me I shouldn’t watch, though, because I work in a hospital, and it would make me angry.”
“Probably because it’s horribly inaccurate. Entertaining though. At least the one in Vegas.” She laughed. Vegas was one of her favorite cities.
“Perhaps I can watch it alone. Then if I become angry I can throw things at the television without being mocked.” Anya laughed. “My boyfriend would tease me. He is the mellow type.”
"Mellow would not describe my boyfriend. My real one, not the ones the tabloids keep putting me with."
“I try to avoid tabloids. They have said bad things about people I know.” Anya grumbled. It was the one time she preferred Russia’s way of doing things. Russian journalists had to tell the truth or face serious trouble. “I am glad you do have someone, though, all the same.”
Natasha nodded her head. “I’ll admit, it’s sometimes fun to play with their heads. Make them think things. I think they call that trolling.”
“I have heard this term.” Anya grinned. “I think they deserve it, if they treat you this way.” She ordered black tea from a passing server. “I do hope your actual boyfriend and you are happy.”
“We are. Hopefully we’ll be more than that soon.” She flushed a little bit. “Though I practically consider us married already. I’m waiting, any day now, for the tabloids to realize we’re living together.”
“I do hope that you will be able to break the news instead of having it broken for you.” Anya frowned. “It just does not seem right that your privacy ought to be besmirched just because you are on television.”
“That’s the way it is. It’s the price of fame, and not much we can do except take what measures we can to protect our privacy. The people that matter know we’re together, so when the tabloids realize it? So what?” Natasha grinned. “Their heads will explode.”
“That is enjoyable, I would think.” Anya smirked. “Surprising people on a grand scale.” Her tea was brought over, and she nodded a thank you. “How long have you lived in this place?”
“I’ve been in the States since I was a little girl. I came over her for ...god I can barely remember. Something involving ballet, and then I got involved in acting and never really left.” She smiled at Anya. “I was a prodigy, so there was some disappointment from my mother.”
“Of course there was.” Anya nodded; her mother had been the same way. “My sister Olga danced once at the Mariinsky, in Saint-Petersburg, and Mama thought it meant a career in the Bolshoi Ballet for her. She was mortified when Olga married so young and had a child, as that meant no ballet career!”
“Is Olga happy?” That was the important question to Natasha, even if she could still ballet, thanks to the intense training her dreams had given her.
“Oh, thrilled. She made the marriage for herself. And the little one is perfect.” Anya smiled genuinely. “He is about one year old, and well-behaved.” She did miss seeing her nephew; Pavel was a joy.
“Good. That’s what really matters in the end. Happiness. I could quit acting but I wouldn’t be happy. Even if I sometimes feel like I could be doing more with my life.” She sighed, closing her eyes and sipping at her tea.
Anya shrugged. “I think there is a value to things like acting and singing. When bad things happen, people need to forget. Television shows and music and films help with that.” How many times had she buried herself in TV after a bad day?
“You’re right.” She smiled at Anya. “and I learned that a lot of little girls look up to me. That can’t be underestimated. The importance of giving them a role model.”
“It must be a lot of pressure!” Anya was being serious, not rude. “I can’t imagine this. I just am working in the ER now, during university. And I mean, the work is important, but I do not expect anyone to look up to me.”
“Just working in the ER is enough. You’re a hero, Anya, even if you don’t think you are one. What you do saves lives, even if it’s just a small piece.”
She smiled, looking down. “I want to work with surgeries and do the very important work, but now I am still so very new. Still, it is nice to say.” The tea here was brilliant; Anya made a note to come back, with or without the television star.
“I wish you all the luck in the world, Anya.” Natasha reached over and put her hand over the other woman’s. “I mean that. I’m sure you’ll do brilliantly.”
Anya actually blushed. “I hope you are right, Natasha Alianovna.” That reminded her. “Do you have any idea, by the way, where your parents are from in Russia? Since our names are so much the same.”
“I was born in Moscow, but I’ve never thought to ask about my parents. They’re both gone now. But maybe I could do some digging?” She had some clue from her dreams, but she didn’t know if that counted.
“Only if you wish, obviously. I just wondered; my family comes from the Saint-Petersburg area. We live in Pushkinskoe, which is where some of the old palaces are.” Anya sipped her tea, wiping off her mouth with a napkin.
She nodded her head as Anya talked. “I’ll bet that area is just beautiful. When was the last time you were there?”
“I lived at home before coming here.” Anya replied. “So I have only been away for a few months. I am studying for a year here, but I don’t know if it may change.” There was Julian to consider.
“Do you want to stay longer?” Natasha knew that would require extending her visa somehow. It was easier said than done.
“Right now? Yes. I have a boyfriend and I am learning from doctors who are wonderful. Also improving my English.” Anya smiled. “I miss my family, but to stay here is the more practical option.”
“I hope it all works out for you then!” She looked at Anya and grinned. “Do you want to see the set?”
Anya raised an eyebrow. “Yes! That would be enjoyable.” It would be a thrill, really.
Natasha laughed. “Right after we finish eating, I’ll be going to show you all the Black Widow’s secrets!”
They had ordered their food a bit ago, so Anya couldn’t help but be excited. “It’s very kind of you, Natasha Alianovna. I shall keep the secrets I need to keep!”
“Very good,” she replied, picking up her fork and pointing. “We’ll make a spy of you yet.”
Anya laughed. “Be careful; my grandparents were disappeared in the 1950s.” It was nothing to her; she’d never known them. But it had made her a little more interested in the period, if nothing else.
“I’m sorry.” Her expression was genuine, even if it was a remote and distant type of memory.
“It’s not any trouble. You should perhaps feel lucky you escaped.” Anya shrugged. “The Stalinist times were difficult for everyone. I think there are maybe ten families who never had anyone sent to the gulag!”
“I’m sure my parents would have stories.” She laughed, though it was tinged by some measure of bitterness or hollowness. Some of those stories had happened to her, elsewhere and elsewhen.
“Probably.” Anya shook her head. “Everyone does. But you have many to tell also.” She smiled a little. “It’s a good thing when yours are fictional, though.”
“A very good thing,” Natasha agreed. She bent down to finish her food. She only wished that that were true.
The food was wonderful, and Anya ate with gusto. She tried not to be a piglet, but it was hard to slow down. A long shift before a lunch date did tend to make you want to eat.
Natasha set aside her fork, and waited politely for the other woman to finish. “Did you walk here?”
“I took a taxicab.” Anya explained. “I came from the hospital.” Her schedule was strange, so it was no trouble.
“Ah. Then I’ll have to give you a ride. Have you ever ridden in a limo?” Tasha grinned.
“I cannot say I have.” Anya blushed; she was probably going to make a fool of herself being excited. “It’s kind of you!”
“Come on!” She got to her feet and grabbed Anya’s hand. It was time for a little Hollywood adventure!