#&. ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ( ᴀɴᴀsᴛᴀsɪᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏᴠᴀ. )

[lagaudiiere]

“I’m a hard worker; you’ll get your money. I’m a street sweeper. In Odessa, I washed dishes. Before that, I worked in a hospital in Perm. ( They’re a long way from here. ) I know. I walked it. ( You ​walked h​ere all the way from Perm? ) I had no choice.”  Bonus: ( She was sleeping under a bridge until she took up with them. )

I don’t think we truly grasp just how hard Anya worked & how important that is when you contrast it with how hopeful & courageous she still remained ( keeping up my courage, foolish as it seems. ) I’ve put the google maps under the cut but Odessa to Perm is a 507-hour walk, spanning 2,507 km. Perm to Petersburg is another 371 hours, spanning 1,836 km. That’s no joke. This all with little food, odd jobs that she clearly worked hard in & often in the cold. Not to mention, she literally slept under a bridge until she met Dmitry & Vlad. My girl literally went through hell & kept a smile & brave face on. She didn’t have or trust anyone ( not even Dmitry until she finally did with her diamond - which is super important because she’s had the diamond from the very start. Before she met him. She hadn’t told anyone until him. This wasn’t a random, split-second decision ) so clearly, she wasn’t as naïve as people presume her to be ( though she was sacred. ) She was smart. She was lost, she knew no one ( not even herself ) & was presumed to be abandoned & yet still she pushed on. And through it all, Anya remained kind, honest, & hopeful. I love her.

[lagaudiiere]

My anastasia’s characterization comes from an amalgamation of fox’s anastasia (1997) + the musical with historical influences. What that means, first & foremost, is that while I portray Anastasia a certain way, I am familiar enough with both the show & animated movie to be comfortable switching between either of them upon request. But, unless otherwise plotted/specified, the following things play an important role in my portrayal:

I am okay with either Rasputin or Gleb being the main antagonist to Anastasia’s story. Simply let me know which you prefer. I will say that Gleb is more historically “accurate” ( as accurate as this whole thing gets ) & will require less suspension of disbelief but I love how both impact Anastasia & her story so I’m open to either. I typically assume Gleb unless otherwise plotted/discussed, though.

My Anastasia is a mix of Christy’s & the animated movies’ in character. Christy’s portrayal leans heavily on Anastasia’s hope ( in people, the world, everything ) while the animated movie is more of Anastasia’s cynical side. I lean closer to Christy’s portrayal but both play a part in my characterization.

She’s still a street sweeper who’s also done other odd jobs. She was part of an orphanage until she finally couldn’t bear it & left, she did live under a bridge ( my poor baby. )

The story of Dmitry & Anastasia & the crowd of thousands is 100% part of my portrayal & I’ll never part with it or the song ok. However, I don’t consider that to be their only interaction. Dmitry was involved in the palace the way the animated movie showed him to be + especially involved in Anastasia’s escape ( the whole ‘There was a boy, a boy who worked in the palace... and he opened a wall.’ is 100% “canon.” )

I believe Anastasia suffered from retrograde amnesia, & with that form of amnesia, things don’t realistically all come back at once. While she remembers a lot more than when we first meet her, not all her memories are back. Little things resurface from different triggers. She’s still trying to figure out where she stands between Anastasia & Anya.

Which reminds me, she still responds to Anya. In fact, more easily than she does to Anastasia.

Nightmares are still a thing. They’re potentially even worse now because she knows exactly who the people she has nightmares about are sometimes.

Everything else is a mix of the two sources. Obviously, depending on the antagonist things have to be adjusted, but the idea remains the same. 

[lagaudiiere]

russian classics aesthetic.    ( for Anya / Anastasia Romanova )

Brothers Karamazov.   orthodox monasteries. deep woods. starry nights. the sound of paper being torn. dimly lit rooms. withered roses. an unfinished letter. piles of books. the sound of shattering glass. ticking of clocks in a silent house. heavy wooden furniture. the air before a storm. the smell of earth. a crowd of people dressed in black. distant murmurs. emptied streets. the fear of walking alone in dusk.

Crime and Punishment.   coldness of the skin against a blade. slender pale fingers and slightly shaking hands. a red stain blooming on white fabric. lonely steps in a corridor. the slow dripping of water. looking out of the window into the thickening darkness. a single dying candle on the table. listening to one’s breath and counting heartbeats. too many stairs. the desire to be invisible. a subtle memory of kind words.

The Idiot. classical statues. wealth covered with dust. a dark house tainted with inherited madness. an unsettling feeling. long walks in a park. useless chatter. a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench. a melancholic face. an unexpected spring rain. the joy of reading one’s favorite book. the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around. looking at cloudless sky.  

Anna Karenina. fields of crops. flowers brought from an early morning walk. the wind caressing a girl’s hair. a bowl of fruit. the smell of ripe pears. the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea. children’s laughter coming from the garden. soft sunlight and white curtains. the sensation of velvet against skin. pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor. a sudden silence in a room full of people.

War and Peace.   a glass of wine. the brightness of a crystal chandelier. white lace. a raging snow storm. the sound of a door being gently closed. the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room. indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light. the sound of a saber being drawn. closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing. the sweet smell of strawberries. a pair of gloves left on an armchair. light scent of powder.

The Master and Margarita.   the chaos of a lively city. ambient jazz in expensive restaurants. jumping on off a moving tram. the sight of Moscow from the roof of a house. yellow flowers in a vase. leaning out of the window. shelves stacked with books. a small tin box with old photographs. strange shapes in the night sky. laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony. colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind.

Eugene Onegin.   a lonely mansion. reading a book in the parlor. faint piano melody lingering in falling silence. long evenings. passing seasons. discussing french novels of the moment. unspoken thoughts. leaning against the door frame. quickly averted glance. eating a peach absent-minded. bright mornings. footprints in snow. a loud gunshot terrifying a flock of birds nearby.

A Hero of Our Time. byronic boredom. getting up late in the afternoon. the hidden unspeakable sadness of existence. shakespeare’s tragedy opened next to untouched breakfast. cigarette smoke. polished boots. walking with one’s coat wide open letting the night chill break through to the bone. carved wooden chair. fading warmth of the ashes late in the evening. the thought of farewell.

Fathers and Sons.   birch groves. morning mist. moss covered stones near a moor. scientific books. white roses. cheap champagne. shabby pocket-watch. light-hearted irony. a maladroit cello sonata. freshly mowed grass. leaving thoughts come and go. a slow yawn. picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes. drinking tea on the porch. longing for the future.

Doctor Zhivago.   a strange feeling of loss. writing poems in a diary. traveling by train. the hesitation before touching someone’s hand. the gaze of one lost in thought. the warmth of cinnamon. a scarf brightly embellished with flowers. a glass of water. two people listening each on the other side of the door. a threadbare jacket. the tempting void. the evanescent serenity of yesterday.

Dead Souls.   horses in a merry gallop. delicious smells mingled. grotesque and bizarre tragedy. luxurious attire cheap soul. masks. a perfumed love letter. the triumph of sarcasm. an unattached wheel rolling down a dusty road. the atmosphere of commedia dell’arte. puzzling speeches. a baffling caricature drawn on a handkerchief.

Cherry Orchard.   a lone chair in an empty room. falling blossoms. old samovar. the unsettling need for change. a mirror reflecting full moon. the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance. a piano out of tune.

tagged by: I stole it bc I’m obsessed with russian literature & also this seemed perfect for Anya / Anastasia.

tagging: @russicnrat, @startasted, @moonhurts, @soulslast​, @hakune​, @lingeringscars, @loveisaviolence, @halvplans, @anyone who wants to do this please do!