these violent delights [have violent ends]

[Forte!]

The truck stuttered and stalled as it pulled up the long driveway, dying in the middle of nowhere. There was a loud expulsion of Russian from the driver's seat - obviously cursing, although it was too fast and gruff to really be decipherable. Then, the engine whined a few times and protested as they key was twisted, finally starting. The man in the front seat gave a relieved sigh and continued down the road, relief passing through his eyes as they tracked over the miles of cold, snow-covered pasture. It was beautiful... although he could hardly think that through his heavy heart. His time here was one that would not be enjoyable - but one that was... apparently... necessary. Ivan had sold his best friend, his dearest companion, and now his closest parallel, that massive black shire that had accompanied him as a mere boy on the voyage to these strange, indecipherable Americas. But now, that friendship was to be forsaken, and all that could be wished for the horse was happiness. For the man... well, perhaps he would never be happy. After all, he was never born to be happy, only to be useless, talentless, a deadened lump that hardened the surface of this frozen Earth.

There was another curse as the truck spluttered to a halt, luckily at the end of the drive this time. The barn could be seen behind a large tree, and beyond it the cottage and another building, for the employees. It was one of the latter, a girl called Illiana, who had bought Bartok, despite his broken down state. It would take a year before the horse was able to walk again. Finally, Dmitri stepped out of the car, hopping awkwardly as he always did after descending the long way before resuming his usual, painful, rolling limp. He opened the door of the trailer, eager to get the injured horse out of there. Dr. Miller had said to make him spend as little time in there as possible - the tight quarters were a major stress point for any horse. The massive shire looked up with a quiet grunt as Dmitri peeked in to the gloomy depths of the trailer, and then his dark face, marred by the wide white river of a blaze, appeared, followed by the stark plastic of the bandage on his forelimb. Dmitri smiled, "Ah, friend, you are more like me than you know," he whispered, taking the lead rope that hung on the side of the trailer and leading Bartok down the ramp patiently. The two walked equally slowly now, both limping, although Bartok's was not permanent.

"I hope your new owner remembers that she has to come around to see you," Dmitri murmured, holding Bartok at arms length. The stallion nuzzled him carefully, seemingly aware that any hard push could bring Dmitri crashing to the ground, unable to stand back up without considerable difficulty. Dmitri smiled, stroking the stallion's nose as the beast came to him, laying his forehead against the man's shoulder. Unbidden tears sprang to Dmitri's eyes. "Oh, friend... I will never see you again after today, you know?" he murmured, stroking the horse as he waited for Ana to appear.

[Frenzi™]

Illiana had been working at the ranch for quite a while now, and she had grown perfectly aquainted to all her surroundings, and Roxy herself. Well... almost perfectly. She still tended to get lost around the place, but she was so prone to getting lost, Ana could just look at the building, and then remember where she was. Of course this always came with the natural embaressment that sent a blush flowing to her cheeks. The whole day she had been busily running to and fro, doing meaningless tasks. Cleaning the room, straightening out the tack room, taking Impulse out multiple times for light rides, sitting on her bed and reading Twilight, and staring up at the ceiling, waiting. Waiting for the newest addition to the ranch, the great stallion Bartok, whom she had met at the vet not long ago.

Apparently the previous owner, a person named Ivan, though Ana secretly called him Ivan Icky, however childish it may be, had somehow managed to get the magnificent beast to fracture his leg. And thus, Ivan apparently didn't want the horse, named Bartok, any more because it would be a year before the poor creature could start walking around like normal again. But Ana felt serious pity for the massive equine, and she just hated the owner so, she offered to take him. She knew today was the day by checking the calendar by her beside, and since her heart had been fluttering with anticipation the whole day.

At the moment the truck pulled up in the driveway, she was sitting on her bed reading, and then the thundering of hooves caught her attention, and in a second she was by the window, just catching the glimpse of the silver trailer. She checked her clothes, and then rushed outside, but her breath caught in her throat as her eyes lingered, not on the trailer, but on the man that had stepped outside of the truck. It wasn't his leg that caught her attention, but his immensely cute face. "Um, hi, I'm Ana." she said, smiling. Her eyes roved over Bartok as he stepped out from the trailer, and she said, "He's amazing."

[Forte!]

Dmitri shuddered slightly as he looked up at the woman who approached, and Bartok carefully stepped backwards to fix one coal-black orb on her bodice. The stallion recognized her from the vet, that soft voice, that strange accent. His ears twitched slightly, as if not sure what to think about this, and then he turned his head to Dmitri, who seemed rather downtrodden. Truth be told, he had been rather hoping that there would be some reason not to give Bartok up, to keep the stallion that was his best friend and the most understanding of his predicament. Bartok snorted, sensing his friend's unease, and reached out his head toward Ana, confused now by the difference in the moods. Ana seemed... excited, but Dmitri seemed so sad. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, but it faded instantly into a hard line as Ana spoke, and then to confusing. He cocked his head to the side slightly, as if trying ot decipher the Australian accents. Oh, come on! Americans were hard enough to understand, and now this? How in the world was he going to be able to hold an intelligent conversation?

The words straightened themselves out soon enough, a Dmitri nodded in silence. "Hello," he murmured, his accent still thick and wrestling with every syllable before it passed his lips. He felt like a fool, standing there before this picture of grace with his gimp leg and thick accent. "I am Dmitri Petrova, Ivan's stable hand." He returned her smile with all of the realness that he could muster, although it still looked slightly plastic on his face. Could this get any worse? Well... there was still the whole matter of the truck being broken down to explain. That would be fun, no doubt. He watched in silence as Ana studied Bartok, seeming not to mind about the injury. Perhaps the stallion would have a better home here, after all, without Ivan to hurt him so. Dmitri hobbled a few steps toward the stallion, his leg complaining stiffly about the cold. Dmitri himself was not born for this sort of weather, even in the always freezing Russia it had bothered him greatly. The snow stiffened his joints and made his leg all the more painful, making the injury more obvious and making it extremely plain that he was, honestly, too poor to afford a cane to help him move around. Ivan did not pay terribly well, needless to say.

That brought about another point... Ivan. Hadn't Ivan's wife been Australian? Dmitri himself hadn't ever met her, of course, he was only two years older than Illiana, so he couldn't have. But, Ivan kept some memorandum... Those photos were the only time that Dmitri had even seen the man smiling. Shaking off his reverie, he returned his attention to Ana, realizing that he would have to tell her, sooner or later, that he had absolutely no way to get back now. "Er..." he coughed loudly, looking down at his feet, "The truck died, so I do not know if I will be able to get moving on and leave you alone for a while..." Gosh, Ivan was going to be furious about that. The man already didn't trust Dmitri very much, and the stable hand was perplexed as to why he'd been sent on this mysterious mission to drop Bartok off. He would have put it down as kindness if he did not know Ivan so well - the man's heart was a black hole, after all.

[Frenzi™]

She watched as the giant stallion stepped back for a pace, and then turned to look at the man, seeming to ask a question, and Illiana was simply amazed at the bond between the two. For a moment, she felt sorry for Dmitri, and if it wasn't necessary that she take the beautiful stag, she wouldn't have. The idea of severing the bond, by distance anyway, was close to too much to bear. She took a slight intake of breath as he spoke, the simple word hello was amazing, spoken by him. Ana couldn't speak herself for a moment, but finally regained the power of speech after he said his name. "Your accent is amazing," she said, not embaressed by the words at all. They hadn't slipped out, she had meant to say them. "Oh, I'm Illiana Thorneblade, though I think you already know that," Ana finished, using her whole name for no reason what-so-ever. "Ivan's stable-hand huh?" she questioned, the name making her face twist in a funny fashion. "That must be... uh... fun?"

She caught on quite quickly with the fake smile, and she tilted her head slightly to the side, trying to decipher why, and then her eyes shifted back to Bartok. Her eyes turned worried when Dmitri hobbled towards the stallion, and she couldn't help asking, "are you okay?" In truth, she didn't know if it was a standing injury or if it had just happened. Illiana also realized the stiffness in which he walked, or maybe it was just the cold. "Do you want a jacket or something?" she offered, partly to offer, and partly to see if he wanted a bit of alone time with Bartok. "You know you can come around if you want to visit," Ana stated, not really saying to visit whom, though that was something that happened subconsciously. "I'm sure Roxy wouldn't have a problem with it."

She listened, and couldn't help breaking a small sile when he told her the truck died, after his minute of seemingly-deep-thought, though Ana could only guess he was thinking about the equine. "Your truck died.... I don't really have a truck, but if you want I can call a friend. His ranch isn't far from here." she offered, shrugging her shoulders a bit, feeling the phone vibrate in her pocket. She ignored it, and tried to shuffle the jacket to try and hide the noise, and she felt the vibrating stop. "His name's.... Bach, right?" Ana asked, wondering if she could help Dmitri by talking more about Bartok. The name had momentarily flew her mind, and it showed on her face. She knew his name, honestly, she was just... distracted.

[Forte!]

Dmitri looked extremely confused at her next sentence, not sure what to say. "Er... thank you?" he tried gruffly, cocking an eyebrow, "Yours, too." He said this latter merely to be polite, nodding at her next sentence. He had known her name since the day she had swiped Bartok, it had been etched firmly in his memory as a bad one. Yet... this was not a bad person who stood before him, and Dmitri knew a bad person when he saw them. Sure, she was... surprising, to say the least. A lot more so than he had expected. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She seemed unabashed by giving him a compliment, which he immediately attributed to her gender. He frowned at her next couple of questions, the worry lines seeping across his brow as he scanned for sarcasm in her tone. Ugh. This was giving him a headache, her sing-song voice and all of this English. He was tired of English. He was tired of a lot of things, and he wanted to go back home. But, of course, he couldn't, and so he would stay. "Fun? No. Not so much fun," he murmured under his breath. Bartok pricked his ears toward Ana with interest, and hobbled a step closer to her.

Dmitri winced as he saw the concern in Ana's eye. He hadn't seen that expression for... well, a long time. "I am fine, I always am," he said after a long moment, letting his words fall flat on the air. He really wanted to sit down, honestly. It was too cold to be standing around, for him. He rose an eyebrow again at her question, a look of bemusement taking over his features yet again, before he chuckled quietly, "Ah, you need not worry. I am always cold here... anywhere... - and I doubt I could fit into another jacket, anyway." The latter was true - he was already wearing so many coats that it was slightly ridiculous. He was Russian, for goodness' sakes! He was supposed to be fine with the cold, even warm. But, that had never worked out for him, so he let it go. He listened to her next words with a silent shake of his head. How had she guessed his inner thoughts? Was it that plainly etched across his face, how much it pained him to have to leave Bartok? He did not answer her request, however, leaving it at that.

"Ah, it will start again, anyway. It does not like the cold. Just like me. If you give it a minute, you will not have to..." he paused, searching for the word, "inconvenience? This friend of yours." He rubbed his had together around the lead rope, trembling as a sudden icy wind stung with crystals of snow whisked past his eyes and nose. He was clearly not enjoying the weather. He couldn't hear the phone vibrating - he was much too concentrated on the sudden pain in his leg for that. This was an off day for him, usually it didn't hurt this much, not even in the cold. "Just pick a composer. He can be Mozart, if you like..." Dmitri murmured, sounding miserable and slightly annoyed with her forgetfulness. Although he, of all people, shouldn't have been, "It's Bartok." He added, biting his tongue quickly. Sometimes it got the better of him - he certainly didn't want to upset Ana, after all. She was pretty, he admitted, and she seemed nice enough. Hopefully she would turn out to be as good of a person as she looked.

[Frenzi™]

Her smile was still on her face as he continued to talk. His accent was seriously fascinating to her, she could just sit there forever and listen to it. Ana was so engrossed in the sound she was jolted back into the real world by his compliment, though she couldn't be quite sure if he was being sarcastic, or just trying to be polite. "Thanks," she said openly, seeming to snuggle into the coat as the bitter chill seeped in through the jacket. Illiana watched as his brow furrowed, and even she couldn't guess what he was thinking. Normally people were so easy to read, but he wasn't, except for the glances towards Bartok, which anyone could have guessed. She let out a small laugh at his apparent loss to the sarcasm in her voice concerning Ivan, and the dimples started showing in her cheeks. In one quick swipe she got rid of the smile, trying to get rid of the dimples, and yet not look like a horse who had ate an onion. She soon managed it, finally setting for a small smile that didn't show the teeth.

As a random question Ana asked, "Where are you from?" still not being able to pinpoint what kind fo accent it sounded like. That was before he spoke again, and she nodded, not really understanding, but shushing the subject nonetheless. "Really? I'm from Arizona... the Summer's get well over a hundred degrees, I must be turning into a polar bear or something if you're cold," Ana mentioned, pushing her hands into the fuzzy pockets of her jacket, trying to ignore the fact she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt under it. "Would you like to take him into the barn?" Illiana asked, knowing that the barn would be much, much warmer than it was standing out in the open cold. She watched for a moment as another thought seemed to cross his face, but it was gone so quickly, she wasn't even sure it was there in the first place.

"Don't hesitate to ask me if it doesn't start then. I'm sure there's no reason why he wouldn't want to meet him," Ana said, still waiting for the stag's name. She was trying so hard to remember his name, and when Dmitri's words about choosing any composer were into the air, she hid a flinch, though it was kind of funny, she felt bad about it. Ana shrugged that one off, but when his sharp words finally telling her his name, she tried to hide the wince again, not really knowing if she suceeded or not. "I'm sorry... I... I was telling my friend about Bartok this morning, and... I guess his name flew my mind or something... I'm really sorry Dmitri." Illiana said, trying to apologize as sincerely as she could. It was obviously true that she was sorry, that much was clear from her stammering and trying to find the right words.

[Forte!]

Dmitri watched, bemused, at the sudden flurry of expressions across her face. Why was she embarrassed about her happiness? Was it something he had done? He shook his head - he would never understand women. "You're welcome," he said, placing his free hand in a pocket to warm it up. He would have hopped from foot to foot if that were possible, but as it was he just stood there looking uncomfortable. Bartok snorted loudly and reached his nose out to Ana, lipping her jacket curiously. He pulled back abruptly, confused as it moved beneath his teeth, but reached out again and hobbled a step towards her, nudging her with his nose playfully. He was beginning to pick up on the fact that Dmitri was markedly more relaxed now, and it was leading to his tendency to be a big mouthy gooberhead with people that he liked. Dmitri suddenly grinned in earnest, comforted by the horse's actions. Bartok certainly wouldn't trust anyone who he found threatening, or who had the wrong air, and the stallion was a far better judge of character than Dmitri himself. "He likes you," the man murmured, as Bartok swung his head back to listen to his words, which seemed a whole lot more optimistic now.

He was used to the origin question by now, it was one of the few that he answered quickly. "Russia, Leningrad, in fact. Though I grew up in Rotterdam," he replied, looking off at a distant point in the sky now. he had trouble staring at people when he spoke of home - many a time he just wanted to go back. Russia was so much more familiar, but he couldn't bear to leave Bartok or Justin, or even this new horse, Cytheria. They were the best family, and the best medicine, that he had ever gotten. Besides - what other man would employ a cripple to work with horses? It simply didn't happen now in Russia, or, as far as he knew, here. "Ah. It was colder in Russia, but it always bothered me," he said with a distant shrug, "so I guess I am the one from California." Joking in English was - obviously - not his strong point. Turn of phrase was just so much easier in his native language. He nodded vehemently at her suggestion of retreating indoors, "You had better take him from me, though," he muttered dourly, wincing as a sudden blast of air jarred him on his unsteady footing.

"Alright. Thank you," Dmitri murmured, holding out the lead rope and looking down at his feet as she spoke. He caught the tone of his voice, and immediately looked up, concerned. Darn it! He hadn't meant to upset her so much! The cold was making him more cranky than usual, and the whole situation had been eating at him. "I didn't mean it," he murmured softly, reaching out a hand and touching her wrist softly. It was a motion of no consequence where he had come from, a comforting touch that was no more odd than the French bisous, but which could be considered strange in America. He pulled his hand away quickly, remembering this, but ending up looking rather awkward, a tint of red picking up in his already wind-bitten ears and nose. He was stunned by how much she sounded like him fighting to find the right word at that moment, but was feeling too strange to comment on the fact."Sorry."

[Frenzi™]

Ana let out a soft laugh as Bartok lipped at her jacket, and then it became a little bit more of a giggle as he pulled back his head when her phone buzzed, though she sighed and rolled her eyes. Her friends always texted her at the worse times! "Sorry there," Ana murmured to Bartok as he again took her jacket. She held out a hand for him, and then turned back towards Dmitri, her head anyway. "I hope so," she murmured at his comment about Bartok liking her. A small noise escaped her lips as she got nudged backwards by Bartok, and the dimples once again showed up on her face, yet she didn't notice them. "No need to push me over!" she said, patting his nose lightly, careful not to startle him. Illiana watched Bartok as his head swung back towards Dmitri, and she lifted one eyebrow at the change of tone in Dmitri's voice.

She listened carefully to make out the words he spoke, and then smiled. "How long did you live there? It sounds fascinating!" Ana asked, adding the comment on just because. "Huh, I never thought Russia was cold. Guess I learned something new. Well, it's pretty cold here too... though this should be the end of the weather. Back to shorts and t-shirts!" she said, deciding to stop being shy, and show her true playful personality. She listened to his joke and couldn't help laughing. It wasn't that it was a good joke, it was that it was a bad one, and really didn't make sense to her, and then she realized her mistake in words. "Shoot. I'm not literally from Arizona... it's just where I grew up with my aunt for the most of my life. Let's say I was born in Australia, raised in Arizona." Illiana stated, letting out a small sigh at her stupidity. I'm from Arizona! Not exactly though.. I'm really from Australia, but lived in Arizona... she thought, reflecting on her bad choice of sentences.

Illiana didn't say anything really, just winced as Dmitri was rocked for a split second by the cold blast of air, and then took the lead rope gingerly, staring up at the immensely tall Bartok. "It's okay," Ana muttered, and then close to jumped when his hand touched her wrist. The cold was like an electric shock to her... though it wasn't only the cold. She even tried to ignore the blush that was creeping into his cheeks, though hers had flushed as well, and was putting it off as an effect of the cold. "It's fine, but come on, before you turn into an icicle." Illiana said, gesturing towards the barn, and taking a step in that general direction.

[Forte!]

Dmitri was grinning almost foolishly now as he watched Ana and Bartok, feeling a whole lot better about this whole situation. He supposed that Bartok would be better off, anyway, than he had even been with Ivan. This place gave him perhaps his only chance at full recovery. Bartok, snuffling at Ana's hand, seemed completely at ease, and it was effecting the man for the better, he too felt that Ana was, in her heart, a really good person for Bartok to live with. Oh, he would miss the stallion, no doubt about that, but his yearning and pining would be comforted by the fact that Bartok was, at last, at peace with someone who love him for all that he was. He chuckled, his voice deep, as the stallion nearly knocked Ana off of her feet, and his blue eyes sparkled with considerable brightness, his grin still present, even if not quite so huge as if he had been completely at ease in this place. The company of people always put him a little out of it.

"I have only been living here for about a year," he said, in response to her question, looking away again. It seemed like such a long time when he said it out loud, but he was, in actuality, still in the process of gaining his citizenship. Fat chance of that - passing the test was something he could probably never achieve under Ivan. "Fascinating... maybe to you." He didn't bear to think about how tough life had been out there, alone, his family barely making a living in the dirty streets. That was how he had come under Ivan and Ivan's former teacher, another terrible man. Dmitri shuddered at the thought of that old stable, all rigged in cruelty and deceit. It had been an even more dismal place than Bar None. He chuckled slightly again at her talk of t-shirt, "I hope so," he murmured, listening with interest to her next words, "Yes, I thought so," he replied in earnest, glad that he hadn't been too far of geographically. He hardly noticed her poor sentence structure, he was no epitome of grammar, himself.

He instantly turned sheepish as she jumped back, stunned by her reaction to that simple, brainless, touch. Perhaps it meant something else here? He shrugged the thought off with a good deal of embarrassment, the red tint creeping into his cheeks. He hoped that it wasn't too noticeable, in the cold. "No, it is not... I lost myself for a moment, I'm really sorry," he said, blue eyes glittering as he handed her the lead rope. "Alright," he said quietly, limping behind Bartok as he followed her into the warm hovels of the barn. His pace was sluggish in the cold, every step more painful than the last. It had been a long time since his leg had bothered him this much, and he wondered vaguely why it was acting up now. Perhaps it was the cold... but it could always be something different, more dangerous. he probably needed to get it checked out.

[Frenzi™]

Illiana patted Bartok's nose again, regaining her footing with a few shuffling footsteps. "What are you grinning at me for?" Ana laughed, her smile lighting up her whole face. It was clear she absolutely adored Bartok, and her green eyes, before a gray-color, now switched towards the magnificent stallion. "You look like the cheschire cat!" she said, grinning back at Dmitri. She was lost in thought for a second about the giant stallion, wondering what he was like before the injury had happened. She could just see him towering over everything, majestic, and then running across the open fields of a huge pasture. The imaginary Bartok seemed to float across the bright green grass, his knees coming up high, and then, it all vanished with the deep chuckle from Dmitri. Ana eyed him sceptically, "Are you laughing at me?" she asked, the just kidding, quite obvious in her voice, even with the accent.

"Only a year? Your English sounds much better than I would have expected. Just don't lose that accent, it's so cool!" Illiana said, trying to ignore the fact he didn't sound so eager about Russia. She watched him shudder and decided it was plenty time to go into the barn, so while they were walking, he spoke again. "It always gets warmer. Is the accent that obvious?" she asked, grinning. She thought all of the other accents were pretty, though her own, she didn't think too much of, and wasn't that pleased with it. It seemed to jumble up different words, though the hardest part was ridding herself of the different words she had learned, like jumper, for instance. Even if she arrived in the United States after the first year or so of her life.

"No, really, it's okay. I can't believe it slipped my mind, but now, its in concrete. Definately not going anywhere. I would think he would remind me if I couldn't remember. My memory shouldn't start diminishing for a while now," Ana said, closing her mouth when she realized she had started babbling. Shannon must have rubbed off on her. The instant they walked into the barn the warm air rushed to greet them, a smile instantly planting itself on Ana's face, as it always did when she was warm in the winter. She tied the rope quickly to one of the rings and opened the stall door, and untied it again, letting Bartok into the stall. It was big, and gave even him plenty of room to turn and walk to and fro. "Mind saying something in Russian for me?" she asked as the door closed, turning back to Dmitri, grinning.

[Forte!]

Dmitri's grin widened even more as she laughed, enjoying the slightly musical sound that was so much different than his own rumbling. "Grinning at you? No, I am grinning at everything," he said quietly, his voice fading to a mere whisper. Then, a look of utter confusion came over his face at her next sentence. Cheshire cat? What was that? "Cheshire... cat?" he tried, his intense curiosity obvious. He was warming to Ana, as he always did, talking more once he realized that she could actually understand his slightly broken English. He rose an eyebrow as she snapped out of her apparent reverie, and grinned a bit mischievously, "Maybe," he admitted with a shiver, his grinning teeth chattering off one of another. Even through the massive swathe of coats and jackets, the wind was a biting thing, a chilling beast that bit at his exposed face. He buried his head in the scarf that had been hanging around his neck rather comically.

"Oh... Ivan knew English, I picked up a lot in Russia," he said quietly, his eyes flashing in the frost as he looked around at the snow covered ground. His ridiculous grin was hidden now by the scarf, but his eyes were dancing, laughing, perhaps from the cold. The light flashed off of the snowdrifts and the trees laced with icicles. Dmitri watched in silence, enjoying the silent beauty of the drips of water melting and falling to the Earth like tears to be swallowed by the white maw of the snow-covered ground. "Yes. I knew that one, anyway. That is the only reason I can understand a word you are saying," he said, turning his attention back to the girl in front of him. He agreed fervently with the notion of getting inside quickly, although quick was hardly the word for his painful hobbling, nor the lopsided gait that Bartok had picked up with his one bandaged leg. Nonetheless, as soon as they entered the barn Dmitri lifted his head from the scarf and sighed in relief. Unfortunately, the change in temperature hadn't effected his leg much.

"Ah, alright," he said, again his voice fading back into a whisper as he looked around the barn. Bartok stepped gratefully into the stall and immediately turned his attention to the hay net, immediately beginning to grasp at the food with his lips and teeth. Dmitri chuckled slightly as he watched the massive stallion, before turning back to Ana. He rose an eyebrow at Ana's request, but was happy enough to oblige. But what was he supposed to say? "Menja zovut Dmitri. My name is Dmitri. Happy?" He queried, gasping a bit as suddenly his leg twinged with pain, nearly topping him to the ground. A frown traced the corners of his mouth, brow furrowing. "Can I... sit down, please?" he asked very quietly, obviously in pain. It had been a long time since that had happened, that sudden doubling of the pain, and it nearly knocked him flat.

[Frenzi™]

Illiana smiled at his answer, though his words were becoming increasingly hard to hear over the roaring torrent of the wind. Her mouth dropped open slightly as he asked what the cheschire cat was, and then, she launched into the subject. "The Cheschire Cat is a pink and purple cat who grins all the time, literally ear to ear, his grin is scary, but yours is nice." Ana started, substituing nice for cute. "He's in the movie, Alice in Wonderland, a little kid movie, and.... his head kind of comes off, but that's besides the point." she finished. When he answered her other question, her eyes danced playfully as she stuck out her tongue slightly, "Fine then! Leave me wondering."

She listened carefully to his next words, trying to make the coat swallow her up even further, as she noticed Dmitri swathing himself in the scarf now too. "Oh, they speak English in Russia?" she asked, quite curious. She thought a moment about how pretty the snow looked on the ground. By now the sun had come out, but there was little warmth in it, but it dazzled off the wet and sent the shimmering crystals to a glow. "Really now... so, if I talk in a different accent you wouldn't understand me?" Illiana asked playfully, already mustering up a cowboy impersenation.

"Can you understand me still?" Ana asked in the cowboy accent, trying to shove away the subject that had bothered them both, the one about Ana forgetting Bartok's name. The barn was much warmer, and the greeting whinny from Impulse made Ana's face light up even brighter, if it could go any brighter, that is. The stall Bartok was in was right across from Impulse's, so Illiana ran over and petted her nose for a moment before turning back to Dmitri. "That's awesome... monjee zambabwai... I'll let you have the Russian, I'll stick with the English." she said, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "Oh, right, sorry." Ana grimaced, gesturing to the bench half a stall down from the two on Impulse's side. "Anything I can do?" she asked, stepping closer as if to offer an arm.

[Forte!]

"That's... strange..." Dmitri murmured, under his breath. He had heard of Alice in Wonderland, of course, his sister had been crazy about it. Than again, his sister had been an emotional person, she had been passionate about just about everything. He cocked his eyebrow as he saw her stick out her tongue, hiding his laughing grin in his scarf. "Its head comes off? Alright." He accepted this a bit more easily than most things - he had decided at this point that Americans were just weird and that was all that there was to it. He was, honestly, quite amused by Ana, she was a funny person. She acted so... happy... all of the time that it astounded him. He was happy, too, at the moment, it warmed him more than anything else, but he did not show it near as much. The Russian weren't in to loudness, boisterous activity. Laughing was considered impolite, but that was one of the things that Dmitri had quickly shed in America.

"Most everybody speaks a few words," he said with a shrug, "though if you try to get them to they will not." He looked up suddenly at Impulse's whinny, catching the dark frame of a horse. Bartok stuck his velvety nose through the bars of his door, snorting briefly at the sound of the mare. He recognized that whinny - this was that strange creature who had been asking him questions at the vet's office. Perhaps he would have time now to answer them, at some point. Dmitri looked away from the stall as Ana spoke again, completely focused, "Maybe I would... sometimes I can, sometimes I cannot." He murmured, his voice lowering in the indoors, away from the cold, even more. Warmth seeped into his bones as he stood in the heated barn, and he grinned for Bartok. Bar None didn't have any such technology - surely the stallion would have a much better winter here.

Creases folded across his brow at her sudden change of accent, which was marred severely by her Australian. He chuckled disparagingly instead of answering, his eyes glittering as he rose his brow again at her Russian. Amusement glittered there despite his pain. "Yes, I think you had better," he murmured, looking gratefully at the arm she offered as she came nearer. His blue eyes filled with gratitude at her question, her easy understanding. Normally he would have refused the help, but at the moment he seemed to have no choice. "Thank you," he muttered, feeling rather helpless as he took her arm, hopping a few awkward steps while trying to lean on her as little as possible. Pain shot through his entire leg as he moved, causing him to grimace and his smile to fade into a hard line.

[Frenzi™]

"Yep, it's strange. Most people only want to watch it once, just to be able to say they've seen it. I'm one of those people, yet I love the Cheschire Cat." Ana mentioned, and then she saw him duck under his scarf, "Well... it doesn't dissapear... his body dissapears. His head literally comes off. You should see it sometime, it's a classic." Illiana was trying to understand and see what Dmitri was thinking, but he was simply impossible to read. His thoughts weren't shown on his face at all, nothing she could make out, so with a shrug she ignored it. She glanced towards Impulse, who had one aud flicked toward them, and one towards Bartok.

"Wow... I need to look up Russia some time," Ana mused. "Does it work the other way too?" she asked him. She meant, in more obvious terms than her vague question, if it was hard to get English-speaking-Russian-people to speak Russian. She didn't really think about this before it came out of her mouth, so it wouldn't be surprising if he didn't get it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Impulse prick both her auds towards Bartok, and then the massive stallion's deep-throated whinny echoed throughout the barn.

"Do you always smile when you're warm?" Ana asked, grinning back. But then, after her accent-change, she laughed, "I'll take that as a no," She laughed again as he commented on her mauled Russian. She winced as he did, and then smiled as he took her arm. They weren't far from the bench, so it would be no problem supporting him that far. "Welcome," Ana said, the two starting to walk slowly towards the bench. "Seriously though, are you okay?"

[/blockquote]

[Forte!]

"I will tell you about it, if you want," he murmured in response to her comment about Russia. And he would - gladly. The Russian valued generosity, and he was no exception. If she was kind enough to bring him indoors, much less help him to his seat, than he would gladly repay her in any small way possible. He had dropped the subject of Alice in Wonderland by now, making a mental note that he probably ought to see it at some point, if only to satisfy his own curiosity. His brow furrowed at her next question for a moment, but he finally deciphered it, "Well, I would not know. I have not met any," he said with a shrug, "this is a small town, not many like me except Ivan... and..." He broke off, not really wanting to get into the whole Ivan subject. He had no like for the man whatsoever, even if he depended on his meager pay to survive.

"No. I always smile when I'm happy," he replied, even though his grin had faded by now into a concentrated look, trying to ignore the jolt of pain up his entire leg. He felt like a child, depending on her arm to keep him upright and keep him from too much pain. It was utterly embarrassing, but he was really not too prone to notice that at this point. He looked into her concerned eyes, but he was too weary to feel shocked by her sympathy. He wasn't used to it, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. At least she was something of a help. He gritted his teeth, listening to her concerned voice intently. "I think I will be fine... Just give me a minute," He whispered, his voice trembling slightly as the gimp leg touched the ground and sent another knife up pain up his frame.

As soon as they were close enough, he slumped into the bench, biting his tongue to hold back tears. What was wrong with him? Did he have to make a fool out of himself in front of everyone? Thankfully, the leg was up now, across his opposite knee as he leaned back on the bench, sighing heavily, relieved, his breathing slightly heavy as he gulped in air. He hadn't even realized that he had practically been holding his breath the whole time. His eyes snapped back open and he managed a little half-grin at Ana. "I'll be okay," he said after a moment, leaning over to examine the twisted leg. He could find nothing wrong with it except for, perhaps the cold, and hoped that it would pass, as he had said. Now that he was no longer standing, it hurt a good deal less.