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Post by stanislav yuri verrentenikov on Jan 15, 2012 15:27:51 GMT -6
 ,IT WAS SLOWLY becoming easier. time and practice, she supposed. valentina verrentenikov had been a remarkably patient human being when she was…well, a human being. and now, she had all the time in the world. quite possibly beyond that. simply existing, suspended between the darkness and what she assumed to be the light, offered few positives. growing indestructible. the one thing that could destroy her had no wish to. watching as life wasted away in front of her had quickly grown tiresome. there was no rush. and there seemed to be no magic door appearing anytime soon, offering her the opportunity to go to heaven and play chess with shakespeare or someone. that would definitely be less of a headache. she had flexed her fingers, played the game of discovery. this invisible existence was not as drab as she had once imagined. when you have very little less to do, you quickly master things. especially when you discover a goal for yourself. the news of the verrentenikov siblings arriving in america most definitely put flint to her fire. having a constructed goal to reach offered the incentive to master this whole…existence thing.
what? just because valentina verrentenikov was not, essentially, a living, breathing existence anymore rendered her invalid? quite on the contrary, she quite passionately believed there were more upsides to be a haunting being than trapped in the poor human body she'd once possessed. was it boring? at times. she was, essentially, an audience member to human life now. there was often little to do. but the freedom was electric. she no longer had to listen to the intense, often draining, speeches by her father. she no longer had to pretend to like her twin sister. she no longer had to pretend to do anything. in exchange, she had to wander around the earth with no company. it was a little lonely sometimes. but, as time passed, like she had been attempting to explain to silent ears, interacting with the "living" world became simpler. she was convinced someone saw her sometimes. eyes would rest on the piece of wall she was leaning against for a fraction of a second longer. they could feel something there, uneasy and restless. well, they should. it's not like she was a figment of some random invalid's imagination. she was very much here, thank you very much. it could be considered insulting to believe your mind is clever enough to think of this ghost of an invincible russian crime organization's princess (she was much more suited than sasha, don't lie yourself). twisted punishment, an ironic beauty in the way you're soon going to suffer. that's what she could be considered. if she deemed you flawed enough, you could be rewarded with several visits.
it was oddly freeing, wasn't it? remaining in the life her father tried to force on her, but following her own rules. and the more the members of her immediate family accepted this, the more power fed into her existence. maybe she could come back to life simply because they believed in her.
no, she is not a ghost. and no, she is not quite alive. she is suspended between worlds, trapped in the life she never wanted and not wanting to let the people who destroyed it forget. the verrentenikov family did not deserve this sort of peace. her goal for several years now had been to remind them of her. only recently had it began to work. of course they felt her energy - she was here, after all. but they stared at her place on the wall more often now. stanislav, bless his tarnished, useless, fucking soul, ignored her. usually. he swore at nothing sometimes. aleksander, the useless life her father was granted, simply pretended she was a picture on the wall. he was demented enough to keep reminders of his dead daughter around. liza…well, she never bothered to haunt her mother. what would the point in that be? val was surprised no one had ordered her death, to be honest. most recently, this existence of a seventeen year-old girl murdered much too early, took to her twin sister. the one who, really, should have been killed. who was a more insulting existence? sasha verrentenikov offered as much as the rest of her family did: nothing. all she brought was pain, suffering and a distinctly insulting way of dress. white had been valentine's preferred colour, thank you. i suppose death can only offer black. it wasn't so bad, it brought out her empty eyes.
valentina longed to see her twin sister put a gun in her mouth. she knew sasha had forced staz to promise to feed morphine to her when her body began to break. this would only be several years premature, is that so bad? goodness. when had she grown so bitter? it was kind of sad. she scowled at the staff mingling behind the front desk of the inferno hotel and casino. she had often taken to wandering the hallways of this sizeable, borderline excessive structure. the entire russian population in valkyrie, california (they chose here, of all places? sad in the same way val wished her sister to commit suicide.) resided here. it was uncommon to find the "important" ones anywhere else. they preferred for meaningless, blinded followers to do their work. she supposed that was a good idea. the non-working employees ceased their high-pitched laughter. they fell silent and their eyes drifted across the lobby, resting, more or less, where she was standing, arms crossed, head shaking. see? it got easier. the more paranoid people grew, the more they seemed to think someone was watching them. it was funny. valentina was dead, barely existing, and she was doing a better job of controlling the people her family should have been paying attention to. it was the middle of the night, long past midnight, long before the sun rose. shouldn't they be doing catch-up work? pathetic. her mission wasn't to scowl at the poor job her siblings did at living, it was to make them shiver because it suddenly got cold. the stereotypes from the movies were right - she made the air still. silly, isn't it?
sasha verrentenikov existed at night, long after the rest of the world had surrendered to their beds. she did the oddest things. played piano, stared the wall, even skated. seriously, her twin sister figure skated. what is this? the swan princess? sad. she supposed it was cold down there, in the large, echoing room which held the ice rink in the basement of the inferno. she was transparent, she didn't exactly feel things. dead girl privilege - she didn't have to walk, either. one blink and she could be in china. val put her hands into her pockets. see? she knew her sister better than anyone. sasha was there, lacing up her figure skates. made up in the most shameful way possible. it was borderline laughable, her sister's ensembles. carefully following the edge of the room, walking clear through whatever got in her way, the ghostly verrentenikov watched her living (who should not be) twin sitting there on the bench. "boo." her voice was flat, echoing. speaking had gotten easier over time, too. her words often went ignored by sasha, but it was no secret she could hear her. she could see her, too. the silent acknowledgement - both her siblings put effort into ignoring her, thus, feeding their belief - fed her existence. "isn't this kind of sad, sash? i'm not the best of audiences." leaving against the bench, val watched her psychopathic sister, a wry smile on her face.
[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- TAGGED, sasha. <3
DATE, the inferno, ice rink.
LENGTH, 1277 words.
ATTIRE, yay lame.
NOTES, yay hauntings. o-o
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to anberlin - "the haunting"
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Post by sasha on Jan 21, 2012 17:16:22 GMT -6
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---THEY WEREN'T ANYTHING NEW, THEY DIDN'T SURPRISE HER. the hallucinations had been going on for a while now, weeks, months, she really wasn't all that sure. time passed by her with faded nonchalance, all but forgotten in the silvery eyes and icy heart. but it had been a while, long enough for her to be accustomed to the chill and the snarky remarks. sometimes it bothered her more than others, mostly because she couldn't seem to get rid of the she devil that was probably going to haunt her for the rest of time and eternity. sasha didn't believe in ghosts, or anything supernatural for that matter. life was life, and considering the fact that nobody else saw the malnourished satan spawn roaming the streets in her black garb and nobody heard her listless remarks, that negated the philosophy that seeing was believing. sasha credited her mutated brain for the hallucinations of her dead sister, because clearly there was already something wrong with it, which was why she'd been deemed a clinical psychopath, but as for apparitions and ghouls? they were nothing more than a figment of her imagination. if they were real, it wouldn't make sense that the only one she saw was her dead sister. sasha had killed plenty of people, and plenty of people without a real reason to do it. why weren't all those trigger happy souls coming to her at the wee hours of the night? simple, because something was wrong with sasha herself. maybe she was just lonely and staz was annoying her, so her brain produced this haunting figment to give her company. sometimes the snarky spirit was entertaining, if nothing else. but at the moment, sasha wasn't really in a mood for the cheeky smiles and sarcastic retorts. the thing that bothered her the most was that she couldn't seem to get rid of her little nightmare when she wanted to the most. maybe she should see a psychiatrist, get some medication, but there was something about pleading guilty to all counts of insanity that seemed unattractive. she couldn't bring herself to give up like that, to admit defeat. she could fight the phantom war on her own, internally. she could cure her own craziness, couldn't she? the confusing part was that she didn't feel guilty about it, still, not to this day. it didn't scare her either. perks that came with being a moral-less, emotionless ice queen.
the day had been particularly uneventful. the only place she had gone was the inferno's ballroom, and that was to play the grand piano. she'd spent hours there, or she thought she had, and then she'd wandered to the kitchen to get some food. nobody spoke to her, nobody acknowledged her. while sasha verrentenikov had always been quite power hungry, she'd never enjoyed human company. there were a few people she would say she enjoyed being around, but only for so long. she wasn't the type to march around the inferno and demand the employees bow down to her every whim, though they most certainly would if she asked. sasha would much rather mind her own business, and have them mind theirs. she would take care of herself if they left her alone. even when they messed up, she really wasn't the one to step in and correct the wrongs. that was their issue, and she knew there was somebody about the minimum wage workers on the russian hierarchy who would be glad to take care of bossing them around. she'd let staz handle it, or collins. staz was better at handling disasters than she was, because most of sasha solutions involved guns or "who cares." she wasn't exactly exceedingly helpful if it didn't involve her directly, and so she was left to her solitude, and she was as happy as a church mouse, if that were possible. but it did leave her in a contented state. while every now and again she found herself craving some sort of company, or was driven by an inexplicable curiosity of association, the good majority of the time the lanky verrentenikov princess preferred to be left to her isolation. she would choose an antarctic winter wonderland over a hawaiian paradise any day if it meant she could be left in peace, that and she was particularly fond of the cold. that probably came with being from moscow. it wasn't like she cared what was going on around her anyway, as long as nobody wasn't pointing a gun at her, she was going to consider herself golden. and so she'd spent most of the day alone, simply because that was the sort of mood she was in. the tall blonde had wandered through the inferno and observed and then gone back to her piano. she had incessantly returned to her suite to close her eyes for a while, considering she hardly slept at night. what she was really waiting for was the skating rink to be empty, completely forgotten, but that wouldn't happen until later.
she had been sitting at the bar, silently sipping at a glass of lemon water by herself. nobody questioned her peculiar drinking habits anymore. it became acceptable to see her drinking water or expensive wine at the bar over vodka or tequila. there were still people wandering around, still people at the bar, but it was late, well past midnight, and some people were beginning to disperse, whether it was to retire to their beds or find a place with a little more liveliness. sash on the other hand went down to the rink underneath the inferno's main floor. she found herself in the locker room quickly, and then she was grabbing her skates and locking up her purse, though she was sure nobody planned on coming down here to steal it. if somebody were wandering around in the inferno basement at these hours of the night, she would be less worried about the purse and more worried about herself. it was then that she heard the voice, the voice she had managed to avoid for the past few days, but there it was, ringing in her head. she was convinced she couldn't see the slender figure when she first began to speak, but there it was, staring at her. it didn't deserve a sex, and it hardly deserved a name. it was just sasha. sometimes she wondered if it really was herself and not her sister. they had been twins, after all, and lord knew she could hardly remember what valentina verrentenikov's face looked like, the beauty of repression. her dead twin sister was somebody she really didn't care to remember, somebody who sasha herself sincerely believed didn't deserve to be remembered. it wasn't like val had died for no reason, she had turned her back on her family, and she ran off and became a traitor by her own choice. and then she was stupid enough to get caught. val didn't deserve redemption, no more than sasha thought she herself could be redeemed. val was just a missing person who nobody really missed all that much. nobody talked about her, and from what her father said on the rare occasion he manned up enough to discuss it openly, mrs. verrentenikov had stopped asking about her altogether. nobody cared about the six feet under fiend who had initiated the spilling of bad blood between relatives. val brought it all upon herself, of that sasha was positive.
sasha didn't feel guilty for killing her. she would have rather shot the girl in the head, and gotten it over with. she also would have rather not gone with them to dump her body in the wilderness, but val had been the one sasha grew up with. they'd been together their entire lives from the moment the other was born. sasha just got lucky and remained loyal. val was born into the wrong lifestyle. it wasn't sasha whom the dead bitch should be infuriated at, it was the big man upstairs whom sent the artistic wretch to be born into a family of cold blooded murderers. sasha's eyes met that of the hallucination her mind was so quick to project. her lips pursed together slightly, and she picked up her skates and walked right past the voice and out to the ice rink. she sat down on a bench near the entrance and tied her skates up, trying to focus her energy on making the obnoxious smirk and the less than clever comments go away. all she wanted to do was skate, something she hadn't done in a while. skating was one of the few normal hobbies sasha verrentenikov had. she enjoyed playing the piano, and she enjoyed ice skating. there was something about gliding on the smooth ice that made her forget her life, and for a moment, the whole world really was about her. it seemed oddly romantic for a psychopathic killer, but it was true. there weren't a lot of things that could really make her appreciate life itself, but hockey, figure skating, pianos, and motorcycles were definitely at the top of her list. most people really weren't aware of sasha's mundane hobbies though, mostly because she really didn't know anybody well enough to let them get to know that side of her, and she really didn't care too. she wasn't going to try and be seen as this normal, mentally healthy person because she had a few commonwealth attractions. that seemed silly, or positively stupid. silently, she set up her ipod and speakers, putting on some classical music that the majority of the modern day, uncultured swine would hardly be able to appreciate. pulling on the white skates, sasha got up and moved onto the ice. she slid right onto it, moving with grace to the center of the rink, but she saw her shameless apparition following her out. was a silent night too much to ask for?
[/justify] - - - - - - - (STATUS) finished. (TAGGED) vaaaal<3 (WORDS) 1,657 (OUTFIT) here. (COMMENTS) yup. sasha’s a crazy bitch. (CREDITS) me, yo.
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Post by stanislav yuri verrentenikov on Jan 23, 2012 3:05:46 GMT -6
,HONESTLY, HOW DID her twin sister's mind work? valentina verrentenikov would never understand sasha. no one would. the doctors, clad in white with steel eyes and bleached smile, had deemed her a respectably lost cause. no amount of medication or therapy would make sasha verrentenikov so-called "normal". her brain did not electrify the average way. it was too bad, really. val believed her sister could be a perfectly appropriate member of society. from afar, she presented herself as a lovely human being. with fine taste in wines and music, a certain passion for luxury. but it was a lie, all of it. everything about sasha was a mask, hollow and fake. even sasha herself seemed to believe this added depth to her character. could the rest of the world really be this foolish? spot a pretty velvet curtain, thick with pearly extravagance, and you will never question what could be hidden behind. maybe val had followed that when she was, you know, alive because it was nicer that way. who wants to accept the fact the person who should be closest to you is, for all other reasons, lost in a world of emotion? because the doctors stamped her as able to participate in society, it was washed off. even staz accepted sasha for what she was. what the hell. was she, the lowly ghost, the only one intelligent enough to take the blue pill and look at the matrix? rip your fucking eyelids off.
she couldn't accept sasha. no fucking way. valentina marked the fading white on her sister's velvet cape. it was quickly staining, becoming an eggshell tone. no one likes those. she noted the burnt edges. she especially saw just how transparent it was. the emptiness in sasha's eyes ruined her entire facade. val didn't care. when she was a breathing member of the world, she chose not to believe it. if she had her way, she would never have to think about any verrentenikov again. she would change her name, escape to a place with actual culture, and live the life she should have been living. you cannot participate in life when you are a living, breathing atrocity. sasha had stared her right in the eye, the ones they shared, and pulled the trigger. no pain, no regret. not even an apology. she did it because daddy threatened to take away her designer labels. maybe she could describe her sister in an artistic manner, noting her depth and offering the positives over the cynics. that could be a simpler task had her life not been ended eighty years too early. it's not nice when girls die. it's ugly when no one knows how girls die. and it's downright disgusting when the murderer is allowed to live the life valentina should have had.
but, really, she wasn't sticking around out of self-pity. this was kind of fun. sasha would like being dead. light as air, here or not, the ability to do what you wish with no consequence. maybe val was here, in the existence originally destined for her useless twin. if she believed in god or something, it would seem like beautiful irony. huh. and she used to be so artistic, flavouring her words with rich metaphors. i suppose it comes with no eyelids and the ability to breath underwater, no reason to present yourself as someone of worth. the cold bluntness that laced her words now would have made the living valentina vomit. well, we can't have everything. she smirked. being dead is different. you have no one to impress, definitely no role to play. she couldn't very likely disappear off to paris and live in a museum. no. this was her reason for not moving on or whatever the fuck people assumed. nice try. even val could feel others' presence, wishing to remain anonymous because they had yet to find the reason to haunt for the rest of eternity. not much else to do but force your existence upon people. maybe you could go find your long lost love and remind them you're still here, watching over them, loving them. if she found someone like that, maybe. she snorted. that'd be a waste of this ghostly privilege, wouldn't it? it was no fun watching tv without anyone to talk to, anyway. she'd been following her family for five years. they all seemed to forget that they were the most vile, dysfunctional bloodline currently alive. well, she had always been good at stating the obvious. see? that is another thing that made sasha a stain to society. she lived in this fogged world where nothing mattered. maybe she didn't feel bad about ruining everyone's life forever. but she sure as fuck was not going to forget it. the broken brain of her twin sister wasn't quite that clever. val entertained herself with the visions of seeing sasha haunt herself. hallucinations of her dead sister had polluted her mind, filled the cracks with an unforgettable glare. fucking lord, that would be better than watching her put a gun in her mouth and rid the world of herself.
she was growing sadistic. val had to frown. surely she could grow into the ice queen - clearly surpassing the russian princess there - while retaining a level of composure. soon she was going to fantasize of gruesome tortures of her brother. at the moment, it was disturbingly satisfying watching them shortening their breaths and staring at the corner for far too long even before she dropped by for a visit. staz was clearly pushed toward the edge. he thought she was watching him all the time, judging his silly relationship with that lutrova one. seriously, brother? kill her and focus on the illegal empire you're supposed to be running. he was hallucinating her. sasha was clearly haunted. aleksander…he pretended she was a painting, remember? he was broken, too. much more so than sasha. it was kind of sick, really. she simply had to work on her balance, lord knows she has the time. toe the line of sanity, drive them all toward the edge she fell over because she had a mind of her own. sasha prided herself on so many things. this supposed level of icy aloofness, her ability to present herself as proper and fascinating, untouchable. she was proud of herself for being able to kill her twin sister because daddy told her to. snort in sick amusement, you are welcome to. what was she looking for? it was times like this that val found herself looking to drive an ice pick into her living (again, who should not be) sister's forehead. it was all sasha's fault. val would be perfectly happy watching everyone else chip away until they shattered had she not been ignored.
the same bored expression remained on her face as sasha turned on some poor excuse for music and glided out onto the smooth ice. she had been ignoring valentina for years. she would stare at her from time to time. her broken brain seemed to allow her an odd strength. well, congratulations. if she was living properly, she wouldn't care at all. sasha verrentenikov was not as untouchable as she believed herself to be. everyone had to know that. pulse her heart today, bringing her back to life, and val would be the person who terrified…well, probably everyone. her sister was meticulous, she would never not pause to examine this new threat. if only she could touch physical object. one can sigh with longing. all she wanted was to drive three bullets into the verrentenikov family, take what was originally forced upon her, and control it the way it should be. everyone had to know that by now. it's not like she was invisible. god they were stupid. she was quiet as she stepped onto the ice, feeling the surface, never slipping. another dead girl privilege. see? sasha would love being dead. "come now, you live to perform no one else is around." holding her hands in her pockets, val remained at the edge of the rink, leaning against the boards. it was so very tempting to scream ugliness at her, drive her sister closer to insanity. too bad that was hilariously cliche. meaningless spirits do that. valentina verrentenikov was a haunting, but she was still here. she was no hallucination and they certainly weren't clever enough to think up all of this brilliance themselves. never give her family credit. "i'm getting offended. we're sisters. you shouldn't ignore, miss sasha. it's rude." the mocking that was lacing all her words now was thick. she stepped forward, blinked and appeared right behind sasha. "you're trying to convince me you're normal. you have hobbies, albeit pathetic ones. you have a life to live. you enjoy things. nothing bothers you. you're fine." val narrowed her eyes, nearly screaming her words. how long can you lie to yourself? then again, sasha verrentenikov was an expert as performance. she could lie to herself all day long. "you're going to die anyway. you couldn't do it five years ago and save us all the time?"
[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- TAGGED, sasha. <3
DATE, the inferno, ice rink.
LENGTH, 1485 words.
ATTIRE, yay lame.
NOTES, this is horrible. o-o
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to anberlin - "the haunting"
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