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Post by milana anya lutrova on Jul 15, 2011 21:44:52 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #000000 solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I'M GONNA LACE UP MY BOOTS
THROW ON SOME LEATHER AND CRUISE The Lyrics: 'marry the night' lady gaga The Outfit: here Tagged irina The Notes woo!
--- MILANA LUTROVA HAD BEEN IN the united states now for a few weeks. almost all of those days she spent in the inferno hotel and casino. the casino was where the russians all hung out at. since lana worked for them, she was living in one of the rooms too. it was a glamorous hotel and casino, and she was set up pretty nice. single room with bathroom. it was more than what she had in russia. a room of her own? she never had that. she was still sharing a floor with a lot of the other russians soldiers like herself. she traveled a lot in russia, so a permanent place like this, even though she had only been here for a few weeks, it was starting to feel like home. her father, anton, always wanted the best for her. when he was fighting for their freedom, he told her they were going to america. lana believed her dad always wanted to go to america. she learned english as a young child, her already knew english, that's all they needed to start a new life. everyone knew lana and her father never made it to america. her dad died when she was thirteen and lana had been working for the very same people that killed him for the past seven years.
she finally made it to america, seven years later, at twenty, and not even on her own accord. nope, she was still repaying debts, brought on by her dad. why she was sent here she really didn't know. she was never in the league everyone else was running in. she was barely a soldier either. she just did what she was told to do. no questions asked. but now that lana was in america, it gave her a slightly new hope that this was where her new life could begin. she still was very young. young in american years, because if she was still in russia she was considered old and lucky that she still had all her teeth and hadn't fallen victim to early marriage or prostitution. not that every russian girl would follow that fate, but her family wasn't rich by any means. when she came to valkyrie, california weeks before, she had actually never heard of the city before. she just knew that where a lot of the russians were living now. lana had heard of the glamorous lights of new york city and los angeles growing up. new york was where her father was going to take them. all those hopes and dreams that young... it made lana miss her father even more. she really never forgot the day. she thought of it every day. the day he died. it was truly chilling to watch the light go out in someone's eyes. and it had been so sudden too. just, bam and he was dead. then she signed basically the rest of her life away.
her relationship with the people she worked for was very odd. she hated them when she was a teenager. she hated them for turning on her father, she hated them for killing him, she hated that she was left all alone. she then had hated herself for realizing that they were the only people she had left in the world. she was an orphan that almost had to rely on them. it sucked greatly. for being so young, she experienced almost too much. lana was hoping that leaving russia behind would leave all the memories. too bad that they didn't. it was all still there in the back of her mind. somehow everyday she was able to put on a brave face and get through the day. in front of people, she didn't let the past get to her. alone though, it was a different story. it was very depressing that everyone she knew already knew her entire story. she would forever be known as the daughter that had the traitor father. that when lana got up in this morning, she decided to get lost in valkyrie surrounded by people that didn't know her.
when she woke up, she got into some clothes, ran a brush through her black hair so she didn't look like someone who didn't take care of herself and shoved some crumpled money in her pocket. the thing with the money was that she wasn't familiar with american currency. here at the inferno, she tended to get things for free because who she was associated with. she knew the language pretty well, but when it came to their currency, she wasn't confident in at all. her father never really spent a lot of time on explaining money and numbers to her. he hammered the grammar on her. because english was so hard to learn anyway. oh well, she probably wasn't going to buy anything anyway, but she was told if she was going to leave the hotel, she should always have some money on her, just in case she was to need it. once she looked over herself one more time in the mirror, she left her room and took the elevator down to the lobby and just walked out. she probably walked for a half hour, through the streets. she didn't have a car, because she didn't have a driver's license, nor did she even know how to drive. however, lana enjoyed the walk and when she came across a very large building, she knew she had walked to the mall. the mall was extremely busy when she entered it and there was stores all over the place. she had been to malls before, but never often, and not as big as this one. lana walked into one of the clothing stores and just sort of looked at some of the clothes that were there. that was where it started to get hairy. she spotted a gray button up sweater she really liked. she tried it on by the rack and it did fit. though, when she tried to figure out the price her eyebrows furrowed over. there was a two, a zero, and then a period. it was then followed by two nines. yeah, definitely not like a ruble, the russian currency. she didn't want to go up to the counter and look like a fool to the salespeople. the next rack over, she noticed another girl that was around her age. "excuse me," she said, her russian accent very obvious, showing that she was not originally from the states, "this may sound stupid, but i'm not good with american currency. could you tell me if i have enough for this?" she said pulling the sweater up to the girl and dug around her pocket and pulled out three crumpled bills that had tens on it. damn her for never learning about dollar bills and all those coins.
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Post by irinamalloy on Jul 16, 2011 17:01:35 GMT -6
, irina antonia malloy UNTIL WE BURN BACK INTO THE SUN UNTIL WE BURN
THE KIDS WILL JUST WANT A LOVE SONG POPPING A
COLLAR AND KICKING DOWN THE STREET KICK IT
KICK IT KICK IT TO THE FRIENDS YOU WILL MEET BEATS
TO BEATS MOVE OUR BROKEN CLUB FEET ON THE OFF BEAT [/sup] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/center] the sun had begun its daily ascent and birds were chirping, but the street was very still. irina held a pair of high heels in one hand and a half empty vodka bottle in the other. her eyes were hardly even open. the cement of the sidewalk was rough on her bare feet and her movements were unsteady and sluggish. she didn't understand the logic supporting the fact that she was even still able to walk upright at all. any remnants of personality or mood that she might have garnered at any other point in her existence had been washed away and replaced by a prickling and yet simultaneously numbing exhaustion. it was kind of strange... granted, she had been up for almost twenty four hours now, but she was not at all unused to pulling all-nighters of equal or greater magnitude. she had been under the impression that she had built up some kind of fledgling tolerance for spending more than twenty four consecutive hours without feeling this wiped out. she was losing her touch or something.
it took her about another fifteen minutes of halfhearted trudging through a street lined by obscenely expensive mansions before she arrived at the particular obscenely expensive mansion that she called home. she noted her parents' cars in the garage and groaned a little bit, because she hated it when they caught her acting like a drunken party animal screw up. hopefully they were both still asleep. she stumbled over the threshold of the front door, nearly dropping her bottle in the process. everything seemed quiet and dark. no evidence of any life forms up and about. that was good. she nearly killed herself while attempting to navigate up the stairs and realized upon arriving at the open door of her second story bedroom that she was missing on of her heels. oh well. lord knew there was no fucking chance she was going back for it. she lobbed her remaining shoe in the general direction of her closet and sidestepped over to her desk to drop the vodka bottle onto it in a singular motion that was probably the most graceful thing she had done all year. immediately afterward she collapsed onto her bed, her tired head full of extremely vague and hazy plans of resting for a few minutes before showering and running back downstairs for some coffee, and they were the last things she was conscious of before her eyes drifted open. for a few moments, she simply lay motionless and disoriented, blinking in agitation, for the capacity to do anything else had completely escaped her. "what's that?"
irina lurched forward into a sitting position and swiveled her head from side to side in an attempt to locate the producer of the words that had just been spoken. her search revealed abe standing in her doorway. "what the fuck are you doing?" she demanded, not entirely sure of the reason for her anger. her voice sounded strange. abe was wholly unfazed by her lack of hospitality. he gestured at the vodka bottle, half full of a bright orange substance, sitting atop her desk. murky and indistinct memories from the party the previous night slid through irina's mind. she had been thirsty after a joint with a few of the annoying stoners she sometimes hung out with, which had resulted in a subsequent raid of the party host's fridge. it had yielded a delightful looking carton of orange juice, which she had opted to pour into a vodka bottle she had found lying around, after emptying its clear, pungent contents into the sink. then, apparently, she had drunk about half of it. it had seemed rather clever to her at the time. "it's orange juice." her voice cracked a little. she had a beastly headache. which wasn't fair, because she hadn't even gotten drunk the previous night. she swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "what time is it?" she asked, dreading the answer just a little bit. she had a feeling that she had slept for a lot longer than she had intended. "uh. almost noon, i think." she let her arm fall limply at her side. "well, fuck." she threw her scrawny legs over the side of the bed. "go make me a sandwich or something, will you?" she waved dismissively in her brother's general direction and he turned around and walked away without replying. hopefully he would make good on that, though, because she was fucking starving.
she peeled off her clothes, which by this point felt gritty and unpleasant, and took a quick, cold shower, which succeeded in making her feel a bit more alert. she dressed once again into the first shirt and top that she could grab after blow drying her hair for a few minutes and brushing her teeth thoroughly. when she returned to her bedroom, she suddenly remembered a paper that had been due two days previously and that was still only about seventy five percent complete. fuck. she stopped in her tracks and sat down forcefully at her desk, flipped her laptop open, located the document in question and pounded out the last few paragraphs, not even entirely aware of what she was saying. about twenty minutes later, she was downstairs in the kitchen, eating a grilled cheese sandwich that she had discovered lying on a plate on the island, bless abe's little heart. she had quickly read over her paper to make sure it wasn't completely incoherent, submitted it, resigned herself to a shitty grade and then put the whole incident behind her.
her mother had wandered into the kitchen just as irina was finishing up the sandwich, decked out in her workout clothes, and the two of them had a quick conversation about how irina should probably be getting more iron in her diet before francesca gave her a quick peck on the cheek and headed off to her pilates class. irina then poured herself a cup of coffee and wandered out into the living room, where she found abe splayed across the couch in front of the big screen tv. "when did you get home?" she asked offhandedly, because before this morning she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for about three days, during which he had presumably been wandering around the city like a homeless person. their parents permitted this because he kept up with them through texting and phone calls. "couple hours ago." irina took another sip of her coffee and promptly almost choked on it when she figured out what he was watching. that one fucking clown movie about the fucking book by stephen fucking king. it, right? she swallowed quickly and lapsed into a minor coughing fit. "jesus christ, could you, like, not watch fucking fucked up shit about clowns in this house, please?" she spat angrily. she hated clowns. so much. abe glanced up at her. "you don't have to watch it." irina felt her eyes widen. "i don't care! clowns are fucking awful! it's... it's like... like a fucking... fucking universal fact!" she was sputtering again. "like that one dude... what's his name... gacy! john gacy! he was a clown and he was fucking demented!" abe eyed her unblinkingly from the couch. "yeah! and you know what? he liked to kill teenage boys. like you." abe remained silent. "fine, you dumb shit, i'm leaving." she whirled around and marched back into the kitchen where she downed the rest of her coffee and put the mug in the sink. after a trip upstairs to grab a purse and her shoes, she found herself wandering outside in the valkyrian sunshine.
she wasn't sure when or why she made the decision to make a visit to the valkyrie mall, but about forty five minutes later, she found herself there anyway. once inside the commercial complex, she wandered into a moderately priced clothing store to peruse their wares, despite the fact that lord knew she already had more than enough of that kind of shit. she was examining a black sequined blouse, holding it up by its hanger to get a better idea of its size when she heard a voice, apparently directed at her. "excuse me." startled, she lost her grip on the hanger and nearly dropped the entire article onto the creamy tiles of the scuffed up floor. she managed to clumsily recapture it before it met with that fate and straightened up again in a minor whirlwind of her black hair. "what?" she blurted, loudly and unintentionally. she spotted the speaker, a statuesque looking brunette, and gulped. god, fuck it all. "this may sound stupid, but i'm not good with american currency. could you tell me if i have enough for this?" a foreigner. sounded russian. or something. she felt like she was meeting a lot of foreigners lately. this one eyes bluer than irina had ever seen. "uh." the girl held a gray sweater and three crumpled ten dollar bills out in irina's direction. irina simply stared dumbly for a moment or two before sense found her again. she fumbled for the tag on the sweater, found it, and scanned it for the price, which proved to be $20.99. she swallowed, looked back up at the brunette again and promptly recast her gaze. it landed upon the money in her outstretched hand. "uh. yeah." the chick's english seemed to be pretty good, but irina hoped to hell she would be able to understand her. because irina had her own particular brand of semi-incoherent, cuss-ridden, often awkward english. "it only costs twenty one dollars. and you, uh, have thirty." she paused, which created a momentary dumb silence. "you're gonna have to pay with all three bills," she added, gripping her hanger tightly with both hands. another short silence. "you're from, what, russia?"
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TAG lana!
CREDIT lyrics by bedouin soundclash.
ATTIRE here.
NOTES -dances-
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Post by milana anya lutrova on Jul 22, 2011 14:42:54 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #000000 solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]I'M GONNA LACE UP MY BOOTS
THROW ON SOME LEATHER AND CRUISE The Lyrics: 'marry the night' lady gaga The Outfit: here Tagged irina The Notes slightly late and short >.<
--- LANA WAS ONE OF THOSE KIDS THAT HAD TO GROW UP FAST. she had to skip a lot of those special milestones and learn to fend for herself early on. at least up until she was thirteen, she had a somewhat "normal" childhood. she had her grandparents, she had her father who would drop anything for her. she went to school, she sang, she had as much fun as she could. then it all just fell apart. her dad died and she was thirteen who had to adapt to a adult world and had to learn to protect herself, because no one else would be doing that for her anymore. she couldn't live with her grandparents, because they were part of the bravata and would most likely try and run with her. and with a debt hanging over her head, running would get them dead. so she kissed a normal life goodbye and did what she was told. it was sad almost. sometimes she would buy... well steal, american books to read, and read about teenagers her age experiencing a whole other life filled with school, football games, and dating. yeah, she was skipping out on all that. sometimes, lana would wonder if her and her dad had made it to the united states if she would be living some kind of life like that. by now, she probably would have graduated from high school over there. would she have gone to college like everyone in the books were always freaking out about?
one thing was for sure, if she had been living in the united states for the past seven years, she probably would have learned how their currency works over here.it was embarrassing that she was asking someone else for help. her dad just never taught her it. but there had never been a use for it. when did she need to know about american money in russia? she could read english, she could speak english, and she could write english. as far as her father was concerned, that was all she really needed to know. but lana guessed she was just gonna have to go on the internet and learn about it now. since she was pretty sure she was here in the states for awhile now, or until at least she was ordered back to russia. she hoped that it wouldn't come down to that. she liked it here so far. she already felt like she had more freedom. was that just the effect the states had on foreigners like herself? it was called the 'land of the free' after all. or maybe lana was just relieved she finally escaped russia's iron fist. don't get her wrong, she did love her country. it was just some people in russia she was glad to get away from.
lana knew she probably caught the girl off guard when she asked the ridiculous question if she had enough money to buy the sweater. the girl was of course, very pretty. like almost every girl in the books lana read. but how often were you approached asking if you had enough money to buy something? yeah, rarely ever. but lana was wondering if everyone in valkyrie was just naturally pretty. even just in the inferno, where she spent most of her time since she got here. there was the glitz and the glamour. women wore super tight dresses that showed off just what was needed. the men had a certain charm that looked like they were born into wealth, even if they weren't. lana had been to places like this in russia, but everything here just seemed more... something. she couldn't quite put her finger on it. maybe it was being in a new country for the first time ever, that made it seem bigger and better.
the girl fumbled for a moment when lana asked her. she must have startled her because she almost dropped what she had in her hand. "sorry," lana said as the girl looked at her and then the girl said she had enough to buy the sweater, she would just need to use all three bills. she nodded looking at the bills in her hand. "ok, thanks," lana said, she looked at her hand for a moment trying to make sense of it, but nothing did. oh well. if the girl said so, then she said so. she didn't really look like someone who would be lying or trying to give her a hard time. "you're from, what, russia?" lana looked up and nodded. "yes. i moved here a few weeks ago. sorry for the dumb question. my dad never got around to teaching me your money system," she shook her head for a moment. she probably sounded like a very un-educated person. "but, don't worry. i can speak english better than i can count, apparently." she smiled a little and looked at what the other girl was holding. "oh, that's pretty," lana stuffed the bills back in her pocket. "by the way, i'm lana."
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Post by irinamalloy on Jul 25, 2011 17:07:36 GMT -6
, irina antonia malloyUNTIL WE BURN BACK INTO THE SUN UNTIL WE BURN
THE KIDS WILL JUST WANT A LOVE SONG POPPING A
COLLAR AND KICKING DOWN THE STREET KICK IT
KICK IT KICK IT TO THE FRIENDS YOU WILL MEET BEATS
TO BEATS MOVE OUR BROKEN CLUB FEET ON THE OFF BEAT [/sup] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/center] irina didn't like these kinds of social situations. well, actually, she didn't much care for any kind of situation in which she was expected to behave politely. expectations in general angered her, but when all of society ganged up on her in expecting her to act like polite and mild mannered person... that was just too much. it only made her want to do exactly the opposite, because she didn't understand why, under some circumstances, refusing to present a big facade of bullshit to the public was looked down upon and considered rude. perhaps there was some sort of cog in her brain that didn't function properly, or perhaps she simply wasn't wired that way, but irina wasn't a exactly a very polite person. not in the traditional sense of the word, at least. she often cussed loudly and with abandon in public places and was prone to bluntly telling people what she perceived to be wrong with them. she didn't act happy to see people if she wasn't or pretend to be interested in whatever was going on in their dreary little lives if she wasn't. she never bothered with any of that nonsense, and as far as she was concerned it made her a lot more honest than half of the fuckers going about their business out there. which was why she didn't understand why it was considered "bad manners."
and this, in combination with her additional and nearly all-encompassing lack of social graces, was why people who were not socially graceless often either irritated her or made her uneasy. those who were particularly gifted in the art of smooth social interaction made her especially suspicious because, given her own nature, it seemed unnatural and strange to her. "slicker than a bucket of motherfucking snot" was a phrase her father often used that she liked to apply to how she viewed them. except he didn't include the term "motherfucking." irina had added that bit herself. this russian chickadee, who was apparently ignorant about american currency and also possibly a vessel of satan sent to this particular department store of the valkyrie mall on this particular day at this particular time for the sole purpose of frustrating her, seemed nice enough. no excessive emission of social competence. were it not for that irina felt it necessary to avoid looking at her face (which looked as if some hot shot angel had carved out of ice), she would not have felt ill at ease at all interacting with her.
the russian chickadee apologized when irina had yelped out in surprise, which, for some unknown reason, caused a small pang of cheerlessness ring through her. "yes. i moved here a few weeks ago. sorry for the dumb question. my dad never got around to teaching me your money system." irina wasn't sure what exactly was so confusing about american currency, but of course she was speaking as someone who had lived in the united states for the entirety of her life, excluding those first few months after her birth. and she had only ever been outside the country once... again, not counting that whole thing about how she had been born in guatemala. it had been for a family summer vacation to london, england, to visit her mother's brother. all the british accents had amused irina a lot. but anyway. she wasn't sure how to respond to what the russian chickadee had just said, so she shrugged and said "um." she then proceeded to scan the store for something other than the russian chickadee at which to look. she couldn't help but think of all the ads she saw when trying to watch movies online with pictures of busty blond chicks that said things about how there were all these russian babes waiting to chat with people and that studies showed that they were very attracted to western men. the thought made her want to snort with laughter, and she narrowly held it back. apparently movie websites thought she was a western man, which was kind of depressing. irina couldn't help to return her gaze to the russian chickadee, however, when she started to speak again. "but, don't worry. i can speak english better than i can count, apparently." she smiled slightly. it was a nice smile. god, irina didn't want to deal with this. she wanted to go away and find a house pulsating with shitty music and full of horny young people where she wouldn't have to think about anything, especially pretty girls, and could smoke a joint in the bathtub, probably after having to kick out some couple trying to get to second base, and listen to the muffled music and drunken shouts and feel mellow and relaxed.
unfortunately, however, she was here, in the valkyrie mall, surrounded by people she didn't know and probably wouldn't like if she did, thinking about things and talking to a pretty girl.
"okay. that's, uh, reassuring." at this point irina wasn't really paying attention to what was coming out of her mouth, she was just speaking because she felt obligated. which was kind of rare, because usually she never felt obligated to speak because of social niceties. if things got boring or quiet she generally just went away.
"oh, that's pretty," the russian chickadee said as she put her money back away. she apparently was talking about the blouse that irina had clutched in her hands and had nearly forgotten about. "what? oh. yeah. sure. it's very nice. probably why i was looking at it." hm. irina wondered if perhaps abe had slipped some sort of chemical onto that grilled cheese sandwich that was making her more of a horrible conversationalist than usual. actually, scratch that, he probably hadn't. this was about her average level of conversational skill. "by the way, i'm lana." lana. irina didn't really like the name. it made her think of someone who was unattractively tan and very lanky for some reason. it wasn't like she had ever known a lanky, tan chick name lana or anything, or encountered one in television or literature. not as far as she knew, anyway. "oh. hi." she paused. she could either proceed to tell lana her own name, wish her good luck in purchasing her sweater and then leave, or stay a while and continue some sort of conversation. she felt two conflicting instincts; one told her to stay and the other told her to get the fuck out, because this was probably going to be stressful. and she had a feeling that, given her current general mental state, the latter instinct was both more convenient and intelligent than the former.
eh. what the fuck.
"my name's irina." she crossed her arms over her chest, and the hooked bit of the hanger dug into the underside of her arm. she decided this was uncomfortable and pointless and so she simply tossed it back onto the clothing rack. dumb pause. "do lots of people in russia think americans are all fat dumb asses?" she asked curiously, struck by a sudden inspiration of interest in culture. "i guess you can't really be surprised if they do, though, because there are a lot of fat dumb asses running around." she bit down on her lower lip, a look something akin to concentration on her face. "but i guess that's what happens when mcdonalds is practically a religion." she abruptly changed the subject. "do you go to vu or anything?" she had said all of this quite fast. lana probably thought that she was insane.
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TAG lana!
CREDIT lyrics by bedouin soundclash.
ATTIRE here.
NOTES hi.
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