01-22-2023, 09:54 PM
A message to Zhenya excused her departure. No explanation was offered, though she imagined the woman would grill her when next they met; it seemed a requisite to her idea of friendship, the sisterly spilling of secrets – and certainly she appeared to imagine Natalie had those in abundance. Such habits made Zhenya a horde of useful knowledge when it came to the city’s wealthy and powerful, but Natalie was mindful of the gems mined from her in turn.
She’d presumed Toma to be the next obstacle, but the woman seemed entirely uninterested when the car was summoned to the front of the building early.
“That bad?” she threw over her shoulder as the door was dutifully opened and Natalie slid into the backseat.
“It was fine. I just have somewhere else I need to be.”
Toma watched her in the mirror for a moment longer. Natalie met her night-dark gaze and held it, wondering if she would ask anything more, but though there was an edge of mirth to her sharp features she only started up the engine. Since Toma always seemed on the verge of some quiet amusement – meaning she knew more than Natalie would rather she did, or that she just found Natalie entirely peculiar – she chose to ignore it. They drove for a while, caught quickly in the snare of Moscow’s busy city centre traffic. Natalie watched the window, pensive. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the time to spend, but while their progress crawled, memories of America naturally began to shift like a sleeping beast in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure what she was going to find. Last she remembered, the veil had been pulled low over Jay’s eyes.
“I’m taking the metro,” she said eventually. A knowing smirk tilted her lips as she reached for the door, mostly because she knew how little Toma cared for the driving, but also because they both knew it meant Toma could not immediately follow. Fortunately this time Natalie escaped out onto pavement and not into moving cars. She heard Toma laugh and mumble something that sounded an awful lot like bitch as she turned to slam the door closed after her, but this time she let Natalie go.
Much like London, the underground networks were a far faster way to travel than by car. Black and white marble chequered the floors of this station, and the white walls flowed upwards in high domes, their curves decorated with intricate blue and gold reliefs. The line of chandeliers above spun bright with delicate blue glass, like riches discovered at the bottom of the ocean. It was almost palatial if not for the busy mill of ordinary people. It made her aware of the manner of her appearance; the scarlet draping her curves, the height of her expensive heels, though at this time of night there were plenty of people dressed up for the offerings of the city’s splendid nightlife. Still, she considered it might have been wiser to leave the jewellery in the car with Toma.
She used her wallet to plot her journey, until she spilled back above ground. A short walk later and a great, white stone gate marked the entrance to the park. Carefully aimed lights splashed the stone lucent. Moscow was not a city that ever really slept, and people still moved in and out of the stone pillars, though in fewer quantities than might be found in the daytime. Inside the wide paths were beautifully cultivated and lit. Somewhere distant she could hear music, and the shadows of deeper paths veiled laughter and talking. Natalie wandered for a while, guided by the soft glow of her wallet; in search of something particular. Various inlets spilled seating and food. She did pause long enough to purchase two coffees, lured by both the smell and warmth. It was summer, but she hadn’t exactly paused to consider it might be cold. Neither had she considered how hungry she was; she’d left before they’d served the first course.
Eventually she came to stand near a pagoda housing a couple playing a violin and cello. A smattering of people sat on surrounding stone benches, lit beneath lights strung between the trees. Servers moved amongst them. The apex of Ludovico Einaudi’s Divenire caught her quite thoroughly. She hadn’t found the promised pancakes yet, though there was a stall somewhere here – or so her wallet told her. It was a large park, stretching all the way to the river. Jay still had plenty of time. She didn’t know from where in the city he was coming.
She’d presumed Toma to be the next obstacle, but the woman seemed entirely uninterested when the car was summoned to the front of the building early.
“That bad?” she threw over her shoulder as the door was dutifully opened and Natalie slid into the backseat.
“It was fine. I just have somewhere else I need to be.”
Toma watched her in the mirror for a moment longer. Natalie met her night-dark gaze and held it, wondering if she would ask anything more, but though there was an edge of mirth to her sharp features she only started up the engine. Since Toma always seemed on the verge of some quiet amusement – meaning she knew more than Natalie would rather she did, or that she just found Natalie entirely peculiar – she chose to ignore it. They drove for a while, caught quickly in the snare of Moscow’s busy city centre traffic. Natalie watched the window, pensive. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the time to spend, but while their progress crawled, memories of America naturally began to shift like a sleeping beast in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure what she was going to find. Last she remembered, the veil had been pulled low over Jay’s eyes.
“I’m taking the metro,” she said eventually. A knowing smirk tilted her lips as she reached for the door, mostly because she knew how little Toma cared for the driving, but also because they both knew it meant Toma could not immediately follow. Fortunately this time Natalie escaped out onto pavement and not into moving cars. She heard Toma laugh and mumble something that sounded an awful lot like bitch as she turned to slam the door closed after her, but this time she let Natalie go.
Much like London, the underground networks were a far faster way to travel than by car. Black and white marble chequered the floors of this station, and the white walls flowed upwards in high domes, their curves decorated with intricate blue and gold reliefs. The line of chandeliers above spun bright with delicate blue glass, like riches discovered at the bottom of the ocean. It was almost palatial if not for the busy mill of ordinary people. It made her aware of the manner of her appearance; the scarlet draping her curves, the height of her expensive heels, though at this time of night there were plenty of people dressed up for the offerings of the city’s splendid nightlife. Still, she considered it might have been wiser to leave the jewellery in the car with Toma.
She used her wallet to plot her journey, until she spilled back above ground. A short walk later and a great, white stone gate marked the entrance to the park. Carefully aimed lights splashed the stone lucent. Moscow was not a city that ever really slept, and people still moved in and out of the stone pillars, though in fewer quantities than might be found in the daytime. Inside the wide paths were beautifully cultivated and lit. Somewhere distant she could hear music, and the shadows of deeper paths veiled laughter and talking. Natalie wandered for a while, guided by the soft glow of her wallet; in search of something particular. Various inlets spilled seating and food. She did pause long enough to purchase two coffees, lured by both the smell and warmth. It was summer, but she hadn’t exactly paused to consider it might be cold. Neither had she considered how hungry she was; she’d left before they’d served the first course.
Eventually she came to stand near a pagoda housing a couple playing a violin and cello. A smattering of people sat on surrounding stone benches, lit beneath lights strung between the trees. Servers moved amongst them. The apex of Ludovico Einaudi’s Divenire caught her quite thoroughly. She hadn’t found the promised pancakes yet, though there was a stall somewhere here – or so her wallet told her. It was a large park, stretching all the way to the river. Jay still had plenty of time. She didn’t know from where in the city he was coming.