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CHARACTERS: Casper & Irina ft. guest star Benito Mouselini
WHAT: Irina sings Casper a lullaby. No, that's not a joke.
WHEN: Yesterday eveningish.
WHERE: Irina and Lola's room.
WARNINGS: none really?
WHAT: Irina sings Casper a lullaby. No, that's not a joke.
WHEN: Yesterday eveningish.
WHERE: Irina and Lola's room.
WARNINGS: none really?
The thing about being on a spaceship with limited places to go is that Casper's grown real comfy in other people's space. When Lola turns out not to be in her room, Casper drops onto the edge of Irina's bed instead. "How's Mousekewitz?"
It would be so easy to be annoyed at an invasion of space, but Irina's expression settles into neutral. She's used to this, now, in close quarters. Benito is stroked over his head with a thumb before she holds him out to the other woman in cupped hands. "You mean Myshkevitz? Give me your hands, together like this."
There's a part of Casper that can't help but see vermin when she looks down at Benito, but that part gives way to the part of her that used to see things in a different light after a moment. "Yeah, Myshkevitz," Casper agrees easy enough, cupping her hands together obediently.
The mouse is eased into the waiting palms and immediately sniffs around his new hammock. Irina's lips curve into a helpless smile as she props an elbow on her knee. "He does not sing, but he makes cute squeak. He will not bite," she adds after a moment, in case it's on the blonde's mind.
"You're the one that's meant to sing to me," Casper reminds her with a small grin, gaze rising from the little mouse to meet Irina's instead.
Irina makes a sound in her throat. "But I might bite." She makes to settle her chin on a hand, but taps her fingers along the underside of her jaw instead. "It is strange to sing to you while you are sitting. My sister would always lay here." A hand pats the mattress awkwardly.
Ignoring the sudden warmth in her face, Casper holds the mouse aloft in her hands. "Where do you want 'im?"
A cat could simply be set down, but a rodent small enough to squeeze through cracks has to be safely enclosed. With a little sniff, said rodent is scooped back up, and Irina wordlessly moves over to the plastic tunnels of his home. He's settled back in with a whisper of Russian, and when the tunnels are secured, she returns to her place on the bed, the awkward feeling setting in her middle.
"I don't know why you want me to sing," she mumbles, but it's as she's reaching for her pillow to place on her crossed legs. "Head here."
Casper considers whether she should leave. It's one thing to tease Irina, to ask her to sing, and another to lay down on her and be sung to. It feels far too intimate and she's not even done it yet. She knows if she were Lola — even a little more like Lola, really — that this wouldn't even phase her. But she's not.
She is, however, capable of pretending.
"Okay," she murmurs, feigning the casualty of Lola to the best of her ability, as she lays down.
It is absurdly intimate, and Irina finds she can't make eye contact from above, but yet – her hand twitches for Casper's hair, because Vera had always found that part half as comforting as Irina's voice. They had both been ripped away from her mother, when Vera had been too young to understand the meaning of the Fall and why their mother couldn't come with them.
She hasn't sung in years. There was no warm up. She is, in fact, a bit thirsty. But she inhales, exhales, and begins to sing a Russian lullaby her mother had once sang to them, and eventually, her to her little sister.
There's no chance of eye contact for Irina, fortunately, because Casper's shuttered her eyes the moment she's laid down, deciding that looking up at Irina will break her resolve to channel her inner Lola. Or… what she's got of one, at least. It's nice, in a way, even though the awkwardness of the moment does chip away at her resolve.
This is a lullaby for infants, not that it's obvious in a foreign language, but Irina sings it as though it's Vera's head in her lap. It's been a long time since then. She'd had to stand in for the mother they'd both lost to the Veil, without a mother for herself. They'd grown up in a broken world, but Irina had done her utmost to ensure a safe, happy life for her sister. These were the moments that mattered. Moments that were full of safety and love.
She swallows a lump in her throat. Without realizing it, she's coiled a loose lock of Casper's hair around her finger before moving onto the next verse.
With that, what's already too intimate becomes almost overwhelmingly so. It's unfamiliar territory and it's tempting to bolt, but it's more telling to bolt than to stay, so she doesn't. Casper focuses on the lyrics — even though she understands none of them — to keep herself from focusing on the rest.
The end of the song comes eventually, after Irina's filled in the space with gibberish Russian where she's forgotten long lost words, and the strangeness of singing on command has passed. It's then that she finally glances down and notices the minor crime her hand has committed. Casper's peaceful expression gives her pause, however, and the hand stays where it is.
"You can clap now, concert is over," she jokes, drily.
The joke eases some of the awkwardness that Casper feels and, with a small grin, she peeks up at Irina and does a soft clap of her fingers against the palm of her hand, though it hardly makes a sound at all. "You did good."
Snorting softly, Irina frees up both of her own hands to lean back on them, her dark hair swinging with the motion. "I will go compete in Eurovision now. Did you have this in America before?"
Sitting up a little too quickly once Irina's hand pulls away, Casper's brow furrows as she processes the actual words said. "What's Eurovision?"
"It was musical competition in Europe. Most countries would participate. It was like the Olympics of music." Nostalgia twists in Irina's middle as she tips her head back to appraise the grated ceiling. "Belarus participated with English song, the year before the Fall. It was my first time wanting to care about English."
"Yeah?" Casper's gaze lingers for a moment as she thinks. "You start learning it then?"
"No, we learn in school. But my education was… interrupted." Fingers dig into the blanket as flashes of the Fall zip through Irina's mind. Mama, come with us. "Later in my settlement, we had English teacher join us. I was not a good student."
"How come?"
Irina ruefully twists her mouth. "I did not think I needed it. I thought growing food and hunting and learning about medicine was more important. This changed when I learned of the Resistance. Suddenly it was very important for me to know."
"I'd say those things're still more important." Not that they weren't things Irina needed to worry about much here. Other people did those things. Still, survival skills wouldn't ever not top the list. "Guess you were a better student after that, though," she comments, pushing herself up from the mattress.
A shrug, with a flicker of a smile to follow. "I had okay teachers after I came on board."
"And you were a better student."
"And I was a better student," Irina concedes with a playful roll of her eyes.
With the smallest smile, Casper gives a nod. "I gotta find Lo, but thanks for the lullaby."
The situation surrounding the lullaby had been outside of Irina's norm, but when she cocks her head toward a shoulder, she realizes that feeling of embarrassment is gone. She wiggles her fingers on one hand. "Sladkikh snov. Have sweet dreams."
It would be so easy to be annoyed at an invasion of space, but Irina's expression settles into neutral. She's used to this, now, in close quarters. Benito is stroked over his head with a thumb before she holds him out to the other woman in cupped hands. "You mean Myshkevitz? Give me your hands, together like this."
There's a part of Casper that can't help but see vermin when she looks down at Benito, but that part gives way to the part of her that used to see things in a different light after a moment. "Yeah, Myshkevitz," Casper agrees easy enough, cupping her hands together obediently.
The mouse is eased into the waiting palms and immediately sniffs around his new hammock. Irina's lips curve into a helpless smile as she props an elbow on her knee. "He does not sing, but he makes cute squeak. He will not bite," she adds after a moment, in case it's on the blonde's mind.
"You're the one that's meant to sing to me," Casper reminds her with a small grin, gaze rising from the little mouse to meet Irina's instead.
Irina makes a sound in her throat. "But I might bite." She makes to settle her chin on a hand, but taps her fingers along the underside of her jaw instead. "It is strange to sing to you while you are sitting. My sister would always lay here." A hand pats the mattress awkwardly.
Ignoring the sudden warmth in her face, Casper holds the mouse aloft in her hands. "Where do you want 'im?"
A cat could simply be set down, but a rodent small enough to squeeze through cracks has to be safely enclosed. With a little sniff, said rodent is scooped back up, and Irina wordlessly moves over to the plastic tunnels of his home. He's settled back in with a whisper of Russian, and when the tunnels are secured, she returns to her place on the bed, the awkward feeling setting in her middle.
"I don't know why you want me to sing," she mumbles, but it's as she's reaching for her pillow to place on her crossed legs. "Head here."
Casper considers whether she should leave. It's one thing to tease Irina, to ask her to sing, and another to lay down on her and be sung to. It feels far too intimate and she's not even done it yet. She knows if she were Lola — even a little more like Lola, really — that this wouldn't even phase her. But she's not.
She is, however, capable of pretending.
"Okay," she murmurs, feigning the casualty of Lola to the best of her ability, as she lays down.
It is absurdly intimate, and Irina finds she can't make eye contact from above, but yet – her hand twitches for Casper's hair, because Vera had always found that part half as comforting as Irina's voice. They had both been ripped away from her mother, when Vera had been too young to understand the meaning of the Fall and why their mother couldn't come with them.
She hasn't sung in years. There was no warm up. She is, in fact, a bit thirsty. But she inhales, exhales, and begins to sing a Russian lullaby her mother had once sang to them, and eventually, her to her little sister.
There's no chance of eye contact for Irina, fortunately, because Casper's shuttered her eyes the moment she's laid down, deciding that looking up at Irina will break her resolve to channel her inner Lola. Or… what she's got of one, at least. It's nice, in a way, even though the awkwardness of the moment does chip away at her resolve.
This is a lullaby for infants, not that it's obvious in a foreign language, but Irina sings it as though it's Vera's head in her lap. It's been a long time since then. She'd had to stand in for the mother they'd both lost to the Veil, without a mother for herself. They'd grown up in a broken world, but Irina had done her utmost to ensure a safe, happy life for her sister. These were the moments that mattered. Moments that were full of safety and love.
She swallows a lump in her throat. Without realizing it, she's coiled a loose lock of Casper's hair around her finger before moving onto the next verse.
With that, what's already too intimate becomes almost overwhelmingly so. It's unfamiliar territory and it's tempting to bolt, but it's more telling to bolt than to stay, so she doesn't. Casper focuses on the lyrics — even though she understands none of them — to keep herself from focusing on the rest.
The end of the song comes eventually, after Irina's filled in the space with gibberish Russian where she's forgotten long lost words, and the strangeness of singing on command has passed. It's then that she finally glances down and notices the minor crime her hand has committed. Casper's peaceful expression gives her pause, however, and the hand stays where it is.
"You can clap now, concert is over," she jokes, drily.
The joke eases some of the awkwardness that Casper feels and, with a small grin, she peeks up at Irina and does a soft clap of her fingers against the palm of her hand, though it hardly makes a sound at all. "You did good."
Snorting softly, Irina frees up both of her own hands to lean back on them, her dark hair swinging with the motion. "I will go compete in Eurovision now. Did you have this in America before?"
Sitting up a little too quickly once Irina's hand pulls away, Casper's brow furrows as she processes the actual words said. "What's Eurovision?"
"It was musical competition in Europe. Most countries would participate. It was like the Olympics of music." Nostalgia twists in Irina's middle as she tips her head back to appraise the grated ceiling. "Belarus participated with English song, the year before the Fall. It was my first time wanting to care about English."
"Yeah?" Casper's gaze lingers for a moment as she thinks. "You start learning it then?"
"No, we learn in school. But my education was… interrupted." Fingers dig into the blanket as flashes of the Fall zip through Irina's mind. Mama, come with us. "Later in my settlement, we had English teacher join us. I was not a good student."
"How come?"
Irina ruefully twists her mouth. "I did not think I needed it. I thought growing food and hunting and learning about medicine was more important. This changed when I learned of the Resistance. Suddenly it was very important for me to know."
"I'd say those things're still more important." Not that they weren't things Irina needed to worry about much here. Other people did those things. Still, survival skills wouldn't ever not top the list. "Guess you were a better student after that, though," she comments, pushing herself up from the mattress.
A shrug, with a flicker of a smile to follow. "I had okay teachers after I came on board."
"And you were a better student."
"And I was a better student," Irina concedes with a playful roll of her eyes.
With the smallest smile, Casper gives a nod. "I gotta find Lo, but thanks for the lullaby."
The situation surrounding the lullaby had been outside of Irina's norm, but when she cocks her head toward a shoulder, she realizes that feeling of embarrassment is gone. She wiggles her fingers on one hand. "Sladkikh snov. Have sweet dreams."
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