I've never travelled alone until now, I'm alone on the aircraft as I watch the window as leave behind the only home I've ever known. I should feel sadder than this, I know it, I know I should feel more distraught and yet I do not.
The pilot has been instructed not to speak to me nor look me in the eye, it's considered impolite to do so when in the presence of someone of a higher stature than yourself.
The flight was two hours long and I practised my Czech and English over and over again on the way there. Even though I was aware that quite a few people in Prague spoke Russian due to being under communist rule. I wanted to make sure I was flawless, poised and perfect.
I would make my father proud.
Once the flight landed a bodyguard assigned by my father met me at the airport, I knew that he would often disguise himself as my overprotective uncle so no one got suspicious of my identity and significance in society.
I was never paraded to the public like my brothers, only close friends and family knew of my existence so it'd be easy for me to get away with not being recognized. I'm this world I am no longer Nadezhda Mikhailovich Vladimir
daughter of the general secretary of the Soviet Union.
I was just Nadya, a foreign exchange student from a wealthy family somewhere in Russia. I was a politics major and as significant to the people around me as a speck of dust on the carpet.
My personal bodyguard, Ivan, is stoic and unwavering in his occupation, he tells me of how he fought in the second war of his daughters back home who wish he was with them.
"Hope is merely the entrée to a dinner of disappointment," I respond truthfully, knowing that the chances of my father permitting him to leave me to see his children are zero to none.
The cold air blew past me The wintry sun shines brightly throughout the day, taking centre stage while the summer blooms fade into the soil. Even when the north wind stings, the sun and cold, the sparkle and the ice make it feel comfortable.
The sun rays feel like a refrigerator light, a mocking delusion.
There will be days when I wish to stay warm, to televise from a duvet with my fingers wrapped snugly around a cup of cocoa... but winter will take my hand and show me its beauty, that it is only the beginning of spring.
Once my papers are sorted at the airport I got into a taxicab that carried the scent of old cigarettes and rain.
The sun begins to set on the drive there, as day becomes night.
"Where to madam?" The driver asks me glancing at me in the mirror,
"Socrates Academy of the arts." I clarify and he gets this surprised look in his eyes before clearing his throat and nodding silently.
The drive isn't long before we stumble upon the school and I am in complete awe at the sight in front of me, the Academy is both old with a Victorian twist and modern. The brick building houses tall and confident above us, it's ornamented it with stained glass windows I just seem you don't need to see at a church or palace of sorts.
The evergreen grass stretches out across the campus for acres blanketed by a fine dust of snow and there's even a greenhouse and garden from what I can see in the brochure, probably belonging to the botany students.
The academy is quiet in the dead of night, the tall Victorian-style windows are tinted and it's impossible to see in. This school is huge, it's a maze- you could probably get lost here. There is only a single light on at the reception.
"Looks like they left the lights on just for you." The driver tells me as he opens my door to help me get my luggage out.
A black bench sits in the corner by the entrance and the closer I get the more I can make out the silhouette of the girl sitting on it. She had a tiny yellow umbrella to shield her from the light fall of snow, it seemed ridiculous to me that she felt she needed it. She lowered the umbrella and I was met with the deep blue undertones of her sanpaku eyes.
They held this intensity to them that I couldn't quite comprehend. Her skin was deep honeyed skin, she was definitely of Indian descent. Her long jet black hair fell to her elbows and down her back, if I were to describe her in a single word I'd say, devoid.
"Welcome, you must be Nadya." She spoke softly she had a London accent, her voice high pitched like bubbling silver as she reached a hand out to shake mine. "I'm Blythe Stillwater, head of the welcoming committee."
"Indeed, did you stay out this evening waiting for me?" I asked her and she glanced down with a soft laugh, "thank you, you didn't have to do that."
"Oh darling it's no problem, really it's all part of the occupation." She excused handing me a bronze key, "how was your trip?"
"Tiresome, I'm definitely ready to get some sleep." I yawn, "is that my room key?"
"Our room key, you're my new roommate for the semester." She disclosed and I nodded slowly, I'd never shared a room before, I liked my privacy. "Well don't just stand there gawking, come on!"
"Lead the way," I responded as I followed her.
We took a long walk across campus to the dorm houses, there was Aristotle house, Plato house, Nietzsche house and of course Karl Marx house. We stopped in front of the smallest building of them all, hidden in a clearing in the woodland. It had large stained glass windows and vines snaking their way up the walls. It barely looked like anyone lived here.
"This place looks abandoned," I spoke under my breath and Blythe gave me a pitiful smile.
"Don't assume." She told me, but it sounded more like a warning, "that's the worst mistake you could possibly make at Marx house."
She knocked on the door three times, there was a shuffle of moving feet and a latch of a lock and it swung open. We were met with the face of an elderly man, he had a pocket watch and a dutiful gleam in his eye, his hair had greyed over the strenuous years.
There was a shorter woman beside him, pale in tone and older and she wore an apron, she had flour all over her face.
"Nadya Petrov we've been expecting you." The older man loomed, "I'm Drakor Elvis, the guardian of the house and your mentor."
"And I'm Patricia, your house mother." She explained wrapping a blanket around me, "oh dear you must be freezing from the cold, come in come in the others have just gone to sleep but I can warm you up a bowl of soup?"
"I grew up in Moscow, winter here feels like a fine summer." I laugh, "but I appreciate your kindness, thank you I'd like that."
"I'd like to have a chance for us to be properly introduced, it's late now but do find the time to stop by my office tomorrow before your first class yes?" Mr Elvis explained.
"Okay." I agreed.
"I hope you enjoy your stay, Patricia will hand over your schedule and help you with anything you may need." He explains, "evening."
The house is evidently old, perhaps even archaic, the walls are a faded grey and the flooring is made of dark ebony. The couches in the lounge are covered with a velvet shawl, they appear expensive and so does all the furniture. Everything looks like something you'd see in an antique store.
I take a seat down at the dining table as Patricia warms me up a bowl of tomato soup with buttered toast. I gobble it up all in one go, I didn't even realize how hungry I was.
"You're very beautiful Nadya." She tells me staring longingly at my face, "you have a welcoming feel about you, students will easily take a liking to you."
"Thank you- for the soup and for the compliment." I acknowledge, "how many other students live here?"
Patricia pulls out a house photograph, all four of the people my father had shown me in the file. I recalled their names and every detail I'd read about them, all of them were on my hit list except for Blythe.
Perhaps I'd spare her...perhaps.
Blythe and I's room was just big enough to fit two double beds, there was a simplistic elegance about it. Two dressers, two wardrobes, a Victorian-style dressing table with a mirror and desk. Everything was black and silver, it had a personal touch to it that I guessed was all her doing.
She had polaroid photographs hung up on the wall and a collection of seashells in a jar, various shades of blue and coral. I grabbed my clothes and took a long and much-needed shower, the cold water reminded me of home as it ran down my back.
Once I was done I changed into my night clothes and brushed my hair out, I always loved my curls, my brothers weren't fortunate enough to have inherited them from my mother as I was. I then proceeded to trace my fingers over my face; the fullness of my pouty lips, my high cheekbones and button nose, Long generous pairs of eyelashes and big doe hazel eyes.
My mother always said that I was born with sad eyes, but then again I'm my mother's daughter above all.
I make my way out of the shower and back to my dorm room, I open the door and see Blythe curled up underneath the blanket with a flashlight holding a huge thickly bound book. But she tucked it away beneath her pillow before I could see anything else.
"Oh, Nadya you're back!" She gasped sitting up in bed, "did you enjoy your bath, do you like the house so far?"
"It's definitely got personality to it," I assure her before crawling into bed and placing an old photograph of Dmi, Nikolai, Andrei and I when we were younger on my nightstand.
We were seated beneath the oak tree in our backyard, Nikolai was ruffling my hair the way he usually did and my face was flushed with annoyance as the flash startled me.
"Oh, you have no idea." She laughs slightly, "Hey Nadya?"
"Yes, Blythe?" I respond barely awake,
"In Marx house, it's important to always sleep with one eye open." She whispered softly before turning off the lamp.
{___________________☔︎︎☔︎︎☔︎︎☔︎︎☔︎︎________________}
A/N:
Why is Blythe already my favourite character?? Idk there's just this subtlety about her that I absolutely LOVE. I'd kill to have a friend like her...hmm maybe someone else will.
OKAY FINE ill stop scaring you guys *eye roll* look at you, you're so easily spooked, you look like you've seen a ghost?
Question: what's your favorite childhood show?
Mine is Violetta and house of anubis, I'll never forget them even if I tried.
See you next chapter!
- Scarlet <3