fₒᵣ ᵢ ₐₘ bₑcₒₘₑ dₑₐₜₕ, dₑₛₜᵣₒyₑᵣ ₒf wₒᵣₗdₛ
Anastasia Morozova is a kinslayer. Anya Varamyr is a murderer. Anastasia is a decorated soldier. Anya is a backstreet cutthroat. Anastasia would die for her country. Anya would die for her friends.
Anastasi...
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♥✎ ✲❁✰❄✫✾✹✾✷❂✷✬✶❄✲ 🐙ൠ
"Ulla! Ulla, it's me! Come on out!"
"And why are you shouting into the canal?" Genya asked in a huff, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Anya scream into the river. "Anastasia, I thought you'd stopped drinking?"
Anya turned to grin at her with jurda stained lips. She'd felt horrible sneaking out of the hotel in the early morning, telling only Inej and Nina of her intentions. She'd felt like a nervous wreck finding Kaz sleeping like a baby in one of the side rooms; and she'd felt even worse leaving him there as she scaled down the side of the building. It would take him a while to notice her absence; everyone was too busy working away in preparation for the upcoming auction. "Trust me on this, Genya. I know what I'm doing."
"You said we were looking for your sister," the red head frowned, inspecting her neatly trimmed nails. "I didn't know you had a sister!"
Anya shrugged, dipping her fingers into the water. "My mother didn't have the best of luck in raising her offspring. At least Ulla turned out better than my brother. Ulla! Rise and shine!"
"You've actually gone mad," Genya muttered as Anya leaned down to dunk her head into the canal. "Ketterdam has made you barmy. I don't know how I'm going to break the news to Nikolai - oh!"
Anya laughed loudly, jurda fuelled fingers twitching nervously at her sides as a green glow encompassed the water below. "What did I tell you?"
"You didn't tell me your sister was a siren!"
"Close enough, but not quite." Genya jumped as a beautiful head of sleek black hair emerged from the water, voice spilling from her mouth like the gentle rush of the tide on a summer's day. "You called for me, Nastya?"
Anya grinned and gestured for Genya to move closer to the water. "You sure took your time, Ulla. This is Genya Safin; she's a Grisha Tailor."
"The Grisha Tailor," Genya corrected with a proud edge to her tone. "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss - is it Ulla?"
Ulla smiled quizzically at the beautiful Grisha, surveying her with interest. "My name is Ulla - Ulla Morozova, I suppose."
"You may know her as Sankta Ursula," Anya shrugged, as if it was a statement of little importance. "I can't believe I'm the only family member to have not achieved sainthood. A real travesty."
