А дальняя дорога дана тебе судьбой,
как матушкины слёзы, всегда она с тобой

But the long way, given to you by fate,

It is always with you, like a mother's tears

@arianna

It couldn’t be. His eyes had to be playing a trick on him. He had been walking through Diagon Alley, wondering what he should do now that he couldn’t leave England and not paying much attention to his surroundings. He hadn’t even noticed the dark-haired woman before him as more but something that happened to be there. He had to think about leaving the country. He’d leave Olya behind, but she would be safe at that school. That was why he had decided to send her. It would be that or any other wizarding school, and in the end he had felt like she might even be safer in Scotland than anywhere else. But he had nothing keeping him in Britain. He was not known here, which had been an advantage while doing his job these past months, so nobody was going to ask for his help. Not even his usual preoccupation of finding his poor sister’s daughter could profit from him having nothing to do. For if she was still alive (which he might firmly believe, but he did not have any proof), there was absolutely no reason why he should find any clues as to her whereabouts in the streets of London. Or so he had thought.

Then the dark-haired woman before him had turned to look into a shop window, he had seen her profile, and his heart had forgotten to beat for a moment. It couldn’t be. Impossible. He had thought that he had seen it all and nothing in the world could impress him, but here he was, standing dumb-founded in the middle of a street and staring at a stranger. With an all too familiar face, no matter that he hadn’t seen it for over a quarter of a century. The woman turned and started to walk away, leaving him staring at the back of her head for a while longer before he almost automatically began to move too, following her. He still didn’t trust his senses. What was his sister’s face doing on this woman? Of course, his brain, gradually regaining its functions, said that it could be an accident. Some people looked a lot like others, without there being any relation. And as he now followed her, he even started to think that his eyes had deceived him. That he had only seen what he had been looking for since he was seventeen. Such coincidences only happened in trite novels, not in real life where everything he did was research and detailed analysis and field work. And yet, he had seen what he had seen.

The woman stopped again and seemed to consider things for a moment, then opened the door and stepped into the shop. A book shop he noticed before following her without much thinking. He hovered by the entrance while the woman disappeared between the shelves. He hadn’t seen her face again and he was now really doubting his senses. But he couldn’t just leave now because he had doubts. Too many years he had spent searching to let pass even the smallest chance. Only, what would he say? That was not how he had thought he’d find her, so now he was all out of words he could say. But it was no use. He had to address her. He left the doorway and walked past the shelves until he saw her before him again. “Извините, пожалуйста — excuse me,” he said, not even surprised anymore that his hands were quivering, now that he would finally get a proper look at her face any second.

Long Roads
_{Often take you back home}

One of the few things that helped Arianna when she was having a rough day was shopping. Ice cream too, but Merlin and Morgana had she been eating enough of that lately. She knew that she needed to watch her waistline or all of the sweets would soon have it expanding. So she picked up some time at the gym. She had had enough of that though and her aching muscles had been yelling that she needed to take a break from it all, so she had gone out with a satchel of galleons and a smile. Hoping, and praying that she would feel better before the end of the day. She had no reason to be feeling bad, and she wasn't sad or anything, but it was more like she was bored. Almost as if she had shut down a little. She could go and see JR again, but that was probably going to be losing its luster soon. He wasn't exactly the kind of man that she needed to be involved with, even if he was great in bed.

She smiled as she walked from shop to shop and kept getting that old pricking feeling at the back of her neck that she got when Katarzyna and her goons were staring at her when anyone was staring really, and it took a little while but she had noticed the man out of the corner of her eye. He looked a little like one of the goons and she sighed. She knew that it would happen, sooner or later. She would have answers to make for the thing that she had done, and the blood that was on her hands. It might be time to pay for it all.

Either way, she was going to keep shopping until someone happened or someone said something to her. Tucking some of the long dark hair behind her ear she hummed a lullaby softly to herself as she walked through the book stacks. Just looking through the shelves and thought she might be in the clear from whomever this guy was when she turned and heard someone speaking. Lifting her eyes from the dust sleeve of the book that she held in her hands when he spoke. First in Russian and then in English. She didn't know much, but she knew enough to be polite. Raising her eyes she smiled at him softly and replied. "Да? Я могу вам помочь?" she was unsure if she had said it right so she replied in English as well. "Yes? Can I help you?" Her voice came out soft and with a sweet smile.

Anton Karkarov | OUTFIT | 439

It simply… it couldn’t be. Not after all these years. Not so just out of nowhere. He had so often spent years following a trail, and then, just as he was certain that he had finally found Katarzyna’s whereabouts, everything he had thought solid evidence had evaporated into thin air. Over twenty-five years he was already failing to find her. It was impossible that this was the solution. It was too simple. Almost ridiculous. The absurdity of the situation was almost rooting him to the stop while he kept looking at the woman like in a stupor. His years of research hadn’t prepared him for suddenly staring into his sister’s face in the middle of a random book shop in a random country. It had to be a simple fluke of his ill fortune that this woman looked so familiar. It happened. He had chased after a similarity before, but never… never…

She spoke. And if possible, he was even more lost for words. Normally he knew how to look unreadable in any situation. He had been in mortal peril and perfectly able to analyse what was going on around him and find a way out. But right now… He had forgotten Carolina’s voice. Over the years, it had faded from his memory without him even noticing, but now it was there again in all clarity after hearing the woman with his sister’s speak. with such incredible similarity even if she had a clear accent. But she knew Russian. That was more than he could have expected. He had to come to his senses again and think about what he knew. Namely nothing. There was a woman who reminded him a lot of his sister. But while she was apparently familiar with Russian, she had grown up with English — his ears were good enough to pick that much up. There was not a single reason in the world to believe that Katarzyna would have brought little Liza to England. And from what he knew of that demon of a woman, she’d never let her victim walk around in the streets. Unless she had turned out exactly as Katarzyna had wanted her to. He had often pondered this matter. What if the woman would have managed — after killing Elizaveta’s parents — to also kill the girl’s soul? It was frightening him, but until now, the problem had never been pressing. His niece’s existence used to be but his conjecture.

He had to find out as much as he could about the stranger right now, hopefully before she’d walk away because he was staring at her with disbelief. “Это только-” He’d better talk English, judging from how she had sounded. As to what he would ask, he’d best just be honest — or relatively so. He only had to tell her enough to make sure that he was either deluding himself or that he should make further inquiries. “You look much как — like — someone I… know. You don’t have family в России — in Russia — by any chance?” Probably he should have asked in Russian after all. He was always fighting with the pronounciation, but words seemed to have fled him now too.

Long Roads
_{Often lead you back home}

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to be reacting to this man before her, the panicking voice in the back of her mind told her to drop the book in her hand and run. She had been through times like these before, recently when Stephen Bucater had followed her to a bar. She had been with Alfie, and though he had confessed his true nature to her, she was well aware of the danger that she had placed her friend in. She could have fuffed it all up, she could have died, so could he. Instead, she had ended the night with a Death Eaters blood on her hands before making her way to a Werewolves bed. That had been months ago though, now she was single again and she really didn't plan on trying to date for a while. Unless something, or someone great, came along... then she wasn't going to have it.

She had two goals she wanted to make happen, being okay with herself when she looked in the mirror and needing no one to make herself happy. She wanted a family too, she wanted to feel like she belonged at the end of the day and she was determined that she would have it, one way or another. She had thought about maybe one day adopting a child, maybe even a baby. She would have her family and not need to rely on anyone else. It sounded ideal to her, but not now. Not for a long, long time. She was not even thirty, so she would have all the time in the world before she had to really worry about any of it, so no point in stressing about it now, right?

Her Russian was pretty basic, but she had been learning a good bit before her tutor was taken, but it was something that she felt the need to keep practicing, even after she finished school. He asked if she had family in Russia and Arianna furrowed her brow. What a... random thing to ask someone. She arched an eyebrow harshly, her right brow lifting almost of its own accord. "I am not really all that sure, I have been told so, but the source... is no longer able to be asked."

Anton Karkarov | OUTFIT | 380

There it was already in her eyes. She was feeling uneasy. He should have avoided that. Whoever it was, it was never prudent to make someone suspicious, especially when the person was a complete stranger. But here his problem started, she seemed so familiar. Minus the colour of her hair, he’d believe that he was talking to his sister exactly as she was shortly before he lost her forever. Her husband had had dark hair. He hadn’t spent that much time with him — he was still at school when they married — but that much he remembered for certain. It all fitted. Was it really possible that he was merely standing before the doppelgänger of his niece?

If this woman was indeed the little Liza he had been looking for, how could he make sure of this? He had always taken it for granted that if he followed Katarzyna’s trail, it would automatically lead him to the girl so that he wouldn’t have to question her identity. But now he was wondering how much would Liza know about herself. Her abductor would hardly tell her the truth. She could have told her anything, that she was her aunt or even mother. And a child, lonely and abandoned as his niece would have been, would cling to the only person she had. If he was really standing before Elizaveta, there was almost no chance that she would know this herself.

Her answer to his question certainly was remarkable. It did hint at an unusual background, which was in combination with her looks now a far stronger hint that she was who he conjectured. If the source she was talking about was Katarzyna… She had sounded as if the source was dead and as if she was glad about it. If his guess was correct, it would mean that Katarzyna had failed to form the girl into her tool. But he had to tread carefully, no matter how much he was hoping now. She had become suspicious. “Your situation sounds peculiar,” he said. Should he ask her directly whether her name was Elizaveta? Better not, it would either alarm her or — if her name had been changed like it was to be expected — would only elicit a negative answer. “Excuse me if I’m intruding on you. I am still a stranger here and haven’t met a fellow countrywoman before. But if I can be of assistance to you…”

Long Roads
_{often lead you home}

Most of her life strange men had been asking her strange questions. About the status of someone who had been born into a family that they had not asked for. About hating someone for that same reason, she hadn’t and it had gotten her hurt, but she had gotten used to it in time and learned when to not her head to avoid getting hurt, but when she had been sorted into Gryffindor things had changed. She knew it had been clear then tht she was not what they wanted her to be but she had faked it. She had tried so hard to please Katarzyna, she had tried so hard to be the one that they had wanted, but it was not to be. No matter how she had tried, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

That was what she was trying to let go of. She was trying to not dwell on that part of her past, because she knew what it would bring and it was not worth the night terrors any more. Raising he head to look the man in the eyes she gave him a small smile and knew that it would reflect in those shining eyes of blue green. She laughed a little when he said her situation was peculiar and nodded her head. ”I like to call it complicated.”

”That would be lovely, but I am afraid that I know next to nothing about my family. Only my mother and father’s first names and that I was taken from them when I was just a few weeks old. The names are rather common though, so I do not think it would be of much help.”

Anton Karkarov | OUTFIT | 284

He needed to stay calm and rational. There was no conceivable reason why the young woman in front of him should be his niece. His years of research spoke very decidedly against little Liza standing before him. All evidence he had ever been able to collect indicated that his niece was under the power of Katarzyna and not walking around freely, certainly not in England and in the same street as he just by mere chance. Chance did not exist, just the excruciatingly difficult construction of a puzzle of which he hardly had any pieces. And yet… there was no point denying that the similarity was beyond striking. He couldn’t say for sure whether his sister had been this small — she was his big sister and though he had finally outgrown her when he was about fourteen, he still had to look up to see her in the eyes in most of his memories. But other than the darker hair, her face was exactly as the one he remembered, maybe not even that much in the details but in the overall picture of how she smiled or frowned or… things like that, could they really be accidents? And then there was what she had said: Russian parents. Taken from them as a baby. Heard from them by someone who was most likely dead. Could Katarzyna be dead? And then what would that mean Lizenka? Would she have gone to an orphanage? Been adopted by someone close to Katarzyna? Strangers? Maybe there was the explanation why she could be here in a shop, seemingly unsupervised.

Well, there was no reason to hyperventilate and hypothesize. She apparently knew her parents’ first name, and if she was who he didn’t dare to hope she was, he only had to ask. If she had been told the real names. One simple question and he’d know more. “I’m afraid helping you will be very difficult,” he said, “unless your mother’s name is Carolina.”

Long Roads
_{often lead you home}

it was, curious really. That this man, this stranger would take such an interest in her and who she was. Her instincts were telling her to run, mainly because up until that point anytime that anyone had taken any interest in her this quickly had been trying to kill her. Maybe it was the years of paranoia telling her these things but she really hated for things to be like this, to constantly worry and fear, but there was something about him that just… hung familiar to her. It spoke to her in volumes, and made her feel like she was going to be okay. Thus far only one other person had done that, and Alife wasn’t exactly in her life any more.

She had never thought about trying to find her family, she had never thought about trying to find her family, she had been told that they were no longer alive, that there was no one who wanted her, no one would would ever come looking. Long ago she had accepted that she was alone, so what was the point of looking for something, someone who was not there? She took a deep breath and pulled some hair over her shoulder with her free hand and played with it, spinning it around her long thin fingers as she looked at this man.

He asked about the name of her mother and she tilted her head. ”Well, yes, it was, but that is a common name from what I understand. “ She had done a little reading and thought about hiring someone to use her DNA sample and run it through missing persons or something. After all, who knew if her parents were muggles or even in any systems, she could at least find out something about herself, right’?she furrowed her brows and looked at those eyes that just felt so familiar. ”I’m sorry but is there anyway that you know me? Or, I’m crazy. You just feel so.. familiar?”

Anton Karkarov | OUTFIT | 335

Years and decades of training, of discipline, of control, how could they be rendered useless in mere seconds. His instincts had been of invaluable use to him in the past, saved his life about a dozen times, but they had never before let him act this irrationally — following a stranger and starting to talk about her family. If there really was some connection to his own family, impossible as it was, he should have let her be and tracked down where she lived, her name, her family. That was how things were done, how he had done them as long as he could think. And yet, here he was, in the middle of a book shop, talking to a stranger, and his mind was completely numb.

Overwhelmed. It was not a feeling he was used to and he felt like he needed to sit down. The only time he had felt anything close to what he was feeling now was when he had met Nadya, and then he had been lying in bed. But this woman wasn’t a second Nadya, what made him so disoriented was not that there was suddenly someone in his life other than his niece, but that his gut feeling seriously telling him in all seriousness: “This is it. This is your niece.” It was insane. Even a gut feeling was supposed to get that this was impossible. There had been a few signs in the past that suggested Katarzyna may have moved to England and he had followed these hints back then, but it had been to no avail. It was a trail he had long ruled out, so to consider that it had suddenly resurfaced… and… like this?

“Not among the ten most common names, I’d say, maybe not among the twenty most common,” he answered, still trying to not let his confusion betray him but instead to figure out how much he could reveal to this stranger. Life had made a secretive man out of him, and he couldn’t talk openly to anyone about his sister, never mind what his intuition was trying to tell him. “Many years ago, twenty-seven years to be exact,” he started slowly, not directly answering the question, “my sister Carolina and her husband were murdered. No trace of their daughter, Elizaveta, my niece, had ever been found though I’ve been searching for her ever since. But now… you happen to look painfully like my sister.”

Long Roads
_{often lead you home}

She had been taught things when she was younger, at first it had been something small. At first, she had been able to do everything that she was asked to do, but then they started invading her mind trying to get her to push them out, She had been expected to just do it, and when she couldn't it had been used as a way to make her hurt. As she got older she was expected to clean part of the house and when she didn't to satisfaction she was struck. She was put through hell and back again and those were some of the easier things. She tried to not look back and tried to not think of things because she was not in that life anymore. She was no longer a victim. She was a survivor and she could handle herself more than anything else now. She didn't have the fear creeping up on her all the time anymore, she could be herself and not be worried that any time she turned around someone was going to be coming for her.

Her life was better, she was better and it was good to be this way. She liked her life now. Sure she was shitty in the romance department but when she had never really even been allowed to kiss anyone let alone date when she was in school, it did tend to make one rather awkward. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she looked at this man, this older man that she knew nothing of, but she could have sworn that she had met him before. It was... unnerving.

She was shaking a little and she was looking over the man before she shook her head. No it wasn't possible, it couldn't be this easy, could it. Could her family be standing just before her? Could he... could he be her family? Was she no longer alone? She ran a hand into her long hair and then looked to the stack of books in her hand. Of course. She turned her head and looked among the books and spotted the one that she needed before opening it and looking for the page.

The incantation which she had seen many times was a way to see connections. a way to check for relations. A simple thing that would only glow if you were related, nothing more and nothing less. "I can't read the incantation. I speak Russian, but I can't read it."

Anton Karkarov | OUTFIT | 417