#rozqnov

[redemptioninterlude]

SUBJECT: a new follower starter ! CONCERNING: ilya rozanov

ottawa was finally WARMING UP! and it's cause for celebration! the sleepy city seemed to hunker down as the temperatures dropped to -40℃, and the canal made itself just worthy and thick enough to be skated upon. if it weren't for the government and shopify types taking their kids out on the ice, here wasn't much else to motivate the city dwellers from their warm abodes, and alice, oh, she'd been going absolutely mad! because aside from the restaurant, and it's slow nights, there wasn't much to do without a space in which to do it! and there were only so many times a girl was willing to entertain walking around the rideau centre before wanting to off themselves off a bridge!

but ENOUGH OF THAT. it's spring time!

and isn't it funny? while the restaurant hasn't been all that busy, the brand new captain of the ottawa centaurs was attempting do whole BONDING SESSIONS within the booths. at first, she'd only eavesdrop, but eventually, she was feeding opinions along with the drinks. the boys are little ungrateful and spoint, aren't they! alice reminding them in dry moments about their monumentally lame record up until this point, and wasn't a new captain what they'd all been whining about wanting for ages, now? or at least a win! and now that they had a recent stanley cup winner on the team, maybe they actually stood a chance in this after all!

it's probably that that catches mr ilya rozanov's attention. her banter, her laughter, she knew how to twist a person to win out big on her tips, and eventually one night, she asks him if he's actually seen anything of the city beyond the arena, his place, and the more established FINE DINING spaces in ottawa ( she suspected he loved atelier, and north and navy - he just seemed like the type ), and when the answer is negative, she tuts, she sighs! "you need a little more adventure in your life!" she wails, dramatic. "here. my number. don't use it if you're going to be weird!" and he doesn't, to his credit. alice calling him now, on this very fine spring day. "want to go somewhere cool?" she trilled. "come pick me up, we'll go walk the whole byward market and then up through the uni campus. it's finally gorgeous again outside!"

★— ATTN: @rozqnov

[podiium]

| |  ⧼ 🏁 ⧽  CLOSED STARTER  ‚\ @rozqnov + charlotte

charlotte meyer  ...    ▇▇▇               ❛   it's  not  all  that  complicated.  just  that  ,  I  make  it  complicated  sounding.  ❜     yeah,  leave  it  up  to  Charlotte  for  trying  to  explain  things  –  and  making  it  complicated.  all  because  she  couldn't  stop  rambling.  moving  to  one  of  the  couches  on  the  yacht,  she  let  out  a  heavy  sigh.   ❛   so  how's  things  with  you  though?  and  ..what  was  his  name  again?  shane?  ❜  head  tilted  as  her  grin  grew  more.  alright,  so  she  was  so  invested  on  the  two  of  them.  and  how  happy  he  seemed  to  be.  that  supportive  gal  friend.  which,  everyone  needed  in  their  lives.  Charlotte  basically  was  married  to  her  career  at  this  point.  but  also,  dating  just  –  wasn't  suited  for  her  it  seemed.  at  least  recently.  seemed  as  if  most  guys  ran  for  the  hills  when  it  came  to  dating  a  formula  one  legend's  daughter.  yeah  –  her  dad  could  be  a  bit  of  a  judgemental  hardass. 

[mindfade]

i'm sorry for the theatrics. ( for gojo )

satoru laughs, “ oh, is that what that was? ” he was well-versed in theatrics, actually. although, his were generally a bid for attention. this was not about him, or his obvious win: he wasn't called untouchable for nothing, and sparring was no exception. this was something else, as emphasised by the continued creaking swing of a slammed double-acting door.

“ and here i thought i was dramatic, ” he continues to tease, likely despite his best interests. satoru folds his arms, head tilting as if it would better enhance his perception of the man before him. for all his capabilities, he couldn't read minds. whatever was plaguing ilya was not something he was privy to on his own. “ what's got you so heated, hm? obviously not me. ” @rozqnov.

𓉘 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙾𝙱𝚂𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽, answered as gojō satoru. accepting. 𓉝

[omvangel]

❝ could you help me with something? ❞ ⤳ @rozqnov .

it'd be easier to walk out into the street and ask a complete stranger . the fellow russian looks content to do nothing besides lay around . growing into an increasingly lazy stain on ilya's couch . whatever minor leg sprain he had at the end of their season is something worth milking . that much is obvious when he fixes ilya with a pitiful little look . ❝ in my condition ? do you want me to hurt it again ? ❞

nikita moves to stand regardless . grinning as he knows the annoyance . ❝ what are you doing anyways ? we should be at the beach getting drunk . it is what america is good for . ❞

habits are quickly picked up . a month was all it took for nikita to find himself overly comfortable in his new teammates apartment . showing up with food or booze . anything as an excuse to let his mother tongue flow . english was still a hard struggle . constantly looking to ilya for reassurance helped speed up the integration process .

there's never been much else for nikita in ottawa . the city is nice , but most of the russians live down in florida . while his contract is lengthy a secondary house may be pushing comfortability . he doesn't want anyone thinking he's jumping ship either ... so following ilya around like a lost pup has made do .

[lesvampirs]

a tattoo parlor buzzing late into the night.

RANDOM SETTINGS, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING VESPERA DZHUROVA AND ILYA ROZANOV.

𝓐  fine blend  of  clinical  sterility  and  utter  chaos  coalesced  in  the  walls  of  this  space,  with  the  low  steady  buzz  of  a  tattoo  machine  mingling  with  the  dealer’s  choice  of  background  music  —  it  wasn’t  anything  she  could  place,  but  the  melodic  rhythms  danced  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  with  ease.  It  was  what  had  drawn  her  here,  as  she  was  pacing  through  the  empty  streets  looking  for  signs  of  life.  The  evening  sky  blasted  through  the  wide  plates  of  glass,  with  only  hanging  bulbs  and  vibrant  fluorescents  to  light  the  room. A television framed high ran silently in the corner, little pixelated people on ice skates chasing each other back and forth.  The shop was  nearly  empty  now,  no  longer  a  bustling  hub  of  misfits,  who  had  all  wandered  home  or  elsewhere  once  the  day  dipped  into  night.  Or  at  least,  almost  all  of  them.  

Peeling,  yellowed  paper  plastered  to  mirrors  and  walls  displayed  the  art.  It  was  the  American  traditional  tattoos,  each bearing  their  own  distinct  meaning  and  layered  in  years’  worth  of  history,  that  caught  her  eye.  The  era  of  maritime  exploration,  where  sailors  wore  these  symbols  with  pride,  had  evidently  left  its  lasting  mark  on  the  creative  disciplines.  Lions,  tigers,  panthers,  and  eagles  danced  delicately  next  to  the  ever-popular  pin  up  ladies  of  the  1940s.  As  the  walls  stretched  on,  and  styles  changed,  the  range  these  tattooists  had  became  all  the  more  clear.  

Her nose  picks  up  the  twang  of  iron  that  seeps  out  slowly  from  between  skin  and  needle,  tiny smatterings of blood  and carnage trickling  from  the  miniscule  open  wounds  —  a  small  price  to  pay,  she  thinks,  for  something  that  would  last  a  lifetime. 

The  woman  seems  to  float  past  the  empty  front  desk  towards  the  tables  without  much  thought.  She stands  at  a  bit  of  a  distance,  yet  still  far  too  close  for  someone  that  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  here. She hesitates for a moment, if only to watch with a certain amount of awe at the wonders of modernity, and then speaks.  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“What  are  you  getting?” 

[lesvampirs]

a sauna where the air is too thick.

RANDOM SETTINGS, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING KAZIMÍR MAYKOV AND ILYA ROZANOV.

𝓘f  it  were  any  warmer,  he  might  actually  burst  into  flames.  The  heat  leaves  him  lingering  on  the  precipice,  taunting  ᴰᴱᴬᵀᴴ  as  one  might  stare  down  the  barrel  of  a  loaded  gun.  Dried  wormwood  and  spindly  branches  of  white  birch  and  eucalyptus  were  bundled  together  and  strung  tightly across  the  walls,  cloaked  in  a  thin  wet  sheen  of  dew.  The  баня*    [  BANYA   /  STEAM  BATH*  ]  was  nearly  empty  at  this  hour,  stripped  of  every  sign  of  life  until  all  that  was  left  was  something  quite  …   other.  The  parilka  that  lay  at  the  heart  of  the  building  was  occupied  by  the  two  creatures,  who  seemed  all  the  more  content  to  suffocate  in  the  rigid  and  unyielding  humidity.  The  wood  fire  stove  crackled  softly  in  the  near distance      —      a  subtle backdrop  to  a  quiet  ritual  that  hardly  held  any  purpose  for  him  anymore.  

“This,  they  say,  helps  with  circulation,  immune  system  … ” 

But  what  of  the  man  with  neither?  The  walking,  talking, devilish  corpse  who  cannot  seem  to  stray  from  an  ancient  routine that had existed long before him and would exist long after? It was strange, the habits that lingered in the afterlife. Even stranger, how much he dared to push his own limits when he was already dead. There is an almost smile that nears his lips, yet remains imperceptible ... amused by his own contradictions.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ“     —     Seems  silly  now, no?”

[omvangel]

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" ⤳ @rozqnov .

there's a noticeable pause of silence between what comes out of ilya's mouth and when kieran finally blinks and comes to enough to notice that someone is standing in front of him looking expectant . the memory is fleeting . skates cutting a bit too far into his crease , what verbal chirp he'd flung out in passing didn't stick in the grooves of his half dead brain .

finally the teeth of his mental cogs catch and begin to groan into rotation . processing the earlier question . cataloged through retentions of speech .

❝ do you know how to skate ? ❞ it's so simple and stupid sounding and by god is he entirely genuine that for such a horrible chirp it somehow manages to work . kieran had meant to say it differently . wanted to make the message sound sharp . yet the mental slug leaves him blinking rather slow through the disconnect in conversation .

[omvangel]

"I assume you're here to apologise?" ⤳ @rozqnov .

apologies don't exist within vesa's vocabulary . they aren't something he could physically form within the throat without choking on it . to think it's expected is delirium . especially to someone like rozanov . that much is obvious when lips pull into that split - second smirk that evolves in sharp , barking laughter . sounding fake and incredulous . grating on the nerves and attracting eyes from where vesa's hunted down the russian in a little boston bar .

situations like these are easy to misinterpret . that glinting eye looks closer to gloating than fascination . vesa doesn't care about manners he doesn't care that they beat boston on home ice , or that he's sniffed out their captain .

❝ yes , yes ... I do want to apologize , I think I fell asleep on the bench in second . ❞ sliding in to sit without invitation . chin propped up on an open palm . cozy in someone else's space . a nasty infection ready to take root . ❝ then the wake - up call in third . ❞ fondness trickles in when they both know it shouldn't . not when that aforementioned moment had ended with a busted nose . the cut still remains just across the bridge . flaunted .

vesa was an asshole , not an idiot . he knew not to touch a goalie . yet defensemen had a tendency to get pushy . one second he's making a messy goal , next he's wrestling half of boston while the horn blares ... and here they are .