christmas night , another fight

[dva]

[COLOR= rgb(34, 34, 34)]tears - we cried a flood; [/COLOR][COLOR= rgb(34, 34, 34)]got all kinds of poison in, [/COLOR][COLOR= rgb(34, 34, 34)]poison in my blood.[/COLOR]
​

 

[dva]

he'd trade his guns for love - but he's caught in the crossfire,
 
​

the tyranny; the violent streets;


luka was born to aleksandr and yeva volkov in kirov, russia. when the boy was four, the family moved to america. his parents had strong leadership ties to a troubling russian mafia, and moved to the west to expand and strengthen the business. the young immigrant adjusted to the american life quite easily; his family worked 0n the slow process of citizenship while also juggling with their duties to their organization. as the years went on, his parents got more engrossed in their work as the citizenship worries died down. luka saw less and less of his parents and more and more nannies in his elementary years. his academics were proficient; he was already reading at a high school level and his writing was developing marvelously. naturally, he had several friends, but wasn't exactly a social butterfly of his school.


he had not yet been introduced to the messy work of the mafia that ran in his bloodline.


[SIZE= 10px]during middle school, he had entered writing competitions. his parents had put him in an ambitious and challenging school for the young and talented, but luka's writing glistened among the others. his book reports were more like study papers; his project essays were nearly on the level of synthesis projects. this brought his parents great pride, encouraging them to take him out to restaurants for celebrations whenever he won a writing tournament - it was the only time he could spend with his parents alone, with all attention on him. this inspired luka to work harder and harder on his writing in his academic career. like any young child, he wanted the attention of his parents. he would stay up late in the night until his fingers were sore from scribbling his work in full notebooks and his back was aching from being arched over a desk. he would look into the sky through the window of his parent's luxury apartment. the stars were the only thing that distracted the boy from his work. he would notice patterns in the stars and how each constellation affected him differently. this stimulated an interest in the star figures that he would dive into in his early high school years.[/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]in his eighth grade, he was taken by his father to the family car. he didn't know what the occasion was; he was quite excited to say the least. the racing thoughts were loud in his mind, distracting him from anything else. would they go to an aquarium? an amusement park? a museum? before luka could list everything he would like to do on his day out with his father, the car stopped, and his father left. he was called to the trunk of the car. his father opened it, and there was a man, tied up, alive. luka was, surprisingly, visually unmoved by this sight. his heart began to pace, though, as his eyes wandered to the river that his father had parked next to. at the patriarch's command, luka helped pick up the squirming, panicking man, tie weights to him, and walk into the rushing river to let him go.[/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]the next morning at his school, he wouldn't take his eyes off of his desk. he looked exhausted, as he hadn't slept at all that night. his daze was shaken by a small girl sat next to him, delicate, sickly. she looked far worse than he did. when he studied her more, he realized it was alice. he had latched onto her presence. as she grew stronger, luka could only find his innocence back in her eyes. it was as if her presence made him feel like, for a moment, god had forgiven his sins.[/SIZE]


during his time as a freshman, he rarely saw his parents. they had "business trips" every other week to fly to russia and back. not even his writing entertained them anymore. he would win medals and scholarships for his writing, but the boy's parents had grown bored of his accomplishments. after the river incident, they had not once tried to even mention him joining the mafia, and luka knew that he really should not swim in those waters. his parents knew the risk they were always taking, but the thrill fascinated them. luka hadn't understood it. if anything, he had become resentful. this lifestyle had stolen his parents away from him, and he didn't want it to thieve him from his writing.he had developed insomnia slowly from his work drive keeping him up all night. after trying and failing with medications and herbal remedies, he gave up in defeat and returned to gazing out his window each evening. he looked at the stars until he decided to study more about them. he discovered the spiritual twist on the stars: astrology. this absorbed the boy; he read into rising, moon, venus signs ... everything about the subject that he could get his hands on. he hadn't necessarily told anyone about this newfound passion; he was afraid of skeptics making fun of him. he just referenced it in his english papers, scoring big with such abstract concepts.


he drinks, writes, and daydreams to repress what he feels. he is madly in love with alice, but does not want to pursue it, for he cannot let anyone as pure as her be touched by someone who has blood on his hands.


and he keeps wakin' up


luka volkov
18 / november 13 / scorpio
boy / bisexual / edgy


6'1" / 183 lbs


messy brown hair / dark brown eyes


but it's not to the sound of birds:


luka daydreams about the characters he writes about and the stars that he watches each night. he can't seem to get a small, grinning, dancing girl out of his head.


[SIZE= 10px]always in the eye of the storm, for even he is afraid to step into the wind.[/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]the man does not have a bag, but he has a winter coat with fairly large pockets, that normally include his wallet, his phone, and a single box of cigarettes.[/SIZE]
✄


"you are what you love, not who loves you."


luka drinks as much as you think a russian would; he smokes, but very rarely; the man stares, either at someone or into space, because he is a very calculated person; he tugs at his hair when he is in deep thought; he is afraid of rushing water; he looks at the sky too much.


 

deprived of all we're blessed with - and we can't get enough.
​

 

[dva]

​

 
​