・════ ≪ @oldglvry ⊰♛⊱ CONTINUED ≫ ════・
The world was never kind and it will never be, Liberty knew this all too well. She understood that international meetings will never work in her favor; at least not now. It was as if the whole world wanted her to make a shitshow of herself. She knew that she was a joke now; if she wanted too, she wouldn’t be afraid to destroy the world’s order – she was getting there anyway. Her eyes, her smile, and her face were beaming with radiance as she faced every question asked, every argument brought up against her; every single critique anyone could think of. It wasn’t new, it was getting old but politics showed no mercy.
As her time came to an end, the meeting went into a short recess. Liberty found herself sighing deeply as the expression on her face shattered, feeling the heavy burden on her shoulders. It didn’t take long for her to escape the room, to find herself locked in a closet. One, two, three minutes passed and found herself digging into her coat pocket; finding her crushed cigarette package; itching for a smoke. With a lighter and a few puffs she found her nerves calmed, but immediately feeling tears go down her eyes. She was allowed to be a human right? She was allowed to feel the judgemental eyes, the harsh words of her reality. If anything, bitting the skin between her thumb and index finger assisted in muffling her cries.
A familiar voice came through during Liberty’s time of desperation. Of course, it would be Ivan of all people, she felt her pride shatter to his question as she quickly had to fix her act. As quickly as she can, she crushed the cigarette with the tip of her shoe; immediately wiping away every tear that fell down her cheek. Liberty hoped that Ivan knew what saving face was. As Ivan, of all people, should understand.
Liberty sighed, opening the door; her expression calm, with a tilted head and raised eyebrows. “ What do you mean? I was just killing my lungs in there. ” If Ivan had a heart, he should let her save face this once.
Politics was a cold unforgiving dance whose partners and tempo could change at any time, leaving the even the most confident floundering and struggling to get back in line. There was no forgiveness, no mercy, no right and wrong---the strongest prevailed and exerted their will with an iron force while the weaker hoped their alliances would allow their voices to be heard. He had seen both sides far more times han he could count; he exerted his will when and where he wanted once---he was riding at the top of the world---he allowed his hubris to guide him and he misstepped, fell and fell hard, found himself at the mercy of other countries. But he faced it every time with cold eyes and an unwavering determination; never would he allow himself to fade.
He was one of the many hammering Liberty with harsh questions and harsher comments---in the meeting room, it was all business ( not that they had a true friendship to consider anyway )---so when recess was called and the other participants began shuffling out to stretch their legs or find a drink, he watched her slip out of the room. Morbid curiosity had him on his feet shortly after, following her footsteps until she disappeared around a corner and out of sight. Hm. Unfortunate, but he wouldn’t lose anything ov------
It was faint, but he recognised the sound anywhere. The quiet hallway betrayed her hiding spot and he found himself face-to-face with the small door, listening to the soft muffled crying of the woman inside. He could have thrown the door open immediately and exposed her, even preyed on this human display of weakness, but this struck a painful chord of familiarity within him and if only just this once, he allowed himself to display a moment of compassion towards her. There were many, many hard nights after long meetings where he found comfort in solitude, in a dark room, at the bottom of a bottle and in a pack or two of cigarettes. Perhaps she had enough for one day; they had all the time in the world to be at each other’s throats.
There was a chance he would reget this in the future---if their positions were reversed, he knew she would never offer him the same ( in fact, she would jump at the opportunity to kick him while he was down )---but he waited until she acknowledged him and opened the door, then pulled a folded handkerchief from the inner pocket of his suit and held it out to her. Underneath his usual stare, there was understanding in his eyes. Yes, he too could be human, despite how many times he denied it on the record. “...Come; I know somewhere better than this tight closet to do that.”
He wouldn’t be surprised if she slapped his hand away and sauntered off with some nasty or sarcastic comment, for that was the natural order of things. But if she chose to take him up on his offer, he had a few things in mind for the short time left before they had to reconvene and begin again.
“Or you can go back in looking like that. Your choice.”
