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"What sort of noise was that?”
"Oh, my! Dear listeners, we have a guest!" Cecil said enthusiastically into the microphone. "Two actually, but where are my manners - as a host here, I should introduce them to you. Tonight, I am in company of her Highness The Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna. She travelled to us - from the past! How exciting that is! And my other guest is… the misterious Hooded Figure."Cecil slightly turned his head to Anastasia. “Greetings, your Highness. To answer your question, the ‘noise’ as you put it, is actually the voice of my other guest. Apparently, Hooded Figures do not use English language. Maybe they don’t know it? Or maybe they simply choose not to.”The speaker looked away from the princess."Such extraordinary evening we have, dear listeners! Two guests! Two! It’s a historical day for the Night Vale Community Radio. I hope you will remain with us, listeners, as now is time for a short advertisement."
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Operation Royal Retrieval
The Hotel Lafayette in Paris is one of the city's finest hotels. Also one of the tallest buildings in Paris. The whole building was a tribute practically to the relationship between America and France. Inside the lobby were grand portraits of Lafayette, Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and Jefferson. With the 125th anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase going on, red, white, and blue crepe was hung everywhere. Adjoining the hotel was the equally impressive Eagle Club, an American style night club, bar, ballroom, and lounge. In addition to the main room, and side dens, there were also private rooms those with membership or money can reserve. It was one these rooms, the Lincoln Room, that about a dozen men were now gathered, waiting for their special guest. Some were at the private bar, drinking and shooting the breeze. Three were playing darts, two were reading, one stood at a window, and the rest were playing poker.
"I'll call," says a British gentleman, placing the matching amount of chips in the pot.
"Reckon you would, so I'll raise you 50," came the slick reply from an American with a ten gallon hat with a thin mustache.
"I fold," said a frenchmen. The other player, a young man with a boyish look about him and looks like he's barely out of high school, sits with his cards, thinking.
"I'll raise you a 100," he says with no emotion.
"I'm out," says the Britain throwing his cards in. The Texan and the young man show their cards.
"Three of a kind," says the Texan.
"Full house," the kid calmly replies. The players gasp, even drawing some from the bar.
"Dang it Oliver, how are you good at this. A youngin' like shouldn't even know how to play this game."
"How do you think the Crosses made their fortune? We gamble."
"Yeah but with investments," said a man from the bar.
"Same thing." Oliver's replay draws a chuckle from the man at the window. Suddenly, the telephone at the bar rings. The room goes quiet. The man at the window walks over as the bartender answers it.
"Hello. .... Yes. .... Yes, we're all waiting. .... Good, we're ready." He hangs up. "Her majesty is here." And with that, all the men in the room start tidying up and try to look presentable. For they were about to come face to face with Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.
{ anastasisms }
He had to fly so carefully through this wasteland which once encompassed his own realm. Humanity had named this oblast Sverdlovsk and now, the Deathless flitted far above the damp ground - the far-reaching outskirts of the city Ekaterinburg. Even in summer, it smelled of pity and despair, of longing and of fear -- but these smells, these wafting auras, had a certain bitter taste which swirled about his adopted tongue then tugged at the collective in his skull ;; so much so, in fact, that the Tsar of life could not ignore them. He should not travel so liberally - 1918 is, and is meant to be, a bad year. But this pull, this unbearable longing, sent out such waves that, were he not to face them head on, they would surely drive him mad. And so he beat his wings harder, blacker than the sky, blacker than the river below, dotted with an infinity of stars.
He touched down, the span of his wings now longer, now arms ;; his great beak curled and twisted into a line -- a strong line -- that of a soldier's gristled jaw. And the Deathless knew this house, he knew its name, but what of a name ? He was privy to its inhabitants now, the cool of the summer wind bringing remnants of their songs and speech and cries ...
He was pulled by the Grand Duchess, Anastasiya Nikolayevna Romanova; it was her heart which fluttered -- just beyond the door. His own hollowness felt painful against the reality of depth to her soul; how young it was, how pure and how full ...
And so the Deathless, now visibly a man, whose bones had become feathers had become flesh, wore new attire. T'was black and fur-ridden, spreading across a chest which retained a chosen broadness, and bedecked with medals from far off, long forgotten wars. So the man, who was not a man at all, approached the little used entrance ;; and knocked.
anastasisms replied ;;
[ waaaait i think that’s holmes from the new russian series?? OMG ]
yES. i am absolutely in love with what NRH did. they stripped away watson's romanticism and showed us what holmes & watson could have been like. they humanized them and i just --- i'm so hopelessly in love with NRH...and andrei panin.
melon, lilac
send me one of these [ x ]
melon - my first impression of you
i thought you were adORABLE. and i still think that you are adorable... & i will fORVER think that you are adorable.
lilac - why / how i started following you
okay, so i honestly don't remember? but i'm damn pleased about it.
{ anastasisms }
"Принцесса ---- you know it is too late for you to be awake."
