impression {nikolai}

[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    Nikolai was no stranger to self-loathing. He’d become quite accustomed to it in the past few months, after he swore to himself to get better. To be better. He’d heard the whispers. The people of his court were confused as to why their Golden Prince left their parties so early. They questioned why he refused to drink their sickly sweet wines, and, much more strangely, why he spurned the advances of each courtier who tried to take him to their bed. He too questioned himself at times. It was in his nature to be a hedonist, living only for pleasure at the expense of his soul. Everyone else did so and seemed to be perfectly happy, so why was it only Nikolai who had begun to thirst for something more, something deeper? He hated that he’d chosen to be different than them. He’d hated that it had all been done on a whim. He hated that he’d forced the entire trajectory of his life to change because he’d taken a look into those mournful brown eyes.

    He mostly hated himself because he knew he would never be enough for Talia. He would never be the person that she needed in her moments of weakness, because he could not be as strong as she needed him to be. Nikolai was no stranger to self-loathing. Likewise, forgiveness had always been a foreign concept. It was not the way of the life he lived. He had to be used to judgment, no matter how justified or unjustified it was. The judgment he dealt with was usually petty. Frivolous comments made by some noblewoman about how he’d smiled too harshly or hadn’t softened his gaze enough. In the coming weeks, he knew he would have to deal with far more important and pressing judgments. His actions from the night had been unacceptable in the eyes of the court, and though they were much to drunk to realize it now, they were going to give him hell in the morning.

    Nikolai knew self-loathing, he knew judgment, and yet the forgiveness that was being thrust upon him now was so freeing he didn’t know how to handle it. He felt that he should be burdened by it, this strange new feeling. How could everything he’d done to Talia simply be forgone like it never happened? The things he’d said to her were sure to leave a mark, and he would pay for them sooner or later. His arms were wrapped so tightly around Talia, their heads bowed together, her closeness more comfort than he ever thought possible. He’d been the penitent before, but now they were both believers, heads bowed in gratitude. To whom, he didn’t know, and frankly, didn’t care. If the only gratitude they felt was towards each other, wouldn’t that be enough? He cradled her like they were the only people still in existence. “I will stay. I would always stay if you commanded me to.”

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

I'll draw stars around your scars.

[Talia Avedon]

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Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov

602 Words

Music

see notes below

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Only just one moment of sleep [break]







but you dream of some epiphany

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Impression (noun): 

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1: the effect produced by impressing: such as 

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a: an especially marked and often favorable influence or effect on feeling, sense, or mind 

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2: an often indistinct or imprecise notion or remembrance 

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3 

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a: a telling image impressed on the senses or the mind [break]

b: an effect of alteration or improvement[break]
c: a characteristic, trait, or feature resulting from some influence [break][break]


4: an imitation or representation of key features in an artistic or theatrical medium

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5: (-ism): a style or movement in painting originating in France in the 1860s, characterized by a concern with depicting the visual impression of the moment, especially in terms of the shifting effect of light and color. [break]
a literary or artistic style that seeks to capture a feeling or experience rather than to achieve accurate depiction.

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This was fragile. This was momentary. This was not ethereal. This was fragile like pottery, not like a mirage. She was still angry.
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All of the angry had been replaced by fear. All of the anger had been replaced by hope. And now she was holding him like he was the only solid thing in the world when he was the thing dragging her under. She wanted him and she was terrified of him. She wanted to be angry and she could not muster it up. She did not know what to feel anymore. 
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"I do not want to have to ask," she said quietly, barely even to him at all. Maybe she was just angry that she was here at all. She wanted to just be here in his arms, and not have her mind flying back home. She wanted to, for once, not see thing as paintings but as the present. She wanted her parentage to be a thing of pride. She wanted him. She was furious and she was scared. 
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How would he stay? He said it himself. Diplomatic relations had been ruined today. The undersea girl had seemed nonchalant about everything, but Talia knew that was only because she had little to lose. Talia had little at all. 
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And she could not rightfully call him hers, because she did not want to be his. She did not want to be owned. She was angry with him, and with circumstance, but mostly she was angry with herself. She was shaking. She was on her knees, and she was holding him, and she was shaking. She should not have been so faithless of feckless. A better woman would have found a way to rise above. A better woman would have left her father sooner. A better woman would have not let him find out. Maybe she really was just her mother's daughter, curious but never interesting enough. Maybe everything she was blaming him for was really her fault. 
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"I should not have said that. I'm sorry." She was really sorry for this, all of this, because in moments of strength she could be what he needed, but never the rest of the time. She was too soft for this. He was a duke, and he belonged to his kingdom first, and she could never belong to that many people. She could never have that many eyes on her. Being watched now terrified her. She set her head on his shoulder. She refused to cry. She had been strong, so strong, all day, for him, and she could not anymore. "I am not what you need," she said, speaking so quietly that she wasn't even sure he could hear her. She had expected anger or fear. All she felt was ashamed. Ashamed that she had been here for so long. Ashamed that she could not keep it up. "I will never be enough for you."
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Was it bravery, to get out now, before it could all crash and burn? It had burned already, and what had she done? She had run. She was a coward. She was not a soldier. She was an artist, and she was terrified of loving him, and he needed a queen. He needed someone who could rule with him. She was helpless with him before her, and she would follow him unto death, but he needed her living. Devotion could not make up for weakness. Devotion could not make up for nature. 
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She didn't know what to say. She would not leave. She could not. wasn't that the problem? She couldn't bring herself to do anything.



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[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    Nikolai rose to his knees, moving to sit beside Talia. He dragged a hand over his face. It was late. Tonight had drained him more than he ever could have imagined. He looked out at the stars again. There they were, still constant, still twinkling. He wondered what it felt like to be unchanging. Even as a faerie, though he would age slowly, he would still age. His life would continue to change, he would continue to change. And it would happen faster than he would ever expect. This was exhibited in recent months, even. The whole course of his life had been thrown off track by the girl beside him. His father was mysteriously dying, he had half-siblings, many of them, so many he may not ever be able to connect with all of them. Not to mention his abrupt ending of his relationship with Princess Mei, all the events of the night.

    It had all happened so fast, faster than expected, just like he thought. Nikolai would need to recover from it all, but in this moment, sitting next to a girl who’d he’d hurt and consoled and been forgiven by all in the span of one conversation, he felt that he existed outside of that. Like it was a problem for some other heir, some other boy who’d been coddled for so long and then made to mature in mere months. Right now, he wanted it to just be him and Talia and their problems. He only wanted to spend his time making himself the perfect person for her. The only person for her. Nikolai placed his hand over Talia’s. He wanted to wrap his arms around her like she had done to him, hold her until she gave him her whole trust, not just the broken bits of it. But everything felt so fragile, so he gave her his hand. She could take it, if she wanted, but his touch was not pressuring or expecting. It was simply there.

    “Do not apologize. I want to know what you’re thinking. It does not matter to me if you should or should not be thinking it.” His voice was quiet, almost tentative. He looked out past the roof to the river below them, the barges and rowboats passing by, seemingly unaware of the powers that lurked below them, all around them. Nikolai wondered at their destinations, were they going to their families, to their lovers, or did they simply wander? Nikolai had been like a wandering boat once, passing through ports looking for a brief adventure, looking to be the center of someone’s attention, if only momentarily. Was Talia like that too? Or did she always have an idea of where she wanted to land? Could he ever be that for her?

    He was shaken out of his thoughts by Talia. Her head was on his shoulder, the weight more of a comfort than Nikolai wanted to admit. He moved his hand from her hand and placed it around her waist, squeezing her shoulder briefly. “What part of this do you not understand?” he said with a sarcastic, self-deprecating chuckle. “You are all I need. You are all I want. You are more than enough for me. You are so enough for me that it is overwhelming. You were so enough for me at the Revel that I changed my whole life. And you are so enough for me now that I am willing to face any and all backlash I receive for my actions tonight. Because I know that if I face it well, then maybe I truly am worthy of you.” There was going to be another diplomatic event to resolve the problems of tonight, he knew that well. But if he could not withstand it the way he was saying, how would Talia react? Would she care? Of course she would. But if she stood with him, then, he thought, he would be capable of anything. Was he destined to be nothing more than a coward, claiming to be a lion? He could only hope not.

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

I'll draw stars around your scars.