Author's Note: Surprise, another chapter! Why so soon, you ask? Well.. I would like to thank you all for your support and tips (a writer can always improve), and I was so excited to keep writing that I finished this chapter fairly quickly (it also helps that it's a long weekend, eh?). I'd also like to clarify a few things. The P.O.V. of this story is Third Person Limited, alternating between the characters of Ivan and Maddie. Consequently, we have not seen Ivan's character from the outside-looking-in yet, and therefore we have only seen him as he sees himself. Yes, I have been struggling with adding in his more cheerful disposition so far, as I believe he would be fairly grumpy when forced to be outside in the winter. But, I assure you that your tips have been taken to heart and as the story progresses and conflict emerges, I will be shedding light on some of the character's deeper personality traits. That being said, I appreciate any input you guys may have that can help to improve the portrayal of the characters/pace of the plot (which will be picking up from here-on out) or even character cameos that you would like to see! Thanks to all your help, I like this chapter the most so far and I hope you all enjoy it!
He had been watching, without her knowledge, and without her consent.
Fresh mug of hot chocolate settled between his chilled hands, he caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. Knowing that this new person would be looking for somewhere to sit, he prepared himself to glare daggers at whoever they were. No one would be occupying the second space of the love seat except his own feet. His head tipped in the direction from which he had seen the movement, eyes gleaming with all the fierceness his tired body could muster. His energy was wasted, however - the person wasn't even considering the place where his feet rested. Ivan let himself relax back into the sofa with a smile spread across his lips.
At first, he had thought the person slipping past him was the boy he had raced earlier. Didn't he say his name was Alfred? The face looked vaguely familiar and the body was slender, however, he was quick to notice the differences between Alfred and the person flopped on the recliner a short distance away from himself. First and foremost: this person was female. While the boy had been tall and solidly built, the girl before him was slight. Her thin frame was draped in an over sized sweater and pajama bottoms - androgynous dress, but definitely female. Her face carried the same shining eyes that the boy had (though they were tinged a warm violet instead of the bright blue), but her features were softer and not taught with adrenaline as his had been.
Her overall aura lacked threat, and yet - hadn't the boy said she was the best skier he knew? Ivan almost giggled at the thought. This girl was no threat to him, he could tell that just by looking at her. There was no visible sign that betrayed her shield of calm kindness. Her strawberry blonde hair clung to her rounded face and he could see her studying the others in the room. Sensing she would look his way soon, he turned his attention back to the beverage cooling in his hands. As he drew out a long sip, though, he noticed her eyes were fixated on a blonde boy on the other side of the hearth.
So, he continued to watch, and continued to listen, with surprising ease. The two blondes were conversing openly, and intently, so they were not aware of his eavesdropping presence. Even when he shifted his position for comfort, they did not so much as glance in his direction. Not used to being so absolutely invisible, Ivan was intrigued, as much of the time, he was trying to disappear to his sisters. At that point, he had easily slipped into the shadows and was observing the conversation of two perfect strangers.
He listened to them talk of the past. He listened to them speak of common friends. He listened to their discussion on the ownership of the resort. He listened to the boy's continuing tone of disinterest. He listened to the girl's quiet, watery voice, which almost seemed to disappear under the rising wave of chatter in the room. He listened, he listened, and he only listened.
How wonderful it feels to just listen, and not have to do any talking. He decided he quite liked hearing people talk without knowing there was someone uninvited listening, as people showed emotion more clearly with their guard down. It is much easier to tell the true nature of someone by listening to the inflections in their voice rather than just their words. This realization warmed his insides almost as much as the heat from the fire. Unfortunately, the end of their chat came much too soon. He was being lulled by the flow of their conversation, but when the boy excused himself to leave, Ivan was suddenly pulled from his state of bliss.
He had been so involved in the discussion that, when it ended, he was left a bit disoriented. It took a moment for him to remember exactly what he had been doing. Seeing Alfred's sister rise from her chair, he was quickly snapped back to reality. I am in the lounge; I was listening to a conversation between strangers; I am drinking hot chocolate. He glanced down at the mug as the small girl passed, and stared dejectedly. Correction: I was drinking hot chocolate. Perhaps if he waited long enough, the dry cup would fill itself up with more of the sweet beverage. Unfortunately, the world does not work like that.
Ivan sighed. He contemplated if another cup was worth relenting his comfortable position on the plush love seat in front of the warm fireplace. He promptly decided that it was not, and would retain his prime location for a while longer, if only a few minutes. He leaned backwards in to the soft cushions behind his back with a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. His thoughts drifted from the embers of the fire, to the warmth of his bed at home, to the cold of the bed upstairs that awaited him, and to the two - possibly impatient - women that awaited him as well. Unwillingly, his body began to lead him out of the lounge and into the hallway where the elevator was.
Mind still buzzing from his prior activities, he slowly shuffled out of the bustle of the lounge and into the serene silence of the corridor. It was almost too quiet, but that familiar ding broke the stillness in the air. He wouldn't need to wait for the lift, it was already there. As a few people with wind-chapped faces passed him, Ivan allowed his body to pull him into the empty elevator. He pressed the floor button and waited for the door to slide shut. It began with a delay, and slowly slid further closed before stopping suddenly. At first, he thought someone had stopped it with their hand so they could catch it as well. However, when the door just stood there, ajar, he realized what had happened.
It's stuck. The elevator door is stuck. As minor as the glitch was, it still irritated him. He would have to squeeze out the opening and take the stairs, all while trying to avoid being seen and subsequently blamed for the broken elevator. He positioned himself in front of the door to study the space which he had to escape through more closely. It was about a foot in width, maybe less - a tight squeeze, but he knew he could pull it off. He tried to pull the door back further so to make the gap wider, but it did not budge. Resigned to the prospect of squishing through the opening, he stepped his booted foot out into the hall first. Next came his right shoulder and arm, then his head. He pulled his chest through and sucked in his stomach. Squeezing through, he pulled his left leg out last and inhaled deeply. Anyone who had seen the large man pulling himself through the opening would have laughed at the sight, but no one had.
In one piece and with the euphoric smile returning to his face, he walked towards the stairs and began to climb. The stairwell was cold, damp, and dimly lit. Various posters covered older ones which coated the walls. While making his way up the flights, he paused to look at a few. One was fairly new, as the corners had not yet curled inwards. It advertised an upcoming junior ski competition at the resort, and was dated for that coming Saturday. Ivan's eyes were immediately glinted with fervor, as he envisioned himself beating all the other competitors. He may not have liked skiing, but he never passed up on opportunity to win at the expense of others. Taking the pen that dangled by a string in his hands, he jotted his name on the sign-up sheet beside the poster without apprehension.
Smirking to himself, he began to climb the stairs once again, but a vision flashed into his mind that jerked him to a halt. The first name that was signed had been Maddie Kirkland, in slanted handwriting. He had been so sure he would win, but Alfred's words from earlier that day threw him off. He said his sister was good, but she doesn't seem that threatening. Insecurity began to gnaw at his insides and he exited the stairwell with a furrow in his brow. He would just have to wait until Saturday to find out if the girl was as good as her brother claimed. Ivan cleared his face of all emotion, and unlocked their door. He slipped in without much noise, but his movement caught the eye of his older sister.
"You're back! We've been waiting Ivan, Natalya only fell once or twice after you left. Isn't that great? You taught her so well brother! I'm proud of you!" She immediately began to ramble, and he tuned her out, nodding every so often so to not give away his inattentiveness. She continued and he began to watch his little sister out of the corner of his eye. She was clinging to the back of the couch, facing him. It seemed she was contemplating whether or not to jump on him. Before she could make any movement, he shuffled towards the kitchen to rinse out his mug. Natalya sunk down onto the couch in low spirits, disappearing behind its large back.
"I heard there is a ski competition this Saturday. Ivan, you should sign up! And if you don't, I'm definitely signing you up." Most of the time, Katyusha's ramblings did not interest him, but the mention of the contest made him grin.
"I have already signed myself up, sister." His confession was met with a squeal of delight from the tall woman. He knew she took it as an admittance to his "love" of winter, but he did not have the energy to correct her misunderstanding.
"Oh, Ivan! I'm so excited! You're sure to win." She embraced him and held on tight, looping her arms around his large frame. He did not resist, but he did not return the gesture either. After a moment she pulled away, a wide smile on her face. The corners of his mouth lifted with delight. Yes, I am sure to win. "We will have to train you extra hard for this, brother." Katyusha's voice pulled him from his fanatic thoughts, and erased the smirk from his face.
"Train?" He didn't want to believe it. "Sister, I do not need to train!" He was already good enough as it is. She would have none of it, and was shaking her head.
"We'll start first thing tomorrow! Don't worry, it will be so much fun that you won't even realize it's work!" She was dead-set on her plan, and with his falling energy level, he could not argue. Instead he emitted a noise of disapproval and turned to his bedroom. He was badly in need of rest, and even though it was not that late, he could not resist the call of sleep much longer. He uttered a half-hearted "goodnight" and disappeared into the room. Katyusha frowned, but called out anyways, "I'll wake you in the morning!" A great thud sounded from the room, but the two sisters paid no attention, and continued with what they had been doing before Ivan had returned.
With his eyes fixated on the ceiling, Ivan cursed internally. He should have known that if he signed up for the competition, his sisters would make him train. He supposed he would have to come up with an excuse - fake some minor injury that would prevent him from going out in the next few days, but would be "healed" by the time Saturday came around. There was no way he would pass up an opportunity to win, even if it was in the biting cold of winter. He remained laying on the bed, but kicked off his boots. Inching towards the pillows, he could almost feel the redeeming rest that sleep would bring, and he crawled beneath the stiff covers of the starchy bed. Before long, he was drifting off to sleep.
The world is painted a pale, ghostly white, and snow is swirling all around him. He cannot distinguish between ground and sky; there is no horizon. The chill of the air leaves his exposed skin numb.
He is breathing heavily, but the mist of breath disappears instantly. It leaves no trace of existence except tiny crystals that bead his scarf.
He is calling out for someone, anyone, but his voice is hoarse. No sound is reaching his ears, as it is immediately carried away by the driving wind. He is yelling for quite some time, but no one is there to hear him.
He is trudging through rolling snow-dunes and watching for a glimpse of anything but the complete whiteness that blankets the world. He finds that the further he walks, the more his legs seem to disappear beneath the enormous snow drifts. He stops walking and tightens his long scarf around his face, dropping to the frozen ground.
As the wind whips at him, raw, red patches begin to spread over the exposed flesh of his cheeks. He lifts his gloved hand to press its leather surface to his face. The contact is a shock, and his eyes begin to sting with water.
The temperature is dropping as darkness begins to settle. The leaking of his eyes is solidifying quickly, and he panics. He tries to jump to his feet but finds that his body is covered by a growing mound of snow.
He attempts to open his watery eyes, but they are frozen shut. The realization causes more fluid to escape beneath his lashes, and adds to the ice.
Desperately, he begins to swipe the snow away with his arms, but the effort is futile. The more snow he sweeps away, the more piles up around his trapped body.
He digs his fingertips into the fabric of his collar, searching for a solution in his mind. He does the only thing his instinct tells him to: pull himself up. He brings his arms up above the snow crowding his chest, and flattens two spots for his hands. He begins to push downwards with all his strength but his body does not move. Frantically, he presses down again and again with increasing vigour, but to no avail.
The snow has reached his shoulders now. A breath hitches in his throat and he begins to choke back tears.
With all his might, he tries one last time to pull himself out of the growing snow drift that encases his body, but he finds that it has solidified into ice. With his eyes still glued shut, he runs his hand along the surface in front of him. It is perfectly solid and another sob is caught in his throat.
The ice level is rising, and he begins to breathe heavily on it in an attempt at melting. He quickly becomes out of breath and dizzy. He falls into a frenzied state, and his mind is reeling.
A watery voice penetrates his state of delirium, but he can feel the ice stabbing at his cheek. As the voice draws nearer, the ice begins to close around the crown of his head; his eyes are pointed upward to the sky. The final crack of the ice seals itself above his skull.
Through his frozen eyelids, he can sense a darkness looming over his trapped body. Slowly, the icy glue that binds his eyelids dissipates, and his eyes become unstuck. Cautiously, he pries them open with weak muscles and glimpses the figure laughing down at him.
The last thing he remembers seeing is a wicked smile drawn across straight white teeth, and a flash of strawberry blonde.
He awoke with a jolt, and found himself covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. A lingering hint of delirium remained from his dream, and he was shivering. He rolled his body over to catch sight of the clock that rested on the night table beside the bed. It read 1:54, and he blinked his eyes to adjust to its red glow. The light it emitted was minimal, but it accentuated a pounding headache that had been hiding itself beneath the shivers and sweat. Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, but found that they were near ice-cold.
Shifting on his back, be brought both hands up to his face and attempted to warm them with his breath. He could not tell in the darkness, but the pale flesh of his palms was tinged a slight shade of light blue. Finding comfort in the heat of his own breath, his muscles relented their tension. As the chill that seized his body began to subside, he began to drift again, this time into a fitful, dreamless sleep. There was no driving snow. There was no rising ice. There was only darkness.
He remained like that for several hours, tossing and turning restlessly in his slumber. Every once in a while, a breath would hitch in his throat, but would quickly dissolve. The disturbances in his sleep grew further apart as morning approached. By the time that the first panes of light crept into the room, he had been laying perfectly still for nearly a half-hour. Unaware of her brother's unpleasant night, Katyusha bounced in with a grin plastered on her face. She had decided to wake him.
"IIIvvvaaaaannn, dear brother. It's time to wake up! Your training starts today." He was drowsily pulled from his sleep by her warm voice, and grunted to signify that he was awake. Satisfied, she turned to leave, but not before adding, "I have prepared breakfast, if you're interested." A loud, drawn-out rumble escaped his abdomen. Struggling against an ice prison in his dreams had worked up a considerable appetite in him. Slowly, he lifted his body into a sitting position and shoved the scratchy covers off his lower half. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and found the ground with his feet.
There was a delicious scent drifting past his nose, and he quickly made his way towards it, despite the head-rush that came instantly with his rise from the bed. The smell was irresistible, and he settled down in one of the hard chairs circling the kitchen table. A plate covered in food was set in front of him, and he immediately brought a fork-full to his lips. The taste swept over his tongue and he chewed slowly, savouring the first bite. Though the taste was something to be appreciated, another grumble from his stomach prompted Ivan to scarf down the rest of the plate. When he finished, he took a long gulp of water and wiped his chin.
He rose to his feet and Katyusha called to him, "Now go get changed." He turned in to the bedroom. The slight glow of light had by then been replaced with a much brighter one. He glanced to the window to see what kind of day he would be facing. Pulling the blinds upwards, a gasp escaped his lips and a widespread pain washed over his body.
"Sister, I don't think we should go out today." He braced himself against the wall for support. She came bouncing in to question him, but he only pointed out the glass. Her eyes darted from the hunched figure of the large man to the light of the window, and she too let out a short breath of surprise.
The world was painted a pale, ghostly white, and snow was swirling about as if it were in a frenzy. She could not distinguish between ground and sky; there was no horizon.
They had been caught at the resort in the middle of a violent snow storm.
Aaand the plot (finally) thickens! Maddie and Ivan have been in mutual company a couple times now (cookies to the person who remembers the first time). Next chapter, they finally meet face-to-face! Ivan (being inside away from the cold) is a bit cheerier now, da? I think my favourite part to write was the dream sequence, even if it reflects the darker, more depressed side of his personality (and god knows how much I love sugar-sweet Ivan). So, what did you all think.. better/worse? Don't forget to review!