Ilya Gavrilov // Илья Гаврилов (
kid_from_chukotka) wrote in
nextgenerationmarvel2014-12-04 10:50 am
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Not In Siberia Anymore [Intro; Open to everyone at the Institute]
Ilya stood in the lobby of the mansion, attempting not to panic. While his SHIELD handler worked out the final paperwork, she'd benignly told him to stay there. The thing of it was, though, he was pretty sure that an entire apartment complex from home could fit in here. He tried not to fidget as it continued to hit home just how far away from, well, home that he was. The world seemed suddenly much too big, leaving him motionless as he tried to figure out what to do. He looked at his bags and wondered if he should take them up to his room... except he had no idea where his room was. And despite SHIELD having taught him fluent English, the Russian was loathe to call out for help and say something stupid and grammatically incorrect. He didn't want to look like an idiot right after he'd walked through the door.
So the fifteen year old stood there, glancing around awkwardly, silent as a mouse.
So the fifteen year old stood there, glancing around awkwardly, silent as a mouse.
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Topher didn't let his hand drop as Ilya spoke. To do so then would send the wrong message, and that was the last thing he wanted for the new guy. He'd confused Ilya enough already, and made him feel bad enough already too.
Some X-Leader I'm going to turn out to be, he mused.
He looked down at Dolemeck and nodded before looking back at Ilya.
"Thank you for sharing that," he said after a beat. "I don't know much about Russia, no, but the not being considered a full person? That sounds hideous." All the more so now. If they didn't like him then, what would they have thought, now that he was a mutant as well? How could anyone deal with that?
"Ilya, I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. I can't promise you that it's going to get easier now that you're a mutant - we were outed recently, and things were a little touch and go for awhile. What I can promise you is that regardless of your cultural or ethnic background, regardless of whatever gifts your genetic mutation has bestowed upon you, and regardless of how you feel it's best to learn your..." Topher paused, looking for the right word, "craft...you're among friends now." He smiled warmly at Ilya and squeezed his shoulder. "Look. We've had members who've done a lot, who've been through a lot. Not all of it good on either count. They didn't screw anything up. Neither will you."
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He looks at Topher and drank in his words, focusing on him the same way a devout person might focus in church, hanging on every syllable. He feels a kind of hope rise up in him. His father was able to look past the fact his mother was Chukchi, and see her as a person. So there must be others out there who can look past Ilya's own status and he has this incredible realization that he's actually standing in the presence of two such people.
He smiles, a real smile, looking at the ground so he won't look like a completely desperate dork. Regardless, for the first time since he got here, he can feel the tension ease off of him, and it's wonderful. "Thanks. Both of you, just - thanks. I didn't have it as bad as some people. There's a lot of people worse off in the world. Still, sometimes, it's a lot to have to worry about all the time. So I'm glad that here, I only have to worry about my powers and not anything else."
Of course, with time the glow from this conversation will fade and he'll be back to worrying. But for right now, in this moment, he feels a kind of warmth and safety he hasn't had since he left Russia. The smile on his face doesn't feel like it'll go away any time soon, either.
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He then looked up at Topher.
"Hey! Why won't we all get something to eat? I am a bit famished from studying so much." He grinned a little. "We could show Ilya the kitchen, and perhaps grab a bite of that chicken pot pie Hana is making. When I passed by earlier, it smelled like heaven!"
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At the mention of food, his stomach growls, but he wonders to himself what chicken pot pie tastes like. Chicken was not something he got ahold of often in Russia given how far north he was. It's a curious thing, all these new foods and things to experience, and he hopes he doesn't stuff his face like he sometimes does. He tries to have manners, it's just that there's so many wonderful and new things out there sometimes he forgets himself. "Are we really allowed to just grab food whenever we want?"
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"And you can have snacks within reason, too! Sometimes I make a small chocolate cake, though I tend to give it away more often to friends than eat it me-self!" he chuckled. "I am told they are delicious, which is good. If you want, I could make you one after your meal. You, too, Topher."
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The mention of never having Chocolate left Dolemeck somewhat shocked. He knew there were places that people never tasted chocolate. He just never imagined meeting someone from one of them. he shook his head and returned a large smile.
"Well that settles things! You are having one of my mini chocolate cakes after we eat!" He reached up and patted Ilya on the other shoulder. "No one should ever go through life never having experienced chocolate!"
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"You don't have to make me anything. Really. I appreciate it, though." Would refusing be rude? He's not sure. "I'm kind of curious about what it tastes like, though..."
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"I have two brothers. One is a crown prosecutor back home and the other... has his own band of sorts." Dolemeck spoke at arm's length about his brother Charles. After-all, it was Dayton who raised him and took care of him.
"And it is alright. I am offering to make you the cake, it is not as if you are imposing!" he gave a small laugh. "Truly, it is no bother to me, so do not worry any."
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"I'm just trying to be polite. It's kind of how I was raised." He resists the urge to add 'I'm sorry' onto the end of that, because that's not necessary here. Not with Dolemeck.
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"Actually, why don't you guys go on ahead? I'm actually not that hungry. Ilya, I'm going to check in with Rachel, see if rooming assignments and all that are over and done with. If they are, I'll have your stuff moved in to your new room, waiting for you whenever you're ready."
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"Thank you. You don't have to do that, you know. I can move my own things." Again, it feels like imposing on perfectly nice people when he can really do it himself. Something about the sweetness here is throwing him off; it's like he just can't function around people who treat him decently. It's a skill he's more than open to learning.
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