Post by Max Kameren on Oct 29, 2017 23:37:20 GMT -5
DAY ONE
When the spinning in Max’s head finally subsided he stood in the center of an ancient wood-paneled owlery. He looked around; the foul, sour smell of bird excrement wafted into his nostrils and crusted upon every surface. The wind blowing in from the open window sent a chill through him even in his scarf and jacket and he shivered, shuffling back and forth as he searched for his next step. Only one heavy wooden door stood closed in the round wooden room; he stepped forward and pushed it open to a smoky office where a stout man in a thick moustache glared at him over his shoulder.
«Привет ты кто?»
"Uhm…" Max shuffled, momentarily offput by the stranger's gaze boring into him. The Ministry had sent him here, surely someone knew he was coming. "Max Kameren?"
«Макс… Kameren?» The rotund man glanced down at his records, puffing smoke as he did. His finger stopped and his moustache turned upward into a grin. «Макс Kameren!» He turned and gestured the tall wizard forward, pointing to the door leading outside. “Снаружи они вас ждут!»
Without understanding what the man had said Max nodded, dutifully crossing the room and stepping outside into the snowy afternoon where he was immediately met with the roaring sounds of a small two-person propeller plane feet from the entrance.
A gruff, windswept woman poked her head up from the cockpit, staring Max down through her thick goggles. "Max Kameren?" She asked in a thick Russian Accent, smirking when he nodded in confirmation. "Salekhard is over that mountain range. Get in."
"Shit…" Max nodded dutifully and hitched his duffel up further on his shoulder, stalking around the small plane and jumping inside.
.. .. .. .. ..
Salekhard, Siberia.
«Maxime?» A stout, swarthy woman in a headscarf stood at the edge of a clearing of forest, slowly approaching as the plane skidded to a stop and cooled down. She held her wand to her throat, so when she spoke her native Russian tongue her words translated in Max's ears to English. He looked around at the surprising sound of his native language, meeting the round dark eyes of the woman standing below the plane as he disembarked. He reached out and her aura was distinctly muggle: who was this woman? Surely she wasn't Varvara. Max hadn't felt another empath in his mind before, but this surely wasn't it. «Maxime Kameren?»
The wizard's feet his the solid cold ground and he pulled out his wand from his jacket and held it to his throat. "Max, please. Varvara Fedorov?"
«Maria, her housekeeper.» She smiled warmly, holding out a hand for the lanky man to shake and arching a brow at his scarred hand and stumped finger. She remembered the gaunt stranger who had visited them years ago, with his hollow cheeks and the scars raking across his body. The quiet sadness behind his face that one needn't be an Empath to read. This one didn't fall far from his family tree. «Ms. Fedorov isn't mobile any longer, she sent me to fetch you. We live on the city's outskirts, I can drive us there.»
Max nodded and followed the small woman to an ancient jeep on the outskirts of the clearing, bundling up his jacket as they packed up and shipped out. The early evening was grey and cold, with frost forming in the window of the car as the older woman drove them to a small two-bedroom home at the base of a hill on the horizon. They drove in anticipatory silence: Max on edge to meet the first person he's heard of with his abilities, Maria unsettled by something Max couldn't quite grasp. She had an odd, foggy aura, a swirled combination of calm patience and sorrow. She was like staring into a photo that was barely out-of-focus; one moment she seemed clear, but with attention she softened into confusion.
Maxime. When the small house came closer into view of their windshield words sprouted into his mind. They weren't specific spoken words, more the idea of communication impressed directly into his consciousness. Max started, emerald eyes darting around the jeep as an unfamiliar voice seemed to murmur just behind his ear. He felt a presence root through him like an ant routing through an anthill, exploring his consciousness and assessing his mental state. Don't be alarmed. We'll communicate this way for your stay. Max arched a questioning brow. When you can feel my soul you can reply on your own, but for now you can speak into your own soul and I'll hear you. Try it.
Varvara? He questioned into his own aura and felt the warmth of affirmation. Already without meeting her Max was impressed; how could she feel him from this far away? And she could communicate with him?
I'll tell you that and more, son. A feeling something like laughter rippled through his aura and he shivered, watching the home become larger and larger on the horizon.
.. .. .. .. ..
Maria took Max’s duffel and deposited it in the attic, where they’d made a makeshift guest room for him to stay in before she disappeared. He checked his phone: no service, but Maria had informed him that he could get service from the top of the hill they lived at the base of. Max used the opportunity to hike to the summit and watch the sunset as he spoke with Rowena, being reassured of her safety for the first day. All the while he felt the wide-reaching presence of Varvara watching him, measuring him. He stalked back down to the home to come face-to-face with the storied empath for the first time.