[ if the blush isn't noticed now, it will be noticed later; sasha is forever in a state of pinkness, varying in degrees between mildly pink and full on beetroot. his face is quick to flood with colour at the slightest shift in emotions. it suits anger, sadness, happiness, and all because somehow sasha wanders into his emotions with at least the slightest bit of embarrassment. it's just the way he is, deeply ingrained in his being.
either way, it remains, particularly in the wake of jens' smile.
sasha's name, comparatively, is childish. no one has ever called him alexander, not even his teachers. his family have always been too close to resort to anything but his sweet, soft sounding diminutive. it makes him feel like he's forever stuck as a little boy of twelve, not a man of twenty eight, and it shows, sometimes. his shyness is boyish, mercifully erring on the side of charming than frustrating, for the most part — he tries so hard not to let it hold him back. ]
I'm sure mine would be if I hadn't had to learn out of necessity. [ it's funny, because he's been told that in his spanish is where his accent becomes decidedly more russian, where is oddly transatlantic over his english. tongues are bizarre like that. all the same, his spanish is perfectly fluent, and instances of his accent being at all obvious usually only emerge when he's been drinking. ] All over sounds nice, though.
[ he means that. his voice softens again, tellingly, as he says it. sasha has been all over, but never for the sake of it. he remembers little of the many places he's been; his attention is always demanded between random work and his vast, shimmering family, their endless circles of friends. ]
[ jens' may notice the color of sasha's cheeks after he stares for a few long moments at his face, quietly puzzling out necessity. his first instinct is work because so many of people's decisions all come back to that universal obligation, but he's more inclined to think family. maybe he'd wanted to get away from the family home in russia, settle down somewhere else, alone. jens can understand that. less the settling down part, but more the spreading your wings part. his relationship with his parents isn't necessary bad, it's just... not particularly special, so the decision to get out and see the world wasn't really a decision at all. he'd started ditching birmingham for places like new york and mexico city at seventeen, and he wasn't about to revert back to dependent son when he was old enough to go and not come back. ]
I think I get it. [ which is either an invitation to explain or a reassurance that he doesn't have to say anything else; whatever sasha would prefer. the fond smile jens offers - because of the blush or because of the assumed similarities between them or both - is meant to make him feel more comfortable, but maybe the whole smiling thing only makes the tension worse. he can't really stop, though. ]
It is. [ and he means that, wholeheartedly. in fact, he momentarially forgets his soggy self and leans back into the cushions of the couch, eyes shifting from sasha and fixing on an indefinite point in the room, sifting through memories. sure, constantly moving has its inconveniences, especially when you don't bother with the kind of planning ahead that avoids situations like these, but he loves it. and he can't help but love these odd circumstances he lands himself in. they keep things interesting, keep him meeting interesting people. it's definitely not the kind of existence for everyone, but its suits him just fine.
his attention wanders back to sasha, and he nods his head slowly, appraising his own idea. ] You should try it. Maybe I could show you around London sometime. Or Moncton. Or Osaka?
[ honestly, sasha, take your pick. if... you'd be up for vacationing with a complete stranger, that is. ]
[ sasha's whole family always dreamed of being anywhere else but russia. ostensibly, that is why his parents moved him and his sisters to spain when he was so young. his youngest sister doesn't even have any recollections of russia; she was barely a few months old at the time. sasha and svetlana have a smattering of memories between them. most of them have something to do with snow and abominable cold, a window that creaked when assaulted by winter winds no matter how many times someone was called around to fix it. almost breaking his grandma's prized samovar in his excitement to see the flowers painted on it.
that said, they moved to a part of spain that heaved with russians already. it made very little difference, in the grand scheme of things, and even though sasha burns like paper in a fireplace when he's out in the sun, he doesn't miss the cold at all.
he loves his parents, sasha does. he loves his sisters, more so because they struggle so much to love each other. but every relationship is skewed and twisted into attempted shapes of what love should be like in families, not how it actually is. they're an imbalanced, strange bunch, with no concept amongst them of how to change or improve these things.
it doesn't matter what jens does or says now, sasha's blush is going nowhere. he would have been just as rosy faced if he wasn't bizarrely enjoying this late night, unexpected meeting, because blushing suits so many of his primary emotions. but the smile is appreciated, in the sense that it is one more handsome thing to add to the mental list that sasha doesn't even know he's keeping (yet). he laughs, softly and nervously, but his slightly suppressed smile gives away that he rather likes this suggestion. ]
Maybe you could. Do you consider yourself a good tour guide? I'm prone to something of a short attention span, you see. That's why I could probably still get lost on all my usual routes here.
[ his gaze flicks around the contours of jens' face. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-04-23 07:34 pm (UTC)either way, it remains, particularly in the wake of jens' smile.
sasha's name, comparatively, is childish. no one has ever called him alexander, not even his teachers. his family have always been too close to resort to anything but his sweet, soft sounding diminutive. it makes him feel like he's forever stuck as a little boy of twelve, not a man of twenty eight, and it shows, sometimes. his shyness is boyish, mercifully erring on the side of charming than frustrating, for the most part — he tries so hard not to let it hold him back. ]
I'm sure mine would be if I hadn't had to learn out of necessity. [ it's funny, because he's been told that in his spanish is where his accent becomes decidedly more russian, where is oddly transatlantic over his english. tongues are bizarre like that. all the same, his spanish is perfectly fluent, and instances of his accent being at all obvious usually only emerge when he's been drinking. ] All over sounds nice, though.
[ he means that. his voice softens again, tellingly, as he says it. sasha has been all over, but never for the sake of it. he remembers little of the many places he's been; his attention is always demanded between random work and his vast, shimmering family, their endless circles of friends. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-04-26 02:54 pm (UTC)I think I get it. [ which is either an invitation to explain or a reassurance that he doesn't have to say anything else; whatever sasha would prefer. the fond smile jens offers - because of the blush or because of the assumed similarities between them or both - is meant to make him feel more comfortable, but maybe the whole smiling thing only makes the tension worse. he can't really stop, though. ]
It is. [ and he means that, wholeheartedly. in fact, he momentarially forgets his soggy self and leans back into the cushions of the couch, eyes shifting from sasha and fixing on an indefinite point in the room, sifting through memories. sure, constantly moving has its inconveniences, especially when you don't bother with the kind of planning ahead that avoids situations like these, but he loves it. and he can't help but love these odd circumstances he lands himself in. they keep things interesting, keep him meeting interesting people. it's definitely not the kind of existence for everyone, but its suits him just fine.
his attention wanders back to sasha, and he nods his head slowly, appraising his own idea. ] You should try it. Maybe I could show you around London sometime. Or Moncton. Or Osaka?
[ honestly, sasha, take your pick. if... you'd be up for vacationing with a complete stranger, that is. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-05-04 08:06 pm (UTC)that said, they moved to a part of spain that heaved with russians already. it made very little difference, in the grand scheme of things, and even though sasha burns like paper in a fireplace when he's out in the sun, he doesn't miss the cold at all.
he loves his parents, sasha does. he loves his sisters, more so because they struggle so much to love each other. but every relationship is skewed and twisted into attempted shapes of what love should be like in families, not how it actually is. they're an imbalanced, strange bunch, with no concept amongst them of how to change or improve these things.
it doesn't matter what jens does or says now, sasha's blush is going nowhere. he would have been just as rosy faced if he wasn't bizarrely enjoying this late night, unexpected meeting, because blushing suits so many of his primary emotions. but the smile is appreciated, in the sense that it is one more handsome thing to add to the mental list that sasha doesn't even know he's keeping (yet). he laughs, softly and nervously, but his slightly suppressed smile gives away that he rather likes this suggestion. ]
Maybe you could. Do you consider yourself a good tour guide? I'm prone to something of a short attention span, you see. That's why I could probably still get lost on all my usual routes here.
[ his gaze flicks around the contours of jens' face. ]
Easily distracted.