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Post by stanislav yuri verrentenikov on Dec 19, 2011 2:57:34 GMT -6
 ,WANDERING THE HALLWAYS of the inferno hotel and casino did not fit. lost children, bored guests and hiding employees - those were the people moving around an establishment. certainly not the controller, unknown to most. the man holding a fair amount of power should have been doing…well, anything but this. stanislav verrentenikov had a long list of tasks to be done. his closest associates were reminding him every few minutes, actually. his eyes were looking at the screen of his samsung, certainly not watching his path. more than a few people shot him irritable glares. he would apologize, but that would be silly. a minor bump in their travels would not ruin anything. his fingers easily tapped at the screen, sending reply after reply. complete this, remember that. staz had yet to execute business of his own since coming to valkyrie, california. much of his time was spent sorting through the seemingly unlimited magnitude of issues that had accumulated in less than a year here. the internal affairs of his bratva had reached alarming levels. they could not work properly if this continued. thus, he was a director for now. telling people to retain their opinions and resume their schedules. pointing lost russians in the right direction. and, most importantly, trying not to force his father to clean up his own mess. so, yes, he should have been sitting in his desk chair acting like the boss of a corporation. certainly not aimlessly wandering around his family's hotel.
"kindly take care of it" was the outgoing reply to all his messages. to be completely honest, stanislav verrentenikov was in no state of mind to make real decisions. and they were important. issues were never approached to him unless his inner circle could not deal with it themselves. no harm in struggling. he smiled mildly, imagining the silent eye rolls he certainly got from kat and sasha when they read his wishes. he trusted his two closest associates. kat was the most loyal. sasha was…well, she was sasha. it was next to impossible to describe his younger sister. if he chose not to get involved, he had complete faith it would get handled cleanly. go about their tactics, force the guilty to mop their mistakes, and bleach the entire scene. as long as the result was the same, he had no qualms with how it was accomplished. there were only a few issues staz himself chose to busy himself with. and while he had many other things to do, he decided this was most important.
leisurely wandering down to the hotel's lobby, the same mild expression on his face, the bratva heir received altered stares. the russian employees definitely knew who he was. they were scared of him, hesitant and worried. while much softer than the rest of his family, there was no testing stanislav verrentenikov. they knew that. his messages had been sent clearly. that was the point, after all. nodding to those so called brave enough to meet his gaze, he pushed his hands into his pockets as he passed through the front of the hotel, into the back rooms. the important spots, where his entire bratva functioned. pushing open the cold metal door with his shoulder, he quickly shuffled down the long flights of stairs to the very bottom of the hotel. here, much of the physical business was dealt with. the bleached issues, careful not to spill blood onto their seemingly clean establishment. blinking slightly in the bright lights of the sparse interrogation room, he leaned against the back wall at the two icy-eyed russians arguing across the table. he didn't much care about what, it was them who he wanted to see. "tvoyu mat', sachem, you look pathetic." he smirked in amusement. he wasn't sure what was more entertaining, a low-level brigade leader swearing at him, or referring to him as 'boss'. or saying he looked, assuming between the lines, he looked like shit. "why thank you, mister skipentroff. most appreciated." he spoke rather pleasantly, raising his eyebrows in a way to end their casualness. "an updated on the stanwood situation would be most appreciated as well, gentlemen." everytime he requested information on more trivial matters, he received odd looks. staz was notorious for not caring what his bratva members did. as long as his schedule was met, they could do whatever the hell they pleased. politely raising his eyebrows again, staz watched the two men in front of him.
"hm? nothing to report? he's an irritating fuck, to be honest. but he's not as difficult as he'd like to believe." the response was bewildered, sounding almost like a question. understandable. breathing a sigh, he merely nodded. the simple reason staz was interested in derek stanwood was because of the others involved. he had not ordered the immediate death because, well, it was complicated. there was no justification required. he was oddly interested. betrayal was not something he would stand for. and yes, the damage done was alarming. but the stanwood individual could prove interesting. ari had definitely been convinced he would be curious. and staz generally listened to ari kostitsyn's analysis of his character. "keep him alive. do whatever else you wish." the iciness leaking back into his voice, making sure business was to be met, he slowly backed out of the room. slamming the door behind him, leaning against the wall next to it, he breathed another sigh as he straightened his hat. vintage pittsburgh, his mother had given it to him when he was fifteen. his casual attire was against much of what he believed in. dark circles under his eyes and the growing need to shave concluded the "you look like shit" glances he'd been receiving for several days now. busying himself with his phone again, scrolling through the schedule, staz arched an eyebrow as he heard the two voices resume conversation. a mixture of russian and broken english, he was impressed they had picked up one of his favourite habits. perhaps they thought it would raise their approval rates. they thought silly. it was nice to see they listened, that's all. "because that lutrova girl is involved, of course…yes, she's been around. still don't know why he cares…the lounge, i think. tonight. looking forward to it…" the answers provided caught his attention. of course they wandered over his unusual interaction with a russian as meaningless as milana lutrova. let them assume what they will. twisting his smile slightly, staz pocketed his phone quickly before disappearing back up to the lobby.
he never should have met milana lutrova. what happened was, essentially, none of his business. his father had dealt with it. even after the death, he never should have cared. his didn't know many of the names in the bratva. the were many more important things to concern himself with. yet again, he never should have taken up russian roulette, either. every six months, he put a gun to his head. for a considerable amount of time now, people have lost their lives challenging him. the reasons were always different, he rarely paid attention. his reasons were constant, however. the same every single time. it had long become a habit. he never thought about the danger or the sheer insanity of it. he just quietly awaited the day he shot himself in the head. regardless, that's the reason he had this unexplainable connection to the meaningless lutrova girl. most of his inner circle referred to her to in similar words. they all accepted their positions, some less important than others. like his other reasoning skills, staz had long stopped attempting to understand it. he simply continued on with it. he held a special interest in the girl. he cared for her, he liked having her around him. he liked what she brought to the table. it would, really, be most unfortunate for something to happen to her. the result in the one who did the damage would be even more unfortunate. it was simply fact. it is what it is.
he still didn't know much about her. it was unspoken, the mystery surrounding all of this…whatever. she had attained a position singing in the inferno's lounge. people were intrigued, looking forward to the performance in the low, smokey room. straightening his hat again, staz easily located his destination. he hadn't even realized he was looking for the lounge. his feet simply carried him there. that's fine. judging by the closed doors and the misty silence, something was already in show. quietly opening the door, his assumptions were proven correct. the lights were dim, the attention thick. there she was, milana lutrova on the spotlighted stage at the head of the room. he backed into the shadows of the room, shrouding himself in almost complete darkness. taking, once again, to leaning against the back wall, he pushed his hands into his pockets and paid close attention to the beautiful russian girl. he said nothing, did nothing, merely watched. a few futurative looks were shot back to him. jeans and a baseball hat, here? when i spent hundreds of dollars on a silk cocktail dress? the nerve. who cares. he certainly held no problems. he simply watched, the same distant expression on his face.
[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- TAGGED, lanislav <3 aka, the tragics.
DATE, the inferno, lounge.
LENGTH, 1546 words.
ATTIRE, jeans, black long sleeve shirt, hat.
NOTES, long overdue. <3
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to the notwist - "consequence"
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Post by milana anya lutrova on Dec 20, 2011 1:16:16 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #000000 solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I TAKE A DRINK 'CAUSE THE TRUTH IS HARD TO SWALLOW The Lyrics: 'toxic valentine' all time low The Outfit: here Tagged lanislav <3 The NotesYAY YAY YAY YAY YAY
--- MILANA LUTROVA COULD FINALLY SEE WHY her father wanted to get them to america. it really was the place of opportunity. moving from russia to america was a big leap, and she felt like she could start over. everyone she knew in russia she worked for, everyone here? it was different. there still were some same faces she saw regularly, but she could feel she was starting to have a life outside of the russian business. however, when she really thought about it. her job "outside" of the bratva was still located in the building of the russian headquarters. baby steps was all she needed. maybe it was life finally cutting her a break, but she got a job at the lounge bar in the inferno and she met her half sister. long-lost half sister, to be exact. here, lana thought that she was the last one. somehow, she was just delivered a sister because her real mother's sister decided to write a letter confessing all her mother's sad history. lana never knew her mother. she took off once it was confirmed that anton was the father. then, she split, never to be heard from again. it wasn't like lana missed not having a mother. she never grew up around a loving female figure, so she guessed it was just since she never had it, she didn't know what she was missing.
the idea of having someone out there that shared the same blood as her both excited and scared her. she was excited because now, lana wasn't alone, but she was also scared because of all the messy baggage that followed her from her father's half. she was almost embarrassed to tell jerico that she was paying off a debt in the form of running drugs, diamonds, and anything else she was told to do. now there was this derek stanwood she was virtually babysitting. she felt bad for the guy. she was supposed to be around him when she hated that this seemingly-innocent guy was being pulled into the business. it was like, even though she was finding her own "thing" outside of the bratva, she was continually being pulled back in some way or another. and she kind of just didn't want to have her new sister know about it. lana had never given much thought about her mother besides thinking she was probably dead by now. there really was no emotional tug in lana's heart for the women. she did feel bad while she read the letter about how her mother was sold away as a prostitute at such a young age. essentially her mother became a prostitute when lana began working for the bratva. thankfully, lana managed to avoid that pathway and just started running drugs.
seven years later she was dressing up in the finest dresses with expensive jewelry and singing on a stage for nightly entertainment to hotel guests. it wasn't as nearly as tacky as it sounded. the lounge was an upscale business that catered to the elite. fancy attire was pretty much required. she'd been at it the past few weeks and her boss, sam, loved her. she had finally discovered why he had what seemed like a never-ending stock of dresses. ended up, his wife used to sing at bars as well. back in the day. it just, so happened, that lana was the same size his wife had been. she never asked him where his wife was now. she was assuming that this woman was dead because lana never saw her around, but lana never wanted to mention it to him. she knew how hard it was to talk about loved ones. sometimes it was just easier not to mention it. obviously sam missed her very much considering he still had every dress she ever wore. before she took the stage, she always chose what she wanted to wear carefully. never having the option before, she felt like a child in the candy store. her dressing room wasn't big by any means, just big enough for her to do her hair, her makeup, and have the stockpile of dresses in the corner. the vanity lit up like it did in the movies and she always made sure she looked near-perfect before she left. she pulled her hair back tonight, pinning it back into a low intricate bun, and chose a red dress. it wasn't long before she was onstage.
lana was usually on for a couple hours, providing live music for people who came for dinner and conversation. there had been a few regulars who just sat at the bar, waiting for her to finish and buy her drinks. technically, she was illegal in america to legally drink, but no one really knew that she was twenty. and it was after all, the inferno. there was so much illegal activity going on behind these walls, underage drinking was the least of their problems. right as she took the stage, she could already make out the same men sitting and waiting. one might find this morning, but lana found it anything but. was it really that bad to just sing, drink, mingle, and retire for the night? it beat smuggling drugs and delivering it to people. it was supposed to be one of those kind of nights. the kind where it was just supposed to be relaxing and fun. however, tonight it wasn't in the cards for her.
she was about halfway through the set when she noticed him. she was surprised she could with the lights of the stage, but as she sang, she keyed in on someone in the very back of the room. if she wasn't preoccupied singing, she'd probably laughed. he probably thought he was tricking her. stanislav verrentenikov was hiding in the corner of the lounge, really? she secretly knew he was the reason why she couldn't leave yet. he was the one that killed her father, and yet he always kept her around. years ago, she had hated him because she blamed everything on him. somewhere down the line, she just chose to be indifferent towards him, the more she understood the business. he was the reason she was here in america, and he was also the reason she was babysitting derek. he was just an easy person to blame and she didn't know why she felt somewhat taken care for, and safe, around him. however, he was finally showing his face because she hadn't seen it since russia. but even if she really couldn't see him underneath the baseball cap he seemed to be wearing, lana could tell by just the way he was standing. he must have heard about this gig from somebody. she knew of some russians that worked here at the bar. news traveled fast.
another few songs passed and she noticed he didn't leave. typical. well, she was going to have to go talk to him. he probably needed something because why would he come here just to hear her sing? lana bowed, acknowledged the piano man and got down from the stage, when she focused her attention to the corner, he wasn't there. she looked around the crowd and towards the door, maybe he left? one of the regulars touched her hand and guided her towards the bar, but lana really wasn't paying that much attention, because all of it was focused on staz and where he went. a drink was in her hand in seconds and she heard compliments and praise for tonight, but she just wasn't feeling it. "i'm sorry, i don't feel so good tonight..." she started and started excusing herself from the bar and headed back towards her dressing room. there was an offbeat chance that maybe he left a message on her cellphone. maybe saying she had a job to do. when she reached her dressing room, she opened it up and jumped. it was staz. in her dressing room. "you scared me," she started moving past him. "though i shouldn't be surprised you found your way back here." lana moved towards the vanity, pulling the earrings out of her ears. "so why were you lurking tonight? because i saw you back there in the corner."
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Post by stanislav yuri verrentenikov on Dec 29, 2011 3:41:50 GMT -6
,HE WAS COMPLICATED. stanislav verrentenikov was complicated. there was no other way he could describe it. every situation, every circumstance, was never simple. nothing was ever easy. and, more often than not, it was because of him. he knew that. little could be done, but he was completely aware. business was rarely elementary; relationships were abstract, shrouded in a darkness few approached. his life was not an average one - quite the opposite, really. by that logic, things should have been grey. difficult. intense and aggravated. yet, at the same time, a bewildering amount of russian bratva members lead simple lives. their business was black and white, never with humps and bumps. they either chose not to have relationships, or kept theirs painless and straightforward. why was it so titanic for him? nothing should have been unmanageable for stanislav verrentenikov. he was, after all, the ruthless bratva heir. or, he should have been. aleksander verrentenikov approached life with a deep, but clear motion. why the hell did he have to complicate everything?
he knew as well as anyone he was a complex personality. a good person is. everyone is. he had his flaws, his quirks. but everyone does. even sasha, black and white as they come, was complicated. and yet…he didn't even know. everytime a situation grew uncomfortable, he stared in the mirror and tried to convince himself it wasn't him. in no kind reality should he have constantly been the problem. perhaps he brought an unneeded controversy to the dinner table. instead of mashed potatoes or a nice salad, he decided to start an argument and make the entire meal miserable. he could rarely care less what his bratva members did. but staz valued even the minute details in his own life. he often obsessed over every issue, in every affair. he was complicated, like anyone else. yet he had a difficult time separating his deepest cracks. who was this person staring back at him? it certainly didn't feel like the steel-eyed man who ordered two people to massacre their own families. even then, staz had managed to complicate the situation. he allowed sventlana novikova to live. he let ari kostitsyn burn his family to death, instead of shooting them like he'd originally ordered. see? complicated. it couldn't be because of his quirks. it had to be something else.
but what the fuck was it?
it was unusual for stanislav verrentenikov to question himself like this. it had to be the air in here, the inferno hotel and casino lounge. it was dark and smokey, rich with the scent of aged scotch and mysterious smiles. sasha would call him out, something ridiculous she found insulting, if she discovered he was wasting his time - her words, not his - watching a low-level messenger sing her way along to a suitable career. lurking there quietly, in the very back of the room, he lost his focus. lana's voice echoed in the back of his mind, as these doubts danced. he had no real issues with making many situations messier than needed. no one ever questioned him. many, he assumed, took this as a more serious matter, because he stressed over the details. they had no room for argument. even the simplest of business, he had to complicate. but they didn't bother, because they knew no different. like he had no problems with his cold decisions, or the odd soft moment, staz was merely ruffled by this. it bothered him. it interfered with his clear vision. given a few moments free time, his mind always bounced back to this subject. was he too empathetic? did he offer people too many chances? too much time to explain themselves? while sasha was his ideal foil, the shallow part of him couldn't help but think he could do this solo had he been as humane as a blizzard, like his father. he just didn't know.
staz titled his head to the side as lana's stage closed. she was a prime example of a complicated situation. perhaps the most of all. she was the one "thing" his bratva members verbally questioned. he offered no answers, but he never demanded they desist. it was his mother's character, leaking through his veins, that humbly encouraged it. i guess a part of him thought it humanized him. his father and sasha, they were more robotic than not. he had no qualms with it, just as they didn't. it was mere fact. staz had inherited more of his mother's warmth. that was what complicated things. it had to be. no, he had no issues with himself. he quite liked the person he was, thanks for asking. it was merely growing into an irritating issue. for an individual so obsessed over streamlined minimalism, staz had the uncanny ability to disorder. like everything else, it was mere fact. it was almost more exasperating that he was questioning this at all; not the issue itself. what the hell, brain. this place did things to him. that had to be it.
as the lights darkened, he uncrossed his arms, shook his head and scolded himself. he had better things to do than doubt himself. there was no change on the horizon. he had no intentions of altering the way he did things. because he managed it. frustrating or not, this was the way it was going to be done. the reasoning behind it was simply a mystery, that's all. he never questioned his complicated mess with lana lutrova, so why should he bother with this? it was disgusting, really. he could hear valentine's sardonic laugh echoing in his ears. she wouldn't have such difficulty. she could separate herself much more easily than he could. she would have ordered svetlana dead. she would have punished ari until his entire "family" was out of the picture. she was the reasoning behind all of it. the ghost of his dead little sister was slowly making him crazy. he scolded that, too. there were more important things. blindly, staz disappeared from the back of the lounge. adjusting his hat, he was psychologically absent as his feet carried him down the corners of the room toward the back of the stage - off limits to everyone but him and the people he allowed to be permitted. of course they would gossip about this, his fellow russians. and of course this would probably complicate some affair upcoming, but he didn't really care. his history with lana was the one thing in his life where he didn't calculate.
he had been casually leaning against the wall of her dressing room when she finally arrived. staz was quiet while she stood there for a moment. he'd heard her turn down the invitation to mingle, to drink and laugh with people she had things in common with. see? he complicated her life. he knew before she knew he knew that she had noticed him. things were put on hold for one another. he didn't bother to question that. a light smile crossed his face as she spoke. always the bluntness, with her. he privately liked that about her. few others were so direct with him. she had no fear, it was refreshing, to be completely honest. twisting his smile into a bemused smirk, he crossed his arms again and looked down at the buffed and polished floors. "i can never lurk around you, can i?" crossing one foot over the other ankle, he leaned more heavily against the wall. an odd awkwardness hung in the air around them. it was organic, natural, but he always noticed it. everytime they spoke, staz found himself struggling to find the right words. uh, why? "i wanted to see how you were adjusting here, in valkyrie. i know he always wanted you to have a life in america." his words were slow, unaccustomed to speaking about lana's father. reaching up to straighten his worn hat again, staz looked at her in the mirror as she removed her jewellery. "you thought i would be here." raising his eyebrows, his voice continuing an odd softness, his eyes quickly shifted to the door of her dressing room. "you deserve a celebratory drink, no question. no objections, either." he smiled, a weak attempt to sound as focused and blunt as she did. it was him, acting weird, not her. he complicated an already complicated situation, and he didn't know why. did she feel it? did everyone else? or was he as one-minded as the nasty voice at the back of his brain always told him?
[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- TAGGED, lanislav <3 aka, the tragics.
DATE, the inferno, lounge.
LENGTH, 1426 words.
ATTIRE, jeans, black long sleeve shirt, hat.
NOTES, still getting into his head. xD sorry it's a little messy.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to the notwist - "consequence"
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Post by milana anya lutrova on Jan 1, 2012 14:26:04 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #000000 solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]I TAKE A DRINK 'CAUSE THE TRUTH IS HARD TO SWALLOW The Lyrics: 'toxic valentine' all time low The Outfit: here Tagged lanislav <3 The Notesi love them
--- EVERY TIME THEY WERE TOGETHER, there was a.... how could she explain it? it was just something. something she couldn't explain and maybe she didn't want to explain it in fear of what she might figure out. but she knew probably deep down that he was going to be back in her dressing room. they had a complicated history that she was explaining to no one. he killed her father, she hated him. then, over the next few years, he was just always there, keeping her around, being nice. she used to hate that even more, but she quickly discovered he was the only one in this fucked-up business that seemed to care. she used to hate that too. but in some way, she was just a little less alone when she was around him. lana didn't know how she felt about that.she didn't know how he felt about that either.
lana unhooked the clasp to her necklace and started putting it into the box. she looked at him in the mirror when he said that he could never lurk around her. she smiled slightly. "no, you can't." she said. it was the truth. she just seemed always to know when he was around. it had been months since she saw him last. this was her first time seeing him since she made the leap to the united states. and really? if it wasn't for him, she'd probably still be in russia. there really was no reason for her to come to america. she held no weight, did nothing besides deliver stuff. she could still be doing that in russia, hell she knew of people still doing that in russia. what made her so lucky? well, it was because of staz. "i wanted to see how you were adjusting here, in valkyrie. i know he always wanted you to have a life in america." she looked down and started fidgeting with her ring. it was still kind of weird when he mentioned her father. yeah, he should know how much anton wanted to get them to america. he literally died trying. "yeah... he did," she said and looked at herself in the mirror before looking at him again. "i think i'm doing ok." she thought. she had a feeling this still wasn't what her father wanted. yeah she was in america and got a job that was hers, but she still worked for them. she still delivered when she was told to, and she still risked her life for people she really didn't care about. she just hoped that her dad was happy for her, or proud of her. if he was up there watching, what would he say about her constant interactions with staz?
she shrugged, turning around to face him as he said she thought he'd be here. she leaned against the counter, her hand gripping the edge. she shrugged. she was hoping. "i thought, yeah," she decided to say. "sometimes, you're predictable." she smirked a little bit and he started edging towards the door, telling her she deserved a drink. she started to shake her head, she didn't want anything, but he seemed determined. "ok, fine." she might have lied to the people out on the bar that she didn't feel well, but now, she wasn't feeling her greatest. when staz left the room she turned back to the mirror and shook her head. she always felt so guilty around him. like she was betraying her father's name. she breathed in deep and pulled herself back together. she started unpinning her hair, bobby pin after bobby pin she pulled it out of her hair, making a small pile on the counter. she shook her dark brown hair out, letting it breathe after being tightly pinned to her head. why was he so nice to her? she struggled with what she felt towards him when he acted like he was now. the lurking was confusing. didn't he have more important things to do? like the business he was running? she had so many question. why did he linger, why was he around, why did he bother with her? because if she was in is position, she wouldn't give a girl like her a second thought. she was just a girl that worked because she had to and she had nothing else.
lana was only half-surprised that she hadn't be killed yet. whether it would be by someone in house or during one of her deliveries. this type of life was just hard. you saw things no one should see, you did things no one should do, and at the end of the day, you know you were just lucky to make it through the day. she felt like that a lot in russia. there were weeks when she honestly wanted to give up. mostly, when she first started working for them. she was still mourning her father and everything was reminding her of him. she had been an emotional wreck. she knew know she must hhave been annoying to quite a few people but finally, she seemed to find her footing. she used to fear for her life, but she really couldn't imagine what it was like for staz who played russian roulette for what seemed like fun. she knew it probably wasn't but he went in every time. lana didn't understand why he would do that. he wasn't gaining anything. her father did it for their freedom. what was staz doing it for? there was a slight knock on her door before staz came back in with a bottle and two glasses. still wearing her dress, she met him half way and took her glass when he offered her it. he started pouring the liquid into the glasses. "can you be honest with me?" she asked him. maybe it was because they were in america and everything seemed to just follow her here, or maybe it was because she just wanted to speak what was on her mind and stop hiding what she always wanted to ask him. "why do you keep me around, staz?" blunt. like she was with him.
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Post by stanislav yuri verrentenikov on Jan 23, 2012 2:24:25 GMT -6
,STANISLAV VERRENTENIKOV'S HISTORY was much more complicated than he was willing to admit. while the rumour mill in his family's bratva was often more active than the members themselves, it rarely spun around his past. that was one thing no one questioned. why? because nobody knew. what damaged the verrentenikov family beyond any repair was a mystery, dark secrets shrouded with velvet. perhaps people chose to believe they were strong and united, proud of their icy ruling. that was acceptable. staz himself often found himself fooling the truth, forcing himself to believe none of it had ever happened. things were cleaner that way. had these issues been brought to light, things would be very ugly indeed. aleksander verrentenikov considered it a mere scratch on his surface. sasha refused to acknowledge it. his mother, liza…well, he didn't know. part of stanislav thought liza verrentenikov continued to think she had three children, willing to outlive her and her apparent soulmate. it appeared staz himself was the only verrentenikov haunted by the events of the past five years.
now, there were things he accepted completely. he did no question many of his choices. take the ordered massacres of the novikov brigade. blood and loyalty were the most important things here. blood before all, loyalty even more so. staz knew kat novikova's dedication to this bratva was remarkable. almost a myth. he himself found the odd interruption in his loyalty to the bratva itself, not the people. she deserved a second chance when the muddy waters of the brigade in question rose to the surface. there was no question in the ending of the family. he bleached every issue that came to light, despite the seriousness. the verrentenikov holds blood and loyalty above all, but it had to remain unstained. members of his inner circle at the time had frowned at the odd sign of empathy. ekaterina, part of the secondary family? why would they even bother to remember her name? he understood the skepticism. staz often questioned his slow approach to eye-catching individuals. it was a characteristic from liza that did not echo in any other member of her family. he owed it to his dying mother to honour her warmest trait. regardless, he offered her the ultimatum. she could die with her family, prove the blood loyalty. or she could kill them herself; display her loyalty to the bratva itself. honestly? either would have been curious. the decision to scrub his bratva of a cemented stain was not haunting. a message needed to be forced upon the other brigades. they had no choice in their connections to this crime organization. anything else and they would meet a very similar fate. this…it did not keep him up at night. it was the personal issues.
not a soul but himself, sasha and aleksander knew of the demise of valentina verrentenikov. myths of the soft-eyed princess flew from time to time. what happened to sasha's twin? she would have been appreciative. perhaps it would display a vulnerability the rest of the world wasn't aware of. dysfunction and pain were not something following this family around. they were clear-minded, business oriented. poor children had no childhood. but they played their respective roles with five star performances. of course there's no difficulties there. all that could order was a sardonic laugh. killing a family member was the last step in proving your loyalty. regardless of who. did the family's he ordered massacred feel the same? quite possibly. but he didn't care about them. the only people stanislav verrentenikov concerned himself with were himself, his mother and his sister. allow the other seven billion people to assume his selfish coldness. he accepted it. it was simpler that way, not offering concrete evidence of his humanity. that spinning rumour mill practiced flying whispers of what allowed staz's understanding and empathy. the truth? it was all personal. liza verrentenikov and sasha verrentenikov: who else did he need? surely not the smirking ghost in the corner.
oh yeah.
milana lutrova.
lana was another part of his past staz never shared. people knew the facts. her father died because he was unlucky. staz lived because he always won roulette. always. they did not know why she, the lowly messenger so eager to step onto north american soil, was, for lack of a better description, an active member of his inner circle. they did not know why staz agreed to play russian roulette in the first place. why he placed, twice yearly, was one of the strangest mysteries of all. he knew. he assumed she knew. it was an unspoken bond neither of them had verbally approached. that was the way it was. staz had no one to discuss valentina with. he surely didn't want to lose the one person he held above all others. it was simply the way it worked. their history was long and messy. the obviousness hovered in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. it was so painfully dark, he often scolded himself for thinking about it. it simply…was. unlike his dead sister, abrasively staring at him from the corner, lana lutrova and their history did not ask to be questioned.
so he didn't. he simply watched her quietly and she pulled her performing mask off and hung it on a stand of crystal, awaiting its next chance. staz pushed his hands into his pockets as lana paused. their history was never spoken. he felt foolish, even attempting to voice his concerns over her dead father's opinions. he knew of lana's eagerness to live in america. he owed it to her, at the very least, to allow her chance here, no? "i think i'm doing ok." a light smile crossed his face. given the circumstance, she was doing the best she could. there were certain lines staz couldn't cross, granting her complete "freedom" from the bratva, say. "you do better than most of us." he found the adjustment to north american lifestyles difficult. like sasha, staz preferred the solidness of moscow. he almost wanted to tell her she could do whatever she wanted. had lana requested to move back to russia, he would allow her without a second thought. but that was something he wouldn't tell, even her. shifting his position slightly, staz stared at her openly as she turned to watch him as well. had he become that predictable? well, safety in routine. he merely allowed a small chuckle. her bluntness with her was refreshing, definitely expected. name another individual who would risk such open words with the "great" stanislav verrentenikov. "only sometimes? i'll make a note to work on that." he was straightening up as he spoke. she did deserve a drink. he deserved to be the one to offer it.
giving her the same light smile he usually wore around her, staz backed out of her dressing room slowly. keeping his hands in his pockets, he approached the bar casually. the people were either trapped in an awkward silence, or were staring at him because, well…because that's what people around here did. "what did dear sasha last sample? bottle and two glasses, semyon. spasibo." he encouraged an adaptation to american lifestyle. but, really…he liked russian better. smiling politely at the nodding bartender, he slowly turned and sauntered back to the dressing room. he would no doubt hear a mouthful from sasha once she'd discovered he'd claimed her new favourite wine. he never understood his sister's fascination with fine wines and music. but then, he found both to be rather dull. he pulled the cork off the half-filled bottle as he entered the room, easily pouring the dark liquid into the crystal glasses. "can you be honest with me?"
he furrowed his eyebrows at lana's words. as she took the glass from him, he placed the bottle on the closest surface, and studied her. he tilted his head to the side, swirling the deep red wine around the base of his glass. "have i ever not been honest with you?" it was an honest question. when lana voiced her concern, he was quiet for some time. he chewed on his tongue, staring at nothing in particular. truthfully, he had never really thought about it. it had seemed natural at the time, over the years, to keep an eye on the girl's life who he had, really, destroyed. it was something liza would have done. since, he had never questioned their connection. it simply…was. but then, when the lutrova girl wanted certain information, she rarely held her tongue. it was one of his favourite qualities about her. no one else bothered the bravery to challenge him. placing his glass onto the table beside him, staz removed his hat and threw it beside it. running his hands through his messy hair, staz finally looked right at lana, an odd aloofness echoing in his voice. "because it feels right." he was slow with his words, approaching his reason for the first time. he couldn't lie to her. any pretend reason would be pathetic. "what happened…there was no way i could drop you back into oblivion. and it would feel odd to stop. you became second-nature after awhile, lana. i can't really imagine my life without you in it. i definitely wouldn't want to." he furrowed his eyebrows again, unsure of his answer. "you remind me that i can be human too." he paused again to look at her, the same odd distance in his eyes. "why do you bother sticking around?"
[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- TAGGED, lanislav <3 aka, the tragics.
DATE, the inferno, lounge.
LENGTH, 1567 words.
ATTIRE, jeans, black long sleeve shirt, hat.
NOTES, late post is late.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to the notwist - "consequence"
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Post by milana anya lutrova on Jan 29, 2012 22:40:04 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #000000 solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]I TAKE A DRINK 'CAUSE THE TRUTH IS HARD TO SWALLOW The Lyrics: 'toxic valentine' all time low The Outfit: here Tagged lanislav <3 The Notesi love them
--- WHY? was a running question she had on her mind her entire life. why was she alone? why did her father have to die? why did she continue to work for people she more or less, hated? why why why? she tried to come up with her own answers to all of these questions and she always came up blank and more confused than when she started. she hated that she felt so lost in the world. she was here in america to escape the past and the nightmares and everything that followed her in russia. she was an unlucky one. there had to be unlucky ones to balance out all the lucky ones in the world, right? or, at least that was what she thought. america was supposed to change everything and she still felt like the same lana in just a different location. she was stupid and naive to think she would ever be anything different than what she was right now. she could get this job singing, she could wear nice dresses, and men could buy her drinks and pretend like they knew her. in the end, however, she was still a lap dog to the russians. it was a classic 'you can take the girl out of russia, but not the russia out of the girl' scenario.
the week before he died was scary and stressful. anton had been getting everything in line for their departure to the united states. new york city, he had told her. anton never shared too much information with lana for reasons that her father's "friends" would use anyone to get information out of if they thought they were being crossed. if a thirteen year old girl was thought to of had information, they'd look pass the age to get what they wanted. but she later learned through rumors and people telling her that anton was closing a deal with the police. her dad was ready to turn people in for his own freedom. traitors were the worse kind of member to the bratva. sadly for the last of the lutrovas, they couldn't get out in time. they were caught. and everything went downhill from there. she remembered the day her father died quite clearly. she had re-lived the memory so many times in her thoughts and her dreams if she closed her eyes tightly, she could place herself back at that moment, like she was there again. naturally, russian roulette games brought in crowds. not public crowds of course, but rather bratva members. it was a spectacle, and that was what upset lana so much. she was in the crowd, next to members she had never seen before in her life. a woman had stood next to her, hands sympathetically on lana's shoulders. it was like the woman had already known how this was going to end, but lana held onto hope. she was probably the only one that was hoping her father was going to survive this. she didn't even care that his opponent was one that had never lost a game. lana could see her father was nervous. she never saw him like that. every time the trigger was about to be pulled, anton would glance at his daughter. he made it pass two rounds. he didn't look at her that time, and lana felt like he knew he was about to lose. when she heard the gunshot, she broke through, jerking herself away from the woman's grasp to her father. already, she had been crying and she collapsed on his body. there were no words to describe how she felt. all she could do was cry. she felt like she cried for hours there, but in reality she was pulled away after a few moments. and just like that, he was gone and she was left alone. her father was the unlucky one. there it went with the unluckiness again.
she knew staz didn't kill her father, but she had hated him for it anyway. he constantly played the dangerous game and why hadn't his luck run out on him yet? lana never understood, and even if her and staz were on better term, she probably never would. she was unsure of when the flip happened. she had always tried to avoid him and tried not to have any conversations with him. but, he always seemed to be there at the most random times, and then they were talking to each other, and at first, lana hated herself for it, because she still just... hated that he was still breathing and she felt like she was betraying her father's memory for associating herself with him. they were... it was just a complicated relationship lana was unsure on how to name it. there just seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them. and right now, she was ok with that.
there were people in the bratva that didn't understand it, and at first, she was almost embarrassed that people were talking about her. lana just wished that she was more under the radar. she didn't want to attract attention to herself. or have people talking about her. she just wanted to repay her debt. but she was unsure how much of it now was her repaying and more of her just hanging around. eventually, she just was around staz more and she hadn't known how to take it. then he eventually just sent her here and here they were. sharing wine in her dressing room. it had been a few months since she last saw him, but it was always the same. except this time, she asked him a question she had been wondering for awhile now. she didn't know what she was looking for in his answer. maybe she wanted to know if he felt guilty, or something. she was unsure. maybe asking would help the wording of their relationship come to light. maybe it wouldn't. he seemed caught off-guard with her question. but it was a question that was always there and had never been answered. he ran a hand through his hair and told her, "because it feels right." she cocked her head to the side as she stared at him. was it the answer she was looking for? she didn't even know how to respond to it. staz continued, and told her that he couldn't just shove her off on her own after her dad died. so, yeah, a little guilt had been built up in there. she was second nature to him, and she had become essentially the favorite t-shirt you couldn't bring yourself to throw away. no matter how torn and faded it had become. "you remind me that i can be human too." she looked down and looked back up at him with a slight smile. she knew his reputation in the bratva, and she had seen it before. before she could respond, (even though she had no idea how to respond to it,) he said, "why do you bother sticking around?"
she couldn't help but chuckle lightly under her breath. that question she had been trying to work her way through for the past couple years. "not fair," she said and looked at him. she shrugged though and shook her head. "honestly? this is all i know and as much as i hated doing it, seeing myself not doing it kind of scares me." she shook her head, not liking her answer. she took a sip of her wine to calm her nerves. "i don't know, staz. maybe i need this. maybe i need you as much as you say you need me. it's just become... routine. america or russia, it's all the same. you're still here either way." she took another drink and grabbed the bottle off the table and poured more in her drink, even though she hadn't finished her first glass. "does that answer your question?" she asked, not in a bitchy way, just an honest tone, hoping that it would. she didn't know how much more deep and honest she could get right now. "anyway... what's with your decision in assigning me to derek stanwood?" she asked, hoping to change the topic. "for seven years i worked alone."
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Post by stanislav yuri verrentenikov on Feb 17, 2012 14:48:28 GMT -6
,NO ONE COULD understand it. not really. and, really, stanislav verrentenikov did not expect anyone to. he could hardly explain it himself. apart from the fact that no one should be questioning the bratva heir in the first place, he knew there would be no cohesive speech illustrating how his mind worked. it frustrated him sometimes. when it was quiet, when he was standing alone in the dark without sasha smirking, lana staring or valentina sneering, he would wonder. playing russian roulette had become routine to him. the second of january and july - that was a date circled in red, branded permanently on his mental calendar. but it was a mystery as to why. people question it. when the weeks leading up to those dates approached, he heard the whispers. the verrentenikov bratva was a notorious mill of rumours and gossip. pathetic, really, considering what these people did on a daily basis. his name was a common one as the secrets rolled. no one ever brought it up, not to him. why would they? the only people not terrified of the soft spoken, oddly traditional bratva heir were his inner circle. and not even they would question him. but it was a single word that spun, hushed with a secret gossip, round and round. why? why? why?
maybe if he knew the answer, he would tell people.
twice yearly, stanislav verrentenikov put his line on the line. twice yearly, he would point a loaded pistol to his temple, stare into the eyes of the equally foolish opponent and stop breathing. he never blinked, never preyed. he never saw his life flash before his eyes. he heard voices, sometimes. his mother turning down sad eyes, disappointment lacing the words that begged him to cease this insanity. he would hear valentine's dark chuckle, eager to see her older brother meet an untimely demise. sasha just rolled her eyes. it was the same every time. and every time so far, his opponent had spun the dial to the bullet. he would watch their lips emit a surprised gasp, the light leak from their eyes. and then their body would go limp, an empty corpse no more useful than a doll. these were the only times his conscious, regarding death, flared. stanislav was lucky. he offered himself to the devil, but he never accepted the russian. he felt the pain of the people in the lives of his failed opponents. no one should commit suicide in such a ludicrous manner. he leered at those who attempted to take their own lives in other ways. privately, he could respect them. what people do with their lives is up to them. but if they had business looming over them, taking the easy way out was cowardly. russian roulette…it always had meaning behind it. no one would challenge the verrentenikov heir unless they had a game to play. even when they took their own lives, they had a faint hope they could succeed and bleached their slate clean. so why did he do it?
looking at milana lutrova made him question things. had he not accepted the challenge for anton lutrova's life. his slate was an ugly one, stained with blood and cowardice words. there were simple rules to playing roulette with staz. if you win, you win. he would be able to move on and disappear from bratva business forever. those were the wages. it was just too bad staz had little doubt he would fail. because, really, the person who happened to finally win against him would meet angry eyes. sasha had a deeper understanding with her brother than almost anyone. he doubted she would let the act go unnoticed. it sad, really, almost like cheating. oh well. he cheated death twice a year. regardless, if he had turned not the request, he would never have had lana so close in his life. he would probably have never given her a second thought, just another pair of blue eyes lost in a sea of workers. she made him wonder why he played. she made him wonder why he looked at her after her father had fallen to the ground, a broken, empty corpse, and felt her heart turn black. anton had wanted their slate cleared, so he could, staz assumed, a happy life with his daughter away from this insanity. at the same time, he wanted to clean up a mess that he had gotten himself into in the first place. he didn't know. just the thought of seeing these young girl with bright eyes repaying the debt that he knew would never be honoured flared his conscious again. that had never happened before. playing this ridiculous game was one of the most selfish things staz did. he knew life would be chaotic if he ever died. who would take over the bratva? sasha? he loved his sister, but she would have trouble with it. you had to care to a certain extent. at least anton had a reason, right? a foolish one, but a reason all the same. staz, really, didn't. not one that he could understand. i guess he didn't understand a lot of things.
he didn't understand why he played. he didn't understand why he never lost. he didn't understand why lana had been the only one to make him truly regret the game. he didn't understand why she had let her hate simmer. he didn't understand why they connected. he didn't understand why she bothered with him. he didn't even understand why he would care if she didn't. no one ever question staz, except lana. she had the odd power to be blunt with him, and he wouldn't snap at her to shut up trap and mind her business. but, looking at her in the dimly lit dressing room, he understood one thing: she didn't understand a lot of things, too.
he'd long grown accustomed to the silly rumour mill polluting his bratva. it was hole in the maturity of the members. but it never interrupted business, so who was he to put a stop to it? the absurd hobby was their own. lana, on the other hand, staz assumed had not. people not belonging to the inner circles were rarely brought up. it couldn't feel good. but, then again, he could deem her entire situation something that didn't feel good. she was alone, repaying a debt that he knew would never be repaid. it was only when her words were finally spoken did he begin to consider the rest of her. she stared at him as he answered her question honestly. in the silence, he pushed his hands back into her pockets and stared back. he searched her face, recognizing the same lost darkness he often felt. the question had been a difficult one. she seemed to have the same trouble finding the right words. it was odd, standing here discussing what had gone unspoken for so long. "honestly? this is all i know and as much as i hated doing it, seeing myself not doing it kind of scares me." it was his turn to chuckle. it was an answer he hadn't really considered. but, really, he hadn't considered her reasoning because he knew he would never be right. she was as complicated and damaged as he was. it was next to impossible to comprehend his own insanity, much less someone else's. "only maybe?" he smiled light as he spoke. arching an eyebrow good-naturedly, he looked at her again. "i think you do. because i need you in the same way. you would have disappeared long ago. i don't know." he ended his statement with a lame shrug, not quite sure what he was trying to say. like how he didn't know how to answer her question correctly. or like how he didn't know why he insisted on wearing the same damn hat everyday. silly, isn't it? "and you're still here either way. i guess it just works." he smiled at her answer, the first bit of emotion filling his eyes in a long time.
there were a million other things he could have said. long speeches trying to rationalize their entire situation. but none of it would have made any sense, not really. their exchanged words would be as close to a black and white description as it ever would, he supposed. he watched her filling her glass again, glanced at his own and merely shrugged again. sasha had fine tastes in wine, but the deep liquid could only fill his veins so often. his sister…she was an entirely other mystery he would never even approach understanding. "what's with your decision in assigning me to derek standwood?" he had to chuckle lightly. no one ever questioned his reasoning behind their assignments. it was her brutal honesty that had to make him shake his head and laugh. another factor in their complicated relationship. "you wouldn't buy the reason that i knew you were getting bored, will you?" well, it was worth a try. pulling his hand from his pocket to rub his five o'clock shadow - he needed to shave, badly. sasha rarely failed to remind him - thoughtfully. it had seemed like an obvious decision. "i trust you more than i trust most people, lana." the stanwood boy was another one he paused in handling. yes he had destroyed a good part of staz's business. but…he didn't know. he was tired of aimlessly shooting people. they had to learn how to be more careful. "it's a cautious situation and i want to handle it as such. you're not going to shoot him and be done with it. anyone else would." he smiled humourlessly at his words. it was true, unfortunately. the people he trusted most had little regard for the less-members in the bratva. staz knew they could be replaced, but the more careful they were, the better. no deaths unless they loved meatballs or whiskey. or were named luca giovanni. but that was an assignment he could never involve lana in. that was one thing he understood.
[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- TAGGED, lanislav <3 aka, the tragics.
DATE, the inferno, lounge.
LENGTH, 1684 words.
ATTIRE, jeans, black long sleeve shirt, hat.
NOTES, <3
i rant too much, apologies.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to the notwist - "consequence"
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Post by milana anya lutrova on Feb 28, 2012 1:00:51 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #000000 solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]I TAKE A DRINK 'CAUSE THE TRUTH IS HARD TO SWALLOW The Lyrics: 'toxic valentine' all time low The Outfit: here Tagged lanislav <3 The Notesi love them
--- FOR the past seven years lana stayed away from attending the russian roulette extravaganza that came twice a year. when she was younger, she never wanted to go there again because her emotions towards her father's death were still raw. she could barely close her eyes without seeing him falling dead to the ground, let alone go to the place where his life ended early. the other reason she didn't care to go because she still had very much hated staz and did even want to see him. but game after game, she'd catch wind from other members that staz survived once again and she'd bitterly curse him under her breath and continue doing what she had been doing. however, the past couples years had been different. now that lana unintentionally found herself in his inner circle, she still refused to attend them. at least now for some strange reason she felt that spark in her stomach that signaled in fact, she cared. but she ignored it and stayed away. however, when she'd find out that he survived she'd just nod and maybe she would breathe a sigh of relief. and then she'd just continue on her day like she always did. she didn't like that she cared, though she knew if staz ever did die playing his stupid game she would truly be alone. in the end, staz she considered a friend. maybe not the type she hung out with every day or those friendships she'd seen in the american television shows in her hotel room, but he was the only one in the bratva she trusted. and in this dirty business, that meant something.
lana had a lot of acquaintances. though she truly was a damaged and lonely girl, that didn't mean she didn't talk to anyone. most, not all, of the girls her age in the bratva were whores. during a lot of lana's runs she'd have to crash in one of the houses owned by the russians a night. she hated staying there. more than half of the girls she would see were doped up on drugs and the other half were with it enough to have a conversation with her. a couple would say she was missing out on the presents, the pleasure, and the free drugs. others would tell her how lucky she was that she was assigned to such a "cleaner" job. there was always one that asked how she avoided the prostitution because she looked like she could do some damage. the first couple of times, lana had made the mistake in saying staz had assigned her to what she did. the looks she got... and then "oh yeah, you must me the lutrova girl." was it bad that lana didn't want a reputation in this business? she just wanted to keep her head down. the girls there could talk her ear off, though. and sometimes, she was curious how they felt about their lives. she really couldn't imagine living her life to only have sex with the men that she was ordered to. it was nights like those that she decided she hated staz again. because clearly he cared enough to not want her to have that kind of life. she didn't want someone looking out for her. she looked out for herself.
she could feel the air shifting as they decided to delve into a conversation they may or may not have been ready to have. lana didn't know if they should need each other. it sounded like it would shape up into a headache in the future. and, it sounded like something that would surely complicate things. they already were complicated. how could it get more confusing? they just admitted to needing the other. lana reminded him he was human? how could she be that person for him? he had friends and his sister that probably knew him better than she did. though, they were confessing things right now that they probably would not have otherwise. not like lana could tell anyone else. he had options, she didn't. maybe she needed him just a little more. but he still said he needed her and that she would have disappeared a long time ago. well, that was true. she probably would have. not probably, actually, she would be nothing. she wouldn't be in america, she would have a job outside of the business, and she wouldn't feel like she was at least on the path of happiness. that should count for something.
"and you're still here either way. i guess it just works." lana looked in his eyes, seeing that what he meant was genuine. she smiled herself. she wanted to say, 'one of these days, it'll stop working.' but she didn't want to ruin the moment. she just smiled and said, "yeah. just works." she sipped her drink she as they transitioned into another conversation although their other one was probably far from finished. though staz must have found her question humorous. yeah, she knew that she was never afraid to ask him questions, especially when it came to her. maybe she should be a little passive, since everyone else seemed to be around him. lana internally shook her head. no. she'd still be the same person she was before. "you wouldn't buy the reason that i knew you were getting bored, will you?" lana shook her head. "i'm comfortable," she stated. she worked alone. she knew how to keep herself hidden, she knew what to say and what not to say. she didn't have time to teach a civilian what took her seven years to master. besides, derek wasn't like the other people that worked for staz, derek was just different. "i trust you more than i trust most people, lana." she immediately looked down at the floor. why? why did he trust her? was it because she was a tragic twenty year old that had no desire to move in the ranks? was it because she was a woman? there was no reason for him to trust her. he was the reason her father was dead and he trusted her? "it's a cautious situation and i want to handle it as such. you're not going to shoot him and be done with it. anyone else would." lana scoffed and put down her glass on the counter. at least that part was true. derek would get on anyone nerves. "this is true," she told him and hugged herself across her chest. "he's so... self-righteous and noble and... i don't know....good." she shook her head, getting the images of her having to babysit him in that hotel out of her head. she finally looked back at staz. "he's one of the good ones, staz. those are the ones you have to watch the most." she shook her finger at him as she walked passed him and behind the rack of dresses she chose from every night. "don't look," she said though she was well-hidden behind the rack.
she unzipped the dress, really thinking about the pass ten minutes. "you know everything just changed tonight." she chimed over the rack. she was speaking the truth, however. thoughts were different than speaking. and they had admitted that they needed each other. she quickly hung the dress back up on the hanger and shimmied into her shorts and threw a loose tank top over her head. she was pulling the tank down when she re-emerged. "between you and me, i mean," she said looking at him. she walked passed him again, grabbing her bag off the counter that had her room key. "walk me to my room?"
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