Andrei seemed alive just getting into that automobile, as though a portion of the anguish and rage had drifted from his skin and no longer possessed him so wholly. That morning, he rose from the mud and took the caked dirt from his hide. That morning, he was something new.
"What are you so happy about? I can see you hiding smiles."
"It's nothing, Dmitri."
"Nothing?" A omniscient grin. "You're in love."
I'm not in love. Don't be ridiculous."
"Yes you are." An elbow. "You're not happy about work unless you're in love."
Andrei only sighed at his younger brother, turning towards that icy window. He let breath drift from his throat and fog up that surface, prodding his finger tip into that pool, drawing nothing in particular.
"I'm sorry, Andrei. You know I'm only kidding."
"I know, Dmitri."
Then they went to that bustling factory, saying good-bye to the driver and walking in through that chilled threshold. Then they clocked in, and then they got to their duties.
Even in the beginning, Andrei's mind was tearing from focus.
He was not in that soap factory. He was at home, with Ellis at his side. Ellis, the nurse; Ellis, who liked the smell of his clothing; Ellis, who drank vodka and ending up crying; Ellis, who felt sad for others' loss; Ellis with her gorgeous ink-black hair and eyes blooming with the world.
Ellis.
His heart again kissed to his ribs. It made him sick. It was stupid to be nervous, only thinking of someone. Especially when that someone wasn't even present.
Just as it was stupid to fall in love. They hadn't known one another all too long, and that charming thing probably didn't even feel anything towards him. After all, that is how sirens function. They play and pretend and sing, and so suddenly, one finds they have crashed into a cliff.
She was too beautiful for her own good.
For his own good.
A sigh. Another edition of red dye made.
Andrei wanted her. Not only physically. No. He wanted to eat her alive, swallow her whole and make that pretty little-Austrian-Hungarian his own. He didn't want to share her; he didn't want to negotiate. All he wanted was that woman.
And how idiotic was that?
Truly.
It was ridiculous.
It was all her fault.
Before, Andrei was so focused, so wired to the Bolshevik's cause and remolding Russia in the shape of a hammer and sickle. He still was, but now there was a mistress to his first love. Was she playing games? Or did she genuinely like him? Was he making the entire thing up, hallucinating in bed with a building fever while all his loved ones stood around him, panicking?
Maybe there was no Ellis.
Maybe there was no Ivan Braginski.
Maybe his mother was still alive.
No. Don't be ludicrous. That's just stupid.
Another edition of red dye made.
At least Ellis worked hard, exactly the way it should be. Those gorgeous hands were not worn, but anyone could see that the lady's heart was certainly giving. What was more admirable than a nurse volunteering at a hospital? Sacrificing her free time to help those far less fortunate. Those who were damaged at work; those who had been marred by the hands of their husbands and masters; those who had shattered bones and those who were giving birth. Those who had been by cut by glass when fighting for their beliefs.
The world had too many woman who wore pearls and silk and powder, sitting in their shelves and simply giving the world more useless girls who grew and went into the creation of more useless girls.
Andrei only respected women with filthy hands and tired faces, who scurried around a hospital, frantic, to create good work. Only women who drank vodka. Only with passion inside their hearts.
And he had known her long enough to realize all of these qualities.
Andrei wondered how long it would be before he revisited the hospital, dreamy eyed and heart sick, all due to that crippling disease named Ellis. Ellis with her gorgeous ink-black hair and eyes blooming with the world.
It wouldn't be a terrible duration. A significant portion of that crux had been infected already. Conquered and oppressed by all the mangled sentiment that virus forced him to feel. The symptoms were terrible. His heart sped up, his sight grew hazy; his palms nervous; his legs weak; his mind distracted; his entire body flying.
The poor man was repressed and he didn't even realize it, his sanity had warped so heavily.
But at least, for now, Andrei functioned. Functioned and created dye and came home smelling of flowers, which only drew the nymph in nearer.
A sigh.
And another edition of red dye made.