i'm a wanderess

KATJA. XVII. Optimist. ❝I'm a wanderess, I'm a one night stand ; don't belong to no city, don't belong to no man. ❞

[sirkos-blog1]

ᵈᵘᶳᵗ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᶤᶰᵈ || Prince + Milashka

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

&&. sirkos

“Cheeky? Me? No, never,” he chuckled, expression brightening. It was always nice when others appreciated a spark of humor, and there were so few good things in this town that he felt the intense need to push for it. Her words did nothing but make him laugh; he couldn’t help but be amused. “It’s been late, Hyrtsenko, but maybe you’ve been too busy to notice.” Alexei wiped at the muck on his brow, the filth having mixed with his sweat. It seemed she hadn’t yet figured it out, but he didn’t mind; he had accepted the lost of his childhood.

“I’m just getting back from work; that’s all. You didn’t really answer my question, you know.”

She unfolded her arms and playfully, lightly hit his arm. “Yes, cheeky– you might just not notice“. Nowadays it was rare to see people laughing loudly. A joke told anywhere would get few positive responses; some people would feel offended by it, or would coldy ignore it. It seemed that Zanuda had become sour after Anya’s death, and humor was not appreaciated by some as much as it used to be. A few moments, seconds even, laced with laughter would always be appreciated by the redhead.

“Indeed, I was much too focused on other matters“, Katja shrugged lightly and placed her hands inside of her jacket pockets. “How quickly time goes by isn’t precisely something I like to pay my attention to.“

“Doesn’t your job fuck up your sleeping schedule? At what time do you start working?“ One of her eyebrows automatically raised as she asked these, but it lowered again as she shook her head and sighed, smiling slyly. “You don’t miss a single detail, do you? Why yes, I suppose it’s kind of late for me, but I’m not tired in the slightest. Out of curiosity, do people often tell you that you act like their moms?“

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

&&. nastyazoloto

Nastya had tried to play nice, she always tried that first. When would Katja learn that if she didn’t run away it was so much easier just to give in. Nastya had a terribly short temper, a centimetre of fuse that burned quickly and her explosion was always nuclear. Destructive. Her fuse was burning already.

Fire is not a toy, it’s not a plaything.

That was enough of a misstep. A wrong choice in words. Perhaps if Katja had left out the latter clause it’d be alright, but no. She’d decided to tell Nastya about fire. Nastya who lived and breathed it. Like a pheonix she’d emerged from flames untouched, and now it was her obsession. She thought herself untouchable around it, her world a metaphor for the heat of a flame.

Tick, tick, boom.

Nastya laughed sharply, once. The sound cut through the cool night air like a razor through soft flesh. The sound finished as soon as it started and before Katja could have a chance to realize her mistake, Nastya was on her. A hand moved easily around the girls slender throat and pushed her backwards in order to pin her to the wall. White teeth flashed in the night as Nastya smiled like a predator, holding Katja’s throat just hard enough to scare, not hard enough to bruise. Not yet. Maybe later. That’d really piss everyone off, wouldn’t it?

"You, are a plaything. A pretty little doll, look at you.”

Nastya said it all with tainted reverence. Like she was talking about a masterpiece that she wanted to burn. She ran a finger from her other hand from Katja’s jaw to tuck her hair behind her ear, the final show to prove that Nastya had her now. Katja belonged to her, no matter how much she didn’t want to. “You’re porcelain, I could shatter you. I won’t, but I could.”

Just to punctuate her point, Nastya tightened her fingers around her throat to choke her.for just a moment.

The cold air was not even noticeable anymore; her blood was boliling. Katja could feel her heart hitting her chest quickly, clearly beating far more nervously than usual. Fear was painfully making its way into her, as it did whenever being near Nastya. Everytime Katja's eyes met the dark haired's, she would fear for her life-- Nastya had an incredible amount of power on her hands, plus she held almost total control over Katja nowadays. The redhead could easily get herself killed, or, given Zoloto's character, make worse things happen to her. She'd be reduced to a little terrified creature.

Nastya Zoloto's laughter was among the most macabre sounds Katja's ears had ever heard. It announced the beginning of the dreadful things about to follow, among which was, as always, the unavoidable pain Nastya could provide Katja with.

Nastya reminded Katja of a spider; slowly they moved at first, walking gracefully towards their future victim and lured it with soft words. Then the true pain came ;; at first, the pain was absent, but it had caused her to abruptly feel dizzy, and soon she was struggling to hold back the tears after her head and back collided against the wall.

You're porcelain, I could shatter you.

She was right. Katja was nothing but a puppet, a plaything. She was feeble, and soon she'd give in - she would break. Any other place would be better than Zanuda, where she'd have to face the other woman's rough handling - it was Hell itself, practically.

Accidentally, a sob escaped her mouth. Her hand instinctively reached out and tried to get Nastya's away from her throat. Swallowing had become hard because of the abrupt rush of adrenaline, and she had started to sweat. "Don't hurt me, please. I swear, I'm sorry for the shit I said", she had never been a fan of begging, but it entirely changed in these situations. Why was she apologizing? Nastya should be the one doing such; again, it was Nastya, and she'd never do that. She'd never let Katja go; the teenager would be forever hers.

Air was scarce all of a sudden, she could not exactly tell what it was Nastya was doing, but it was easy to guess correctly. Katja spoke with pauses betwen her sentences, during which she would grasp for air. "Let me go! Please, Nastya, let go! ... What do you want this time? ... What do you want from me now?!"

It felt like going through hell.

[doriimer]

[sirkos-blog1]

ᵈᵘᶳᵗ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᶤᶰᵈ || Prince + Milashka

Each night began the same. The walk back from the mines was a tiring one, despite the fact that he often managed to get a ride for at least part of the way. Soot marred his features. No longer was he Alexei; he was only another miner. He was without identity, until he managed to rid himself of the grime– but he would never manage to get it off of himself. His body was forever stained by the filth that the coal dust left on him, and no matter how many showers he took, it would remain in his lungs.

Those thoughts weighed heavily on his mind, body, and soul as he entered Zanuda, blackened fingers rising to brush a few stray locks out of his eyes. When had that happened? Time passed so quickly here. A face came into view in his peripherals, familiar in nature, though he could not tell if they were friend or foe. Choosing to believe the former, he cast them half a wave, his next words nothing but amiable, what with the joking tone he took.

“Isn’t it a bit late for you to be out? The rest of Zanuda is sound asleep, you know.”

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

She loved the color the sky had acquired one or two hours earlier. Strains of lilac interwining with a soft tone of orange and a large fraction of sweet blue– the result was beautiful. How could she let such a beautiful sight go away a few moments later without having been admired, at least by one person? That felt like a sin; it was prettier than a few paintings she had seen throughout her life.

So, Katja left, taking only her old, barely fuctioning iPod and her earphones. She placed all her trust in her legs and allowed them to drag her body down the empty streets, her gaze fixed on the colorful cloak above her at all times. A playlist composed of only calm melodies playing through the earphones, it had been about one hour of mindless strolling when the sky finally darkened. A smile danced across her lips as she finally lowered her face– it was then when she saw someone approaching.

She hadn’t come across anyone during the time she had been wandering, plusthis stranger seemed to be walking straight toward her. Soon, curiosity invaded her mind - who was this person? His factions were impossible to see, for they were covered in… a black substance, a dark dust. But he waved, and so the politness inside of Katja commanded her to wave back.

The smile became a sly one. Katja tilted her head to the side, stopped the track currently playing and took off the headphones before placing her head inside of her pockets.

“It is. On the other hand, isn’t it a bit cheeky from you to be asking? Some people might simply like to walk around until it gets late, you never know", clearly, she had not been pffended by hiw words. She always appreciated people with humor, and yes, a teen walking around, late at night, could probably come off as unusual to some. Asking the following question might have not been necessary, but she did so anyway; it most probably was due to that curiosity of hers, thirsty for a solid answer. “What about you? What’s got you wandering through the mostly dormant streets?”

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

  &&. nastyazoloto

Katja’s expression sent a thrill through Nastya, it always did. When the girl saw her and she looked horrified, frozen, like she couldn’t leave. A lamb too stupid to run from the wolf. Nastya lived for this, the power she held over the younger girl, the way she could mold her like clay and Katja could do nothing. She lived for the fear and uncertainty that replaced the usual sparkle in Katja’s eyes. The fact that she was one of the few who could so systematically make that sparkle disappear. The sequence of it all made Nastya’s blood run hot and furious in her veins, ready to pounce, to tear. To crush. 

Ready, but not yet.

No, she liked to play with her food. A long game of anticipation, they both knew what the outcome of this would be one day. Even bright eyed optimism couldn’t deny that one day, in the future, Nastya would destroy this young girl. One way or another. The trick of it all is, the bright eyed optimist thinks maybe it wouldn’t be like that. It would, but Katja could fool herself all she wanted when it made Nastya’s life so much more fun. 

She starts off soft, like she always does. Another stroke of the girls hair, twirling the soft red between her fingers. In this light to the unfocused eye, it looked like blood running through her digits. 

“Really? You just seemed so lonely.” Nastya spoke with self assurance and the kind of push that most people found hard to resist. 

“Your hair looks like fire in this light, and you know how I like fire.”

Like was the wrong word. Nastya was fire, it was in her every movement. Since the day her childhood home burned down it haunted her dreams. When she closed her eyes the inside of her eyelids were flames, when she felt a rising in her chest it was ash ready to explode. Fire was her obsession. She’d tried to burn people before, her family, people who were all too easy. Sometimes she found herself trying to start forest fires, despite the snow that always smothered them. Just like this town smothered everything and everyone in it.

It was an awful sensation. It was like a disease, for it could spread throughout her entire body within seconds. It planted fear inside of her, making her want to run, hide, leave. It felt as if she had had her feet had been glued to the ground, her brain having difficulties thinking clearly and making her speak. Her hands and legs were trembling -- certainly not because of the cold air --, a problem she would not face unless she found herself near Nastya. The dark-haired woman was darkness itself; intimidating, persuasive, mysterious, terrifying. The ability she had to make Katja feel beyond scared and weak was overwhelming - the girl hated it.

The redhead did not move an inch, letting Nastya twist and take bits of her hair betweem her fingers. It made a shiver run down her back as she eyed Nastya, failing at wanting her eyes not reflect the fear she was feeling.

"I'm fine. I want to be on my own right now. I don't want your company, I don't want anything from . . . you."

She desired to get home as fast as possible. She wanted to see her mother and sit alongside her, in front of the little chimney in their living room, being soothed asleep by her reassuring words afterwards and allow the fire to warm her heart. Nastya's words were pure acide being poured into her heart, burning and harming her.

"Fire is not a toy, it's not plaything." Oh, why would Zoloto make her feel this way? She felt like a helpelss child whenever her poisonous words reached her ears. "Leave me alone, let me go home."It felt like standing close to a lion; any abrupt movements -- and in this case, the use of any incorrect, stupid words as well -- would have consequences. Finally, moving her head to the side abruptly, she managed to take the small bit away from Nastya's fingers. Oh, had she made a doing such thing?

[sophieturnernews]

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

&&. nastyazoloto

Nastya was hunting. It was the only word for how she stalked the streets late at night. She was a creature of the night, she fit into the darkness like a glove. The harsh glare of the street lights did the sharp angles of her face justice, she glowered like a burning ember, hot to the touch. She powered through Zanuda in suit pants and a leather jacket, smoking concoctions she mixed herself. Sometimes her prowl was lonely, the cold air bit into her flesh but she liked it. The isolation, the mystery of the night. People were not who they were in the day when the sun set, they metamorphosed into something more than small town youths. They were more intriguing. More worth her time, and better prey. After all, however much she was enjoying herself, it was still a hunt. 

She spotted a possibility, a night creature. She approached from behind, down wind, silently. She approached cloak and dagger. Only once she was close enough to kill did she let them know she was there by twisting a piece of their hair with her finger.

“I’ve something for you, pet.”

Peaceful was the word Katja would use to descrive who the streets felt like currently. There was a soft tune difficultly making its way through a nearby restaurant’s slightly opened window, making it all more relaxing. There was close to no one around. Two or three strangers too focused on whatever it was they were doing to notice her. Sure, it felt sad not to have any of her friends in that moment, but there was also no possible danger in sight. The silence was enjoyable, and the gently cold air making her red mane flutter every so often worked well at making her forget about any negativity that had popped up throughout her day. Katja was beyond thankful for moments like these, moments that felt like they only belonged to her.

But it wasn’t only hers. She was not alone.

Katja didn’t hear her breathe. She didn’t hear the footsteps. She only came to realize she was not alone when she felt a bit of her hair being lightly pulled. So she turned around. 

A shadow shook near where she stood, making her feet suddenly stop. The faint music now seemed eerie, it sounded like the kind of melody that would be playing during one of the scenes from a horror film. The light did not seem like enough to make her feel safe, and the air sent a chill down her back. 

Before meeting the stranger’s eyes, she wished it were a familiar face the one who had played with her hair. A friend that had approached her to say hello, possibly. It was the opposite, however. It was one of those undesirable people she wished she had never met. It was a nightmare. 

“I’m not interested”, she was already regretting not making her words sound confident enough. 

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

verakomchova

There were few things that could instill a sense of calm in Vera during her three worst moods; rage, hysteria, and numbness. One was a good cup of tea. No one ever believed it when she said it, but it was true; it reminded her of being a little girl at sadik and sitting in a circle with the other kids, young, pure, uncorrupted in a place so eager to damage  them all. Another was the rain – there was little like standing beneath a shower of cold, in the dark, lulling and focusing on the sound of the splashes. What could always bring her down, however, no matter how far she went and or how gone she was, was the sight or sound of one Katja Hrytsenko. Vera turned to take the redhead’s presence in, an easy and genuine smile replacing the manic one from before. The girl was a tie to her childhood, a time when she was something else; she was an anchor, and somehow, Vera had managed not to fuck it up irreversibly so far. God help her, she’d make sure to keep it that way. No matter what feelings she might or might not feel after half a bottle of vodka. 

“And of his afterlife, I’m willing to bet. Unless there’s some seriously trippy angels in heaven just waiting to slip him one.” she gracefully spat out the blood that had pooled underneath her tongue, pursing her lips and putting her hands on her hips at the girl’s continued words. “Why, thank you. I read this tip in a magazine. A dash of colour can spruce up any old thing, apparently. Did you know?” 

As far as Katja could remember, it was not the first time Vera was carrying other person’s blood along with hers, but obviously, Katja did not mind. She trusted Vera well and could not picture her closest friend hurting her. She would never mind, not about the blood staining her shirt, nor the faint smell of alcohol about her, nor whatever mood she were in. The best part of Katja’s life was Vera, always providing a feeling similar to safety, warmth and support. Trying to picture life without the brunette in it was no fun.

“I don’t think those trippy angels will be as good as you are when it comes to throwin’ a punch. What did he do to earn it, by the way?”. She did feel a little bit of curiosity nibbling at her regarding the motive behind the altercation, but in case it it were deeper than she would’ve thought, she would not push Vera to speak– it was not her business, after all. A brief laugh escaped her as the other teen spat. She crossed her arms and after, nodded once at the other girl. “Hmm, I think I read about it somewhere, but it looks better on you than it’ll ever do on me. Something’s missing, though. A necklace would definitely do the trick, but you look beyond dashing already.”. After leaving aside the fun side of the matter, a light frown replacing her smile, worry began to get to her. It was almost automatic: wanting to make sure she had not been severely harmed. “You’re okay, right? I mean, he didn’t break any of your bones, did he?”.

[sukoshiitami]

Visit Original Link

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

sukoshiitami

Hayley Kiyoko - Girls Like Girls.

[dingyfeathers-deactivated201311]

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

An arrow can be shot only by pulling it backward. So when life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means that it’s going to launch you into something great.  

So just take a deep breath and keep aiming.

[katjahrytsenko-blog]

verakomchova

Dragging her palms down the bark of a nearby tree to get the blood off her palms, Vera blew a piece of hair from her vision and wiped her mouth with the back of  her jacket. It was a tattered thing, torn here and there with ambiguous stains flowering the fabric. It made her look like trash, and it got her disapproving looks from young mothers with little girls in their arms, but it made her feel like herself. When a person appeared in her peripheral, she grinned with all her teeth and lifted her arms up for a glamorous show of jazz hands. 

“You should see the other guy.”

It had taken the rumor ten minutes to get to her ears. Two teenagers, fighting about three blocks away. TEENAGERS had been the key word; a little voice inside of her head right away told her it could be Vera. 

The desire to see her friend now was too strong and soon had her walking in the direction people told her. Sure, she received a couple of surprised looks in return -- “why would someone wish to witness such thing?” --, they probably wondered as they heard her request. However, it wasn’t exactly what she wished to see; it was Vera. Oh, but how much she enjoyed being friends with her. While their personalities could sometimes crash, Katja would always treasure the minutes spent alongisde her best friend. 

Upon her arrival, the uneasy muttering and looks aimed at one dark-haired girl in particular standing by a tree confirmed Katja was in the right place. Crimson was prominent in the brunette’s ‘outfit’, for her jacket was decorated with crimson spots and there was still a little on her palms.

“I don’t need to -- bet you gave ‘im the beating of his lifetime.”, a smile dancing across her lips as she spoke. 

      “I wouldn’t usually say this, but I kinda like how your jacket’s looking. The red’s a nice touch.”

[rebelrian]