Siraphel
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Maybe the others are inside, waiting for him. It’s very unlikely. The wait, that is. His scattered mind won’t stop conjuring up the image of neatly lined up bodies waiting for the latecomer to enter the stage, but as it is, it must be empty, the stage settings a pile of papier maché left to rot. Nothing to be saved.
He could have saved her. Could have saved a lot more, really. Should have. But he didn’t have the time. What a joke, and a painful cackle escapes his lungs. Now the Cathedral’s clock is broken, because the other woman takes all the space, leaves no interstice for the time to seep through. He had so much of it, at first, and so little parsimony. He spent it on the most trivial things.
A broken croak escapes from the belly of the beast, that makes every one of his vertebrae shiver in anguish. Half past five.
The lacking mass writhes once more from delight.
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Daniil cleared his throat.
“The Powers That Be are the embodiment of order. There are always threads in the universe that dare to hang loose, and like a moth to a flame, they are always there to tug on them. The Powers That Be unravel everything simply to see what falls.”
“So what? The plague is... it's all gone.”
Daniil noted the slight tremor in Artemy’s voice. Artemy Burakh also lost many things in the chaos. He must also suffer from the nightmares. He must.
“They wanted me to die in the plague along with Aglaya and Block and yet, the more information they received from us, the more they urged us to cure the incurable. To preserve the town. Do you hear me? They will not leave a town of miracles alone. It may not be right away… but they will send someone.”
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There's no choice but to build a new life and live with the consequences, and so they do. But the events of the plague left deep wounds with the pain and fear of loss ever looming.
Bookmarked by Siraphel
07 Jul 2025
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The 678th day, in which the Haruspex contemplates haunting, ghosts, and mortality.
Edit: Now with art by @blankgabulu <3
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“She likes you, Daniil. Sticky, too.” Artemy spoke tenderly.
"I'm here, that’s all I am.” Daniil answered back when he was able to compose himself. "Should I leave, they would adapt to it easily and find a new passing interest... or fill in the vacancy in with another presence." He kept his words ambiguous; he knew that in the core of the concept, there wasn't a mystery, he would stay until they told him it was time to go... and there many ways to tell him to go. He was always listening for them. There was a sweetness and bitterness to the new experience, timidly coming in slowly in his life, and knew it can be torn from him. He didn't know if it would be a mercy or a tragedy if it was. He still didn't know if it was a welcomed distraction, or if it was a distraction at all.
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Daniil learns fatherhood can be sweet, sour, or a mixture all at once.
Bookmarked by Siraphel
28 Apr 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
"light angst" and it's the most delicious, angstiest thing ever written in this godforsaken fandom
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When Rubin had said Isidor Burakh’s son was bullheaded, Daniil should have known he’d meant that literally, given everything else he’s seen in this absurd town. Because a little ways behind Burakh is, indeed, a massive brown bull.
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The Town-on-Gorkhon is home to many miracles. Daemons are only one of them.
Series
- Part 1 of Daemonion
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 123,273
- Chapters:
- 15/?
- Comments:
- 377
- Kudos:
- 485
- Bookmarks:
- 108
- Hits:
- 10,053
Bookmarked by Siraphel
27 Apr 2025
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“You keep doing this,” he says, accusing.
Artemy doesn’t look away, eyes chasing the faintest movement of Daniil’s, as though wanting to pin him in place like a beetle. “Doing what.”
Daniil’s gloved hand moves as if on its own accord, and traces a line up his throat, jaw, the side of his face and ear. To map him out, commit to memory. Ascertain that he’s real. That he’s here.
Daniil whispers, “Bringing me back.”
Or: Daniil learns to just live.
Series
- Part 2 of nos deux mains
Bookmarked by Siraphel
25 Mar 2025