Fur and Friction (Ivan, then Vel)

[Anastasia van Drakke]

-This is set just after As Suggested-

The bedroom was a mess, heavy fur coats and dresses, as well as pants and shirts, strewn over the floor like a murder scene without the bodies. And more were joining them as Anastasia pushed aside hangers to grasp out something else, look at it, then throw it over her shoulders. She was muttering, her pupils large in her eyes as she paused to rake her long nails through her hair and look around for the next hanger to seize.

There were three small yet stylish suitcases by the bed, all open, and all still empty as Anastasia's heels clicked over the floor. Vel was still downstairs, out of immediate emotional range.

"This one," she said, holding out a shirt to Ivan, "And this one. You'll need another coat as well, one that can cover the Kevlar. This one?" she nudged a coat that was already on the floor before shaking her head hard enough to send ripples through her blond hair as she turned back to the walk-in closet with a pair of pants thrown over her arm. "This one," she said to herself, then turned back to Ivan again.

Her hands were trembling slightly as she folded the pants neatly and placed them in one of the empty suitcases. "Those," she said to herself, turning away again.

[Ivan Avlang]

Ivan looked on as his partner ransacked their wardrobe, making a mess of the room that he had taken into the habit of cleaning up himself. He didn't trust any of the house staff to handle their things.

He let her hold up his shirt against him but he knew what she was doing was extremely unnecessary. They didn't need clothes. Maybe one coat maximum.

A part of him was worried that there was another reason why she was doing this. "My love," he said softly in his native language. "We don't need all that."

[Anastasia van Drakke]

Anastasia turned quickly, her arms full of a soft white ermine coat. Her scarlet tipped nails were digging into it. "Yes we do!" she said in rapid Russian, shaking her head and turning back to her search. Her mind was tick tick ticking as she took a breath, and then another one.

"It will be cold," she said in explanation. "It'll be freezing and I don't want you or Vel or the girl to get sick or catch a chill would this suit Velentia?" There wasn't a pause for breath between the two separate statements as she held up a sleek black rabbit that would come down to her friend's hips.

"And," she continued, discarding the coat by the bed, "there could be complications, Ivan. If the paperwork takes a little extra time we might need to find a hotel, and we can't walk around a hotel in Kevlar, you know I can't do that. And I thought I could bring a coat for the girl, you know we have no idea what her other family is like."

[Ivan Avlang]

Ivan continued to let Anastasia go about her business, only picking up that it was covering up something a lot more intense than the need to be prepared once she continued speaking. He didn't answer her quite possibly rhetorical question about the suit for Valentia.

He didn't even know what to say though, as he looked at the pile of clothes that have been discarded on the floor. Admittedly, his own nerves were going every which way at the thought of bringing Anastasia along with him. Yes, he understood that she was necessary to the plan and yes, all three of them were more than capable of protecting each other at the highest capacity, if need be.

But what if he couldn't?

Crossing the room, he reached a hand out and took her arm, gently squeezing it with a soft almost inaudible sigh.

[Anastasia van Drakke]

Huffing in frustration, Anastasia raised a trembling hand to push back a few waves of blond hair that had fallen into her face. Ivan's <concern/worry> was still there, he was more agitated then he had been in some time. She could feel it pricking her skin like sticky-cold frost.

Before she had even registered the warmth of Ivan's hand, Anastasia was drifting in the <fearforyou/worry/concern> that was surging from her partner. A far cry from the usual well of <calm> he could provide.

She turned into his arms, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. "I don't want you there either," she said to his fear, even as she started to try to drip <calm/security/confidence> into him. "Not with the school involved." A spike of her own <fury> at the very thought. She took a breath before starting to turn, to get back to packing.

"We are going and we will be warm and dressed perfectly."

[Ivan Avlang]

Her emotions and her tone of voice didn't tally and that scared Ivan even more. He didn't need her worrying about him. Her mental state was fragile, they both knew that. It could snap at any moment. Yes, Anastasia was a strong woman but even diamonds explode under pressure.

His worry for her could tire her out but he couldn't stop it any more than she could stop it from effecting her. Lessen, maybe. But not stop.

"The school is not going to get involved. I promise. That's what this plan is for. What we need is to get in, get Valentia's sister and get out." He said, pulling her in for a brief second before letting her go.

He had no intentions of alerting the school of their presence. That was the last thing he wanted to do. His time there still haunted him. He still had nightmares. Ones he wouldn't even share with Anastasia. He couldn't bear for her to feel what he felt. He couldn't bear it. He needed her never to.

He gaped at her uselessly at her insistence before shaking his head. "One coat. One pair of shoes." He relented. "If you put any more, I will throw the suitcases out."

[Anastasia van Drakke]

"I know what we need to do," Anastasia exclaimed, her fingers clutching in spasms to the dress she was now holding. She needed that dress, she knew that. It was perfect for evening winter wear, and would go perfectly with the boots she was going to bring and-

Ivan was <scared> for her. She hated that, hated that it meant her control had slipped and she was acting like some sort of lunatic, some sort of crazy woman who belonged on the streets pushing a shopping trolley. Inhaling through her nose, she squared her slim shoulders and tilted up her chin as she gave her partner a sharp, but not particularly strong, shove in the chest.

"If you try to throw away any of my clothes," she said levelly, staring up at him, "you will be very very sorry, Ivan. I know where you keep your knives."

After a moment, she gave him a tiny sad smile and pressed her lips together. "I'm sorry I worried you," she said, <regret/love/assurance> in her fingertips to send to him, "Can you get me a valium? Or a xanax?"

And while he was getting them she would pack. One pair of boots and one coat her pert Russian ass.

[Ivan Avlang]

Being in close proximity to Anastasia meant he could feel the emotion she had because of his fear. He wished that wasn't the case. Sometimes, he wished she knew nothing about his emotions when it came to her. But it was significant to note that even Ivan couldn't put up a filter when Anastasia was around.

Simply put, the Empath was too powerful.

It pained him to look at her trying to physically show him that she was okay but he knew he had to let her. The push didn't effect him much but he understood the intent behind it and he felt the emotion. He wanted to apologise but he felt that his words wouldn't make any difference.

He softened up when she threatened him with his own knives. He knew in the end they would do no such thing.

Her reassurances were felt and believed in and soon, he was in the kitchen, getting his beloved what she wanted. He crossed Valentia's path and cleared his throat. "You can finish the bottle." He spoke in English. "She will deal with everything. You did the right thing."

[Valentia de la Torres]

If it were possible - and truly, it was - Valentia was still in the same place she had been before they left. Her eyes were still on the glass in her hand, the contents relatively untouched. Or perhaps it was that she had finished it already and poured herself another.

When Ivan's proximity was closer, she glanced to him before any words left his throat.

"Hn." She offered simply. It was something of an agreement between them, she was sure. Now that she'd had time to calm herself down, she could find the means to agree with the decision made. Eventually, she looked away again. It was clear that Anastasia needed him - her kinetic reading was more unstable than she expected.

[Anastasia van Drakke]

It was roughly five minutes before the sound of stilettos could be heard clipping down the polished wooden staircase. Anastasia hurried down with two coats in her arms, looking around, still somewhat frantically, before spotting Vel.

"How tall is your sister?" she asked earnestly, holding up the two coats, "because if she's shorter than you I'd want something that ends at the waist or it will make her look stocky. And," she walked over and held one up to Valentia. "This is your colour, take this."

She thrust the bundle of sleep black fur towards her friend, and then turned to the table and grasped a drink and downed it before turning to Val. Her friend had never seen Eva as anything less than composed, and the heiress was self aware enough to know how she must seem.

"I," she started, "I'm packing. For the trip."

[Ivan Avlang]

Ivan was relatively relieved when all Valentia offered was a grunt and even doubly relieved when he heard the tell-tale clicks of his beloved's heels. When she showed up with two coats, his lips actually formed a small smile before he signalled to her that her medicine is with him.

He let her talk to their mutual friend as he placed the little cup with the pills and the bottle of water he had taken from the fridge earlier on a nearby table. After, he went back to the kitchen to get a bottle of his vodka and drank straight from the bottle.

No use dirtying tumblers.

[Valentia de la Torres]

Valentia was comforted by the lack a response from Ivan. It meant her focus could once again fall on the glass. That was, until the familiar sound of heels against wood captured her attention. And the energy signal those heels belonged to was still impossible to ignore.

"Five feet, four inches." Valentia replied. She didn't care much for clothing specifics, but she knew about such details. The height of her sister. Still, she unfurled a hand from the glass and took hold of the coat handed towards her, finding the means to fold it over her arm without spilling the contents of her glass. She could argue that her sister had her own clothes and likely wouldn't care much for how the coat made her look at half past midnight, but she decided not to.

It wasn't worth it.

"It is not necessary." Valentia pointed out as her dark eyes fell to Ivan. She assumed this was a conversation he'd already tried. "I doubt we will stay long enough to warrant it, Anastasia."