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 Posted: Sun Mar 10, 2013 1:57 am
More languages she couldn't understand. It was always so frustrating, getting through a shelf, and then reaching ones she couldn't read. Most of the time it just meant adding more work to Madeline and Feng's list, but it seemed there was an ever growing list of languages she couldn't read. As "fun" as taking a translation dictionary to the papers was, it was much faster to just track down someone who could do it for her.
The particular language in question was now Russian. Ami personally couldn't recall anyone who knew Russian, but after a bit of snooping around she found that there was indeed someone- Kostya! She should've known with his thick accent, but it simply hadn't clicked that he would know Russian. As long as he could translate her books, Ami couldn't care less.
In addition to his language skills, Ami was also surprised to find that he'd been running his own library. She couldn't say it didn't earn points with her, but that was besides the point. She had a job to carry out.
A chat with a few hunters earned her his phone number, and she shot him a quick text. Something short and to the point ought to do the trick.Quote: Report to Library C as soon as you can. I have some work for you. Bring anyone who might know Russian. -Ami nothing yet this was so delayed /sobs
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Posted: Sat Mar 23, 2013 1:49 pm
He missed his mother tongue, sometimes. Konstantin was accustomed to speaking in English, now. By his calculations, he had been a hunter for approximately 296 days, if he was calculating by his time spent awake. If he included his time spent in a pod, suspended in time, the total went up to an astonishing 730 days.
Russian was a comfort to him: Cyrillic characters more comforting than any security blanket, the remnants of old words and slang that he taught to Mimsy putting his restless mind at ease. It would be easier to fall into line, to erase the things that helped him stand out. To perfect his English and hone his skills, what few he had. To become a merciless assistant to the killing machines that were of the Sun Division, part and parcel of an embodiment of death.
He shivered.
Thinking too hard on the nature of what he had agreed to sometimes gave him a feeling of dread, especially since he often had repeated to himself, during the harsh times: this is what it means to be a hunter.
The brunet put his book down (The Name of the Wind, first of The Kingkiller Chronicles, newly acquired from a trip of leave) and checked his buzzing phone. A text, it seems, from the young woman who had toured him the island upon his arrival. Konstantin had not seen nor heard from her in quite some time-- but her request was reasonable.
"Mimsy," he said, nudging her bed with his steel-toed boot. "There is vork for us, vith translations. I cannot explain very well. Vill you come, help translate?"
He didn't send a reply, not yet, because there was very little Kostya would do without his approval. "It...vould be nice, to read it again. To be useful."
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