That Which Severs Part 19

"Now," Drysi said in Russian, "We are going to iron the these aprons."

Maria understood all but the last word, and looked up at Drysi for clarification.

"What are 'aprons'?" She asked in careful Russian. Drysi pulled one of the newly laundered aprons out and held it up. Maria's eyes grew large. "It's so pretty!" She murmured in German, reaching out to touch it, only to check herself and put both hands behind her back. Drysi smiled faintly, lowering the tradtional apron. Clearly, her young charge had been scolded in the past for touching things that didn't belong to her.

"You carry this pile, and I will take this one." Drysi placed a stack of aprons in her outstretched arms, then collected her own. "This way, please." The two joined the Consulate staff in the next room. The staff, mostly bears, smiled and welcomed them to their midst. While most of the Russian flew fast and thick over her head, Maria kept catching a single word repeated over and over again.

"Frau Jakov," she said softly, placing her pile on top of Drysi's, "what does 'Фестиваль' mean?'

"It means festival," Drysi smiled at the young penguiness. "They are dicussing the Christmas festival and preformance we are hosting in January."

"In January? But Christmas is tomorrow." Maria wrinkled her brow at Drysi, who chuckled softly in response.

"For you Germans, maybe, but we Russian celebrate Christmas on the 7th of January." Drysi pulled out the spectra-iron from its wall charger and placed the first apron down. "Every year the Consulate hosts several cultural events, our big one is always the Christmas festival. We will have singing, and food and of course we can't forget the dancing."

"Dancing?"

"Traditional dancing, you should see Herr Fomin, he does quite the Cossack tumble." Drysi said with a grin, provoking a question from on of the staff. Effortlessly Drysi tranistioned into Russian, and Maria heard Yefim's name mentioned again. As one the staff twittered with laughter, and the original querant said something to Maria.

"She said, you are a very lucky girl, to be able to see the best non-Cossack Cassock dancer preform." Drysi translated before Maria could inquire. One of the other women, a bearess with more grey than brown fur, made a comment that had everyone turning to look at Maria. A little intimadated, but desperate not to look bad Maria gazed back at the sea of faces.

"That's an interesting thought." Drysi mused aloud. "Would you like to learn a Volga dance, lapushka?" She asked, motioning for a hanger. Maria fished one out of the bin.

"May I?" She asked hopefully.