#v:ma:wp

[personnages]

MARYA | starter for @sncwfated, for Dunya

Life in Moscow was not pleasant for Princess Marya. Though in the countryside, the solitude of Bald Hills was comforting and a solace, in Moscow it seemed oppressive. Princess Marya was acutely aware that there was an entire city full of people that were calling on each other and doing all the things that society does and that she was excluded from them, as she could not go without her father, who was too ill and old to leave the house on Vzdvizhenka Street. They received very little visitors, and if they did, they were usually the old kind of men that the old prince knew from his service as a young man.

However, today the house was receiving Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova and her daughter, Princess Tverskaya. Marya Dmitrievna and the old prince were old friends and knew each other and their respective children quite well from childhood. Apparently Princess Tverskaya, who usually lived in Petersburg, was visiting her mother, and so Marya Dmitrievna had brought her along so the two younger women could renew their acquaintance. Princess Marya had not thought about Avdotya Mikhailovna in some time, and had spent the morning alternating between happy remembrances and the sure feeling that she would be disappointed, as with Julie Karagina.

The two older people had left the two younger women in the drawing room. Princess Marya was grateful that Mlle Bourienne was at that moment absent; though it meant that she was all alone to receive Princess Avdotya, the princess felt freer to converse without her there. Princess Marya was quiet and timid as she turned to Princess Tverskaya, though somehow the other woman and her  mother had inspired a small smile on the princess’ face. She did not know what to say to Princess Tverskaya. “Have you been in Moscow for a long time?”

[personnages]

@heartlosttravelers | con’t from (x)

“Oh no, Pierre, you could never be a fool,” Marya said, placing a hand on his arm, but the gentle smile that had graced her face when she saw him slowly faded back to a look of uncertainty. “There are just so many people here,” she said, looking out at the grand hall then back at Pierre. “And most of them don’t know me at all, but they pretend to, and pretend that I don’t know that they don’t know me.” She shook her head, feeling that she was sounding ungrateful. “I never know what to do... I’m very glad you’re here. I was hoping you would be,” she said, her smile a quick flash. 

[personnages]

MARYA | @heartlosttravelers (for Pierre)

“Oh,” Princess Marya said, stepping into the drawing-room. Though she hadn’t expected to see the young man there, she felt a lightness in her heart upon seeing him, and a smile illuminated her otherwise plain face. “Pierre, I am very glad to see you, though, you see, I hadn’t been expecting you...”

[personnages]

MARYA | open starter

A draft curled through the window frame and into the room where the princess sat, methodically working on the embroidery frame in front of her, but when the wind banged the empty tree branches against the house, she jumped. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, wet ones that tracked in winter snow despite their best efforts, and Princess Marya rose with some confusion, going to the doorway. She had not heard the door of the great house open. “I didn’t know you were here,” she said as the figure came into her view. Outside, the snow thickly blanketed the fields and hills, turning the trees into indistinct smudges against the horizon.

[personnages]

MARYA | for @skyjci, for Natasha, canon verse

Men had came to take the coffin away. Princess Marya had not watched them go. Alpatych had written that he would personally bury it at Bald Hills, though the French had already overrun the countryside. Princess Marya had not wanted to reply to the letters that were arriving at Yaroslavl, but it was no longer only herself that relied on her. Her nephew needed to resume his lessons. The house on Vzdvizhenka Street needed to be looked after.

But it had been hard to prepare to leave. Princess Marya felt that she and Natasha had witnessed something that was to be shielded from outside contact, that only they two in the whole world could understand. So she had asked the Count and Countess if Natasha might come with her and her nephew to Moscow.

Now she looked over at Natasha as their carriage rumbled along the road towards the capital. They had barely spoken as it had carried them away from Yaroslavl, from the site of his death. She leaned over and rested her hand on Natasha's arm, speaking quietly, feeling almost ashamed to break the silence. "We are almost there. The house will have only a few rooms ready."

[personnages]

MARYA | starter for @amantesmultorum​, for Natasha

Princess Marya was not expecting to see Count Rostov and his daughter again, for she had not expected her father to invite them to the house on Vzdvizhenka Street. She flushed but went up to the countess. "Dear countess, how good it is to see you..." Princess Marya said, but in her face there was a distraction and her voice was quiet and timid. She took Natasha's hand then dropped it. "Please, do come and sit by me..." Mlle Bourienne was by the old prince, which upset Princess Marya still, but she still hoped that perhaps Mlle Bourienne would not impede their conversation, as it had when they first met.

[personnages]

MARYA | starter for @argelfrasterr, for OPB

The morning passed the same as nearly every other morning at Bald Hills. Princess Marya took breakfast with Nikolushka and Mlle Bourienne, and the old prince took his separately. Nikolushka went to his lessons, Princess Marya to her prayers, and Mlle Bourienne to the drawing room before eventually being called in by the old prince. Princess Marya spent her morning anticipating some irritation from her father, and steadied herself by lighting a candle in front of one of the icons in her room, gazing at the painted surface before closing her eyes. She went out into the drawing room. 

A few hours later, she heard the heavy tread of her father in the hallway, and the old prince strode into the room -- though there was a slight tremor in his tread -- holding a letter.

[personnages]

@dcarhcarts​ | con’t from (x)

It’s an impulsive decision - because evidently, Pierre cannot help overthinking when a scenario requires swift and confident decision, but when he probably ought to stop and think on something for an hour or two, he can’t seem to stop himself. His blood beats war drums in his ears but before he can really find time to regret it, he takes her face between his hands and leans forward to kiss her.

It lasts a moment, or maybe an eternity - and then he tips back, breathless, embarrassed. “I - I’m sorry. Only you looked - “ He has no real explanation. It was just - a moment of foolishness, of falling in love with the way the sun fell through the window on her braided hair, first light rosy on her cheek, the stars in her eyes glittering like flames in the pale gray morning, that he finds he somehow doesn’t regret. “You looked like - daybreak.”

@personnages / 5/5 kisses, finally finished oof

Pierre took her face between his hands, and the princess was struck by both the touch and by the openness of his eyes, and yet there was something new within them, something the princess did not fully comprehend, and then -- he was kissing her. His lips were soft. Princess Marya felt a deep rush of tenderness through her, and when he pulled away, that rush of feeling frightened her then, overwhelmingly, gladdened her.

She felt as if she could still feel his touch on her skin. Instead of that flush that blotched her cheeks, her eyes grew bright. Tears seemed to spring to her eyes, yet, blinking, they did not fall. She saw Pierre then, more clearly than she felt she’d ever seen him before. She felt, looking at him, as if there was no one else in the world.

“My friend,” Princess Marya said softly, and she was smiling. “Dear Pierre.”