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dolevalanTitle: Bad Blood
Fandom: Ravenloft
Rating: PG
AN: ...eheh. Not my favorite, but I'm out of practice writing Anya.
The caravan was winding slowly through the mountains, in the rain, no less. Anya sighed, glancing back at the group behind her. Hollis was singing, again, and the Vistani in front of them was clearly amused by the one person who managed to remain cheerful in the deluge. Ambrose gave Anya a smile and a shake of the head before returning his concentration to picking out the path that their guide was pointing out.
She hadn’t planned on coming back to Barovia. She’d been gone since she was seventeen… or was it sixteen? She could barely remember anymore. But the smell of the rain hadn’t changed, and it felt the same, plastering her hair to the back of her neck. She hadn’t asked for word of her mother’s clan and hadn’t heard any offered, but being back in the country itself was almost enough.
Same glares, from Vistani and peasant alike. It was enough to put a damper on her mood, despite the way that things were going better than they had in months.
What she couldn’t understand, what really got under her skin… was Carmen. The woman all but reveled in her moon madness, and dumped any sort of responsibility like hot coals. As if she were Vistani. But then she had no loyalty, either, as if she were giorgio. And she just… didn’t… care. And Anya couldn't understand it. Couldn't help envying it, even while it repulsed her.
And how Carmen had managed to ignore all the suspicion, all the rejection, for so many years – it was insane. She was insane. She had to be, or nothing else made sense.
Anya shook herself, settling under the cloak and keeping her eyes on the familiar form of the stranger leading them, her own horse sure-footed on the rocky terrain. Her family hadn’t wanted her, and she certainly didn’t want them. But she was back in Barovia, and their blood was in her veins, and all she could do was grit her teeth and comfort herself with the fact that her current tentmate was much more comforting than any of those from her childhood. It would all be over soon.
Fandom: Ravenloft
Rating: PG
AN: ...eheh. Not my favorite, but I'm out of practice writing Anya.
The caravan was winding slowly through the mountains, in the rain, no less. Anya sighed, glancing back at the group behind her. Hollis was singing, again, and the Vistani in front of them was clearly amused by the one person who managed to remain cheerful in the deluge. Ambrose gave Anya a smile and a shake of the head before returning his concentration to picking out the path that their guide was pointing out.
She hadn’t planned on coming back to Barovia. She’d been gone since she was seventeen… or was it sixteen? She could barely remember anymore. But the smell of the rain hadn’t changed, and it felt the same, plastering her hair to the back of her neck. She hadn’t asked for word of her mother’s clan and hadn’t heard any offered, but being back in the country itself was almost enough.
Same glares, from Vistani and peasant alike. It was enough to put a damper on her mood, despite the way that things were going better than they had in months.
What she couldn’t understand, what really got under her skin… was Carmen. The woman all but reveled in her moon madness, and dumped any sort of responsibility like hot coals. As if she were Vistani. But then she had no loyalty, either, as if she were giorgio. And she just… didn’t… care. And Anya couldn't understand it. Couldn't help envying it, even while it repulsed her.
And how Carmen had managed to ignore all the suspicion, all the rejection, for so many years – it was insane. She was insane. She had to be, or nothing else made sense.
Anya shook herself, settling under the cloak and keeping her eyes on the familiar form of the stranger leading them, her own horse sure-footed on the rocky terrain. Her family hadn’t wanted her, and she certainly didn’t want them. But she was back in Barovia, and their blood was in her veins, and all she could do was grit her teeth and comfort herself with the fact that her current tentmate was much more comforting than any of those from her childhood. It would all be over soon.
