A Soviet's Struggle

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Weeks flew by like days. Xiao had came over to Mariya's every other day to check on her and how she was doing, even going as far as to help her get her sister's affairs in order to alleviate the stress. The two would cuddle, watch a movie or two, or talk; anything to help Mariya cope with her sister's passing. In truth, these little gestures helped the young Russian towards her road through grief, but deep down, she was still very heartbroken and - as more details about Silsina's death emerged - very, very angry.

Of course, as was her default, she kept this from Xiao. On the days she didn't visit, Mariya would spend her time pacing, plotting, thinking. Who could've done such a thing? Every gifted bone in her body ached for vengeance, and it took a lot of her energy to suppress those violent thoughts. She couldn't act like that.

But she wanted to.

She wanted to tear her killer apart.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Such a sadistic thought both perturbed the hybrid and interested her - as was her nature. To go against the law of nature was to go against order. Order kept everything in check: populations, communities, governments, power, Hunters, Protectors.

And yet, Mariya defied order, defied her nature. She didn't want to be seen as a monster. Rather, she wanted to be seen as a lover, a nurturer, a provider. Sometimes, she wondered if this was how Mavin felt.

Despite these attempts at masking order, her body had other plans. Through Xiao's retelling of the incident with the coolers, and through her own self discovery when coming to contact with liquids, she had realised she could freeze things with a simple touch. Through research, the partners were able to figure out that elemental-based Rifts, such as Pyromancy or Cryomancy, were tied emotionally. It took a lot of effort to be able to get such a power under complete control. Mariya had this power; the power of Cryomancy, the power to turn water - or any liquid - to ice. She had to come to terms with such a revelation, thinking back to her sister's words in regards to Rifts:

"Mom said hers came to her through something traumatic."

What exactly was that trauma to Mavin? Could it have been as severe as losing Silsina? Did having access to her Rift mean sacrifice of something close? What kind of 'merciful God' would allow such a thing, create such a twisted criteria?

Then again, there was Nömberg, so she couldn't really hold it past him.

During one of the days Mariya was to her lonesome, she sat quietly in her room, the pocket watch peacefully tickling next to her as she wrote in a journal. This was one of the things Xiao had convinced her to do: keep a 'get well' journal, where she jot her progress of processing grief in a concise way to help her process her thoughts. Her left hand went to work, writing in fine German cursive, her eyes focused intensely on the paper. The pocket watch read 10:56 PM.

Curfew was now set in place, the streets windy and empty, her dormhome quiet and stiff, the soft ticking of the watch the only noise to stir the home. Mariya squinted at her journal, re-reading some of her words. As she read, her ears perked to the sound of a motor rumbling outside. The young Russian looked up from the desk, parting the blinds she kept closed, watching as a police van drove past her dormhome. She sighed, looking back at the desk and continuing her work.

For the next 15 minutes she remained undisturbed, not until she heard the engine once more. This time, when she peeked through the blinds, no van was in sight.

How peculiar, she could've sworn she heard that van again. She chose to shake off the strangeness, slowly picking up her pencil to continue her work.

Then she heard it.