One Day At A Time

Night is swiftly falling, the sun disappearing earlier and earlier as November creeps across the Soviet Union. Temperatures at night have been well below freezing, their dilapidated fireplace kept stoked with every bit of wood and debris they can find. Maschenko's been here for about an hour, after working from the pre-dawn well into the fading dusk. He's sitting on a pile of ratty blankets (and probably a pile of lice) where he can keep an eye on several soldiers — including Yulia when she's here — that have been run down and ill the last few days. Not ill enough for the hospital, which can barely contain those near death. General colds and even the more dangerous infections get stuck in here, no room to accommodate them elsewhere.

Gregor comes in, rifle in hand, looking over the ill people briefly before moving off to check the entry points. Walking guard. He looks bored.

It's Novi plus a Kova. She wanders in, shaking off some of the snow flurries. A light sniffle. SNRRT. Pleasant. One eye closes. "Uuugh. My head," Uh oh. Is even the mighty ox succumbing to a wee animalcule or two? She rubs at her head and closes her eyes. She smiles, noticing maschenko. "Comrade Doctor," She greets him. A wave to Gregor too, "My favorite um - well, let's see. You're - uh, the best guy named Gregor I know." Beam. She will sit near the poor doctor if he doesn't protest.

Elise and Ivan, the young harmonica player, were serenading the barracks earlier, having a grand old time, but knocked it off as night began to fall. Accordian-wielding Bear was nowhere to be seen, presumably off doing soldierly stuff tonight. Ivan is summoned away now from their quiet chat to watch, and Elise bids him goodnight and watches him go for a moment before carefully tucking away her fiddle in her pack. She's still loaning Yulia her velvet blanket if she's still sick. Seeing Novi come in she smiles. "Cousin." Then the smile fades as Novi rubs her head. "You're not getting sick too are you?"

Gregor looks to Novi and snorts, smiling, "Thank you, I think." He says, glancing to Elise then Novi, and Maschenko.

Maschenko doesn't protest, if only because he's half asleep. The closest stage to real sleep that he's really been able to get to since they got here. Even the hazy doze is incomplete, his puffy eyes drifting open without a startle. They flicker from one prone coughing person to the next, then the ones that have just come in. "Evening." He shifts his shoulders against the wall, cramped from hunching. "You are sick, Zoya?"

Pause. Maybe best not to sit near Maschenko. She doesn't sit too near if she can help it then. A smile at Elise, "I am sure it's just the cold air. My nose runs when it's really cold and stuff like that." She's probably got a cold, even her immune system and reserves worn by the stress. She smiles at Gregor. "Indeed!" She yawns. "Or maybe a cold, so I won't sit next to poor comrade Doctor." At least she's wise enough to remember that. "Should be okay," She promises. "It's probably best I don't hug anyone tonight is all…"

After a particularly rough night Yulia's fever finally broke. It wasn't rough enough to land her back in the hospital though, and as soon as she felt like she wasn't going to spin out of oblivion from just standing up, she went back there of her own volition to help out where she could without getting germs everywhere. She tromps in now, still ashen and favoring her wounded leg, but there's decent and steady improvement. "Comrades," she says to the others with a faint appreciative smile. Then, looking at Elise, "Thank you for letting me borrow your blanket. Let me return it…" She pauses while going over to her bedroll to listen to Zoya with concern creasing her brow.

Gregor nods as he moves off from the sickies, looking about for a moment before moving off to check the rest of the room.

Elise nods slightly to Novi's recommendation. "Everyone seems to be coming down with it. Can I get you anything, Zoyuschka? Let me make sure you don't have a fever." She shifts her weight to reach over to check. A slight smile to Yulia. "No problem, Comrade Yulia. I'm glad you're feeling better."

Maschenko scratches absently along the side of his neck, where lice feasted on him while he was drifting. Everyone's covered in them, those and fleas leaving the army dabbled with tiny red spots. He stands up stiffly, careful his heel doesn't come down on someone's leg that's stretched out behind him. Getting anywhere around here is like picking one's way through a human maze. "I'll get you all some warm water."

Novikova flavor, woe. She smiles faintly at Elise. "I'm alright really. Sure everyone gets a little fever in the cold.

Novikova flavor, woe. She smiles faintly at Elise. "I'm alright really. Sure everyone gets a little fever in the cold." She glances over, seeing Yulia. "Comrade Yulia!" Beam. She seems pleased enough to see the nurse up and about again. A pause and a scritch on her shoulder. Darnit. She boggles at Maschenko, "Thank you comrade Doctor…" She settles into a spot. She might have a slight fever at best, even Novi's immune reserves getting worn down at some point. Woe. "I feel kind of bad, I am sure it's okay."

"Here you go." Yulia hands Elise the blanket, folded as neat as a well-loved blanket can be. "Reminds me of going to school, a little bit. I'd always get sick right before a big exam. And if you survive that, then you have to worry about everyone else's colds." She makes a bit of a distasteful face while she rubs her back. "You probably just need rest as I did, and a warm drink— thank you, comrade doctor." She says to Maschenko. Yulia settles somewhere near Novi. The sick ones stick together!

Elise is right in there with there with Zoya so she's probably next to get sick. She's relieved when the fever is mild. "It's just a slight one. You should get lots of rest though." As if to encourage that, she'll take the recently-returned blanket and start draping it over Novi.

Maschenko is gone a while, not because he's trying to take ages but because it's quite difficult finding three cups at a time that don't leak. And then water, which is just a pile of questionably clean snow that someone brought in in a pail and hung over the fire to boil. Picking up two of the hot cups with one hand and one in the other, he finally picks his way back to the chatting women, very cautious as he kneels down. "Be careful, it's very hot."

Novikova smiles at Elise weakly, "Are you sure? Thank you. I don't want to spread my germs though." Frown. Novikova looks duly concerned. A nod at Yulia and a faint smile. "Thank you Comrade Doctor, everyone. I appreciate it. I'm sure it's just a minor cold," She murmurs. She looks to Maschenko and smiles. She accepts the water carefully. "Very hot, got it. How have you been then?" She asks in turn, not wishing to monopolize the conversation.

«Game» It is now night time.

Yulia takes the cup with both hands, shivering just a touch from the sudden warmth. She lifts it to her lips but just blows to cool it off. "Da," she adds in after Novi, looking at Maschenko. "Take care not to get sick yourself."

"Don't worry about it, cousin," Elise replies, shaking her head. She gets Zoya the blanket and then falls quiet for the moment, listening to the conversation. To Novi's question, she replies, "All right. We were playing a little bit earlier. Quiet watch?"

Maschenko is left holding the third cup. Awkward. He just sets Elise's cup down by the girl and stands up again, leaving the girls in peace as he steps by them towards his satchel.

Novikova nods at that. No cooties for doctor. She smiles and settles in, "I have my blanket too… I'll be sad if you got sick for being cold," She admits. Then a smile. "And I missed it? Tch. Da. Mostly. As they can be," Her eyebrows lift. "Always someone making noise. How about things here?"

Elise realizes Maschenko got her water too when he bends over to set it nearby. "Oh, sorry, Comrade Doctor. Thank you." She was too busy fussing over Zoya to realize his generosity. "There'll be another time, I'm sure," she tells Zoya. "Quiet enough in here."

Maschenko hasn't gone very far, just enough that he's not intruding on the cousins anymore. "Sure, Elise." He sits back down close to where he was before, drawing his legs up so people don't go flying over them. Spatters of voices everywhere, and his attention sometimes flickers to the pairs and groups massed together, and then away again.

Novikova nods at Elise, then looks to Maschenko. "What kind of music do you like, Comrade Doctor?" She asks quietly, before smiling at her cousin and taking a sip of the water. Still a bit hot. She blinks owlishly and blows on it a little more. "That's good," She smiles, pleased.

Elise doesn't sip the water yet, it being too hot, but she does use it to warm her hands, the missing finger making an odd gap as her hands splay across the side of the cup. She looks to Maschenko curious to hear the response, somewhat concerned by his quiet.

"What?" Maschenko's voice isn't abrupt, just drifting back from whatever distance his mind went to. "Oh…" He rubs at the tip of his nose with his dirty thumb, quiet for a length of time. "Many things you've never heard, Zoya. But…" He picks at the fabric on his knee. "I like violins. Someone used to play Prokofiev for me every time I visited. Sonata Number 1. I haven't heard it in so long."

Novikova smiles at Elise and looks to Maschenko. She tilts her head, "Really? Prokofiev," She echoes the name softly. "I'll have to hear it some time too," She smiles at him. "I'm sorry. I won't bug if you're busy, but-" She seems concerned, peering over. "Sonata number 1…" She hrms. "I see." She's learned something. She yawns. "Did you see it at a concert hall?"

Elise smiles slightly and glances around. It's not THAT late, and people are still up and about. Hopefully nobody will mind as she drags the fiddle out once more. She tucks it under her chin and starts playing. Sonata 1. Not concert hall material, by any stretch, but very good for a high school student. The whole thing is very long, so she just picks the second movement to play.

"No…no." Maschenko answers Novikova's question about the concert hall very softly, as if the concept were somewhat alien to him. "This…he had studied violin before the revolution. Remembered these little pieces…these…" He exhales quietly through his nose. "Had always dreamed of playing it in a hall. Big orchestra, thunderous applause. Instead it was just this dingy little apartment in Leningrad, and me. And he said…that was so much better." His voice is so quiet, dredging up memory that's both heartening and heartbreaking at once. As Elise goes for her fiddle he doesn't notice until the music actually starts the first strains, and for the first time he looks up. "Oh, that, Elise. That's the one."

Blink. Oooh. A smile. "I see," Novikova tilts her head. "I am - sorry, if it's a bit awkward. But that sounds like a good goal," She admits quietly. She takes a deep breath and smiles as her cousin starts up. For once, Novikova is quiet, her eyes a little glazed from fever but she seems happy as Maschenko looks up. There's a little yawn.

Elise is touched by the doctor's story, listening while she keeps playing. "I always wanted to play in a concert hall. But this is nicer. Just for friends." Well, and other random soldiers who happen to be listening. She smiles a little, and keeps playing it for the doctor.

"If what is awkward?" Maschenko asks Novikova, confused. It probably hasn't occurred to him that she might know who he's talking about, via Elise. But the music has him well distracted, question forgotten almost before it's out of his mouth. "It's nice, isn't it? Listen, Zoya. This crescendo is beautiful…" His eyes drift closed and he lifts a finger near his cheek as Elise gets to that part, the tip moving just an inch in the air. "Just listen. It's like watching a ship on the horizon and it's getting further and further away, almost until you can't see anymore, and then…it's gone. And your heart just breaks when it's gone from your sight, but…right there." As the key changes. "That's the joy as you've let it go and someone else is welcoming it home."

Novikova pauses, looking confused herself. Alas, Novi is not that wise. "I meant asking so much-" She goes quiet and smiles. She nods. She can hear that! "We are glad for it," Before settling into silence. Alas, even Novi wears down her body's animalcules trying to shank the invaders. A soft smile as she begins to fade into a land of warm, feverish dreams.

Elise's smile quirks up a bit for a moment at the doctor's description, then settles into the distant look of someone deeply focused on their work. She wants to play it well given how important it obviously is for the doctor. She finally completes the second movement, and reluctantly lowers her bow. "I'm sorry, that's all I can remember. I didn't practice the other bits as much." She remembers bits and pieces, but doesn't want to mess it up.

"It was perfect, Elise." Maschenko glances up to deliver that subdued praise, eyes subtly reddened. He gives a very soft chuckle — it fades fast and it's not a competely relaxed sound, but it's the first tripping baby step he's taken towards laughter in a week. His finger runs over his right lashes as he looks back down. "Damn dust…" Clearing his throat softly, he looks down at Novikova. "You should get some sleep, Zoya. And you, Elise."

Novikova smiles at Elise, "Da, it was." She seems pleased and nods. "I will… you too. thank you both," She manages. She will gently pat Elise's shoulder if her cousin is in range. Failing that, Novi will let herself fall into those strange, feverish dreams.

Subdued or not, the praise means a lot to Elise. Her expression is an odd mix of joy and sadness, pleased by the impact but also saddened by the distance of the memory, and memories of her own. She nods to the doctor's recommendation for sleep, and starts carefully tucking the fiddle back in its pack. She says softly to him. "I hope you get to hear it again, Comrade Doctor." The implication in her tone is that she doesn't mean herself playing it.

Maschenko watches his knees, taking a breath meant to say something, and then that dies before it becomes words. "One day at a time," he says finally, just as softly. As the girls get ready to sleep eventually he too lies down on his back on his bedroll, for what might be another long dawn of insomnia. Under his head is his satchel and under that, Sokolof's. Still buttoned shut. Still waiting.

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