⊗ ANASTASIA ROMANOV HAS SEEN IT ALL. She has lived and died through the 1940s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, and with the turn of a new millennium, she expected nothing less than hatred from humans against Mutants. She has grown used to it. But she'...
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒chapter four — liberty's call; 3235 words ⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
* fyi, i've never been in the statue of liberty and i don't know how it works and i'm lowkey too tired to research it, so not bully me for getting this wrong *
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ANASTASIA SWALLOWED BACK HER NERVES. She hated flying. It made her stomach twist and turn in unnatural ways. With every sense of turbulence, she clutched her seat harder and harder. Logan would often look at her worrisome. Her face was pale and weak.
"You got to get over your fear of flying," Jean said softly, sitting on the other side of Anastasia.
"Yeah—" Anastasia lurched forward, feeling like she was suddenly about to throw up. Controlling her breathing, she rested back on her seat. "I'm well aware."
"10 minutes out," Scott said loudly over his shoulder, flipping a switch on the flight controls in front of him. "How's your head, Echo?"
"Echo?" Logan asked quietly, glancing at Anastasia.
"Ivan was able to heal most of it," she responded, closing her eyes. "Might have some headaches and nosebleeds, but that's normal anyways."
Anastasia pried open her tightly closed eyes to peak over at Logan who was confused. "Echo is a nickname. Ivan gave it to me when we were kids and learning English. I would repeat everything like an echo would."
"English isn't your first language?" he asked, thinking that Anastasia was American for the longest time. She talked in perfect English with a perfect New England American accent. There wasn't a single hit of any native language left.
Anastasia laugh softly, clutching her stomach as the plane hit a bad patch of air. "My name is Anastasia Romanov and my brother is Ivan. We quite frankly have the most Russian names to ever exist. Literally, like — if I remember correctly — one of the best known Tsars of Russia was Ivan the Terrible, and his wife's name was Anastasia. Actually, I think she was a part of the Romanov Boyar."
Jean smiled, looking over at Anastasia. "First time I ever heard of you, I thought the Professor was joking. Your name seemed too Russian to be real."
Anastasia let out a loud laugh that echoed in the plane as Jean giggled with her.
"Russian, huh?" Logan muttered under his breath. "You know what they say about Russians?"
Anastasia's eyes went wide. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "We've met before!"
Logan jerked back, furrowing his eyebrows together in a confused scowl. "What now?"
"I'll tell you when we get home." She waved her hand in the air, brushing off her thoughts. But the cheesy grin didn't disappear from her face.
