Aryol felt like he was flying, soaring weightless and perfect on a current of warm air.
He beamed, taken with Kasya immediately, wondering at how somber and serious he was, but liking the way the older man addressed him purposefully, like it mattered. Not dismissively, like Aryol was just a kid, the way some people did.
"My name's Kirill," he told Kasya, but glanced at Niotkuda as well, to include him. "That's the only real name I have. I was a war orphan, so I never knew my parents."
Kasya nodded, solemnly, as if taking in Aryol's words, and absorbing their weight.
Aryol liked that, too. He licked his lips, feeling abruptly nervous. "Are you my - I mean, in the war, did you have a wife or a girl you knew or something?"
"Aryol," Leshovik said, warningly. He was looking at Aryol, shaking his head. "Come on, knock it off. You know it can't be true."
"Why not?" Aryol shot back, angry, fixing Leshovik with a fierce frown before turning to Kasya again. "I mean, was there someone that you lost? Or did you have brothers and sisters or - "
"Aryol," Leshovik said again. "I said to knock it off. He doesn't like to talk about his family."
Kasya glanced at Leshovik.
"It's all right," he said, then turned to Aryol.
Kasya was frowning, though he didn't seem angry, Aryol decided. Maybe more at troubled. His forehead creased with furrowed lines and his eyes were shadowed under his brows, but he met Aryol's gaze steadily.
"I'm sorry," Kasya said, quietly. "There wasn't anyone like that. And I didn't have any brothers and sisters."
Aryol stomach plummeted, hard, like he'd hit a downdraft, but at the same time, he knew in his heart that there had to be a way, maybe something or someone Kasya wasn't thinking about. The certainty clung with stubborn talons, unwilling to let go.
"Are you sure? I mean, couldn't there have been...someone? I was born in 1944 or something like that. I mean, I don't really know when I was born, but they always marked it on January first, so I figure I'm twenty years old, but it could have been the year before, or after, even. Were you in the war then? Did you know anyone?"
He searched Kasya's face and found compassion there. Kindness. It reminded him of Lynx a little, like Kasya really cared, even though he didn't know Aryol. It was the sort of thing some people could have gotten angry about, Aryol supposed, some strange boy asking strange personal questions, especially if it was true that Kasya didn't like to talk about his family. But Kasya wasn't angry, just patient, and sympathetic.
Aryol wanted to ask Kasya a thousand questions, but held his tongue to let Kasya answer the ones he'd already voiced.
Kasya's family must all be dead, Aryol thought. Maybe that was why he didn't like to talk about them. Maybe Kasya had been an orphan, too. Maybe he'd had a lover who hadn't known she was pregnant, or maybe he thought he lost someone, but she'd lived. Aryol couldn't believe that there hadn't been anyone, because this, all of this, was just too perfect. It made more sense to Aryol than most things in his life had, something he just knew had to be true, and for more reasons than just the fact that they resembled each other.
It was like knowing where someone was, without being able to see them.
He held Kasya's fluid, warm gaze.
Slowly, Kasya shook his head.
"I'm sorry," Kasya said, again, even more quietly, and Aryol's heart panged.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-08-27 12:41 am (UTC)He beamed, taken with Kasya immediately, wondering at how somber and serious he was, but liking the way the older man addressed him purposefully, like it mattered. Not dismissively, like Aryol was just a kid, the way some people did.
"My name's Kirill," he told Kasya, but glanced at Niotkuda as well, to include him. "That's the only real name I have. I was a war orphan, so I never knew my parents."
Kasya nodded, solemnly, as if taking in Aryol's words, and absorbing their weight.
Aryol liked that, too. He licked his lips, feeling abruptly nervous. "Are you my - I mean, in the war, did you have a wife or a girl you knew or something?"
"Aryol," Leshovik said, warningly. He was looking at Aryol, shaking his head. "Come on, knock it off. You know it can't be true."
"Why not?" Aryol shot back, angry, fixing Leshovik with a fierce frown before turning to Kasya again. "I mean, was there someone that you lost? Or did you have brothers and sisters or - "
"Aryol," Leshovik said again. "I said to knock it off. He doesn't like to talk about his family."
Kasya glanced at Leshovik.
"It's all right," he said, then turned to Aryol.
Kasya was frowning, though he didn't seem angry, Aryol decided. Maybe more at troubled. His forehead creased with furrowed lines and his eyes were shadowed under his brows, but he met Aryol's gaze steadily.
"I'm sorry," Kasya said, quietly. "There wasn't anyone like that. And I didn't have any brothers and sisters."
Aryol stomach plummeted, hard, like he'd hit a downdraft, but at the same time, he knew in his heart that there had to be a way, maybe something or someone Kasya wasn't thinking about. The certainty clung with stubborn talons, unwilling to let go.
"Are you sure? I mean, couldn't there have been...someone? I was born in 1944 or something like that. I mean, I don't really know when I was born, but they always marked it on January first, so I figure I'm twenty years old, but it could have been the year before, or after, even. Were you in the war then? Did you know anyone?"
He searched Kasya's face and found compassion there. Kindness. It reminded him of Lynx a little, like Kasya really cared, even though he didn't know Aryol. It was the sort of thing some people could have gotten angry about, Aryol supposed, some strange boy asking strange personal questions, especially if it was true that Kasya didn't like to talk about his family. But Kasya wasn't angry, just patient, and sympathetic.
Aryol wanted to ask Kasya a thousand questions, but held his tongue to let Kasya answer the ones he'd already voiced.
Kasya's family must all be dead, Aryol thought. Maybe that was why he didn't like to talk about them. Maybe Kasya had been an orphan, too. Maybe he'd had a lover who hadn't known she was pregnant, or maybe he thought he lost someone, but she'd lived. Aryol couldn't believe that there hadn't been anyone, because this, all of this, was just too perfect. It made more sense to Aryol than most things in his life had, something he just knew had to be true, and for more reasons than just the fact that they resembled each other.
It was like knowing where someone was, without being able to see them.
He held Kasya's fluid, warm gaze.
Slowly, Kasya shook his head.
"I'm sorry," Kasya said, again, even more quietly, and Aryol's heart panged.