Reverence - Book 2

- 1 -

The thing about life is that when you're content in your situations, something is bound to come and uproot you. Intentionally or by a whim, some table is always bound to turn. Whether it be an illness, natural disaster or just plain dumb luck. There is always disappointment lurking around  the next bend to sweep your feet from under you. It will be brutal. It will be swift. If it's not one, its the next. 

The thing about life is that when you're comfortable, the universe will send something to remind you that your morality and frailties are no match for the power of living. 

Or rather, Someone.

~

The snow fell quietly over the empty streets of Moscow. It was the soft feathery snow, the stuff that piles up and glitters ferociously like diamonds. 

But it never lasts, and by the cruel light of dawn it will have been reduced to nothing but a murky trickle down the gutter of the earth. 

Yanyah had set about, humming that god damned song under her breath for the 29th time that evening. It was enough to give me a stammering twitch in my right eyebrow, the one that pulled up half my face.  

The smell of softly crisped pirozhki wavered through the house, a quarter drained bottle of Chateau Canon pressed lazily against my lips, and I sat there coddled into her soft leather couch watching as the snow fell absently against the pitch sky.

"Chert voz'mi, eto krutaya suka!" 

Hissed Yanyah, the rapid clang of the metal tray smashing against the over door. This elicited a smirk from me. 

She came to my side, shaking her burned fingers in a resolve, reaching out for the sweating bottle of wine. 

"Hand it over." 

She griped, simpering damaged flesh against the cool glass. She took a swill, mouth turning up at the decadence. 

"Dinner is ready." 

She breathed, reaching past me for her dog eared issue of Vouge. I bristled at the glossy catalogue. That part of myself I had dismissed so long ago, and now I spent my time vehemently avoiding it at all costs. Unfortunately for me Yanyah had a slight...obsession with the world of opulence and reform. 

And Money. 

A dirt poor child raised in the outer boroughs of Kiev, she had all but sold her soul to chase the ever fleeting glamour of the rich and powerful. She had married the first dick willing to throw her a designer bag or two and made the jump to "High class" as she so lovingly put it. 

But the infidelity and homosexuality of her first husband deterred her hot shot to stardom. So in a turnaround time of exactly 7 months and 2 days, Yanyah had divorced him, burning out 3/4 of his amassed fortune and set her sights out for the next bank account she could martyr to achieve those gilded dreams. 

And then she found her, the cash sow that would catapult her into the wide expanse of her minds wildest desires. 

It began on the day we crossed paths outside of the Kremlin, two well manicured hands reaching for the hammered brass door at the same time. 

Her dark brown eyes met mine for a brief moment before they settled on the encrusted love ring around my finger. 

From then, we became inseparable. 

Late nights spent breaking down 4 pairs of pointe shoes before a 16 hour rehearsal. Desperate phone calls to rescue her from tragic hook-ups. 

So many bottles of wine.