❝ your allies will die or go mad. you'll never know whom to trust. you'll never have a normal relationship. and if you do find love, as impossible as it is, you must remember one rule. the most important rule: never have kids. NEVER. ❞ - n.r.
COVERS...
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Some days, I feel everything at once.
Other days, I feel nothing at all.
I don't know what's worse;
Drowning beneath the waves
Or dying from the thirst
A blue truck slides across the dark road into the woods of New Jersey. Three quiet people sit within this blue vehicle: one blonde and two matching redheads. Svetlana yawns tiredly as she pulls her small thin knees to her flat chest. Her blue eyes are wide with awe as she stares around at the car's interior and at the forest outside. She's only ever been in the back of a vehicle before where they trained weapons on her and where she's forced to sit on a hard metal bench. Now she's sitting on a comfortable, cushiony seat that's warming her back and making her feel cozy. The forest no longer feels intimidating. It isn't something she has to sprint through, leaping over fallen trees and dropping under bushes when the bullets start flying. It isn't something that she has to analyze in case there are unseen attackers hiding behind every tree.
Now, everything is just simply safe.
She feels safe.
It's strange.
"Svet, seatbelt," Steve suddenly tells her, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.
The thirteen year old confusedly latches the belt across her torso. When Steve sees that she's obeyed, he gives a small nod and focuses back on the road stretching out before them. Svet's decided she likes the captain. He can a little bit bossy, but he's nice all the same. It's clear that he still doesn't fully trust her, but he did take off her handcuffs and that's a good thing. She's not quite certain why, but she knows that she would fight against those that come for her new friends. Well, if that is what she may call them: friends.
She has friends in her story. There aren't a lot. She doesn't want to be selfish in asking for too many; she's perfectly grateful with just the one or two. Her friends fight with her, not against her. They defend and protect her, just as she does the same for them. They stand side-by-side when the frightening things happen. They don't hit her or make her bleed. They make her laugh like she's made her soldier laugh. Though, the soldier has never made her laugh; she doesn't blame him, it's just the way it is. But friends would. And Natasha and Steve have made her laugh.
Svetlana licks her lips and shrugs a little, still looking around in interest. Natasha keeps glancing back at the girl sitting cuddled up in the backseat. It's nearly as if she expects her to just suddenly disappear at any moment. That's how it seems to be with her little family anyway. They're here. And then they're not. She's not sure if she's necessarily angry at that fact anymore. It's just the way it is. How odd it is that both mother and daughter have that mindset. They accept the misery, they accept the loss, the suffering, and the lies because it's just the way it is. It's hard to be angry at the manner of things; it makes it difficult to do the job.
