Oooooooolayna Vasssssseeeelisk. That's how I say it in my head.
I don't know from properly Ukrainian, but I do get an obvious foreign vibe.
Olena grew up in an orphanage. Not a bad one. The work was tough, the winters were worse, but the mother hen lady was fair and everyone stayed in line. Life there wasn't bad but it wasn't raining rainbows and smiley emoticons so as soon as Olena hit 18 she was off and running. She had looks that few could touch. Cold and beautiful as she was, it took her a few years to properly own it--after all, years in an orphanage didn't give a lot of time to experiment with proper angles and eyelash enhancers. But she got it down. She worked odd jobs as a waitress and other necessary but otherwise menial jobs available. Until she caught the eye of a Rich Man Hero. He was old, a little too hairy, and his teeth were an uncomfortable shade of moss. But he whisked her away to his castle as his bride with a fur coat as bribery. Diamonds and rubies fell all around her and while she ignored the duties of being a wife, she definitely took advantage of Rich Man Hero's bank account. He put up with it because she looked good on his arm and he had few other prospects. But he grew older and she did too. She got gray. Wrinkled. Her back hunched just the slightest bit. He died. He left nothing to her. Poor Olena was aged and broke. She tried to go back to being a waitress but she was too old, too slow, and too tired. So she died. Outside. Homeless. While it was snowing. Someone picked her dead pockets but they didn't find anything. Cops found her eventually. A mummy in an old fur coat and surrounded by broken dreams and unfulfilled dreams.
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