Modern AU OLL: The Actors…

Who are the main players gracing our stage?

Pavel was supposed to inherit the business. Next CEO. Every lesson he was ever taught always included about 10 minutes of a business side seminar. Washing hands properly, brushing teeth thoroughly, how to tie his shoes? Well, those went along with how to read profit margins. Pythagorean theorem, how to make basic meals, and how to do professional, charming small talk. Yes, yes, very good, but when do you know when you're being embezzled? By the time it was time for university? Well, no matter what Pavel had decided, no matter what he'd have enjoyed to do, he was going to be doing a business course.

He could choose any sort of sides, but his main dish had to be made up of finance sheets and business calculations and margins and whatever the hell a tariff was.

Pavel only looked forward to two things in university. His friend, Ai. And the creative writing society he had wandered into. It was his favourite part of the week. The only part of his week he looked forward to. Everyone who did business studies was an asshole. An asshole named Justus for some reason. And worst of all, it was turning him into something that he could never share with either sets of parents. This shit, with the stupid economy and economics and the amount of assholes who were going to become those assholes yelling at stupid screens about the stock prices. This shit had turned him into a socialist. Tatsiana would have fainted. But he struggled to care about any of his work, not when the discussions centred about numbers, maximising profits, and cost maxing. Someone even took him aside and started to advise him to start investing in his own stock instead of playing with buying and selling and checking the market. Pavel thought longingly of the Twins, and how they'd have shoved him down the stairs. If he never saw a PowerPoint again, it would be too soon.

So when one of his friends, one that took English Literature and was doing a course in the Romantics, lent him one of their books… For the first time, he wrote an essay for… It wasn't fun. It was downright desperation. With his own assignment screaming at him from the screen, with made up numbers that meant dogshit, he wrote about the kaleidoscope symbolism of drug addiction in the book, before the dreams had turned to nightmares. He fell asleep reading it that night, holding it tight to his chest as if it was some sort of lifeline.

Second year of Business and Economics, and other made up things. Pavel had to go register for his classes and somehow found himself looking at the english courses. Nausea rose. Tight lungs, as if a hiccup was building.

And two hours later he was sitting in front of one of his prospective tutors. Making his case. For why he should be in her class. The week after, he was finding that he liked the assholes in his English class. Some pretentious, others stinking of weed, some of them deeply strange. Pavel couldn't imagine them standing in the stock exchange floor, and so? He loved them.

Pavel got away with the lie. For longer than he thought. Verbally talking about grades, saying he wanted to take an extra masters and walking then instead of when his business course should have ended. Then it was graduation. And he was royally fucked. Pasha couldn't hide that he was graduating in English Language and Literature. With a side degree in Linguistics. Business class came and went. English came and he went. Laszlo clapped hard, looking a bit like a nervous hamster. Marlen was frowning and Tatsiana, as per usual, wanted to outdo him by frowning harder. Ofeliya was cheering wildly and jumping gently. The shouting that came after? The silence.

He should have gone earlier. Left the house and cut the strings and…

Well, now he was on Ai's couch, ignoring calls. A English Degree in hand. And, much to Ai's amusement, and to his own horror… He was smiling. Free.

Sasha... Oh, Sasha. One of the few people who truly did have the world at their fingertips. Could do anything, be anything, be anyone.

And the second born, chose to dance.

They were good at a lot of things. Clear head for mathematics, an interest in history, with good grades across the board. It was one of the few times Marlen and Tatsiana had to sit together to advise their shared kids on their future. Sasha had invites from universities to come and study for Hell's sake. So, both were stumped when they had smugly pushed across a a letter of acceptance from the Royal School of Ballet.

"Ballet?" Tatsiana echoed softly.

"… We have a Royal School for that?" Marlen squinted at the paper, before giving in and getting his "old man" glasses out to read.

"I didn't think you still took ballet." Tatsiana admitted before pulling the paper from Marlen's hand, ignoring his noise of annoyance. "Didn't you stop when you were twelve?"

"I didn't stop." Sasha said with the patience of a Saint. "I just aged out of my old class."

Marlen and Tatsiana shared a look.

"Yeah, but-"

"Laszlo and Ofeliya would take me and then I'd just go by myself when I was 15. I'm really good."

"Well, no doubt about that, but we didn't even get an invite to a recital, kid." Marlen said, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"You guys wouldn't have found the time." Sasha shrugged, as if they hadn't just made both of their parents wince. "Anyway, Auntie Ofi always went. Laszlo when he could."

"Since when do they do so much together?" Marlen grumbled under his breath and Tatsiana kicked him under the table. "Ow, fuck!"

"Sasha, I don't think-"

"It doesn't seem a very stable future-"

"People are aged out-"

"I'll forgive you both for the divorce, the missed recitals and the fuck off weird family dinners if you pay for it." Sasha finally unveiled their trump card, and smiled like an angel as they did so.

"… I didn't think we had to apologise-"

"I'm going anyway. I'll just publicly talk about how you two wouldn't let me."

Silence hung over the table, strewn with forgotten pamphlets for universities that taught history and science and maths. Tatsiana glanced at Marlen out of the corner of her eye and curled her fingers into her skirt, white knuckles.

"… When did you become such a little extortionist?" Marlen finally said and sat back. "Sure. Fuck it."

Fuck it indeed. Sasha only needed one of their parents to accept the conditions, so they stood from the table, kissed both their mother and father on the cheek and practically skipped off. Of course, they planned it all perfectly. Even made a list of things Sasha had not forgiven about their upbringing to use as emotional blackmail. The Royal School was perfectly in the centre of the Capital, they were going to live off campus (they had never had a roommate and weren't going to start now for god's sake) in chic apartment that had room for two guests at a time, and a good amount of room to host gatherings for their group of friends. Raivis went into Language Sciences, Aleysa, of course, took Politics, Mara loved Earth Science, Sikander took on a decade long plan to take everything that fell under classics, such as art, archaeology, translated literature and the Classics General course. Trajan had no interest in any sort of further study whatsoever, and aligned more with Sasha, instead focusing on getting better at his chosen sport, Ice Hockey. He also played Rugby in his downtime. It gave him great thighs.

Things were perfect. Wonderful. Sasha had a natural talent, and even though they knew that ballet dancers were aged out quickly, there was no doubt in their mind that they'd open their own school, or become a teacher, or go into Ballet History. They even got to play the Black Swan when the School finally did put on a performance, and Sasha gave their hand cramps from writing down the names of both sides of their family and their friends to get tickets to the production. It was the first time they ever saw their mother cry and be patting her eyes when they went out to meet them after the performance. Of course, R and S weighed down with roses was the best thing about the night.

Yes, it was perfect. Until one day, their mother called in tears. Pavel had left. And Sasha put down the phone and slumped into their bed, knowing that there was no dance in their future. No ballet. And they'd never forgive their older brother.

Arkasha was the child of one of the help in the main house. Father a gardener, mother working in the kitchens. Now that they're older, they've joined their parents in the upkeep of the country estate. The place was big enough to house three over stuffed orphanages and each of them getting two rooms to themselves. They had found their own niche, in the garages. Nothing seemed to delight them more than working in filthy overalls, hair messy, hands covered in oil, on an engine. It was nice. Quiet.

Of course at the summers, the family used to come as a single unit, Tatsiana and Marlen already giving each other the silent treatment, Pavel running off for the trees, Sasha clinging to Marlen's shoulder. Tatsiana's hand on her rounded belly, Aksana or Dmitri growing strong and steady.

Years later?

The family could only deal with a truce a few times. The monthly mandated dinner, outlined in a dead old man's will or else shares would leave the family and go to the stock holders, and the summer holidays. A month at the family country home, with enough space that Marlen and Tatsiana and Ofeliya wouldn't start some sort of Cold War (Laszlo is too summery for anything like that and even when annoyed, no one could stay mad at him for long).

Kasha would always count their first friend as S. Just a year or two between them, they had been waddling around the estate together until Marlen had to go hunt them down for Ofeliya. R would be more of… A distant longing. Watching them wear things that would cost half of what they made in a year.

But no, despite living and working at one of the most beautiful places in the country, they would never get to touch or taste and live the life dangling right in front of their face. While S would somewhat get it, Ofeliya wasn't as rich, their comfort came from Marlen, and before that, since she had been cut off from the family funds, they had scraped by on very little before her reunion with Marlen. But Kasha would never rise up. Not with their filthy dungarees, their hair pulled back into a ponytail (Arkady) or into two plaits (Arkadina), oil on their hands and dirt under their nails and faded sneakers that were coming apart at the soles.

Dasha had everything going for them. Their parents run a small, but popular store that imported goods from Shiwei. Lots of reoccurring customers, a stable income, and a solid standing in their own community. Then three whole blocks of the neighbourhood were bought up for real estate. Bulldozed, razed, built over. Including their shop. Their father died a year afterwards. Their mother couldn't take it and moved back home. But Dasha refused to budge. They wouldn't leave without finding the old fuck who ran the company and killing him themself.

Sadly, he had already croaked by the time Dasha had dragged themselves through university, having survived off cheap, overly salted food, and pure spite. With a BSc Honours in Developmental Biology, along with a PhD in Bioengineering and Genetics earned through a scholarship and a standing weekly appointment with a chiropractor due to constant stress ruining their shoulders and neck and spine and- Well, it goes on. But it was all worth it. From a nice primary school into a shitty high school into a scholarship ride to a prestigious university and now. Internship into one of the bullshit "We Want To Help The World" side companies that were connected to Volchek Co. Utter bullshit.

Dasha got to slip in during an upheaval. The eldest had absconded and left the heir chair empty and waiting. Good thing they were charming. And smart. And vindictive. Dasha didn't know what they were going to do. Not yet. Whistle blow, or entrap or even just steal millions of drachma and run off to enjoy a beach, but a part of them really hoped that they could find a way to ruin the family at the top. Karma wasn't real, but Dasha was. And they were willing to do anything to be the one to deliver the sort of fate that would absolutely destroy several generations. Just like they did.

The Aide, now more commonly referred to as Ai, doesn't lead the easiest life. A fire razed almost half their town, forcing the populace further south. Ai was one of the few who were airlifted out and sent out to Varan for specialist treatment. For most of their adolescent life, they had more or less lived at the hospital. Immunocompromised, next to no skin that wasn't burn, constant skin grafts, and no one left to take them home. They were a ghost in a white gown, living off good will. Even their finger prints were gone.

When people stepped in, to figure out where the youth should finally go after they would be discharged, not in danger of dying from the first faint cold, everyone came up short. The village, in the years since, dwindled down to a few people too stubborn to move, and in no position to take anyone in, especially someone who would need more care. They continued on with education in between surgeries and physical therapy, knowing that once the hospital was tired of its very own pet project, they were very likely to be dumped by the wayside.

One of the city's universities gave them a free ride. Good thing they fit the Depressing Fuckhead Scholarship perfectly. Pavel was the one to start the friendship. The strange, hooded person in the back , hiding their face behind a hoodie and a face mask. They were too… They… They found themself disgusting to look at. The therapist insisted it was body dysphoria, that their face was practically perfect, with only a few scars and strange skin around their neck and ears at this point. But they could see it. A face of scars and burns and misshapen lips. It reflected their father's face, looking back at them as he suffocated. His face slowly darkening from the flames before crisping, the smell of cooked meat filling the destroyed house.

They found a familiarity. A warmth. With Pavel.

J Telmányi was less of a priest. More of a very very smart contender. During a merger that had Tatsiana find her first grey hair and Marlen start complaining he was experiencing knee pain all of a sudden, Telmányi was negotiated to join the top dogs at the table, due to their wealth of experience and knowledge. No downsides!

No downsides?

Telmányi was simply… A force to be reckoned with. Older, in their spotless suit, with their usual enigmatic smile? One quietly overseeing the sudden trouble with the family, as one son abandoned his position and the other rose to fill it, they did nothing but give a soft comment here and there. To Tatsiana, to Marlen, to Laszlo when he'd stop by, having gone down to part time just so he had time for his kids. But… The sharper ones noticed an underlying threat.

"It's rare for stock to wobble for a company such as this, you know." Telmányi stirs a single teaspoon of sugar into their tea, letting the scent of peppermint wash over them with a faint smile. "So, when it does happen, lots of people take note."

Laszlo fiddled with his cuff-links, already wanting to be back in his comfy faded jeans and a sweatshirt he accidentally stole from Ofeliya but looked great in so she told him to keep it. Also Telmányi gave him the heebie jeebies.

"Hmh. Sure."

Telmányi raised the cup, eyes curved with their smile. Taking a gentle sip, they didn't even flinch at the scalding liquid.

"Well, how much do you think your stock fell the day that Pavel Volchek ran away from home?"

Laszlo froze, fingers slipping and one of his cuff-links falling from his cuff and bouncing along the tiled floor of the break room.

"I-"

"Let us hope it isn't too much. I report to the shareholders, of course. So I'd have to inform them once it drops." Telmányi picked over a basket of complimentary snacks and slipped a cinnamon biscuit free with a smile. They took a bite and sighed. "In fact, I'll have to have a talk with Sasha. Let us hope they have been keeping up with their business studies along with the ballet. I'll be in my office."

Laszlo was left, fingers still playing with his cuff, watching them walk off. Then he had to search the corners of the room for his missing link.

Oh, Telmányi. In all lives, they are a force of nature.