kosmiarz
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Five times Andrey appeared in Grief’s life, and one time Grief came to him.
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Daniel zostaje dźgnięty. Artemiusz pomaga.
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Dzień dwudziesty szósty, w którym krawędzie między jestestwami Daniela i Artemiusza na zawsze się zacierają.
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“You're a surgeon. You would have dug it all out of my gut.” Artemy thinks of his face in the unnatural light of the Polyhedron filtering in through the window late that night, and he looks at blood-spattered skin in front of him now, the way Dankovsky is daring him with his non-commitment.
“I would have.” Like many other things at this stage in his performance, it would have followed him for the remainder of his life, but he sees himself in that alternate path. Daniil’s cold eyes, his smock covered in still-warm blood as Artemy digs through a dead man’s stomach for the piece of paper that will save thousands of lives and condemn... A hundred souls? Are they that few? That many? Will he ever truly know how many of Boddho’s children he’s going to slaughter before night falls? Will he have the time to count them, or will they turn to ashes the second the earth bleeds dry beneath them?
“I’ll tell you,” Daniil says. "I will – the way I’d tell a close, intimate friend.” Artemy should have kissed him that time, in the bed at the Stillwater, when Daniil was whispering to him in this same voice about their destinies entangling. Maybe things could have been different. “Have I ever told you about my Thanatica?”
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14 Dec 2025
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He thinks about what a fucking miracle it is that he’s still alive, and his chest tightens again.
The problem with survival isn’t the here and now, Artemy is beginning to realise; that’s easy. Here and now, what matters is taking another breath, is pushing through whatever is happening into the next moment. Doing what you need to get done when your life is on the line and, by proxy, the lives of countless others, isn’t the hardest part.
That is what comes after, when you’re no longer gasping for air, when there are no longer singular moments to gather your thoughts but an endless stretch of time ahead of you with no more looming disaster to take your mind off of the future.
Now, that’s where he finds himself; in the future, inside that vague notion of hope he was clinging to for weeks as he sprinted across town, plague clouds chasing his heels, herbs and bottles and raw human organs jostling around in his medic bag, dead bodies left in his wake. The whole time, the future was on his mind, getting himself and his children and his friends to it, and now it’s here and he doesn’t know what to do when he’s stopped running.
Series
- Part 1 of Dreams of a tomorrow
Bookmarked by kosmiarz
14 Dec 2025
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“… I’d say good morning,” Dankovsky said at length, a little hoarsely, “but I’m afraid I’ve lost track of the time. Good … something, Haruspex.”
“Afternoon. You look—” Artemy began, and broke off.
“Yes? What ghoulish thing do I resemble today?” Daniil blew out some smoke, staring pensively ahead. “A striga, perhaps.”
“—better,” Artemy finished. “Less like you’d gone already, and are only haunting me.”
That shut Daniil’s mouth.
[Or: a rendezvous with danger, one very cold winter.]
Bookmarked by kosmiarz
20 Oct 2025
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"Have you ever heard of homosexuality?" Dankovsky asks, a confident non-sequitor.
The breath gets seized out of Artemy's lungs.
"'Homo', in this case meaning 'of the same'," Dankovsky continues as if he didn't just yank Artemy's arm out of its socket with his words – or push it into place, rather? "Homogeneous, homologous, homomorphous – "
"We're opposites," Artemy chokes out. "Didn't you say?"
Bookmarked by kosmiarz
16 Oct 2025
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The three healers try to cope.
Bookmarked by kosmiarz
06 Oct 2025