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1.
Alyosha grew to hold a bit of disdain for the Korolevskiy theater.
Unconsciously, perhaps; he didn’t particularly decide to dislike the place. In fact, if he could, he would shoot dead the unreasonable emotion and like the theater instead. He still regularly comes back for work, after all — Death Incarnate might revive them, but the freezing weather wasn’t so merciful.
Yet, he still winced when the snowstorm grew heavier outside the main gate as he opened it.
Alyosha set down his box of props as he watched Kulish frantically button up his coat. The usually collected staff was now a mess of hands and nerves.
“Your hat,” Alyosha pointed out, earning a flinch from the other man. Kulish’s eyes snapped to the hunter, breath hitching as he seemed to brace for something; his arms came around his head and he took half a step back. His body was screaming the signs of a cornered prey, waiting for the bite to its neck.
Alyosha held back the urge to wince again.
After a beat of tense silence, Kulish unfroze, cleared his throat, and muttered a quiet thanks. His eyes were full of remorse now, flickering to Alyosha like a faulted dog.
“Alyosha, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” the hunter interrupted him. “I understand. Have a safe trip home.”
Kulish swallowed his words down. He nodded, not looking any more relieved. Still, the man curled into himself and stepped out into the storming city.
Alyosha exhaled heavily. He and the muzzle of his gun had seen plenty of different colored fear: on animals, on thieves, on gangsters. But never on friends. Alyosha valued professionalism, valued friendship, even valued fear. Yet, ever since the incident in the theater…
“Alyosha?” A voice broke him out of his thoughts. Odette walked up to him from behind, her steps soft but still audible — the hunter knew it was deliberately done to not startle him.
Alyosha turned to face her, but she turned to face the door instead. “Odette,” he greeted.
“We got confirmation that the Iskra Manufacturing Plant is closing. The workers are getting laid-off aid too.” The ballerina’s eyes rested on the city outside, not meeting Alyosha’s.
“That’s… that’s great,” the hunter replied. He knew this already — it was all over the news for over a week now. Why was she bringing this up? For… small talk? Odette, the ice cold — well, everything — initiating small talk?
Odette sneaked a glance at his reaction, then turned to the snow again. Alyosha let out a small huff as he understood.
“How is Lelek coming along?” he added, watching Odette’s shoulder relax slightly.
Perhaps this is her way of apologizing for her lack of eye contact.
2.
“Mitya!!”
A high pitched sound of genuine excitement came from the backstage. The show had just ended, the guests streaming out with lively chatter. Alyosha’s finger stilled on the main stage’s light switches; he had not seen Mitya ever since their deaths. None of them have — the scientist seemed to have disappeared for these last weeks. The hunter peeked around a wall, watching Mitya’s scarf flutter around Vodyanitsa excitedly.
(He didn’t want to think about why he was hiding instead of just going up to them. He won’t.)
“Hi, Vodyanitsa,” Mitya greeted, grinning warmly at her. “It’s been a while.”
“Understatement,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s been weeks, Mitya. Where have you been? Actually, come to think of it, I haven’t seen you in the crowd today either!”
Mitya scratched his head sheepishly. “Err, sorry. My work met a drastic change after the incident. Shutting down entire teams— mph!” His scarf wrapped around his head in a deathlock. After prying it off with both his hands, he complained quietly: “I still can’t talk about it? I wasn’t going to go into details and the project is on pause anyway…”
Vodyanitsa laughed, then coughed and disguised it as a disappointed huff. “Well, you still didn’t explain why you didn’t watch the show today.”
Mitya gave her another apologetic smile. “Your shows inspire me for my projects, it’d become a habit at this point. And—” he paused and gave his scarf a worried glance, “— Anyhow, I absolutely cannot work now.”
Before Vodyanitsa could reply, Mitya’s eyes drifted to Alyosha behind the wall. His third hand held up a little, hesitant wave. “This is oddly familiar, hm.”
The hunter tensed, then he stepped out of his hiding spot. He looked back to his light switches. Not to flee, of course. Just… weighing his options.
Vodyanitsa gasped at his appearance, offering him a small smile. “Alyosha,” she called, trying and failing to hide her nerves under her calm voice. The singer’s eyes caught on a spot above him, as if he was a sun too burning to stare at. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”
“Today’s show was heavy on lights. The staff needed an extra pair of hands,” Alyosha explained; it somehow sounded like an excuse. “I will finish up and go now.”
“No!” Vodyanitsa stopped him. She then cleared her throat awkwardly. “I mean, it’s fine, we probably need you for the preparation of tomorrow’s show.” It was probably true, but it sounded like an excuse as well.
Beside her, Mitya stared at him without a smile. His thumb rubbed at his left palm absent-mindedly, tracing an invisible pattern. His third hand poked at his shoulder fruitlessly, then gave up, limping at his side.
“... Sure,” Alyosha replied. His voice seemed to wake the scientist up with a startle. Mitya, his left hand now clenched in a fist, smiled at him with a silent apology. His lips tugged at his eyes with something akin to melancholy; his fist balled up with something akin to determination.
(Alyosha had received all too many of these sorries. He is sick of this, sick of taking the blame and pity for a stranger in his skin. All that he wanted now was—)
“Actually, screw work. I’ve had enough of this place.” Vodyanitsa broke the weird silence. “Let’s all go out? And grab Odette too! My treat!”
3.
If there was one little part of Alyosha’s life that wasn’t affected by his death, it’d be his business.
The Hunter Trade Station was stoic as always. People didn’t care for the hunter there, only the meat they provided. His customers often didn’t know Alyosha beyond his name and the quality of his kills. Similarly, Alyosha never really went out of his way to befriend his customers either. He happily left the bargaining to the boss.
He was in Zolnyy to sell his prey that day. Tugarin bounced next to him, chasing after snowflakes for one moment, then rolling in the ice the next. The husky was excited that his owner suddenly had much, much more time to hunt with him lately, blissfully ignorant of Alyosha’s inner turmoil.
The crowd was thin, figures of red and blue coats dotted amongst white. The cold — more piercing than usual, at least — warded off any less than fearless customers, leaving only the most persistent hagglers to the sellers. The chill numbed any sense of smell; people screamed at each other over the howling wind. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary for a Tuesday.
Then the Traveler appeared.
Tugarin immediately barked out a joyful greeting, hopping to Lumine and Paimon as if they were his true owners. Paimon giggled at the dog before petting it on all sides. As Tugarin rumbled gleefully, the fairy dug into Lumine’s bag for treats. The traveler, however, spotted Alyosha immediately, then waved at him with a smile.
An actual, natural smile, not any different than one before their deaths.
Huh.
“Lumine,” Alyosha greeted as she stepped closer, “do you need anything?”
“Nope, just wanted to come see you.” Lumine replied, picking curiously at the hides on display.
Huh.
“Come see me?”
“Yeah!” Paimon chirped in, both her and Tugarin — with a huge jerky between his maw — now in front of the shop. “We’re waiting for our meeting with the Tsaritsa, so we’re going around to check up on our friends!”
Alyosha’s fingers drummed on his table restlessly. “I see. I’m glad you’re feeling better now, Paimon.”
“Mitya put a device on me that, err…” She trailed off, turning to her companion. “Lumine, does the device also count as secured information?”
“Probably.” Lumine sighed, then Paimon did too. “How are you doing, Alyosha?” She met his eyes with a warm shade of concern painted in hers.
“Me? I’m fine,” the hunter replied stiffly. Like an icebloc.
“Alyosha doesn’t sound fine to Paimon,” the fae muttered.
“I really am fine. Well, as fine as everyone else is, at least.”
A beat of silence. Lumine and Paimon exchanged an encrypted look. Alyosha’s fingers drummed faster on his table.
“What? Spit it out.” The hunter huffed, his breath forming an angry little cloud between them. If they were going to apologize for whatever reason, he would explode on them.
“No, nothing!” Paimon waved her hands at him frantically. “Ahh, we just wanted to know if you wanted to eat dinner with us?”
Alyosha blinked at her, taken aback. “Dinner with me? What for?”
“We haven’t seen you in a while.” Lumine shrugged. “And I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly for showing us around and getting Paimon a doctor beforehand, but that’s extra.”
“Yeah! We just want to hang out!” Paimon added cheerfully.
“Simple as that?” Alyosha muttered hesitantly.
Lumine nodded. “Simple as that.”
… huh.
“Oh, are you busy tonight?” Paimon tapped her indexes together anxiously. “We can reschedule, it’s no problem!”
“No, nothing of the sort.” Alyosha already began gathering his merchandise under the table. He chewed on his bottom lip, hesitating on his next words. “It’s just that… you two seem rather calm about me.”
Lumine paused, then let out a snort. “You mean, evil counterpart?” She grinned at him playfully. “Oh, I’ve seen plenty of those already. Evil twin brothers, a sword taking over a human, a robot replacing a god…” she trailed off, tapping her finger against her chin. “Paimon, does Layla’s case count?”
Paimon crossed her arms. “Second Layla isn’t evil!”
“Oh. True.” Lumine hummed thoughtfully. “Anyhow. I’ve seen a lot during my travels. Still up for that dinner?”
Alyosha let the relief seep into him like a shot of firewater — burning his throat and warming his insides. “Yes,” he choked out, “yes, absolutely.”
4.
Alyosha’s broom slowly stilled with shock as he blinked at the guest that just came in the theater. With him followed the cold, but whether it was the weather or his attitude, no one could say. The man took the furthest seat available, then stared at the empty stage, waiting.
“You’re very early,” Alyosha said as he walked towards him.
“I know,” Valeriy replied.
“The show is in an hour.”
“I know.”
“... I mean, you aren’t allowed to enter.”
Valeriy stared blankly at him. “The security let me in.”
Of course they did, Alyosha thought to himself, you are literally Major Valeriy of the Armory Palace.
“Is there a problem?” Valeriy crossed his arms, still glaring into Alyosha’s eyes with that deadpan expression of his.
The hunter just raised an eyebrow at him. Obviously there was a problem: he wasn’t supposed to be here. But if the security team deemed him harmless — or, rather, indisputable — then Alyosha had no complaints. Though, it was rare to see the man alone in the theater. Based on his seat, the man probably didn’t want to be here either.
As Alyosha raised his eyes to scan the empty theater for a mop of light grey hair, Valeriy understood his confusion. “Mitya is not coming today.” He cleared his throat, expression hardening like usual when talking about the unruly scientist. “In fact, he shouldn’t be anywhere near this place lately.”
So he definitely caught Mitya coming to the theater a few days ago — Alyosha stifled a snort. “So you came in his stead?”
“More or less. He begged me to come,” Valeriy grumbled. “Rambled on about a special show that the Prima Soprano and Prima Ballerina were to put on together today…”
“Ah, yes,” Alyosha nodded. Considering the collaboration today, countless fans would probably bleed and kill just to enter as early as Valeriy did. He was surprised that Mitya himself didn’t bleed and kill to be here, honestly.
Valeriy let out a little sigh. “It is not the only reason I’m here.” His gaze set on Alyosha’s coat, sweeping from color to color. The room’s warmth seemed to seep away — and it’s definitely not the weather this time. The hunter’s muscles coiled as if he was bracing for a gunshot at those words; he fought to keep his eyes open and watched Valeriy’s lips move.
“I’m here to talk to you,” the guard uttered stiffly. His tone was that of an interrogation; yet, with his grimacing tone, it was hard to tell if he was the interrogator or the interrogated.
Alyosha’s eyebrows jumped, then furrowed. “About?” he mumbled, fully knowing what the talk was destined to be about. Valeriy, gesturing for him to sit down, wasn’t fooled a bit by his false ignorance. The hunter stood firmly.
Letting his hand fall to the armrest, the guard’s gaze was back to the stage. Yet, his words carried better than any song. “I know what it’s like to be feared.”
Alyosha sat down.
Valeriy let out a little breath of a laugh — or maybe it was a grunt of acknowledgement? “Though, maybe not without good reason. I’ve cleared out enough fae gang camps for them to run when they spot me. But…” he trailed off, chewing over his words. Alyosha could faintly hear Vodyanitsa warming her voice up in the background; her song did nothing but accentuate the awkwardness in the silence.
“This title has its complications too.” Valeriy pushed his words out at last. “It’s hard to make a tame first impression when you’re covered with badges.”
The conversation fell again. It was clear that Valeriy didn’t want to be here: he didn’t care about the song, he didn’t choose this conversation. Yet, he was still here, seated, talking with a soldier’s resolute. There was warmth in that — the kind that sparkling charcoal held. Alyosha nodded shallowly at his words; did he really need this warmth? There wasn’t any pity in Valeriy’s voice, but maybe it was just a matter of time.
The guard took a deep breath. “However, I have chosen this uniform. This distance. You, on the other hand,” he paused, staring into his pupils once more, “this skin is not yours.”
Alyosha gritted his teeth. The wording, the phrasing, the whole conversation, finally ticked him off. “No.” His fists balled up, his fingers reaching for an invisible trigger. “This skin is not hers.” His seat felt barbed with his urge to jump up to his feet.
The guard, however, remained passive, witnessing Alyosha’s fury without judgement. “A god’s will can rarely be shaken,” he stated firmly, a soldier repeating an anthem. Yet, his finger thumbed fitfully at his badge through his thick glove. His eyes raised to the giant heat lamp in the middle of the theater’s ceiling. Like frost covering a door, a sudden exhaustion colored his gaze. Then, quietly, he added:
“Yet, as humans, we can decide to change.”
+1.
Alyosha rarely used his mirror for anything. He felt no particular interest in beauty, finding it just another waste of money realistically. Besides using it when washing his face, the mirror just hung on his wall lifelessly, cold as any other furniture.
Yet, that night, illuminated by a singular candle, Alyosha watched the scissors in the reflection with reluctance.
“Alyosha?!” Vodyanitsa gasped at him when he came in for work the next morning. “Uhm… nice new look!”
“Oh.” Odette peeked from behind her. “Alyosha. Good morning. Your hair—”
“—is super nice!” Vodyanitsa cut her off with urgency. Odette frowned at her. Vodyanitsa waved her hands about with wide eyes.
Kulish came in next, hand freezing when he was taking off his coat. “Alyosha! Your hair—”
“—is super nice.” Vodyanitsa cut him off as well, her tone darkening with a warning this time.
“It’s uneven on the two sides,” Odette blurted out, earning an offended gasp from Vodyanitsa. Kulish nodded hesitantly besides her with a grin.
“You two!” The singer huffed. “It is nice! And unique!”
“And definitely not even.” Odette deadpanned.
“Well— what if that’s what he wanted?”
“I don’t think Alyosha out of all people would want, err…” Kulish trailed off.
The hunter himself just smiled. It was nice to have eyes meet his again.
“Hey! Alyosha!” Paimon’s voice carried over the sound of children running about in the street. “Over here!”
The sky was surprisingly clear that day. Lumine, Paimon, and Mitya sat near a street food booth. The group all waved at him; three hands and a scarf fluttered around in the air.
Mitya’s smile grew wider as he approached, spotting his hair — now evenly trimmed with the theater’s help. Paimon beat him to the compliment, however. “Nice haircut!” she chirped. “Though, Paimon’s surprised you cut it short since you’re always so cautious about body heat.”
“It suits you,” Lumine remarked. Mitya agreed with a triple thumbs up before offering him whatever food they bought. It looked warm and meaty, so the hunter took the piece with a small thanks.
“The Troupe fixed your hair, right?” the scientist smirked.
Alyosha’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “How did you know?”
“There’s a Tugarin sticker stuck to the back of your head.”
“... Oh.”
The sky really was clear that day. Maybe too clear to hunt, but perfect for banter.
Tugarin barked uprightly, earning a hum of approval from Valeriy. The dog’s composure immediately shattered as the man leaned down to pet him — his tongue was out and his paws tapped the ground contently. The guard’s eyes softened as he scratched Tugarin’s chin, letting a small smile surface.
Alyosha stood next to them, silently watching the two and praying that Tugarin would not playfully pounce on the man on the street since they’re familiar now. Which was probably futile considering the husky prior history.
“You wanted to see me?” Valeriy cleared his throat, pulling away from the dog at last. Tugarin whined slightly, but Valeriy didn’t budge. Not yet, at least.
Alyosha pulled a ticket from his pocket, handing it to the guard. “Here. You seemed to quite enjoy the last show.”
“Oh.” Valeriy blinked in surprise. He still took the slip, tucking it carefully into his coat. “You shouldn’t have.”
Alyosha shrugged, smiling. “Consider it a celebration of some sorts.”