[ 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. ]
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timeasmymeasure
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.