DJBF2C7: I'm doublejointedbackflip2c7 on here. I'm also doublejointedbackflip2c7 on FF.

Chapter One: Welcome to St. Petersburg

(1 January 1939 – 07:00hrs)

Damn it. I just got off the train from Moscow, been searched multiple times on the journey here, and 5 minutes in this city, my wallet was stolen by some dark red headed spectacled kid. Just great. Stupid St. Petersburg. Luckily I have some roubles in my shoe. I had some of my things, like my clothes, shipped out here last month when my dear cousin, Viktor Ivanovich, left. So, no worries about my belongings being lost. Viktor sent a letter when he received it.

I walked to Saint Petersburg State University (Leningrad State University) to get a look at the exterior. I'm now a student there. I requested a "transfer" from Bauman Moscow State Technical University. Fine. I didn't request it. They demanded that Mama pull me out, and send me somewhere else. I got in a huge fight with a couple of the students. It got a bit out of hand, and I planted tripwire bombs in their rooms. Then I stabbed one that got away. Not sure how I managed to not be executed. The kid I stabbed was the son of a GUGB officer. Nonetheless, I was expelled, and now I'm here.

St. Petersburg State U. is a big school. Really big. Too bad I don't get to go to my classes now. The next semester doesn't start until mid-February. The current students are testing now, and there's nothing for me to test on because I wasn't here. Baumam Tech. sent in my papers. Less hassle for me. Aleksandr Ulyanov, the revolutionist brother of Vladimir Lenin, went here. I am honoured and deeply moved, to say the least.

I walked to the café, and enjoyed the crunch of the snow under my shoes. The same café that Aleksandr Ulyanov and his bomb throwers met at. I went to check it out. I got something to eat. I haven't eaten since yesterday. Goodness, I'm not trying to starve myself. There's no one to impress by my thinness. If Nikita wasn't impressed by my appearance, then who would? No one. That's who.

I'm eating at the café. Had a sandwich. It's okay, I guess. There's better food in Moscow, but I guess I'll have to deal with it. I'll be living in St. Petersburg, and I'll be eating the St. Petersburg food. "Hello madamoiselle. May I sit?" I nodded, not even bothering to look up. I got a glance at this person as he sat, and he smiled gently. "I haven't seen you around this neck of the woods. Care to put a name to your pretty face?"

I looked at the man that said this. He's a young man with spectacles, dark red hair, freckles, and hazel eyes. He must have been an adorable little baby. An adorable baby compared to Nikita. "I'm Raisa." He laughed a bit.

"What? No surname?"

I nodded. "Raisa Makarova."

He nodded. "So, you're not so proud about your patronymic. Okay. I'm Aleksandr Andreyvich Pushkin. Nice to be the first person to greet you in St. Petersburg."

I nodded. "Thank you."

Aleksandr Andreyvich moved a bit closer, and smiled a bit. "How old are you?" I looked at the window. There was condensation on it, which made it cloudy.

"Eighteen years and seven months."

Aleksandr Andreyvich smiled wide. "Twenty-two years and eight months." I nodded, and looked at my cup. "So, do you have a flat to call home?" I nodded. "Didn't you arrive today?" I stayed silent. How does he know this?

"Er, how do you know?"

Aleksandr Andreyvich took a sip of his tea. "I was taking a walk at the train station when I saw you."

I looked out the window. You couldn't see much out there. The snow was in the way. "My friend from Tsarskoye Selo is letting me use his place. I had my stuff freighted out here last month. I just have to do some paperwork, and then the place will be mine." He nodded and sighed. I picked up the napkin to wipe his lip. "And you. Did you get in a fight?" He sighed heavily, and nodded. I wiped the ketchup off his lip with a napkin.

"Thank you. Usually people I sit with wouldn't bother wiping ketchup off my lip. They'd let it stay there and laugh throughout." I nodded, and smiled mentally. He must have some horrible associates.

"Well, it's been a good one, Aleksandr Andreyvich. Have a nice day."

I shook his hand, but he refused to let go. "Have a nice day Mademoiselle Makarova. I hope we cross paths again." Aleksandr Andreyvich's thumb gently moved across my hand, and he gently kissed it.

I coughed. "Yes?"

I pointed to my hand. "Let go of my hand." He let go, and went back to his tea.

"Sorry. It must be the Frenchmen's blood in me. Very flirtatious, they are." I nodded, slid out the seat, and walked away. "Oh, mademoiselle?" I looked back, and went back to the table. "Welcome to Saint Petersburg." I walked away. Aleksandr Andreyvich called for me again. "Here's your wallet." I looked at it, and he smiled. "Have a nice day, mademoiselle." I put my wallet in my pocket, and went home. I think I heard him mutter something. You're hearing things, dear.

DJBF2C7: Got off to an odd start, yes, but it gets better... Eventually. No promises.