The anxiety had set in somewhat of a strange new place and no real memory of how she’d gotten here. Part of her considered patting the ground two times to summon Hades -he had said he would always answer, after all- but then she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be found just yet. Everyone she had met so far seemed nice. And she had wanted to get away from Olympus, and her mother, so badly…
Lost in her racing thoughts, Kore’s pace slowed enough to where she actually shuffled her feet somewhat - which didn’t really work in heels. She clumsily stumbled a few steps before regaining her balance. “Sugarsnaps!” she hissed quietly, before clenching her fists for a moment and closing her eyes. Get it together, Kore, she thought to herself. Stepping out of her heels and picking them up, she couldn’t help but notice that the actual heel on her one shoe was loose and likely her own fault. She was klutz even on a good day, and she didn’t exactly have a huge selection of fancy clothes - the only decent, and way too expensive, things she had all came from Hades.
And she didn’t exactly pack a suitcase before leaving...
Rather than “swear” again, the Goddess drew in a long, steady breath, unaware of the immediate blooms of bright red flowers that had sprouted from the moulding along the floor behind her. Arching an arm back, she wound up and threw her heels down the hallway one at a time. “Stupid! Shoes!” she shouted. Feeling just as silly as she did frustrated.
Her expression quickly turned to one of horrified embarrassment as her shoes flew through the air, directly at a man coming out of his room.
Illya was by all rights minding his business when he was suddenly attacked by flying shoes. Not just any shoes but ones with heels, heels he suspected would be lethal enough to take somebody’s eye out with. It was certainly a valiant attempt this time around. Vain as it might be considering the Russian had cat-like reflexes and an unerring sixth sense for danger which meant he caught the shoes in each of his hands, arching an eyebrow in curiosity and vague annoyance at the direction from which they came.
“I believe these belong to you,” he drawled, Russian accent thick and words pointed as the shoes were held out by the extension of long arm. “I would advise against throwing them as projectiles unless your intention is to kill.”
She was fortunate that Illya was calm given that he was out of his element completely by being here, in this strange place, surrounded by a number of strangers. Thankfully for all involved he was accompanied in Nightvale by both Gaby and Napoleon, both of which helped to temper him in their own unique ways.
The profuse blush of embarrassment that filled her cheeks probably made her look like a tomato with how bad it was. Deep fuschia flowers having bloomed out of a few of the fire alarms and sprinklers on the ceiling. “Y-yes,” she answered gingerly, reaching her hand out though she couldn’t will her bare feet to get closer to the man at first. That is, until he mentioned the intention to kill. And shoes. And her guard fell out of confusion.
“Is that even possible?!” Kore gasped, bewildered at the thought. The Goddess glanced him over as if trying to decide as to whether or not he was capable of killing someone with a shoe.
Probably.
Heck, she was capable of killing plenty of mortals and look at her petite stature. He didn’t need to know of her dark past, though - or exactly what she was capable of. “Gods, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to throw them at you - just away in general,” Persephone told him quickly, finally approaching. “This is all just overwhelming.”
“It is,” Illya replied, voice even. He was still and steady as she raked her gaze over him, evidently aware that she was assessing both his capability and possibly capacity for killing someone with a shoe.
He was and he had.
Belatedly he realised that there were in fact flowers sprouting out of fire alarms and sprinklers, eyebrow lifted as he drew the conclusion that the clearly flustered young woman must be the source. That was the first he’d ever seen of something like this, but he was taking it in his stride or as much as he could have given their odd predicament.
“It is a lot. Are you here alone?”
His confirmation that, yes, it was possible to kill someone with a shoe made Persephone stare at him in awe for a moment. Then the tiniest of smirks crossed her lips for mere seconds before she cleared her throat gently and realized how tall he was. “Hm.”
The smirk totally wasn’t because she was now going to spend a good portion of her night pretending her high heel was a deadly weapon in the privacy of her room. Nope. Not at all.
The man’s question about if she was alone, normally would have her venting openly about her life but having just thrown her shoes at a stranger and having said stranger question her intent to kill… Made her a little less naive and more guarded. But only a little. Kore drew in a deep breath and held it, doing her best to appear much bigger than she was. Failing, but trying.
“Yep,” she said with a forced confidence as if it didn’t bother her much - but she was unable to keep her shoulders from rounding out slightly as the thought dawned on her. “I think I goofed big time,” she admitted with a sigh. “All I wanted was to get away from Apollo.” Somehow she’d ended up in a completely different part of the Mortal Realm.
Illya watched with some faint bemusement as the heel-wielding-woman in front of him did the human equivalent of a male gorilla puffing up its chest and asserting its dominance. In some ways she reminded him of Gaby who was small, fierce, and also just as fiercely independent.
“Apollo?” He queried, wondering if she meant a man who went by that name, or she was in fact referring to the God himself. Illya was in many ways not as cultured as Napoleon but there were some things you just knew and Greek Gods happened to be one of those things.
He had been in Istanbul previous to his arrival in Nightvale and he still didn’t fully understand how he had actually gotten here in the first place.
Persephone’s posture changed to one of a woman well guarded, and more importantly, uncomfortable. Her one hand crossed her body to run against her arm as she shifted her weight back onto her other foot, leaning away. “Yes.” It was all she said in response, her tone arguably saying enough. Honestly, she had already said his name too much.
Shaking her head as if to dismiss any and all thoughts of the Sun God, Persephone extended her hand out between them. Instead focusing her attention on the large human in front of her again. “I’m Persephone, but you may call me Kore.” She looked at him, expecting him to tell her his name since it was only fair - though any sternness quickly left her expression.
“And you are…?” she trailed off, pursing her lips together momentarily with mock suspicion.
Illya watched the change of expression including how Kore’s body language shifted in response to the uttering of Apollo’s name. Clearly there was something about the Sun God that made her uncomfortable, but it was not his place to push. Besides, people were entitled to their secrets. He had more than enough of his own to understand not wanting to reveal everything. He reached out and took her smaller hand in his own much larger one, grip firm and surprisingly strong for a mere mortal. “Illya Kuryakin.”
There was no shortening of his name so Illya it was.
The name was incredibly different from the mortal ones she was used to; meaning he probably had no relatives that she might’ve sent to Tartarus during her time in their realm. Which caused a wider and more relaxed smile to cross her features.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Illya,” she insisted - even though she had accidentally thrown her shoes directly at him moments before. A simple misunderstanding and silly coincidence, really.
Kore let go of his hand but leaned in to ask quietly; “Did you just get here, too?” Honestly, his calmness was, well, contagious really - and likely keeping her from panicking about possibly not being able to get back home. “I’ve only been here for about an hour. I haven’t even found my room yet.”
“A few days ago,” Illya said with a nod of his head. “It is one of the strangest places I have ever encountered but not the most unsettling.” He came from a Soviet Russia after all and as much as he… loved the motherland it had darker undertones, much darker hues, and he had been unfortunate enough to encounter those.
He felt a bristle of something approaching protectiveness (damn Napoleon and Gaby) when Kore mentioned that she had yet to find her own room.
“Do you know what floor or room number?”
Kore almost did a double take when he admitted to seeing more unsettling places - she’d been to the Underworld and didn’t think it was all that bad. Little dark, little cold.. full of Shades. But that much was expected. She found it curious that Illya had experienced somewhere in the mortal realm that wasn’t all that enjoyable.
“Umm..” she pursed her lips together for a moment, trying to remember the answer to his question. “Oh! Wait a second,” the Goddess told him, fishing her mobile phone from the small side pocket of her dress. A few taps on the screen, which was cracked something fierce, and she brought up the note she’d made about her room number.
“1108 which is…” Kore trailed off as she tried to figure which direction the room numbering went. But upon looking around she noticed just how many random flowers and vines there were in the hallway and flushed in embarrassment instantly.
Illya took a look at the screen of her phone, taken aback by the fact all she needed to do was tap on it and it responded, providing information. He came from a time when that wasn’t even a thing, so he was definitely adapting quickly, through necessity more than anything else.
When she looked around herself in an attempt to work out which ways the numbers went the Russian merely lifted a finger and gestured over Kore’s shoulder.
“Are you able to do anything about…” he trailed off, looking at the flowers and vines. Illya was coping remarkably well with the weird and the wonderful or so he thought. Undoubtedly he would need to process it later.
The Goddess’ gaze followed the direction of his finger down the hall before turning back to him with a grateful smile, tucking her phone away. And while she enjoyed his accent immensely, Kore almost wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him asking about all the flowers and vines.
“What?” she asked, blinking and purposely playing dumb.
It didn’t last long, Persephone felt bad about adding the natural floral flair to their floor without permission. “Sorry.. It happens when I get—” Nervous. Frustrated. Excited. Have any sort of strong emotional response. “Stressed,” the Goddess of the Spring answered.
“I’ll clean it all up after I get settled into my room, I promise.” After all it was probably a fire hazard, with her luck. “Just be lucky I didn’t have to cut my hair yet,” she told him jokingly in reference to her locks that, when cut, burst into flower petals. Since she was joking, she nudged his arm with her elbow - though found he was basically like a statue of a mortal.
Flowers and vines blossomed when Kore got stressed whereas when Illya got stressed or angry things were destroyed with remarkable ease. He’d only ever taken his frustrations out on people once and even then he was certain that they’d deserved it.
The nudge of her elbow was regarded with a stern yet curious expression.
“What happens when you cut your hair?”
“Hm? Oh,” she said, recovering the from fact that he was very unmovable. “It turns into flower petals, which can be kind of messy, but usually my friend Artie is around to help me,” Kore explained.
She paused and tilted her head as she looked up at him. “This all probably sounds so very strange, but you’re handling it really well - I mean I don’t talk to many mortals, but this has been quite nice,” the Goddess insisted warmly. For all she knew, he could start screaming at any moment as everything sunk in - Gods she hoped not.
Another small pause and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Though, it’s also strange that you have experience with shoes as deadly weapons…”
“I am Russian,” he said simply as if that explained his nonplussed response to all the weirdness happening around him. “We do not tend to panic without cause or reason.” Or perhaps the better explanation was that Illya had learned as a child that he needed to be in control or in charge of himself in order to survive and it had carried over into adulthood.
He watched the way in which her eyes narrowed and met it with an unreadable expression.
“KGB,” he said simply. “Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti, English Committee for State Security, foreign intelligence and domestic security agency of the Soviet Union.”
Security was basically the only thing she picked out of his explanation that made any sense to her. He was sentinel like, and despite the intimidating nature, after talking to him she didn’t so much feel an ounce of threat from him. Other than catching her shoes, his movements were all calm and calculated.
In a very odd way, he reminded her a little of Athena. But with Ares’ height and build. And… well neither of them were are serious as Illya was.
“Commitment Goose-Dos-Vino….” she trailed off, pursing her lips tightly as trying to repeat him was just a ridiculous way to embarrass herself further. “KGB. It sounds really impressive,” the Goddess insisted.
Kore paused and glanced back at the direction of her room, which she hadn’t been in yet. Security. “Um.. you wouldn’t mind walking me to my room, would you? I-I mean if y-you’re not busy or anything…”
“Certainly,” he replied with a nod of his head. It was clear to him that she was alone here, and she reminded him a great deal of Gaby so perhaps that made him feel warmer or at least more open to helping her. That said she seemed… nice, pleasant, and he did not get the feeling that he needed to be concerned about her turning on him.
Also, he had been known to be protective of the people he liked, and so far he did like Kore even if she did sprout flowers and vines unexpectedly.
He tipped his head in the direction her room was and waited for her to catch on that they should get moving at which point he fell into an easy step beside her, careful not to stride too quickly or get too far ahead.
Had he just made a new friend? Napoleon would have a heart attack, that much he was certain of.