if the fear of losing her niece in the unfamiliar maze of the volkov estate had thickened her blood into ice, numbing the senses until her ears felt stuffed full of cotton, deafened to all else but the familiar pitch of the toddler’s intonation, seeing him at ease within such an unexpected place was akin to a scalding bath after a spirited gallop through the acres of land that had once been beneath the preobrazhensky control, just as jarring of a feeling. she is more accustomed to the soft - spoken man that lingers at the peripherals of her vision, smooth fingers trailing over the fruit and vegetation until the store is cleared of chattering wives and fond grandmothers ─ even in the quiet of her shop, nikolai has a manner about him that keeps her from pushing conversation, yet the stilted silence was not always discomforting. she had welcomed his company, wordlessly pointing out the better option between the root vegetables and smuggling an apple into his bag of greens whenever possible yet seeing him at the heart of the volkov estate casted a shadow over what she had once thought of him, when he was still a casual friend that popped by the shop, like clockwork.
she almost thinks to lie, but the pakhan had filled the toddler’s head with promises of a visit to the stables and marya was not about to incite a tantrum from the already impatient child. ( it was nearly time for a short nap, though she had been hesitant to ask vladimir for more than he had already offered. ) ❝ i was asked to come. ❞ her gaze flickers to the child as he queries, noting how olga attempts to imitate the form of his hand with less grace, fingers short and chubby and sprawled out endearingly across the white and black keys. ❝ pakhan was injured and i was called in to clean him up. ❞ a minor wound after being grazed with a bullet but she is prompted to add onto the sentence, following with quick reassurance. ❝ it was nothing too serious, more of a bleeder than anything else. ❞ the toddler that sits between their figures whines gently, calling for attention and marya silences the noise with a firm hand atop the dark head, fingers scratching through unruly curls.
❝ olga is my niece … i mentioned her once or twice before, no ? ❞ as she explains, the sovietnik medik attempts to rake through her memories on what they had learned of the volki bratva and the volkov family. ( ❛ there was a younger one, a younger brother. ❜ uncle fedya grumbles, breath smelling of whiskey. ❛ i remember … because we got the older one, but the little one was too small and too far away, like a bear cub. ❜ it was a revelation that she had repressed, disgusted at the thought of them knowingly hunting and hurting a child but now she wonders if they had made a mistake in not pursuing the subject of the younger brother as fervently as they had with the elder. )
❝ this is yours ? ❞ an easier way of asking if he lived here, if he was the little boy that her uncle had failed to kill.
his gaze shifts to the child as she mimics the motion of his hands on the keys , and admits that it is mostly correct . a surprisingly gentle touch is placed on the inside of the girl’s wrist , indicating that she should raise it slightly . however , at the mention of the pakhan’s injury , nikolai looks up and pulls his hand away as if he had been stung . ‘ vova ? ’ he asks quietly , childhood nickname on his tongue , frown deepening . however , whatever weight that had been added to his shoulders is lightened by her reassurance , nodding gently . ‘ you are a medik ? ’ he’s seeking confirmation , making sure he had understood this interaction correctly . that would explain things , though he’s somewhat embarrassed at having not known already . especially given the fact that he had , as much as he would allow himself to these days , gotten to know marya in her shop .
‘ perhaps . i . . . ’ he trails off , a pause heavy in the air for a moment , before continuing , ‘ i did not expect any child , not just your niece . ’ he was surprised , but his reaction was not personal ; that’s what he was trying to convey . he looks down at olga again and frowns to see that the correction of where her wrist should be did not stick , and repeats the motion . his only concern for the moment , besides confirming with his brother that he would be fine , and if this injury was related to anything that would require his attention , was on making sure that the girl handled the instrument with care ─ oblivious , completely , to any thoughts of the night everything had occurred .
he doesn’t have full memories to rely on , even if he knew that’s where marya’s thoughts were . he was a toddler , and any scenes play out in flashes : bright colors , loud noises , feelings he tries to hold onto and those he tries his best to forget . he had not known vladimir had been shot until the doctors in moscow took him into their care ( and not even immediately then , considering how little dmitri choose to share with his youngest ) , let alone that anyone was trying to shoot him too . most of what he knows comes from after , as he built scripts for the actors in his mind to play out , a way to make sense of the chaos his young mind was unequipped to handle .
he nods at the question , thinking it was obvious . ‘ yes , it’s been my piano since i was young . ’ maybe about the time he was olga’s age , though he could not be sure .
