Bangkok! Oriental setting - and the city don't know what the city is getting...

[chesspolitik]

There was no better way to drift off into dreamland than in the arms of his beloved Lex after a full day of chess, cajoling Aeneas to drop the pieces he'd stolen and all of the other things that made up his daily routine, or so Anatoly thought. His life before Tabula Rasa seemed a distant memory; he truly could not remember a time he'd been happier. He was where he wanted to be at long last.

All too soon, the sun hit his eyes and he groaned in protest, muttering under his breath. He rolled over, pressing his face into his companion's shoulder and slinging an arm around his waist. It took a few moments for his sleep-addled brain to realize the body next to him was much smaller and softer than it should have been.

At first, he was inclined to pass it off as the island working its cruel trickery again, but something felt off. Lex, whether he was a man or woman, had a scent that was uniquely his. This scent... this scent was not his and yet it was haunting familiar.

He opened his eyes and gasped in horror. He'd gone to sleep on Tabula Rasa and woken up in his hotel in Bangkok. Every detail was just as he remembered, from the appallingly patterned wallpaper to the ostentatious plush carpeting. And there, by his side, was not the man he'd come to know and grown to love, but the woman he'd loved and lost and left - Florence Vassy.

Comments

Anatoly and Florence Thread

[hungarianheart.livejournal.com]

Florence murmured sleepily, reluctant to join the world of the conscious so soon. But Anatoly was awake, or nearly so, judging from the movement on his side of the bed, which meant she needed to get up.

"Give me a second, Tolya, and I'll get up and get the coffee started," she mumbled, reaching blindly for his arm. "You want the shower first?"

Re: Anatoly and Florence Thread

[chesspolitik]

Anatoly let Florence take his arm, still in too much shock to form any coherent words. How could this have happened? How could he have - why did he wake up here? He'd lived through this before, hadn't he? He knew how this story ended. There'd be no happy ending for either of them.

[hungarianheart.livejournal.com]

"Tolya?" Florence opened her eyes and sat up quickly, unnerved by the lack of response from Anatoly. Seeing the look of stark terror on his face, her eyes widened and she immediately moved to wrap her arms around him, wondering what could have upset him so. "Anatoly, what is it? What's wrong?"

[chesspolitik]

It took all Anatoly had not to shy away from her touch. He couldn't even begin to imagine how could he explain the island to her. He wasn't even sure that he hadn't dreamed the whole thing. All he knew was that he couldn't bear to hurt her again.

"It's nothing," he said quickly, gently untangling her arms and moving off the bed. "I didn't sleep very well. I just need a shower. I'll be alright."

First the shower, and then the coffee and maybe, just maybe, he could pull himself together enough to figure out what was going on.

[hungarianheart.livejournal.com]

Anatoly was lying, Florence was sure, but long experience had taught her that pushing grandmasters would get her nowhere. Freddie threw violent temper trantrums; Anatoly just withdrew. When he was ready, he'd talk, but until then, she had to give him his space.

"All right, she said lightly as she got out of the bed and padded over to retrieve her robe. "Shower's all yours and there'll be coffee when you get out."

[chesspolitik]

Anatoly stayed under the shower for a long time, hoping against hope that somehow things would all start to make sense. Eventually, he was forced to conclude there were no answers to be found. Somehow, he was back in Bangkok, all alone, condemned to relive his final match against Trumper.

Everything he'd come to know on Tabula Rasa would have to be left behind, even Lex. There was no room for distractions or memories of what was or might have been. The only thing left, the only thing that could be trusted was the game itself.

[hungarianheart.livejournal.com]

By the time Anatoly finally emerged from the bathroom, Florence was deep in a heated conversation over the phone. "No, the car has to be here at twelve. No. Twelve. Well, I don't know who told you that time, but they're wrong. That car needs to be here at twelve or you and I will be having some words, mister."

She hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh. "God, these people. I don't know where they find them. This is a five-star hotel, you'd think the service would be a little better."

[chesspolitik]

Anatoly shook his head mildly as he started to get dressed. Was it déjà vu if he really had done all of this before? On top of everything else, he just had to wake up on the day of the damned interview.

"It's a big day for the press," he said, a little bitterly. "They probably commandeered the best cars already."

[hungarianheart.livejournal.com]

"They're only doing their job," Florence reminded gently, though she certainly did sympathize with his sentiment. "They like you, remember. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think it will be."

She looked over her shoulder at Anatoly and gaped in surprise. "Aren't you shaving?"

[chesspolitik]

"What?" For a moment, Anatoly couldn't understand why she was so concerned and then it dawned on him. Here, his image came first above all, even before the game. Trumper was unshaven and rarely decently dressed. He was the well-dressed, impeccably groomed one.

"Oh, yes. Of course I am. I'm doing it right now." He managed a small smile for her then turned to go right back into the bathroom, ignoring Florence's flurry of concern.

How he was going to get through this, he didn't even know.