#The amount of ukrainians around here is insane | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mariacallous · 2 years ago

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Yevhen is a former Ukrainian contract soldier from Mariupol. He has three children: 12-year-old Matvey, 7-year-old Sviatoslava, and 5-year-old Alexandra. After Yevhen and his wife divorced, the children stayed with their dad. At the start of the full-scale war in Ukraine, Yevhen and his children spent a month hiding from Russian shellfire in basements; after that, they were forcibly evacuated along with other Mariupol residents. Yevhen was ultimately put in a prison camp in Olenivka, while his children were taken to a boarding house near Moscow — and very nearly sent to live with a Russian family. Yevhen recounted to Meduza how he survived Russian captivity, saved his children, and escaped with the three of them to Latvia.

Yevhen, 39 years old

[On February 24], I was working the early shift [Editor’s note: Yevhen worked as a crane operator]. [When I learned that the war had begun,] I immediately thought about what to do with the kids. I dashed out of work and headed home. I got all of the essentials — food we could cook in a hurry, water, and warm clothes. Then we moved down to the basement. I didn’t even have to explain to [the kids] what was going on — they understood. I just tried to comfort them.

When the shelling started getting closer, I realized that if our building was hit, it would collapse and we’d be buried [in the ruins]. So I decided we needed to get further away. We went to my ex-wife’s parents’ house, stayed with them for a few days, and then the shelling got closer again. We went down to the basement of their building. There, all six of us slept on an inflatable mattress.

Soon, my boss [from work] contacted me and offered to let us come stay with him just a few streets away. His apartment is on the first floor, and it’s laid out in such a way that makes it less vulnerable to shelling. So we moved there and stayed for a fairly long time, until March 19.

[When we were in my grandparents’ basement,] we ran around and played with another girl who was there. When there was electricity, we drew pictures. When it went out, we drew pictures using flashlights.

But mostly we just sat and talked. I tried to comfort my little sisters, to try to make it easier on them. I told them everything would be okay, that this would all be over soon, and that the sounds were just thunder, not explosions. They believed me at first.

Matvey, Yevhen's son

[After many of our neighbors were killed by shellfire], we wanted to leave the city, but we didn’t have a car. My boss and I were ready to pay whatever amount of money it took, but nobody wanted to take us. Fuel was insanely hard to come by.

Then one day, a shell flew in through the kitchen and the bathroom [of my boss’s apartment] and landed in the hallway where we were hiding. After that, I decided to take the kids to a shelter in a nearby hospital.

The hospital had several shelters areas. The one where we stayed was meant to hold 75, but when we moved in, it had 90 people, and eventually there were about 140. There were children, pregnant women, and quite a few elderly people. The room was terribly drafty, but it was still safer [than the apartment].

[At first, it was relatively calm,] but then the shelling attacks got more intense. There were [dead] people just lying on the streets, a lot of them; it was a road of death.

On April 7, the children were sitting next to the entrance [of the bomb shelter] with a lantern, playing and drawing. Two soldiers wearing white bands and [self-proclaimed] Donetsk People’s Republic chevrons came in. They said that Chechen units would soon be coming to our shelter to conduct a ‘cleanup operation,’ and that they didn’t recommend staying here. They said, “You have half an hour to evacuate.” That was it.

We went on foot from the bomb shelter to the local music school [the evacuation assembly point]. From there, we were taken to some kind of village council where there were several large tents set up. It felt like we were in a different country. Everyone was cheery, the letter Z was plastered everywhere, and it didn’t feel like there was a war going on — everyone was just living their lives. But they told us nobody could stay at this camp, because it was already overcrowded.

So they sent us further — to a checkpoint station. They confiscated all of our sharp objects and started searching our bags. They looked through everything — even in our socks. They started looking through my documents, and saw that I was former military. They [practically] rubbed their hands together: “Well, well, well.” Then they locked me and my kids in a separate room, told us to wait, and left with our documents. We sat there until evening.

Up until the end, I was hoping common sense would win out. After all, I hadn’t hidden the fact that I served — I had my military ID and my passport on me.

Then a bus came [for everybody who had been in the bomb shelter], as well as a separate car for me. They told me, “Don’t you worry, you’re just going away for a few hours to get things sorted with your documents.” I took the documents, including my children’s birth certificates. I got Matvey and the girls settled in the car and asked a woman [I knew] from the bomb shelter to look after them; I was hoping to be back in just two or three hours. They took me to the village of Bezimenne near the city of Novoazovsk, where they had already interrogated other people [at a military base].

When I went [into the building where they did interrogations], there were two young men sitting on a bench. I later learned that they were [Ukrainian] conscripts. Their hands were tied behind their backs and their eyes were covered with tape. They were facing the wall, and a third was being interrogated and beaten.

[After the Russian soldiers interrogated me,] they tied me up, put a baseball cap over my face and put me in a car, and put the two other guys there along with me.”

They took us to the Novoazovsk temporary detention facility and put us up against a wall. Then some guy came out and started escalating things: “You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourselves into. It’s gonna be bad: I’m going to ask you questions, and if I see that you’re lying, I’ll either bash in your kneecaps or stab you in whatever part of your body I choose.” They took one of the other guys before me, and I heard him getting beaten. Then they called in too, and I explained everything just as I had before. They didn’t touch me, but I did spend another day lying in the cell with my arms and legs tied.

They untied me the next day, when they brought me in for another interrogation. First they photographed me, then they led me to the cell. We were there for a couple more days, then they crammed all 17 of us into a minibus, like animals, and brought us to the Donetsk Organized Crime Unit, where they photographed us all again and then took our fingerprints.

There were several investigators there, and they each took one of us into their office. They asked me the same standard questions: “What’s your relationship to the Azov Battalion? And to the Ukrainian National Guard?” I explained the situation again.

Then they took me to a six-person cell that already had about 60 people in it. Water and air were the biggest problems. Everyone breathed through the crack between the door and the floor, and practically nobody spoke, because we were trying to save oxygen. The employees there bought us two loaves of bread and two bottles of water. We sat there like that for about 24 hours.

After that, the same investigator called me back in and said that they had printed something incorrectly in my statement and that I needed to sign the corrected version. Naturally, they didn’t give me time to read it. Then they took us all to various police stations in Donetsk.

The next day, after we went to a hospital for X-rays, they took us to a temporary detention facility. It was a bit more comfortable there: the cell had water and a toilet. We could at least wash ourselves. The next day, April 11, they started taking us out. And there outside the detention facility, just like in movies about special forces, there were these two humongous thugs. One asked me, “Did you kill Russians?” I said, “No, I didn’t even fire a gun.” He grabbed me by the neck, [slammed my head] against the bars, then started kicking me. He didn’t like the way I looked.

He beat me hard, then he made me sign a form that said I didn’t have any complaints against the detention facility. Then they put all 33 of us into a police vehicle and took us to Olenivka.

Before they took Dad away, he left us his cell phones. I was able to turn on one of them and find Dad’s boss’s number and call him. But then the phone stopped working and I couldn’t call anymore. Since Dad’s friend [from the bomb shelter] didn’t have our documents, we were taken from Bezimenne to the Central Novoazovsk Hospital. The doctor’s there, like, cared for us so we wouldn’t get sick. There were no exams; they just gave us some vitamins at lunch to make our intestines work. After some time, a man came — I think from social services — and said, “You’re going to go to a camp for a little while.”

Matvey

At that point, I was exhausted — I just wanted this nightmare to end as soon as possible so I could get back to my children. I wasn’t much worried about anything else.

They brought us to Olenivka on a bus. [Eventually,] they took all 56 of us to the punishment cell — a six-person cell where we spent about 10 days. We drank industrial water whose origin was unclear and ate with no spoons: bread crusts on dirty dishes. You couldn’t quite call it food; we ate it because we needed to eat something. Then they took us to the barracks. There were 485 people living there, sleeping on the floor. They also put us to work. That was the only way to get cigarettes, pieces of lard, and other food. We dug holes, cleaned, cut the grass, and planted stuff in a garden.

In Olenivka, the guards all had their own weird things. Some of them would make us sing the DNR anthem, and would bring anybody who refused to the gate and thrash them on the legs. When we sang, they filmed us. Anyone who sang badly was ordered to leave and sing again. They also “trained” us at night by forcing us to run.

Then they started sending people away from the camp in large groups, four each day, because 2,700 more people were slated to arrive. And the limit in the prison was 2,000. Then the Azovstal defenders started to arrive, and they moved the rest of us back to the punishment cell.

On May 26, they released me and my cellmates with no explanation. I had spent exactly 45 days in Olenivka.

The last bus from Olenivka to Donetsk left at 5:00 pm, and it was already later than that when they released us. [I had heard that] a lot of people who didn’t make it in time for the bus had to sleep right at the bus stop. There were some cases when guys were brought right back [to the cell] in the morning. So one of the other guys and I decided to go [to Donetsk] on foot.

[When we got to Donetsk the next day], the [other] guy was quickly issued his documents, while I waited half the day for mine. Then a woman came and gave me my documents and said, “Your children’s birth certificates aren’t here, because at 5:00 am today, your children flew to Moscow.” I was hysterical — my children were taken away the same day I was released!

I was given the number for social services, which was the agency responsible for their departure. I didn’t have a local SIM card, and there was no way to buy one [due to the long lines]. But I managed to use the phone of a soldier who I met outside. The social services people convinced me that the kids had been taken to Moscow for a health appointment and would be brought back soon. They comforted me and gave me the number of the people looking after the children. I wrote a statement that said I would take the kids home and live with them at such-and-such address as soon as they returned.

After that, the other guy from the Olenivka prison invited me to his village near Novoazovsk. I stayed there for 10 days. The whole time, I spoke to the kids regularly from his wife’s phone.

They took us from the hospital — about 30 kids — on the very same day Dad was released. A man from social services gave us to the caregivers, and we all went on a huge bus to Rostov — to the airport. We had a “personal” plane there — its whole back half was empty. It was the first time my sisters and I had flown on a plane. At first it was really scary — my ears popped and I felt sick. But when I ate something, I started feeling better.

We flew to Moscow, and they took us to a camp called Polyana. It took a long time to get there. The camp is like a big health resort. A huge field in the middle of a forest, and a lot of big buildings there, like three-story apartments. There was also a soccer field, basketball and baseball courts, and exercise equipment. Also a ropes course you could climb on. And a playground, which we never went on — none of us liked it.

At Polyana, there were three caregivers, two nurses, and a director who would sometimes come to check whether everything was alright. Usually it was the caregivers who talked to us. We tried not to ask them about our parents, because we didn’t want to spoil our own moods. And at some point, Aunt Sasha — one of the caregivers — said, “Come to me.” I went over to her, and she called Dad. Then I talked to him for the first time since he’d been taken away. It was so great talking to Dad — we cried from happiness. We were so joyful. We talked for an hour, and we continued calling after that.

Matvey

I realized I couldn’t keep relying on other people, so I decided to go back to Mariupol to see what state our home was in. The city was already under the control of the [self-proclaimed] DNR, so there was no more shelling.

When I got to Mariupol, I realized there was nothing for us to do there. The city stunk — there were human remains [in the streets], and dogs gnawing on human arms and legs. It’s very scary to see a dog running with an arm in its mouth. I called some friends who lived outside the city, and they took me in. I lived with them for two or three days and found work at a boarding house in Melekino doing minor repairs.

Then Matvey called me: “Dad, you have five days maximum to come pick us up — otherwise they’re going to adopt us.” The [social workers] had offered either to send them to a family or to an orphanage. He told them categorically that until he spoke to me, he wouldn’t make a decision. After that call, everything inside of me snapped. I started calling my friends, my acquaintances, anybody I could think of. I asked for money to get to Moscow, prayed, and tried to borrow some. But in wartime, that’s not realistic.

After my conversation with Matvey, I called social services. They told me that it was all nonsense, and that [the boy had misunderstood]. My relatives advised me to contact Russian volunteers. I called them and explained everything. The next day, they sent a car for me. The volunteers sent me 2,000 rubles ($32) through the driver, who took me from Melekine to Novoavosk, to the checkpoint. There, [the Russian soldiers] inspected me and harassed me a bit, and once we got to the Russian border, they took my passport. I sat there and waited for a long time. Then they undressed me and looked for tattoos. I told them, “I’m coming from Olenivka, from the filtration prison. Here’s my certificate.”

In the end, they let me cross the border, and I was given a free Russian SIM card. I called the volunteers. They told me to go to Taganrog, and from there to take the train to Rostov. From Rostov, I took a train to Moscow. The volunteers bought my ticket themselves.

When they learned about my situation, the volunteers wrote a letter addressed to Putin. And while I was on the way to Moscow, a representative of the Russian Children’s Rights Commissioner contacted me and said, “You’ve raised such a fuss throughout the whole country!” So I say, “Yeah — they’re trying to adopt my children!” And he goes, “What are you talking about? Your children just misunderstood.” Yeah, right — and I’m just some hick, I tell him.

I arrived in Moscow and was met at the station by a volunteer. I stayed the night at her place. In the morning, she handed me off to a different volunteer, and she brought me to Polyana. I had gotten from Melekino to the boarding house in two days, so I still had three to spare.

Polyana is a very serious place. Armed guards, a 15-meter fence, and everything fenced in — like a prison. It’s a kind of strange camp: wakeup is at 5:00 am, and 10:00 is lights out. They were fed some kind of green pills, and they had medical examinations — in 22 days, they had done enough tests to fill four A4 sheets of paper. I haven’t done that many tests in half a lifetime. The kids told me later that they were shown films about war, murder, and one about a girl who killed dogs and sewed their hides.

I don’t know what they were preparing them for. What do they need all those medical exams for? Just to know their health status? You’ll never be able to convince me that’s why.

[When I got there], the Children’s Rights Commissioner’s representative who I’d spoken to on the phone came out, along with a psychologist. I told them how and why my children ended up in the boarding house, and where I was and what I was doing that whole time. I showed them all the documents confirming that I’m a legal representative [of the kids]. Then they let me on the territory. I spent half a day filling out statements and signing forms. When everything was ready, the kids packed their things and we finally left.

Some of the kids were told their families would be temporary, and some were told it would be permanent. A lot of people were adopted. My friend was adopted by that… Maria, who’s the head of children’s rights (Editor’s note: Maria Lvova-Belova, the Russian Presidential Children's Rights Commissioner)

Matvey

While we were staying with a volunteer for a few days, other volunteers called us and asked where we wanted to go — to Mariupol or abroad. I chose the second option, and now we’re in Riga.

I don’t know what gave me strength this whole time. The main thing was not to lose my mind — screw everything else. My whole life, I’ve gotten used to fighting for [my kids]. I grew up practically without a family; I wanted a family my whole life. [Then] I had a lot of problems with my ex-wife: she cheated on me, and I turned a blind eye so that my kids would have a happy childhood. I’ve probably just grown accustomed to fighting for my family.

#this story is harrowing but so important to read #also unsurprising that the russian children's rights commissioner would personally profit from the theft of children from ukraine

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one-abuse-survivor · 3 years ago

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Hi, disassociation anon here! Ah, it seems when I actually gain some footing in my life, the world around me crumbles😅 Aka, guess who's stuck on the wrong side of the russian-ukrainian war and now has to deal with my abusive brother being violently pro-patriotic and an increased amount of conflicts and abuse going on in the house because of the ideological differences and the economy slowly crumbling around us. My plans to go to a desired uni fell through because of the sanctions, everything is slowly going to shit and half of the essentials are missing from shops, but somehow I'm able to keep my cool despite still planning to go into medicine, which would mean that if things go to shit completely I'll be among the first ones they'll send to die (doctors are technically part of the military here and are immediately summoned in case of a conflict)

Despite all of... Well, that, I only disassociatied like once, and that was for a short two hours! For some reason, this is the time my positive outlook on life, which was lost about 10 years ago, decided to return. Probably as a coping mechanism lmao but not complaining

And how are you doing?)

Hi! Disassociation anon here with an unfortunate update, this one will get heavy✌🏻

Things only keep getting worse and worse - not only in the country, but also in my house. My family, who had already been capital A assholes before complete with racism, homophobia, transphobia as well as shitty abusive personalities have been brainwashed by the propaganda (it's insane, I've literally heard my mother say that genocide is okay, what the fuck). Soooo due to that their violent tendencies have exploded.

In the past two weeks my brother has: come home shaking with rage and screamed that he would kill our mother and then himself by the end of the day (I texted some friends and prepared to run if shit hit the fan), stated that he "should've killed me the first time he pointed a gun at me", has started to regularly attempt to harm me and threaten to hurt me or break my bones, and now he's brought another gun in the house claiming that it "needed maintenance". Ha. As if I can't see through his bullshit. So anyway now I regularly have to worry if my own family member will murder me. Yay!

My mother has gotten even more verbally and physically abusive - hitting him, holding screaming matches and rountinely calling both of us a failure and the reason of her misery.

Worst thing is - I'm stuck. My plan was to lay low until graduation and start working in the summer (since I can't exactly do that with 12 hour school days which drain every bit of energy out of me) to hopefully save up enough to move out in some time, but with the economy crashing looks like that might not happen. So... Any tips for searching jobs or maybe working online? A single dollar can get you quite far with the current state of my country's economy so anything will do but I don't even know where to start. I'm sure I'll be fine (unless my brother goes into a murderous rage and kills me) but if you have any words of support as well that would be greatly appreciated¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hope you have a nice day, sorry for the depressing ask✌🏻

Hi again, nonnie, and really sorry I took so long to reply.

What you’re going through right now sounds so horrible I honestly don’t have the words, and I have no idea what I could say that could help. I just really hope you’re safe and okay right now. Please remember it’s okay to do anything you need to do to keep yourself safe from your brother and from your family at large.

Unfortunately, when it comes to job searching I don’t have any advice to give :( maybe some of my followers might have some ideas?

Sending the biggest hug and all my love and support your way. I’m really sorry this is happening. I hope things start to look up for you soon and you can take some steps to get yourself out of that house :(

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ohprettyweeper-moved · 6 years ago

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The Last Bandito

Part Eleven: Our Memories Awakened

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Everyone is reeling from memories, new and old. Warnings: Angst. I think that’s it? Word Count: 1515 A/N: This series was borne of this picture. The bolded phrases are prompts I have compiled to use in this fic. Also, I’ve forgotten to mention before that for the phrases in Ukrainian, I’ve been using Google Translate; forgive me if they’re not accurate!

For the last five days, Faylinn had thought of nothing but the man from her dreams. The day of the intercepted attack on The Conference, she had taken a half day from work so that she could rest before Quinn’s birthday celebration. She had elected to take the long walk home, as her novel had stalled and she hoped some physical activity might increase the flow of thoughts through her brain.

She could not ignore the strong feeling that someone was following her. Every time she looked behind her though, she only saw the lunch hour crowd roaming the streets to find a place to eat, heading home, or hurrying back to work. Not until she was a couple minutes from home did she turn around and see that man standing directly behind her.

“It’s you,” Faylinn had breathed, rooted to the spot.

He seemed to freeze there as well, staring at her as though he could not decide if she was real or not. A man on a rushed race back to work bumped into Faylinn, knocking her forward towards the man. He caught her with gentle hands gripping either arm; in that moment, the both of them realized this was anything but a dream.

“You’re real,” he whispered, still holding on to her.

Faylinn nodded. She didn’t know what else to say. She righted herself, secured her bag on her shoulder and tried to decide what her next move would be or should be.

Then, the city sirens had gone off. Faylinn looked around at the crowd rushing even more now, and tried to figure out what was happening. When she looked back to the man, he was gone.

Tyler and Josh had been in isolation since the incident in New Dema. The fact that they had seen the woman and had not brought her back to Old Dema had not set well with any of the Bishops, Nico especially. The two of them had sat in this cement room, blood bags delivered twice a day, and no other accommodations. They had made a silent agreement not to make things worse and tell the Bishops that Josh had not been present for the incident at the New Dema government building.

“Nico was right.”

The first words Tyler had spoken since they had been locked away. Josh hadn’t minded; his let his memory play over and over every detail of seeing the woman in the blue dress. Of course, she hadn’t been wearing a blue dress that day, but he didn’t mind. Everything about her in the few short moments he was able to be in her presence had been nothing short of perfect.

“Right about what?” Josh returned.

Tyler continued staring at the opposite wall. “That I know her. Remember her. It’s like he said that and I could. And it’s real. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can feel that it’s different than the memories they gave me. I knew her when we were children.”

“Your sister?”

“A friend,” Tyler corrected. “We were close like siblings though. She told me all of her secrets.”

Perhaps it was the way Tyler made the statement, but Josh’s interest was now more piqued. “Secrets? About why the Bishops may want her?”

“Maybe.” Tyler hesitated before continuing. “With that one memory allowed through, it’s like there’s cracks in the walls the Bishops built up when they brought me here. I was just a boy. I don’t wonder now if they took me with the plan in mind to get to her.”

Josh settled back against the wall, letting the flood of memories of his dream woman begin to flow again. “Keep remembering, friend. We may need those memories more than ever, now.”

“Faylinn is going to wonder where we are,” Quinn commented, sitting on her couch while Ildri paced back and forth in her friend’s apartment. Ildri’s yellow eyes had still not returned to their natural color; she was too on guard for that.

“We’ll think of something to tell her.” Ildri stopped pacing in the middle of the room. “I have an idea. It’s crazy. Absolutely insane. But it might benefit both of us.”

Quinn frowned. “I’m listening.”

“I saw him. The day of the attempted attack at the government building, the Heathen that attacked those men — I recognized him. He’s my childhood friend. Years older now, but I would know him anywhere, after any amount of time. I have to get him out of there.”

“You’re going to pull a Heathen out of Old Dema and bring him here? Ildri, have you lost your mind?”

Ildri wanted to sit, but she couldn’t. Her adrenaline was racing. “I’m not so far out of my mind, really. I rescue people out of Old Dema all the time. And if I can bring him directly to The Conference —”

“They’ll kill him,” Quinn finished for her.

“No, they won’t.” Ildri took a deep breath. “This is even more that I shouldn’t tell you, but this is the part that may help you, too. It took ten years after the Bishops began their vampire experiments, but since then, The Conference has been working to find a way to reverse the change. If we can reverse it in them, maybe we can reverse it in you, too.”

Quinn nodded; now she understood. “And if I go with you to rescue your friend from Old Dema, you think the government may include me in their program.”

Ildri got on her knees in front of Quinn. “I know I’m asking a lot. I know that it may benefit me more than you, right off. But wouldn’t you rather that you didn’t have to worry about me coming after you every three or four months? I mean, on a scale from one to ten, how bad do you want to kill me right now?”

Quinn’s eyes were more red than they had been only a few seconds ago. “I’m hovering somewhere in the mid-thirties.”

“Exactly. You don’t know everything about me and this thing I am yet, but I know enough to know that even with your … condition … I’ll kill you before you can kill me. At the very least, I’ll get away. Now that I know you’re running around the city trying to kill citizens, I’ll be after you. It’s what I do. So why don’t we take that murderous energy and direct it somewhere more productive?”

“I told you, I can’t control it. It doesn’t happen at will.”

“Maybe you haven’t tried hard enough,” Ildri returned quickly. “I couldn’t control myself early on, either. I had to learn how to do it. Have you tried controlling the monster inside you?”

Quinn licked her lips. “Fine. We can at least try, I suppose. But if I die doing this —”

“That’s half our problem solved.”

She didn’t like the harshness of the truth found in Ildri’s statement, but Quinn couldn’t deny that Ildri may be on to something. Quinn had never had a friend who meant as much to her as this man meant to Ildri, but maybe Ildri was becoming that friend — someone she would go to extremes to save. Heaving a defeated sigh, Quinn got up from the couch.

“All right. Let me change though — can’t fight off Heathens and Bishops in party clothes.”

For the first time in days, Faylinn was not worried about the man from her dreams and where he had gone, and if he was coming back. She was more irritated now that Quinn and Ildri had not come to meet her, and neither of them could be reached on their mobiles. Even calls to the university and Andre Weil’s office got her no information.

“Maybe Quinn fell asleep,” Faylinn wondered aloud. There was no telling where Ildri had gone to, but if she could find Quinn, perhaps they could locate Ildri together. She gathered her things, left the foyer of the restaurant, and headed towards Quinn’s apartment.

As they trekked through the middle forest towards the wall of Old Dema, Ildri did her best not to wonder what would happen if her friend was no longer the same person she remembered. There was no telling how much the Heathen change had changed him, and she feared the worst after his actions in the government building.

The day he had been stolen, they were playing outside after school. Ildri was avoiding going back to the orphanage, and her friend would have waited all night if she had wanted.

They were playing hide-and-seek. Ildri counted to ten, and, when she opened her eyes, her friend was gone. From that point on, she dreamt of him often, waking to to the feeling of emptiness and disappointment that he wasn’t by her side. Gone forever. In Ildri’s mind, it was always going to be the two of them, in one way or another. He was the only one she had ever trusted enough to tell her secrets.

When she was young, her confidante had been stolen from her. Today, Ildri would get him back.

#twenty one pilots fanfiction #twenty one pilots fanfic #twenty one pilots fic #tøp fanfiction #tøp fanfic #tøp fic #the last bandito #it's getting real #bandito #trench #dema #inspired #sahlo folina #tyler #tyler joseph #josh #josh dun #can you save my heavydirtyqueue

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strainingfororiginality · 7 years ago

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Chapter 11.5 - Sacrifice

Note from Author: If you are a fan of Ozryel, you’ll enjoy the next chapter.

Disturbia (Rihanna Cover) - Kina Grannis

Nothing heard, nothing said

Can't even speak about it

All my life on my head

Don't want to think about it

Feels like I'm going insane

She was definitely getting better. Taking a deep step away from the canvas, she tapped her lower lip and surveyed the creation from side to side. Setting the paint brush down, she tilted her head from left to right as her eyes crawled over every single detail. Over the defined muscle tone of the torso, over the curve of skull, over the jaw line.

She didn’t mean to paint this again. She had stared off wanting to follow the tutorial in the YouTube video she was watching. They instructed, in great detail, how to paint a ballerina. She fucking hated ballerinas.

Hmmm. And this … this was definitely not a ballerina. She smiled but as she continued to stare at the strange figure she painted, she grew solemn and plucked the canvas from the easel and walked to the others leaning conspicuously against the wall. She turned it around so she couldn’t see the image and leaned it against the rest.

No. Stop this. It’s weird and stupid.

She turned back to the now-empty easel and thought about starting again, but opted for another glass of wine and re-visiting the balcony. The frigid wind assaulted her face and she walked to the spot she always did, running her fingers across the ‘X’ in the railing as she stared out across the city, urging herself not to look down.

Don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t fucking do it.

But even as she said it, her eyes betrayed her instruction and she looked down into the blackness below her. She gulped and her hands trembled, but even so … something felt close. Something pierced through that blackness and she teared up, her heart leapt at the feeling of it as, yet again, the wind hit her.

What was it? What was leaking through that thing below her? What was creeping through it? What was distracting her from everything here? She should go back inside. She shouldn’t come out here again. She should focus on the present and now. Yesterday is dead. In fact, she snorted at the thought, yesterday is deader than it has ever been, but, she looked down, and again, felt it. With every fiber of her damned being, she felt it.

Something was coming. It felt almost like a promise. It was powerful and fierce; unrelenting and unabashed; determined and stubborn. It was …

Hope.

The Rookie - The Chainsmokers

"I’m here! Who wishes to be first?!"

Even Quinlan froze. His breath trapped in his chest, refusing to escape as he wondered what might possibly happen next. He rarely felt nervous, but as the everything and everyone came to a stop to gaze upon the … Angels, his skin felt a prickling of sweet apprehension before all hell broke loose. Ozryel bellowed her challenge and the US Army met it, with furious and regrettable intent.

First, the snipers popped in the distance and bullets approached her from multiple angles. Her arms fell to her sides. Her eyes closed slowly. Her chest expanded as she took a deep and powerful breath in and held it, biting her lower lip.

Second, the Abrams’ were moving their barrels. Their targeting was being shifted from Quinlan’s location to that of the Hayyoth.

Third, further humming could be heard approaching from the distance.

There was a most delicate tremble in her hands and it was obvious she was expending an incredible amount of concentration on whatever was about to happen. Everything around her stopped. The dust particles, the smoke, the wind, all halted and remained still in a ten foot radius from her and as the dozen bullets breached this invisible wall, they slowed, coming to a halt in the air and hovering quietly before her. When she opened her red eyes, her iris glowed brightly, shining with crimson light. Reaching up, she plucked the one closest to her out of the air, the one directly in front of her face and she smiled gloriously at the object. "Silvered bullets?" Her chuckle was both terrifying and satisfying. “Oh my poor children … did you think you would be fighting strigoi today?” She dropped the bullet and wiped her fingers off on her armour. “How … quaint.”

As the embered glow faded from her eyes and they returned to their normal dull, everything around her moved again and the remaining bullets simply dropped to the ground.

That. Quinlan swallowed hard. That was The Power of Creation. She was controlling the Earthly molecules around her on an atomic level.

"You’re going to have to try quite a bit harder than that, I’m afraid."

His distraction was absolute and he failed to stop his prisoner from escaping. The Agent bounded down the runway, fleeing towards the next barrage of moving vehicles, still holding his new stump to his chest as he screamed at the top of his lungs. "TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT!" He was useless to Quinlan now, so he allowed the man his freedom.

"Really?!? You can’t be serious!" She bellowed after Smith/Johnson in disbelief. “You have just witnessed what a tiny shard of my blade is capable of! Are you really that eager to taste its full power?!”

Almost in perfect response to her question, the vehicle-mounted 50 calibers began to unload from all around and the snipers began to pop in the distance again. The Hayyoths reacted instantly.

Dibs on the cowards.

Michael moved towards the snipers and as he half-ran, half-flew off into the distance. As he moved, he cut into the ground, leaving a path of destroyed earth and dirt billowing behind in his wake.

She contested immediately, but her brother had already covered half the distance to them. "No! Dammit! Unfair!" She shouted after him, sidestepping the bullets that aimed to penetrate her. “I wanted them! Bollocks.” As if on perfect cue, Quinlan heard an artillery shell being slid into the barrel of the left most Abrams and Ozryel turned, her grin returning as she mused quietly to herself. “Eh, I suppose you’ll do.”

She darted towards the row of tanks and Quinlan was at first confused by what he saw. As she ran, with each incredibly fast step, she swung the celestial blade, alternating left and right, striking it hard against the ground on either side of her. At first, he assumed it was a childish show of agitation until he began to hear the vibrations building in the blade.

Good gods. She was … she was charging it. Striking it with the full power of her strength and allowing the blade to absorb the kinetic energy from each of the hits. He looked down at his own weapon and and regretted not getting proper instruction from Barqan when he had the chance.

Speaking of the Djinn king, Quinlan turned to survey his whereabouts. No longer the main target of the soldiers, he began to ram his body against and thrust his horns into everything around him, overturning all that was engaging him.

He might have watched further but the very distinguishable sound of an artillery shell being shot out of the barrel rocked his attention back to the tanks and Ozryel had already cleared the distance to them. She leapt into the air, bringing the sword above her head with both hands. Her trajectory arched up and then down towards the barrell and she cut it perfectly in half. The projectile was still thundering through its shaft when it met the edge of her blade. Metal bent and curled away from her fury as she continued to cut through to the end of the barrel, gracefully landing with each of her feet between either side of the driver’s hatch.

The charge that she had built within the blade was released with the savage strike and as it carried through, it sliced the entire back two-thirds of the tank in half. It all happened in an instant and she waited as the metal of the iron beast creaked and cracked ominously and then each half fell away from the other and the tank split open before her, its occupants clambering out and madly running for freedom.

Grinning as always, she tapped the tip of blade on the hatch door, where Quinlan knew the driver was still hiding and it popped open. She stepped to the side of it and waved its occupant out, flicking her chin to the left. He climbed free and she watched as he tried to scramble away from her as fast as possible and she purposefully tripped him as he darted to jump down, sending him crashing to the ground on his shoulder.

"Ooops. Sorry! Sorry!!!" She lied, chuckling as he got to his feet and she permitted him to escape. The other gun stations on the remaining three tanks were manned and they opened fire on her. Bad decision. Now they had her full attention.

They all watched in silent awe until Fet finally said something. He said what most of them were already thinking, and no one really knew how to feel about it. No one really knew what to make of it.

"Did ya guys see dat shit. She just cut dat tank in half. Wait, is dat …" The Ukrainian pointed, shaking his head over his own words. “Nah. Nah … Is dat … da Mast--”

"No fucking way man." Dutch refused. “Nuh-uh. Nope.”

"Mein …" Thomas stuttered and his voice cracked, watching the tall and slender white-haired Archangel continue to spit threats at the entire United States Army as she waved around a silver sword, egging them all on madly. “Mein … Meister?”

"Fuck." Dutch stood, invigorated with purpose and courage. “That one there. Bring it here. Quickly now!” She pointed to the pelican cases, barking an order at Gus, who was crouched closest to them. “Get your toy too, love. Can’t let them have all the fun, can we?”

"They said to stay down!" George pressed, but she was opening the case and Gus was moving to open one of the others. His toy? Ah shit. “What are you doing?” George pushed and she flipped the top open, beginning to turn equipment, a crazy grin painted on her face.

"I’m gonna cut the head off the snake." She purred at her equipment as it booted up. “I ain’t gettin’ nicked again.”

"What does that mean?" Jacks asked, his eyes flew wide as Gus began to piece together a large and complex sniper rifle from his case. Holy shit.

"It means …" She began typing frantically on the keyboard within and signals began to dance across the tiny screen. Military radio chatter played out of the speakers and her grin only grew wider. “Gotcha, you wankers. Let’s see how you like being jammed.”

It was quieter now. Some of the large caliber rounds that fired in the far distance had even stopped and he could hear the faint screams of terror closely following cries of agony as bones broke. Michael was apparently not in the same forgiving mood as Ozryel seemed to be. Then it was even quieter as no distant gunshots were heard.

Why are you just standing there?

She reached out to him. Wait … Had he really just been standing there … gawking?! Yes. Yes he had.

Stop gawking and clear the damn runway, Pale Child! Or do you wish me to carry you all the way to Siberia?

Sliding his sword very gently back into its sheath, he jumped into action instantly as the thought of her carrying him was absolutely unacceptable. He had no doubts she would attempt to coddle him like a baby should that situation occur.

The vehicles parked before the jet were deserted. He had already flipped one out of the way, and that left only two other black SUVs. As he began to pull them away, he glimpsed Michael returning, joining Ozryel in smashing the tanks until the first drone strike was launched from above. The Angel clearly heard it before Quinlan did and he was airborne and out of sight to meet the incoming missile head on.

Disturbia - Rihanna

It's a thief in the night

To come and grab you

It can creep up inside you

And consume you

A disease of the mind

It can control you

It's too close for comfort

The drone slammed into the grassy knoll between the asphalt paths, cratering into and smashing across the dirt. Michael landed hard next to the smoking object, the impact brought him to a knee before he huffed back to his feet and he was upon the final tank. Its top was swiveling to target Oz, who was ripping another one apart with her bare hands, crushing the weaponry before plucking the humans from their hatches and tossing them to the ground below.

Michael took a deep stance on the front of the tank and began to bend the main barrell up and over itself in a curve. The metal creaked as it gave way to his angelic strength, but he struggled. Oh gods, he struggled and his muscles flexed with the effort. This should have been an easy thing for him to do. It should have required little effort, if any at all.

Entirely unaware of the disablement of their main cannon, the men within attempted to fire and the explosion that erupted within the belly of the tank was substantial. He was expecting it, but he was entirely unable to stop it and the force still sent him flying back, tumbling and rolling across the ground like a rag doll.

"Michael!" Ozryel shouted his actual name, leaving her partially destroyed tank behind as she sprinted to his resting location, bending to him. “What is wrong with you?”

"I …" He could continue to deny it. He could assure her, but it didn’t matter. She knew him. Better than anyone, in fact, and he accepted, up to this point, she had been allowing him discretion. “I don’t know, Oz. Something’s … ” He held a hand to his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. “Something’s wrong.”

"Lot’s of things are wrong right now, brother." She pulled him to his feet, as he faltered and she bolstered. “You need to be more specific please.”

"I’m not ... recharging, Oz." His divinity wasn’t returning. Since the Chamber of Rebirth, his power had been draining. She braced him, as he stumbled, she reinforced.

"Is this …" He choked. “Is this what it feels like to fall, brother?” Simply asking the question pained him. He didn’t really wish to know the answer, as he had been certain this was the cause. “Has Father entirely forsaken me?” He doubted and she reassured.

"What?!? Don’t be absurd." She shook her head, reaching up and putting a hand on either side of his head as she reached into him. She wanted to feel for his pool. She wanted to know if what her brother was saying was accurate but in the unusual darkness of his divine soul, she saw no light, until there was light everywhere. White, gold, amber, indigo and green and she heard his voice.

Oh ... Ozryel. Ozryel. Oz.

She tried to retreat, to back out of Michael’s mind but she found herself powerless against his light.

Ozryel, how I have missed you, dear brother …

He reached for her and she pulled herself free, both psychically as well as physically, staggering away from him as she did. Bending over to catch her breath, she struggled to speak. His voice lingered through several more sinister words as the connection faded.

Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.

"Ooof." She stood up straight, cracking her neck as she calmed her heart. “That was a terrible idea. Do NOT let me do that again.”

"Oz?" Michael’s voice trembled. “What is it? What did you see?”

"It’s that little cock sucker brother of ours. No. You aren’t falling, brother." She reached for him again, grabbing his arms with her talon-like hands as she pulled him close. “He’s draining you. Taking your divinity as you are creating it.”

"What?" Michael refused. “No. That’s not possible. That’s--”

"Trust me, Golden One. I have had him in my mind. I am well aware of what he is capable of." Goosebumps trailed across her skin as the recollection of her own fall from grace flashed across her mind. “Your child is connected to you and he is connected to her. He is taking from you, through her.”

Relief washed over Michael’s brow for a moment, realizing his previous statement to be false but concern soon returned as he realized the implications of it. "But … What does that mean? What does that imply? Is she--"

"It means we should not dally further." She tightened her grip on his arms and her eyes began to spark with red lightning first. “I apologize. This will be incredibly unpleasant.”

Michael screamed in both shock and agony as she charged him with her own divinity without any notice.

The Enemy - Genevieve

Don't wanna be the picture I'm not part of the show Not gonna play along And act like I don’t know There's no hiding in the future No promises we owe You'll never have to lie to me I'll never be the enemy

Every time he had to sprint through the pulse, Uriel cringed, but persevered, as always. He flew fast and hard, following the rings to their origin. As he approached Old Rome, he squinted from high in the sky, pinpointing the very center of it. It was coming from a courtyard. All the souls bustled around, unaware of the affect the being was emanating.

He landed quietly behind her and took two steps towards the seemingly human woman, who sat at the small metal table outside. She took a drink of her cappuccino, set it down as she folded her newspaper and spoke to him.

"Hello, Uriel."

All the hair on his body pricked as her tone was both calm and relieved. He had been completely silent in his approach, but he knew, with her, it didn’t matter. She simply already knew he would come. She always knew.

"Sister." The title was honorary. She wasn’t like them. She never was. As he came around the table, he gazed upon her human form for only a brief moment as she finally released it. The skin, which had been humanly warm, changed to a light and dull gray. Much like the Djinn royalty, Sandalphon had been born covered in glyphs, but unlike the Marid, her glyphs moved and rotated, shifting around each other like the gears of a clock. While her hair remained the rich, dark brown, her irises deepened to an intense and saturated blue. Her nose and ears faded away and she waved a hand towards the empty chair across from her.

"Do have a seat, please." She smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

"It’s been …" He pulled the chair out and sat down. “ It’s been a long time, Andy.”

"You’re not wrong there." She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “In fact … Much longer for me than you could even imagine, brother.”

"What am I aimin’ for?!" Gus called from his position on his belly in front of the open plane door. Much to George’s continued dismay, the Boxer exposed himself courageously as he squinted through the viewfinder of the expensive weapon.

"Start with the Radar." She replied and he looked back, giving her the most annoyed expression he could manage. Rolling her eyes, she spun her fingers in an exaggerated circle. “Oh good lord! The spinny one! SHOOT THE SPINNY ONE.”

"You coulda just said that." He retorted and looked back across to the direction he was targeting. Adjusting the dials on the scope, the top of the Control Tower came sharply into focus and he moved the weapon to the spinny one. Aiming for the base, he was grateful for the lack of wind and he squeezed the trigger gently. Not much happened and he unloaded more rounds into the mechanism until it toppled over and stopped spinning. “Next?”

"Go for the dishes." She instructed.

"Which one?"

"All of them." She cackled.

"It’s clear!" Jacks screamed from the cockpit. He had watched the dhampir drag the vehicles out of their path.

"Ok, you guys are up." George waved the pilots over. “Move it!” Their reluctance required him to physically pull them up as he ushered them to the controls and Gus began to unload more bullets into the communication gear on the tower. “Get it started!”

"Hey…" Someone was tapping George on the shoulder and he spun to see a big grin on the Ukrainian face as he offered a grenade to George. “You think you, or da strigoi, got the better arm?”

The runway was clear and Quinlan brushed his gloves together to rid himself of the dirt from the tires when Michael screamed in the distance, Ozryel barked orders at him again, and gunfire erupted from within the plane.

What in the ...

"Into the plane! Chop, chop, children!" She was clapping at him for his attention as the pair of blackhawk choppers approached from the South and the next wave of military assault began to barrell towards them from all directions. “Quickly now! Move your pitiful little arses!”

Wait. Children? Quinlan jumped suddenly as Barqan was standing beside him and he had no idea how long he had been there. The Marid was back to his human form and moved as silently as smoke. Being surprised was something Quinlan had not felt since he was quite young and he glared at the Black King. As the blackhawks approached from the South, they barreled towards the angels and Quinlan turned to the plane, following her instruction as they opened fire on the Hayyoth.

Ozryel stepped in front, shielding her other, whose skin danced with subtle red fire now, from the high caliber rounds. They hit and sparked against her armour. The other chopper took a position on the other side and began to unload. Quinlan took a step forward, but Barqan gripped his arm and they watched as the Angel of Death retaliated without mercy.

She was already moving, taking several large strides back towards the partially destroyed tank and the gunfire followed her. She was laughing? In fact, she was snorting wildly as she gripped the mechanism that housed the treads on the left side of the tank, her talons pinching deeply into the metal and she spun her body, torquing it back towards her assailants. The movement was graceful and she hurled the metal beast into the air, hitting one chopper and sending both crashing into each other. She was still snorting as they both fell to the ground.

Oh … gods.

Quinlan might have gawked longer, but the plane engines began to hum behind them and Barqan pulled him along, urging him into the plane as vehicles approached on either side again.

Damnation.

As he approached the plane, the ground fell away and Quinlan realized he was in the air, the smoke carrying him and setting him into the doorway as the Djinn in front of him.

The dhampir stepped over the Boxer and headed towards the cockpit. Bending over the pilot, he looked out the window at the approaching vehicles and hissed in discontent. More armoured SUVs. They were hoping to barricade them in.

Quinlan’s eyes swept the other runways. He noted a better option, pointing across the grass. "Laggiù. Quello."

The pilot compiled and the plane lurched forward and turned to the right, bumping over the grassy field as they attempted an escape from the approaching military. Turning left onto the clear path, the pilot uttered a small prayer and pushed the throttle forward.

Stay with the plane.

She commanded Michael as she took to the sky, pulling her blade and heading for the incoming third chopper. This one wasn’t meant as an assault, but she could see it was landing to pick someone up.

Jesus, Oz. The plane isn’t import--

Unless you want to carry Quintus to Russia, stay with that goddamn plane.

Oz--

Get them a good distance away. I will catch up.

He grunted, moving to protect the moving aircraft from the second barrage of soldiers. Even at the speed of sound, it would take them over seventeen hours to get to Baikal and he was unsure if he was even capable of flying that distance himself in his current state.

More shots echoed and they were met with cross fire from Gus, still wielding his massive gun, still laying bravely on his belly at the door while struggling to target the shooters as the plane rocked back and forth. Explosions hit the cars as George and Thomas took turns chucking grenades that Fet eagerly provided from his own precious pelican case.

"Boom." The Ukrainian laughed each and every time.

But it wasn’t enough and Quinlan turned back to the door, pulling his sword out again, planning to assault the caravan by jumping onto the closest trailing lead SUV.

Don’t you dare get back out of that fucking plane, you little shit. I’m not carrying you.

Quinlan cringed. Damnation. No one was going to carry him anywhere! He heard Michael’s voice, ripe with annoyance, as always, but he had no idea where the angel was until the golden knight flew into sight from the side, picking up speed and overtaking the front SUV, pacing it as he looked within, smirking at the driver, his wings high and curved above him as he glided.

Close the door. I got this.

Quinlan hesitated, but Michael pulled his shoulder in and rammed the side of the vehicle once, then twice, sending it into a savage roll out of sight and then he targeted the next ones. Quinlan complied and reached out, pulling the door shut, even through Gus’ and George’s very vocal protests.

"SEAT BELTS!" The dhampir commanded, waving a finger at everyone as they lurched left and right with the jostling. “We are going ... right now.” The dhampir turned, sprinting back to the cockpit, but he found the pilot was pulling the throttle back.

Punch it.

"Non fermarti!" Quinlan screamed at the pilot.

"Non possiamo decollare! Non c'è spazio!" The man pointed at the barricade of vehicles clogging the runway ahead of them. Damnation. These soldiers were like cockroaches.

"Non fermarti." Quinlan bent forward and sneered, pushing the throttle with his hand, even as the pilot protested and tried to fight him. It was half-command, half-threat.

She heard the voices of the man barking orders from within the barricade in front of the plane. "Target the wheels! Take out an engine! Disable that plane any way you can! We want them alive!" The gunmen aimed and Ozryel surveyed the scene. Michael was taking out the cars that trailed them from behind, but there was no protection from the front. She could sprint, but she wouldn’t be fast enough.

There was too much distance and she closed her eyes as her heart broke in half. Her grin faded as she gazed upon the man within her reach and her mind washed over all of his memories. All of his life. All of his loves and hates and accomplishments and failures. Everything that made him unique and beautiful and alive. She had planned to just toss him to the side so she could get to the fool he was protecting, but …

"I am … so sorry ... my child." Her tone shook with tormented agony and she embraced, yet again, what she had always been … all of her long existence: God’s Unrelenting and Merciless Right Hand. As she pushed the blade into the meat of his chest and it pierced his heart so the weapon could absorb the power of his soul, she brought her forehead against his, tears streaming down her striped and pale face. “David Benjamin … I will remember you.”

And she would because she always had. Each and every time she closed her eyes, she saw their beautiful faces. All of them. She remembered all of them. Each and every soul. And Ozryel was angry now, over what they … over what the Rainbow Child ... had forced her hand to do yet again. As she turned and unleashed the blade’s power, sending the wave of force towards the barricade, she screamed as loud as she could, her voice cracking in pure torment as she wept.

Faster, boy! FASTER!

"NO! È un suicidio!" The man resisted for the last time and Quinlan grabbed his shirt collar from the back, pulling the pilot directly up and over the back of the seat. He slid into the open chair and pushed the throttle forward fully. He hadn’t flown a plane for quite some time, but the memories rushed back to him immediately.

"Santa merda! Stiamo per morire!" The co-pilot screamed and Quinlan grinned madly as they picked up incredible speed. The pilot was quite right. There’s no way they had enough room to take off and Quinlan almost felt like he was playing chicken with the military.

It’s about to get bumpy.

"Brace yourselves!" Quinlan relayed the warning to everyone behind him and when he was certain they were going to slam into the vehicles head on, something hit the bottom of the plane, jostling everything within at the same moment something incredible struck the SUVs from the side. He couldn’t discern its origin from the cockpit’s view, but he knew it was her. The force of the blast was reminiscent of what his sword had done to the Abrams, but this was far more powerful. And, just like his strike, it ripped across the ground, tearing up dirt and asphalt as everything and everyone in its path was blown back with the explosion.

"Ah shit!!!" He could hear Fet’s concern from behind. “What da fuck is--”

The metal of the plane creaked and the ground lifted away as their front wheel clipped the very top of the debris left in their path.

Yeah yeah yeah - Radio Edit

Find me a man, who will do me right

And keep me singing all through the night

Can you find me a man, who will love me good

And I be loving now, and I be love you singing

She watched as her brother flipped in mid air, pressing his belly against that of the plane. His wings didn’t have much room, but they were still a flurry of motion, cutting through the air and flapping with large graceful strokes as his muscles flexed and he heaved the plane up off the ground. He continued to push until the plane’s engine took over.

Both soared into the sky and when they were far enough away, Ozryel took a deep breath before she wailed wickedly into the sky. This time, her scream wasn’t out of anger. This time, it was strategic. She needed to wait for them to get far enough away, otherwise it would have crippled their plane.

Her face changed as the volume of her cry grew. Her features became serpentine and she sheathed her dangerous weapon. As her psychic attack hit the soldiers around, all of the glass shattered, every new soul present dropped to unconsciousness. A few of the old souls still lingered. The Scream had no affect on them, because they had heard the voice of Heaven before and were immune to its crippling volume.

Her target scrambled and she smirked. Of course he was an old soul. Of course. The more defiant ones commonly were, weren’t they? She bent and grabbed the handless man, swirling him around and pushing his back against the chopper than had meant to be his escape.

The static that had been flowing through the discarded walkie suddenly turned to voices as the Hacker’s jamming signal moved out of range.

Target is airborne. Over.

"Hello there …" She scraped his mind as she smelled him, her face still half-snake and he flinched. “Timothy … Eric … Richards.”

Air support incoming. Over.

"Not a ghost at all, are you? You’re just a child. * Just a boy* … albeit, quite a troublesome little boy, aren’t you?" She pawed through his most open thoughts and his racing memories. His dead grandmother. How sad and bitterly sweet. “You should be ashamed. What would your grams say? She was quite the faithful soul, after all. She prayed often.”

Raptor One and Raptor Two are a go to engage target. Raptor Three and Four to follow. Over.

"Oh my." She feigned concern. “Raptors? Now that sounds like fun.” Ozryel flexed her wings as she looked down at the walkie, cocking her head to the right before she looked at him again. Raptors. She pawed through all the memories of the millions that the Master had taken and she grinned even wider. “Those wouldn’t happen to be Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptors, would they?” He glared at her, trying to pull out of her grip. “And where might they be flying out of, Mr. Richards?”

20 minutes to interception. Over.

"Go fuck yourself." He spat at her. His courage, though it be foolish, was quite impressive and she was proud of the man … boy. He managed a little laugh. “You failed. We wanted everyone alive, but now they’re just gonna shoot ‘em out of the sky.”

"Oh, Timmy." She chuckled at his defiance, using the name only his grandmother had ever called him. “You’ll find I’m not nearly as patient as my son. You can either tell me ...” She ran her taloned hand through his hair with strange affection. “Or … I can just take it …” She flicked her split tongue against her overly sharp canines. “And trust me … you’ll definitely prefer the former.”

He resisted.

Good.

They were at a good altitude and Quinlan slid out of the pilot’s chair, allowing the Italian man to replace him. "Dobbiamo andare in Siberia."

Lake Baikal. The gate to Hell.

Michael confessed and Quinlan tilted his head. Lake Baikal? He knew it well, for the city closest to the lake, Irkutsk, was where the three old world ancients had lived before their demise. He was far from shocked. This was not coincidence, and nor was it coincidence that the three new world ancients resided in the same state as the gate to Heaven.

"Russia?" The pilot repeated his instruction as he sat down and took over control of the aircraft. “Signore …” He spoke English, but his accent was thick. “We cannot. The flight plan is to Rome. Per Mr. Feraldo’s inst--”

"Take us to Siberia. Irkutsk. I will not repeat myself." He turned to leave but the man protested further.

"Signore!" The man argued. “We cannot! We have not been fueled for that flight. We are fueled to the distance of Rome.”

"Hmmm." Quinlan tilted his head in annoyance. “Very well.” It was very much on the way and he thought about picking up more than just fuel while they were there. Perhaps it would be a good place to stop after all. “We will refuel there. Then onto Siberia.”

"They will track us, signore. Questa è una follia." The man spoke as he picked up the radio to speak into it, but found only static and Quinlan grinned, returning to the back of the plane and he found the Hacker already on her equipment.

"Can they track us?" He questioned her immediately.

"They ain’t gonna track shit, love." She hummed as she typed away. “We’re ghosted. We’re good.” She smiled at him with glorious mischief.

"Good." Quinlan breathed a sigh of relief and surveyed everyone present. No one seemed newly injured, but the stewardess was hunched over an empty row of seats, staring out the window.

"Cos'è quello?" She pointed at the wing and Quinlan moved to survey what concerned her.

The archangel was on the wing, seemingly affixed, his wings pulled tight around him so that nothing but their metallic surface was visible. He was affixed with his gauntlet fingers hooking over the edge of the wing. Overall, he looked like an aerodynamic pimple.

Can you make it inside?

Quinlan reached out to him, but was not met with any response. The dhampir shook his head and regretted even trying to be amiable. He gruffed one finally thing towards the angel as he finally took a seat to compose himself.

Still an ass, I see.

PRTCL (ft. Spyder) - Nicky Romero, Spyder

She cut through the clouds with absolute precision, pushing herself faster and then faster still. Without her weaker brother in tow, she pushed the limits of her speed beyond that of just sound. The freedom of the open skies was something she had missed and she enjoyed these moments, as she hurled towards those very aggressive targets.

She was so very proud of man. So utterly proud of their ingenuity and progress. They had made it to sky finally. And not only that, they had made metal angels. How marvelous! She so looked forward to the challenge that awaited her. She wanted them to do their very, very best, regardless of the fact that she knew they would break against her. She was still so fucking proud.

The air hit across her face and her third eyelids held tightly closed. They were translucent and allowed her sight while protecting the moisture of her eyes from the onslaught of the wind as she flew. Hoping she was heading in the perfect direction, she would cut off their pursuit mid flight.

This … she hummed to herself as she heard their incredible engines purring in the far distance finally … This was going to be fucking glorious. There was a shift in the wind and she diverted her path, ever so slightly, to follow it and when she saw their distant and fast shapes, a tingle erupted in her extremities as she almost became nervous with excitement.

She thundered towards them with vicious intent.

#the strain fanfic #quinlan fanfic #mr. quinlan fanfic #quintus sertorius fanfic #quintus densus #an insatiable ache #chapter 11 #part 5 #oz is my spirit animal

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fadingfartconnoisseur · 7 years ago

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In Kiev, a Stylish and Surprising City

Dear cities of the world: I warn you, it’s dangerous for me to visit you immediately after a city I love. You may not be judged fairly.

So many cities have suffered this fate. Tulum couldn’t hold a candle to Caye Caulker. I would have loved Charleston more if it hadn’t come immediately after my beloved Savannah. And I’ll always regret not giving Luang Prabang the attention it deserved, but how could I when all I could think about was turning around and getting back to Vang Vieng?

I was due to arrive in Kiev after three idyllic days in Odessa. Odessa blew me away — I was expecting to enjoy it, but I had no idea I would fall for it quite so hard.

So if this were an ordinary visit, I would have tolerated Kiev and wished I was back in Odessa. To my surprise, that wasn’t the case at all! I enjoyed Kiev quite a bit. I didn’t fall in love with it the way I did with Odessa, but it turns out that much of what I loved about Odessa was actually what I loved about Ukraine. Like the dirt-cheap prices. Ukraine is cheaper than anywhere else I’ve been in Europe, often on par with Southeast Asia.

Kiev is also huge, which pleased this city-loving girl. Population-wise, Kiev is the seventh largest city in Europe. I find comfort in large cities — they let me move around anonymously with minimal attention, and one of my greatest joys is to treat a new city like I’m a longtime resident.

I was hosted by JayWay Travel on this trip (see the Essential Info box for more information) and they arranged for me to have a wonderful tour guide named Olga, who showed me the best of the city in a few hours. Yes, my guide in Odessa was also named Olga; no, they were not the same person. Meeting multiple Olgas in Ukraine made me smile, though!

One last thing I’ll say is that I did not luck out with the light on this trip, which made photography difficult. Sometimes, I’ve been unbelievably lucky (Kraków’s light was so good, I nearly wept) but Kiev was bright, and doing most of my exploring in the middle of the day did not help. That’s okay. I think I did the best with what I had.

Here’s the best of Kiev! I hope you enjoy it.

The first thing that struck me about Kiev was its many gold-topped churches. As we drove in from the airport, I gasped whenever we passed a gilded cathedral! This one is St. Michael’s Church.

St. Andrew’s, a green onion-tipped church, is another stunner. I had to take a picture of this one and send it to my friend with a new baby named Andrew!

There’s a surprising amount of green space in the city. I love this overlook by St. Andrew’s.

The opera house is one of the grandest structures in town. I wish I had had time to see an opera.

This sculpture outside Golden Gate is an homage to Pantyusha, one of Ukraine’s most famous cats. He lived in one of the nearby restaurants and was a neighborhood favorite with the locals. Sadly, Pantyusha died in a fire in 1997 and the neighbors raised enough money to have this sculpture built. Rub his ears for good luck.

One of my favorite things about Ukraine was the omnipresent coffee carts. They were on wheels, in tiny kiosks, or outfitted into the back of cars. Wherever you were, there would be one within eyesight, and they made espresso-based drinks to order for less than a dollar!

My favorite was definitely Coffee Mafia.

Some of the architecture echoed the beauty I had seen in Odessa.

I loved the playful use of color throughout the city.

But Kiev is also home to ugly communist architecture, especially in Maidan Nezalezhnosti, one of the centers of the city. Here giant concrete buildings dwarf the delicate churches.

I hated these buildings — but some of my Chernobyl buddies loved them. It’s all about what you’re into.

“FREEDOM IS OUR RELIGION!” blared from the other side of the square.

This is how you say Kiev (a.k.a. Kyiv) in Cyrillic!

I had to try the city’s most famous dish, Chicken Kiev! I tried it at O’Panas, a highly recommended traditional restaurant located in Taras Shevchenko Park. It’s basically the Ukrainian Tavern on the Green, despite its Irish Pub-sounding name.

To be truthful, I wasn’t a big fan of the dish. I found it to be dry. Give me borscht and vareniki any day.

This sign doesn’t lie. I ate borscht at least once per day, every day!

One cool thing to do in Kiev is to head underground. Like many former communist cities, Kiev has a network of underground malls and passageways that are worth exploring. I love this capture of this thoughtful woman.

The subway is DEEP underground — it takes forever on the escalator!

Awww. I wonder who got the flowers from this guy. I wonder how happy she (or he) was.

There are lots of tiny coffeeshops underground. Olga brought me to one and insisted it was one of her favorites, and far cheaper than above ground. I think we paid around 40 cents for a nice latte and got some candies to go with it as well!

If you’ve been following my blog for any amount of time, you know how my afternoon cafe break is essential. I found several cool cafes in Kiev, but my favorite was The Blue Cup. It was right around the corner from my hotel.

Look at that luscious whoopie pie! And that beautiful latte, I remember clearly, cost about 95 cents. In a gorgeous, stylish cafe. Ukraine is insane.

I also like to seek out independent bookstores wherever I go, but I didn’t find any with English language books. It gives me comfort just to be around the smell of books, though.

In Odessa, I was surprised that the women didn’t look like my image of Ukrainians — they tended to be short, curvy, and dark. In Kiev, though, the women fulfilled the stereotype of tall and blonde in tight dresses and pants.

Just look at the height of those heels!

But even the women who broke the Ukrainian mold looked stylish. I loved how well this woman matched the wall.

Kiev was bright. Kiev was playful. Kiev was fun.

Where I Stayed: Theatre Apart Hotel

I spent three nights at the Theatre Apart Hotel in the A5 Suite. These are a collection of apartment-style suites located in buildings surrounding a courtyard in central Kiev, not far from the opera house.

The location was fantastic — I was in walking distance from so many central attractions and there were several terrific restaurants and cafes within a five-minute walk. And the room gave me everything I needed — a comfortable bed, a table with chairs for working, a full kitchen, and a bathroom complete with a jacuzzi tub big enough for four people.

It wasn’t perfect, though. It’s in an old building with an ancient-looking elevator. There wasn’t a stand for the shower nozzle, which might be annoying to Americans who are used to having both hands free while showering.

But between its central location and $39 per night price tag, I thought it was fantastic value. I’d totally stay there again.

The Takeaway

I really enjoyed my time in Kiev. In fact, I’d go so far as to put it on my favorite list of European capitals, alongside Paris, Berlin, Ljubljana, Amsterdam, Helsinki, London, and Tirana! (Strange list, I know.)

Between the beauty of the city and how unbelievably cheap Ukraine is, I highly recommend making a visit to Kiev in the future. I bet you’ll love it as much as I did.

Essential Info: In Ukraine I was a guest of JayWay Travel, a boutique Central and Eastern European travel company, for a custom itinerary they built for me with hotels, transfers, and tours. They do custom trips so whatever you’re looking for, reach out to them. It was so nice to not have to worry about transfers, and my guides were wonderful. Contact them directly for tours or other bookings.

I stayed at the Theatre Apart Hotel, which I enjoyed and would recommend. My suite, A5, starts at $39 USD per night.

Some restaurants I recommend are O’Panas for a traditional experience in the park, The Blue Cup for coffee and pastries, Druzi for international lunch fare, and Cafe Borsch for cheap Ukrainian food. Most do not have websites.

While the subway system in Kiev is cheap and extensive, I mostly got around by Uber. It’s so remarkably cheap that most trips cost me around $2, and having a SIM card meant that it was always easy to call one when I needed one.

There is a significant language barrier in Ukraine, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared. In Kiev lots of people in restaurants and hotels speak a bit of English. I do recommend learning Cyrillic, which is pretty easy to do. It will make your life so much easier when you can read what’s in front of you, as many words are similar to English.

I visited Ukraine in May, which was perfect. The weather was pleasant in Kiev, it made for an easy trip to Chernobyl, and Odessa was beautiful without all the crazy party crowds that arrive in summer.

Don’t visit Kiev without travel insurance. Whether you get appendicitis and need to be hospitalized, or your phone gets stolen, or an injury means you need to cancel all or part of your trip, travel insurance will help you out. I use and recommend World Nomads as travel insurance for trips to Ukraine.

Many thanks to JayWay Travel for hosting me throughout Ukraine. They paid for my hotels, airport transfers, and tours; I paid for flights, meals, and everything else. All opinions, as always, are my own.

Have you been to Kiev? Does it look like your kind of city?

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faerhardyn-the-raging-ethereal · 8 years ago

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Sword Art Online OC. Yana Antonov

Real Life Information Name: Yana Antonov Nicknames Bohdana, Yohdanov, Ana, Bohdonov. Age: 18(when she shows up in GGO) 19 when she meets Kirito and his crew at the Café Gender: Female Nationality: Ukrainian Native American Were you a Beta-Tester?: no Personality: Yana can be funny,cool and quick witted at times. Strong Willed, tough and proves to be hardheaded at times with those she works with because of her selfless and stubborn nature and willingness to stand up and speak her mind especially when she needed to save a kid. Sometimes a bit snarky and sarcastic at times. She is loving to those who are close to her although she isn't really one for hugging but she nudges them. Has a minor to mild form of PTSD due to being almost raped by her father and her parents being killed and also during a military mission she went on. Going on missions like that can do this but whenever this happens she just calms herself and she is still and remains motionless in which her eyes glaze over half lidded and dark until it's over. That's how she deals with it. Doesn't happen frequently on missions but when it takes over or when it's a certain moment that triggers it she’ll hide or when she has a companion with her she’ll lean onto them. She's not easily angered but when it happens stay on her good side some people have been on the receiving end of that especially bad guys. They get shot multiple times. Trauma and insanity come into play and when she's experiencing insanity or whatever she’ll get this emotionless look in her eye. Capable of being cold and distant, and also capable in leaving a person to die. She falls into depression once and a while. Description: Hairstyle in ALO is a bob with an undercut. One side swept to the right eye. Black sports from the roots and fades into burgundy. Or just a dark burgundy and fades into a lighter burgundy. Hairstyle in real life is an Easy Bedhead. Sometimes wears it up or has it in a messy bun. Once she had worn ringlets or cornrows on both sides of her head and on the top of her head just in a ponytail that laid back against her head when she was on a mission in irl. Hairstyle in GGO is Motoko’s hairstyle from Ghost in the Shell. Albeit longer. She's slim bodied with medium sized breasts. She has a scar on her right eyebrow. Casual wear:usually jeans with tears and sleeveless tops such as white and black. shoes are converses. Whenever she wants to go all out and fashion like she'll wear a beanie, jogger pants and whatnot. On missions she's even more stylish. She has a tattoo on her back on her left shoulder. They are wings( two or three roses lay behind the wings) that have a bullet just slightly below. Two dragons intertwine just slightly below the tip of the bullet their mouths are open as if about to swallow 3 separate balls of light. The fourth one is halved. (Again, be descriptive! Include body type, outfit, hairstyles, any accessories, tattoos, scars, and piercings he/she may have.) Background/Bio: Yohdanov didn't have the greatest upbringing growing up. Her parents were low financially, but they did love her as best as they could. Her sister died at the age of 3 by an unnamed disease. She had an alcoholic father to deal with and sometimes her parents spat. Her father made sure not to abuse her or hurt her in anyway but he did hit on her and her mom a couple times while drunk and he once tried to rape Yana but her mother knocked him out that day. Her father didn't have a great relationship with his workers. Eventually it got so bad Yana resorted to her room sometimes spying on her parents misfits and crying alone. One day as she and and her parents were walking home they bumped into 3 of her father's coworkers. The man in the front took out a gun and shot her father down and her mother. She went to live with her aunt for a short while but her aunt suffered a stroke leaving a grief stricken little girl alone, that's when she was took in by a man who was apart of this organization at the age of 9. The man treated her like a father and at the age of 12 she took a job as a spy eventually turning into a detective and a hitman (assassin). All those years later she goes into GGO to find information about this drug lord who plays a big part in a mass murder and eventually bumping into Kirito, getting his help and meeting his crew. Eye Color: Chestnut brown Hair Color: Brunette Black Weight: 120- 130 Ibs Height: 5’5 Real Life Relationships: (Repeat as many times as you need/want!) Name: Aliec Cohen (Male) pronounced Alec Name: Kate Dunway (Female) Relationship to your character: (friends) How they met: (Add just a little detail if needed.) Needed for missions and whatnot. Became close friends. Gun Gale Online Information ScreenName: Yohdanov Level: 197 201 when she meets Kiritos crew (she plays it whenever she has off time or has time to spare) Squadron: Yes and No she usually plays solo sometimes(Is your character a part of a Squadron? If so list the name and type of Squadron it is.) Armor Head: sometimes whenever her hoodie is down she’ll wear black (maybe purple) tinted shades Neck: no Shoulders: No Chest: Crop Top is black with an with a built in zipper hoodie (purple or grey with golden seam designs on the edges) that attaches at the collar. The hoodie has an eagle's’ beak. Zipper stops midway between her boobs. Long sleeved ending is pointed like a witches glove. Right sleeve is raggedly cut shortly just inches below the elbow. 2nd Option is (badass) trench coat or long coat. (Selene outfit from Underworld so you get the gist it's a little changed up though so I'll explain later) Whenever she's hanging out black Halter top with blue jeans and storm blue converses. Or black sleeveless shirt. Hands: Fingerless biker gloves. 2nd option none. Rings: no Waist: Punk Rocker silver chain slung to the side. 2nd op. Legs: Black Punk rocker jeans or just torn up black or dark blue jeans. 2nd op. Feet: Icon 1000 elsinore boots (black leather) Trinkets: (Does your character have any 'lucky' trinkets that they carry? Max is 2) list later Weapons Main Hand: M7 SMG(Double wielding whenever she comes into the scene like a badass) and a rare assault rifle that I'll name later. Off Hand: Dagger, Estoc, Throwing Knives (she doesn't use them all the time). Beretta 92FS handgun Stats (I unfortunately don't know what the maximum amount is, so I'll go with what one of you did; which is 100. Base stats; 10-15 range.) Agility: 91(Affects fire speed and evasion Vitality: MAX Dexterity: 94(Affects accuracy) Strength: 95(Affects carrying capacity and the ability to wield certain guns) Luck: 90(Affects drop rate of items) Skills (List the skills and extra skills that your character knows here, and a brief explanation of how well they can do the skill.) ALFHEIM Online Information Race: Hybrid between Spriggan and Salamander. (Hybrid? Because why the fuck not.) Level: 87 Guild: No Armor Head: Golden ear cuffs Neck: Purple labradorite necklace (Is your character wearing any necklace type objects?) Shoulders: Left Dragonrider Shoulder guard Chest: An opened circled holtered chest that's a burgundy colored dress that has multiple open circles that hugs the torso and has one legged leggings for the left leg. intil it flows to the ankles and reveals one leg. Hands: on the left that goes up to the elbow it is laced. Right is just Fingerless and solid. (Arm- Ukrainian styled arm ring) Rings: Purity Ring shaped like two dragons intertwining both with mouths open holding a silken bluestone. Waist: Belt Legs: one legged Leggings (that's apart of the dress)that cover the left leg Feet: leather foot guards. Right one twirls around. 2nd op is high heels or elven boots Trinkets: No Weapons Main Hand: -Boletaria’s Greatbow (appearance is of the Dragonslayers Greatbow from Dark Souls, name is is a nice little homage to Demon Souls) Her second option in a weapon that she got by defeating a boss, which she only used once or twice. Used whenever the group were in danger and she had to get to a higher place. (Formed out of magic fire)(maybe). -Maidens Lada (sword)(Lada is an Ukrainian Goddess meaning love,marriage, summer and beauty.) -Malevolent Siren(longsword) Off Hand: Anor’s Carver (Anor londo reference) a carved dagger that is covered in runes and elvish designs Skills (List the Extra skills that your character knows here, and a brief explanation of how well they can do the skill.) Dual Wielding and others I'll list later Spells Illusion Musketeer Wall of Embers (used this once because she was trapped) Illusion immolation Archers Wit (the ability to run faster) Wall run Shapeshifting into fire or turning into fire the ability to travel with it and reform herself Illusion Metamorphosis: Flame Atronach, Gleam Eyes, (List the spells/abilities that your character knows here.)

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