Lidochka Mikhaylov and Nikolai Zuyev (NPC)Rating:
This has been sitting on my computer for wtfever and... I dunno. I figured I might as well just post it. It's not that great XD Title and summary are from Invincible
.Summary: 'Don't give up the fight, you will be alright...' Invincible
Silently a pale hand plucked the ivory coloured envelope from the silver tray that had been set down on the desk and turned it over gently without answering the inquiry; it was more or less rhetorical. Grey eyes took in the hand the address was written in, the loop in the 'L' of her name and the sharp peaks of the 'M', the smudged ink over the stamps and the roughly torn edge of the flap on the back; opened and resealed at the gulag in North Russia from which it had been sent.
"That's four this week."
Lidochka, sitting behind the wooden desk, the length and breadth of which threatened to swallow her slight frame, made a throaty sound of agreement as she opened the envelope, every movement precise and brusque with well disguised concern. Only the other occupant of the room knew her well enough to know what she was worried, increasingly so as the frequency of her father's correspondence increased.
Nikolai observed her with his hands folded in front of him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly as hers flicked through the letter. It was inane gibberish of course, and like the three previous times that week the brunette reached of a pad of paper and a pencil, laying the letter out smoothly to one side. She had to decipher her father's orders from the multitude of benign inquiries about hearth and home, asking after his wife's health and reaffirming familial love.
Her pencil moved swiftly across the page, lightly jotting out the Cyrillic characters with fluidic ease and filling the large office with the sound of lead scratching against paper. It wasn't an overly complicated cipher as they went, but it was one she and her father had established long before he had been taken away by the KGB. Apparently it was suitably complicated though, as the letters that Lev Mikhaylov wrote to his daughter and temporary leader of the Solnsevkaya came through think and fast, read through and then resealed shoddily but passing inspection easily. After a few calm minutes Lidochka looked up at Nikolai and sighed tightly.
"It's Tolyev." she said darkly, the Russian words clipped and lilting; she didn't need to elaborate.
Her 'bodyguard' took a step towards the desk at the pitch of her voice, the brittle undertones jumping out at him and inciting concern of his part; "A hit?"
"My father wants me to send him a message," she revealed, "he doesn't care how." Playing her slender fingertips across her lips she rose from her seated position, " I get the feeling he's preparing me for the worst. Every week he leaves more decisions to me, his orders are increasingly vague."
"He trusts you."
"Or," she ventured, leaving a pause, "they're breaking him."
It wasn't with an easy heart that she suggested it; the idea that the working and living conditions in the gulag could break someone like her father sickened her. He was a mountain of a man in his daughter's eyes, and she wasn't the only one who thought of him in such terms. Larger than life, he had a laugh that could light up the room and warm the heart and a frown that could force the heavens into groaning with thunder to compliment it.
Nikolai looked down at the polished desk for a moment as his companion and 'superior' folded up her father's letter again, "Liddy," he said at length, "Your father would never break. He knows what you're facing out here, he knows the pressures and the politics and I think that he is trying to help you. He knows that potential that lives in his daughter," a pause, "just as I do."
Lidochka raised an eyebrow. There was a hint of a smile in her eyes but there it remained, hidden to the outside world. She leaned on Nikolai more than she liked to admit even to herself, and maybe he knew, maybe he didn't, she wasn't really sure. In either case she moved out from behind the desk, still holding the pencil but abandoning the letter and the deciphered orders, she had memorized them already. Standing by the window, dressed in a suit minus the heels that went with it, those she often kicked off under her desk during informal meetings such as this, she stared out across Moscow.
"Make it someone close to him. Someone he leans on." she said, eyes raking up the rive now as she stared through the misted glass, "I want to kick out his crutches."
Nikolai was silent; perhaps he was taking in her tone, the strength of her voice and the dark conviction behind her words. For a moment Lidochka had thought she sounded not unlike her father when he was in his element, when he was so sure of his next course of action that he toasted its success before it had even begun.
"His lieutenant; Sabhirzhan."
Lidochka nodded in approval. Sabhirzhan was the perfect target. She turned her eyes to Nikolai and a slow, frightening expression crossed her features.
This time Nikolai nodded, understanding; "I'll have him picked up."~*~