mrcogito
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“On principle, it would simply take you … elsewhere,” Dankovsky says. “The only difference being, instead of in space, you’d move in time.”
“Hm,” Artemy muses. He’s still hunched forward, eye-to-eye with Daniil’s own slouch. It is a little as though they are conferring about something in private, like the town’s remaining children swapping nuts and secrets. It would strike Daniil as almost funny, if he weren’t so worn-out by now. “And can you impact upon that time?”
“In theory, yes,” Dankovsky says. “There is some allure to it, isn’t there. Do it all again, this time … better.”
[Or; a last resort and how you reach it: a story about time.]
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- English
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- 15,170
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- 4
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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.]
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“... Won’t you be warmer closer to the fire?” Merlin mumbled without opening his eyes, as Gwaine wriggled close enough to be able to smell the saffron-roasted fish-scent which stuck to Merlin’s hair. He looked really tired up close—Merlin always looked really tired, and somewhat sickly at that—and Gwaine had to resist the urge to indulge in behaviours which were far from charismatic and aloof.
“No,” he lied, good-humoured, and threw an arm about him.
[Or: Merlin and Gwaine embark on a deeply necessary Herb-Foraging Quest which has nothing to do with finding a way to release various kinds of tension. Dragons and destiny inevitably become involved.]
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He pushes his hands into his pockets, takes a deep breath and a step forward, and says, “I’m, uh, I’m Arthur.”
Gwen is still staring. The guy doesn’t move.
“Yeah, man,” he then says, speaking slowly, as though Arthur were dim, “we know who you are.”
This interaction, Arthur is fairly certain, is not unfolding like a successful, normal, human interaction should. Already fed-up with his own cursed attempt at livening-up his insanity spiral with a detour into the Real World, he grits his teeth, half-ready to stalk back off to the car and depart.
“My name is Merlin,” Ears then says, suddenly. “This is Gwen. Sorry, it’s just—what the hell are you doing here?”
[Or: Four people on mad-dash journey through half-mythical rural Wales to attend a Visa wedding and perhaps save the world.]
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“Do you feel warmer yet?” Artemy asks.
“No,” Daniil croaks out. And then he reaches.
They are both surprised, it seems, when the leather of his glove collides with the solid, yielding shape of the other’s cheek.
A stilted moment passes, with Artemy’s open eyes simply regarding Dankovsky in anticipation of whatever will follow touch.
“Real, then,” Daniil says, at length. “Thy life’s a miracle. Speak yet again.”
Or: Daniil returns to the Town-on-Gorkhon. Or so he thinks.
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Daniil and Artemy, in the Diurnal ending.
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- 20,306
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“Artemy, I told you there was nothing I wanted. You didn’t need to buy me anything; everything there is overpriced. My dear Haruspex, you could have placed the funds toward-”
“I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t buy you anything. I just wanted to give it to you after the children… I think you would want to see it with some privacy-…” Artemy let the sentence run off, doubting whether or not to give what he had in the luggage.
“Well,” Daniil started with a raised eyebrow, “I’m curious now.” He held out his hand.
Artemy didn’t realize how badly his hands would shake when handing over the package, lovingly wrapped in his scarf that he failed to use on the trip.
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Artemy goes to the Capital and brings Daniil a memento.
Bookmarked by mrcogito
21 Oct 2025