1899 Russia

Poetry is not the only things I like to write. Snip bits and pieces of storys I also write, proses I guess. Anyway, most of the time, this is an exception, but the characters reflect a mood. Oh and I need a name. Post suggestiongs please! Here is the a part of something I wrote a while ago, and edited thouroghly before I published:

The train jolted into motion. I relaxed a bit as the steady train's sounds replaced the voices chasing me. I sat down in the car, my back against the cold steel interior.

"I have it!" I whispered to myself, after taking a moment to breathe. I stuck my tounge out at the men who were following me, even though they were too far away to know. I smirked, and reached into my duffel, slowly extracting the stone. It gleamed slightly in the low light.

Someone gasped softly; sharply I looked up.

"So there she is," he said, I guessed he was reffering to the ruby that his eyes never left.

"Dimitri," I hissed. At this point I had no idea whether to be annoyed or frustrated.

"Evening, Abbigail," he tipping his messenger hat as our eyes met. His eyes were a luscious chocolate brown, not that I noticed.

"Where's your friend? What is he going by these days?" I was trying to divert the conversation off the stone. I turned the back of my closed fist towards him and slowly pantomimed placing the ruby into my bag, while I moved my other hand, with the ruby behind my back.

"Jack, just call him Jack. He's probably looking for you in another car, you should be glad that I'm the one who found you, and not him though."

"Why's that?"

"He stole a gun in the last town we visited, and has been itching to use it."

"Interesting," I hope I come off as amused, because I can't afford to let him know how truly terrified his presence is making me. "What did you want?" I ask softly, trying desperately to sound much more appealing and mature than the underfed ninteen year old theif that I am.

He steps towards me and lowers himself to one knee. His face is only inches away from mine. He smells of vodka and sawdust, which is suprisingly intoxicating.

"I told him that you'd cooperate, and if you didn't I'll get my own gun." He leans in and the inches become mere centimeters. I'm not sure if I want to push him away, or pull him in closer. So sit there petrified. Being around him always has done this to me; I don't know where I stand. And when you're a thief, not knowing could mean not surviving.

I feel a slight pressure on the small of my back, but it isn't his hand; it's the stone. I squeeze my eyes shut; his fingers brush a bit of my exposed skin when he grasps it. Once in his possesion, he rises back to full height and takes a few steps back.

It's then that I notice a broad shouldered figure standing in the exit. Jack. He walks up to Dimitri and glances haughtily at the stone in his hand.

"Well I gotta give you credit, I didn't think she'd see things our way if you know what I mean," he said with a wink, sounding half amused half dissapointed.

"I haven't exactly explained everything to her yet," Dimitri muttered; I pretended not to hear.

"She just gave you the stone before the deal? Too easy!" Jack scoffed. He took the stone from Dimitri and tossed it to me. I lurched forward, earning a chuckle from Jack, to catch it.

"Alright, princess, here's the deal: we are now partners. And since you are so greatful for us sparing your life, you'll give us the stone, or,"

"Or you shoot me," I finished. Jack smiled, I glanced at Dimitri, but he was avoiding eye contact.

"Alright, but I get to hold on to the stone." They exchanged a glance, and reached out to shake my hand. I smiled and shook their both simultaneously.

"Princess, I don't care how long you and Romeo over here were together, or whatever you were, but if you try to double cross us, I'll shoot you before you can say goodbye.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, gentlemen. What's next?"

"Well this is our stop." The train did not even start to slow down. "Ladies first." I felt rought hands on my back shove me out the car door and into the Russian night.