Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been a day or two since the collapse of the Polyhedron, and Daniil was exhausted. Over the course of just two weeks, all of his work had collapsed in front of him. The death of the immortal Simon Kain, the destruction of the Thanatica, and now the fall of the Polyhedron; every step he had taken towards defeating death had ultimately backfired and left him back at square one.

He had tried to salvage just one thing from this town that would help in his research, the gravity-defying tower of children that death was unable to penetrate… And he’d watched it crumble. Even after killing a man and burning the orders to prevent its destruction, Burakh had somehow managed to snatch up the papers and deliver them to the General, and the tower was shot down. And at the foot, where the ground had been pierced, appeared a river of blood that Daniil would have never believed possible if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

Burakh had saved the town, but killed the Earth in doing so. Now that the plague was gone and all was said and done, Daniil had no place in this little Town on Gorkhon anymore. There was nothing left for him here. The next logical step would be to take the earliest train back to the Capital, and inform his peers of his failings. There was a high likelihood he’d be exiled, perhaps even executed, upon his return, but that possibility didn’t feel as daunting as he’d expected. He was completely defeated.

The Bachelor had found himself at the Broken Hearts pub, one last hurrah before he departed. The twyrine stung his throat and made his head spin with every sip he took, but he needed something — anything — to distract himself. It was as he was sat around a table with Yulia and the Stamatins, talking about nothing in particular, when a familiar figure entered the bar. Artemy Burakh, the Haruspex, the man who was simultaneously the saviour and the downfall of this town. He’d looked frazzled, exhausted, deflated, but also more at ease than he’d been since he arrived. There was a different look in his eyes, a clash of overwhelm and relief.

Daniil shared his plans with the Haruspex, how there was nothing left for him in this town and he would be returning to the Capital at the soonest opportunity. Burakh’s response took Daniil by surprise, as the tall man had placed a hand on his shoulder and simply asked for him to stay. The Bachelor had replied hesitantly, reiterating that there’s really no point in him remaining here, but the look in Artemy’s eyes spoke louder than his words. There was an air of desperation, a man who had lost so much in just a few weeks and didn’t want to lose one more friend.

Upon returning to Stillwater that night, Eva questioned Daniil about his next moves, adding that he was always welcome to stay with her if he remained in the town. He was at an impasse: returning to the Capital would be the logical thing to do, but the sincerity in Artemy’s voice as he asked him to stay… Daniil decided to sleep on it, figure it out in the morning when he wasn’t drunk.

The first thing Daniil noticed upon waking up was the piercing headache in his temples. Surely he hadn’t drunk enough last night to become hungover, yet now he felt like absolute shit. Could it be the Sand Pest? No, that’s impossible, the plague was completely eradicated just a few days ago by Artemy using that river of blood to make a miracle cure. On top of that, he wasn’t experiencing any other symptom typical of the pest, like the overwhelming dryness. Quite the opposite in fact, as Daniil’s insides felt… wet. He was congested, throat full of mucus that refused to go away even as he gulped down water. Just his luck, as soon as the plague had ended he was struck down with the common cold. There’d be no point in taking a Panacea, a cold is something you just have to wait out and get over yourself. If it persists, then maybe Daniil would consider talking to Rubin or Artemy, but as a doctor himself he was confident that he wouldn’t need to.

At around 9am, Daniil heard a knock on his room door and Eva poked her head in. The woman’s blonde hair wasn’t tied up as it usually was, softly framing her face in a way that the Bachelor hadn’t seen before. She looked more carefree and bright, her relief of the plague being over practically palpable.

“Daniil, are you still asleep? I normally hear you pacing around up here by this time.”
He sighed from where he lay in bed, “I’m sick, caught something.”
Her brows furrowed, her smile fading, “Sick? How is that possible? Burakh had gotten that magic blood just a few days ago—“
“It’s not the Sand Pest, Eva. Just a cold.”
“Ah, I suppose it is almost winter now,” she paused, thinking, “could it be treated with the blood anyway?”
“No, that cure was exclusively for the pest, Burakh explained it to me but I didn’t really understand all his Steppe nonsense… I just need to sleep it off for a couple of days.”
“Right…” Eva pouted, slightly hesitant, “I trust you’ll be able to take care of yourself since you’re a doctor, but just stay here until you feel better. And let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.” Daniil smiled at her, grateful for her hospitality but also aware that he may have been overstaying his welcome. Even though the owner of Stillwater had said that he was permitted to stay, he couldn’t help but feel that itch of discomfort at the prospect of being a burden to her.

Daniil spent most of the day asleep, catching up on the many hours he had missed in the past two weeks. Twelve days of unrelenting stress, spending so much time bent over a microscope that he had been lucky to get even a few hours of sleep per night. Perhaps this illness was his body punishing him for this negligence. He awoke in the mid-afternoon, throat tickling and aching. Daniil stumbled out of bed and to the bathroom, unable to suppress his coughs as he stood over the basin, the blockage in his throat making him feel suffocated. After a good amount of hacking, he finally managed to get it out: a glob of mucus went splat against the porcelain basin. He grimaced, disgusted; as a thanatologist he had become desensitised to death and decay, yet bodily waste like phlegm and mucus still made him shiver.

About to wash the grossness away, Daniil noticed something strange about it. Mucus is normally clear or slightly cloudy, sometimes tinted green if the person is experiencing a sinus infection, but this mucus seemed to have small flecks of black in it. Upon closer inspection, they looked similar to dried tea leaves, like the contents of a teabag. The doctor’s first thought was that this was dried blood; it’s a well known medical fact that the inclusion of black flecks within vomit indicates internal bleeding, but that’s only in relation to the gastrointestinal tract. This couldn’t be digested blood, since this had come from his sinuses; if there was bleeding then surely any trace of blood would’ve been bright red. Daniil’s head was spinning, temples aching as a headache took hold of him. He cleaned the sink and retreated to his room, falling back asleep almost as soon as he lay down.

Daniil slept restlessly, waking up every few hours with the overwhelming urge to cough up more phlegm that was clogging his throat. He tried his best to suppress it, drinking water until the itch went away, even if the suffocating sensation was enough to make him gag.

In the morning it wasn’t any better, in fact it had gotten worse. The ache he was feeling in his throat had now found its way to his chest, the tickling sensation stretching from the back of his mouth down to his lungs. He could practically feel this illness pulsing through his sinuses and respiratory tract, it felt worse than a normal cold. Daniil once again found himself leaning over the basin, coughing his lungs out, and that dastardly amalgamation of mucus in his throat had become lodged right behind his uvula. This triggered his gag reflex, which led to him retching and eventually vomiting up what little he had in his stomach.

Dankovsky hated vomiting just as much as anyone. The horrible sensation and horrible taste and horrible smell, and the pain that tore up his throat as bile filled the sink in front of him. He coughed up as much as he could, his breathing shaky from discomfort. His eyes had been squeezed shut, and when he opened them a strange sight greeted him.

There were leaves in the sink, melded in with the stomach contents. Not dried leaves like he’d spotted in the mucus earlier, but fresh, green foliage. He also spotted what looked like flower petals, small flecks of orange that he would’ve easily mistaken for just digested food if he wasn’t looking purposely. It looked like he had chewed up a flower and its stem, half-digested it, then regurgitated it.

Daniil felt lightheaded, maybe this was just a weirdly realistic fever dream? Was he hallucinating, delusional? His body was begging for him to just return to bed and sleep until he forgets about this, but he couldn’t just ignore something like this. He rushed to his desk and retrieved a pair of tweezers and an unused Petri dish, returning to the basin and gingerly picking out samples of these strange plant-like bodies.

After cleaning up again, Daniil perched himself at his desk and slid the Petri dish underneath the lens of his microscope. He’s no botanist, but he could tell that these were indeed plant cells: stacked up neatly like bricks, speckled green with chloroplasts.

He turned to the bookshelf and started reading, scouring through journals and textbooks and anything that might give him an answer to this. Anatomy, virology, biology, microbiology, bacteriology, medicine… Was it a respiratory condition: pneumonia, bronchitis, tuberculosis, influenza, cystic fibrosis? Or was it gastrointestinal: norovirus, gastroenteritis, adenovirus, reflux disease, cyclic vomiting syndrome? None of them lined up with his specific symptoms.

Daniil flicked through almost every book on the shelf, leaving his desk piled high with papers and his room in disarray from the scattered logs. He scanned over paragraphs until his eyes became bleary, he’d exhausted every index in this fruitless attempt to figure out what was going on… and there were still no answers. Whatever he was experiencing didn’t line up with anything written in these journals.

No answers in western medicine lead Daniil to a conclusion that he hesitated to acknowledge: this ailment is likely Steppe-related. This damn town was really getting to him. As an outsider, he didn’t really understand the Khatanghe people, their beliefs and superstitions and traditions. They’re much different to other indigenous groups simply in the way that they don’t seem to abide by the same laws of science as everyone else. The Steppe creatures, odonghs and albinos, inhuman beings that look like they’d stepped straight out of a fantasy novel, the mysterious Lines and Layers that they swear can heal any ailment, the river of blood that Artemy claimed to be the blood of Earth Herself (Herself, not itself, Daniil noted)... Nothing about this town made sense, he'd figured that out the moment he set foot here. If it hadn’t been for the Kains’ good word, Daniil surely would’ve been shunned from the town as an outsider and likely extradited back to the Capital.

Daniil’s first idea was to ask Artemy directly, but would he even know the answer? Burakh had received western medical training and had been mostly detached from his Kin roots until he returned just a couple of weeks ago. So Artemy was off the table, what about another town healer like Rubin or Clara? Absolutely not. Rubin’s only connection with the Kin was his mentorship from Isidor, and Clara is… Clara. He wouldn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.

He would have to go to the Kin directly to inquire, which Daniil dreaded. He was widely disliked by the group for various reasons, and he couldn’t blame them for that. Although, there was maybe one person who could help him; Daniil had heard Artemy mention such a person before, a mysterious figure who, despite not being Khatanghe, held a great deal of knowledge about the Kin. He had never met Aspity face to face, but she was his best bet to figure out what was going on, if suddenly regurgitating flowers is indeed a Steppe-related illness. Perhaps this was the town’s way of telling him that he’s not welcome here anymore.

Daniil threw on some proper clothes and tried to look presentable, as if he hasn’t spent the past few days in bed. He tucked the Petri dish into his coat pocket, and set out in the direction of the Crude Sprawl.

This part of town was uncanny, eerie, almost sinister. It was the slums, the poorest district, the epicentre of the first outbreak five years ago. Daniil seldom ever came here; he’d never had a reason to. Aspity’s hospice was in the southernmost part of the Crude Sprawl, a dark building with windows boarded up from the inside. The front door faced outward to the Steppe, and was adorned with candles that whipped back and forth in the wind but showed no sign of going out. Daniil felt incredibly out of place here, sticking out like a sore thumb in his Capital garb, he could practically feel eyes boring into him from the slits of the windows.

Cracking open the heavy door, he was immediately met with the intense gaze of a Worm. The odongh didn’t speak, just stared, showering Daniil in silent judgment and the unspoken question of “what are you doing here?” The Bachelor suppressed a shudder: no matter how many times he encountered them, the Worms never failed to unnerve him. The same height as a human, yet much wider and visibly stronger. Their heads smooth white orbs, beady eyes carved into the clay that peeked out from the thick robes wrapped around their necks. No visible mouth, yet they were able to speak as well as anyone. Daniil dipped his head to avoid the creature’s stare, heading deeper into the building as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

The air was eerily still. Aspity was sat on her knees, hands clasped in front of her chest as if in prayer. Upon hearing Daniil’s footsteps, she raised her head to look at him. He felt a wave of discomfort flood his chest as they locked eyes: she looked human, yet every neuron in his brain was telling him otherwise. She was small and thin like a child, yet her face held so much knowledge and age, the look of someone with so much knowledge that it burdened them more than helping them. Her skin was a sickly unnatural colour, splotched with red and grey like a bruise, deep dark rings around her icy eyes. Bony hands with black nails akin to a corpse, she looked halfway between alive and dead.

Aspity broke the silence, standing up slowly to her full height (which only reached Daniil’s chest), “Bachelor Dankovsky. I’ve heard about you, the Capital doctor who strives to defeat death.”
Daniil’s throat tightened upon hearing her voice, uncanny and drawling, as if her lips weren’t in sync with her words. Nevertheless, he wanted to be polite. “I’ve heard about you too, Aspity, from Artemy. He greatly appreciates you, a part of me regrets not meeting you sooner.”
“Indeed, you are late,” she said with a slow blink.
“I’m late? What do you mean? I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Following the fall of the tower, the decision that Artemy Burakh made for the town, for Earth, for another Boddho… The blood has run dry, Her arteries are barren and empty, no life flows under this place anymore.” Her words weren’t accusatory, rather they were mournful and melancholic.

Daniil swallowed, choosing his words carefully, “I… I agree that I was also against the destruction of the Polyhedron… But that blood was exactly what was needed for the cure.”
“Indeed,” Aspity continued, bringing her hands to her heart, “the Sand Pest died along with the Earth. And as a part of the Earth myself, I will soon follow suit.”
“What are you saying?” Daniil pressed, “The death of the plague, the death of the Earth as you say, will kill you?”
“Soon I will perish, Mother Boddho will not have anything planned for me. The heartbeat of the Earth has slowed to a stop. I cannot hear Her anymore.” Aspity’s lips curled into a sad smile of acceptance. She’s made her peace, and there’s nothing to be done.

“I’m sorry…” The Bachelor didn’t know what else to say, he was never good at expressing empathy for others’ losses. The scientific side of him was sceptical about whether she was telling the truth or if it was just metaphorical.
“Your deity, your God, was sacrificed to save the people of this town… I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through.”
The mysterious woman lowered her hands and nodded solemnly, “But, dear friend, it cannot be helped. I may not have long left, but I wish to see my final days out, so I will continue to help whomever I can until I can no longer.”
Daniil hesitated, “You’ll be willing to help me?”
“Of course,” Aspity responded without delay, “you may not be Khatanghe, but you are an inhabitant of Mother Boddho’s land, you have indulged in Her blessings and appreciated Her knowledge until Her final breath. You have come to me, a stranger, in a time of need, and who am I to reject your plea?”

The Bachelor felt incredibly uncomfortable, his whole body itching to remove himself from this situation where this mysterious woman was describing the death of both her god and herself. He couldn’t help but feel guilty in a way, knowing that he wasn’t able to stop Artemy from calling off the bombardment that destroyed the Polyhedron, killing the Earth.

Daniil wasn’t sure where to focus his eyes, finding eye contact with Aspity made his skin crawl. “I’ve come to see you about an ailment,” he stated, gazing at the wall behind her.
Aspity thinned her lips and furrowed her brow, “An ailment? I am not a healer, dear Bachelor.”
“I know. I’m not looking to be healed,” Daniil felt his throat tickle, but he suppressed the urge to cough, “I’m just looking for an explanation.”
“Go ahead.” He sighed, preparing himself to admit that he’s been experiencing symptoms that any western doctor would put him in a mental facility for expressing, “Since the fall of the Polyhedron I’ve been sick, coughing and vomiting up mucus and bile.”
“Are these not regular symptoms of common human diseases?” Aspity tilted her head with a frown.
“It’s not the coughing and vomiting that concerns me, it’s that… there seem to be foreign bodies present within the disgorgement.”
“Foreign bodies?”
“It’s like…” he stumbled to gather the right words, “flower parts. Botanical organisms.”
Aspity nodded with a ‘hmm’, encouraging him to continue.
“I searched in as many books and journals as I could but I wasn’t able to find any sort of explanation for this, so I thought that maybe it’s somehow Steppe-related…” Daniil cringed at himself, knowing how absurd his claims sounded. “Here, I collected a sample.”

He pulled the Petri dish out from his coat and handed it to Aspity, who took it gingerly with frail hands. She pondered over it for a moment before speaking.
“As I suspected. Swevery. Tsetsgiin kharaal.”
“Excuse me?”
“You were correct in your assumption that this ailment is that of Steppe origin,” she placed the dish back into the Bachelor’s gloved hand, “Tsetsgiin kharaal, or ‘flower curse’ in your tongue. A curse of unrequited love.”

Daniil narrowed his eyes. It was apart of his nature to be sceptical, he’s not the type of man to wave anything off as supernatural or occult like many people of religion tend to do. He’s a firm believer that everything has — or at least should have — a solid scientific explanation. But then again, the Kin seemed to work in a way that was outside of science, which means Aspity could be telling the truth. It wasn’t an illness he was suffering; it was a curse.
He huffed in annoyance, “Christ, the pest was only defeated a few days ago and already I’m dealing with more otherworldly nonsense,” he mumbled mostly to himself. “What do you mean unrequited love?”
“This curse stems from the Herb Brides of the Kin.” Aspity dodged his question. “You must know of them, yes?”

Daniil did know of the Herb Brides, although he didn’t understand them. Women that looked human, yet somehow weren’t. Regardless of the wind or rain or freezing temperatures, the Brides always wore tattered clothes that hung off their lean bodies like rags and walked on bare feet. They were undeniably beautiful, yet uncanny in a way that separated them from the human women of the town. “I know of them. Are you saying that one of those Steppe girls cursed me? Because they fancy me?”

Aspity shook her head, “You’re not far off, but it is not a Herb Bride who holds these feelings. It’s you.”
Instead of answering Daniil’s questions, this just left him with more, “Me?”
“Indeed. You have contracted this ailment, this curse, because you hold feelings for someone who does not feel the same way. I have encountered this curse once before, but was under the assumption that it only affected members of the Kin…” Aspity looked down in concentration.
“Oh…” the Bachelor mumbled, “I don’t have a single drop of Kin blood in my body. How did I get cursed?”

She tapped a thin finger against her lip in thought, then looked up at him once she had found an answer. “Be khara, although you are not Khatanghe, this curse has found you through means of connection.”
That didn’t help. “… which means?” Daniil urged.
“The object of your affection,” she stated like it was the most obvious answer ever. “Your unrequited love is that for a Khatangher.”

His heart dropped to his stomach.

Oh. Oh no. Daniil knew exactly what Aspity was insinuating, and he hated it. There was only one member of the Kin that he was acquainted with, only one that he was close with, only one that he thought about often, only one that he risked developing feelings for. Artemy Burakh. The tall man with striking green eyes that Daniil had only met mere weeks ago. The Bachelor had known that he felt some way towards the menkhu, but he’d been much too busy to really sit down and think about it. But is this feeling he harbours towards Artemy really love? God, the strength of that word reverberating in his head was making Daniil dizzy. It couldn’t be love, he’s only known the man for just over a fortnight, and their first impressions of each other had certainly not been the best. But… Daniil had found that over the course of the epidemic, every subsequent encounter with Artemy had the Bachelor understanding and appreciating him more and more until… Fuck. Was Daniil’s desire to return to the Capital truly incited by the plague’s end, or was it because he unconsciously wanted to run away from whatever Artemy had cast upon him?

As much as he wanted to deny it, as much as he wished he would argue and refute, the simple fact that this curse had befallen him was an explicit confirmation. Against his better judgement, Daniil had fallen in love with Artemy, and he’d been too stubborn to realise it sooner.

After what felt like an eternity of standing in silence, neurons firing rapidly as he came to that devastating conclusion, Daniil spoke. “So… You’re saying that I’m vomiting up flowers… because I have a crush on a Kin?”
“Be naydamtay bolokho,” Aspity responded quickly. He didn’t understand the words, but they sounded affirmative.
Daniil sighed, “Right. Is there any… treatment? How can it be cured?”
“The curse won’t be lifted until the love is reciprocated.”
“Oh, terrific, so I’ll be coughing up flowers forever unless my unrequited love starts to like me back?” Daniil pinched the bridge of his nose with gloved fingers.
“That is the sure way to remedy it,” Aspity nodded, “However, the curse is unrelenting. The flowers will continue to build up within the sufferer’s organs until they suffocate to death, which follows after a few months.”
The Bachelor’s heart dropped upon hearing that, “Death?!” He scanned Aspity’s face, looking for any hint of a smirk or joking expression to indicate that she was being sarcastic, but alas, she was dead serious. “Is there really no other way?”
“Mes zasal, surgery, is an option. Although, the removal of the flowers will, in turn, remove the love you have towards this person, and will greatly impact your human emotions as a whole. It may become hard to ever love again.”

Daniil put his head in his hands, digesting this difficult news. He’ll have to think it over, figure out a way to treat it. “Okay… thank you, Aspity, this was very helpful.”
“Tell me, who is it?” When he met her eyes again, he saw that the small woman was smiling.
Daniil grumbled and shied his gaze away, “I have a feeling you already know.”
Aspity’s lips twitched cheekily, “I do know, yes.”
“Well then.” He huffed in return. Did she ask that purposely to embarrass him? The sly glint in her eyes was like that of a mother pestering her child upon seeing them hold hands with a member of the opposite sex on the school playground.
“Bayartay, Dankovsky,” Aspity said with a bow of her head, sitting back down on her bedroll and closing her eyes as if in meditation. He took this as his sign to leave.

Dankovsky exited the hospice, seeing that the sun was beginning to set. Orange light bathed over the Steppe, accentuating the warm colours of the grasses that covered the plains. The tall shadows of herbs stretched across the ground like fingers reaching out towards him. It was quiet, somehow too quiet. Growing up in the Capital, Daniil had always been surrounded by the white noise: cars revving, horse hoofs trotting along cobblestone streets dragging carriages and wagons in their wake, people chatting, footsteps of those on the streets or in other rooms… noise that he had grown so accustomed to that it faded into the background. Here, in the Steppe, was nothing but the wind, the buzzing of insects, and the distant moo of an unseen cow. Artemy had once told him that it was in these quiet moments in the Steppe that you could hear the heartbeat of the Earth. But it was silent now. Cardiopulmonary arrest. Asystole. The only beating heart here was his own, and it was beating for someone who didn’t return the sentiment.

Artemy. Unbeknownst to the menkhu, he had cursed Daniil to a slow and painful death. Although this curse was confirmation that Daniil had feelings towards him, the only thing he was feeling right now was frustration. What kind of sick god would punish someone like this for something that is no fault of their own? Daniil didn’t choose to fall for Artemy, and he didn’t choose for his feelings to not be reciprocated. There were three options, three routes, that Daniil would have to choose from now.
1) Find a way to make Artemy like him back
2) Get the surgery to have the blockage removed
3) Do nothing, and die over the course of a few months
The surgery option would be the most plausible way to rid him of this disease, but Daniil had his reservations about it. Firstly, the only surgeon in town who would be capable of this task is the menkhu, Artemy himself. On top of that, requesting the surgery from Artemy would force Daniil to explain the situation, and in turn force him to admit his feelings for him. Rubin was also a qualified surgeon, but this illness is Steppe-related, and Rubin had gotten in enough trouble as it is from cutting bodies as a non-menkhu. His second hesitation was what Aspity mentioned earlier, how the surgery would both remove his feelings for Artemy permanently, but also heavily impact his ability to love at all. Although, would that be too much of a sacrifice for Daniil? He didn’t consider himself a very loving person, having no close friends and a rocky relationship with his family, there isn’t really much for him to lose in that regard. The past ten or so years of his life have been dedicated to his research, he’s been too busy to fall in love, and now that he’s accidentally fallen for Artemy it’s just causing him more grief than anything.

Flashes of the menkhu spilled into his thoughts, making his chest ache. There were so many little details about the man that Daniil had noticed, but never realised that his impressions of him could possibly be anything more than observational. His pointed features and angular jaw that gave his face a sharp demeanour that didn’t match the gentle personality that Daniil had slowly but surely come to discover. The way he showed hostility towards people who deserved it, and would never dare raise his voice at a woman or child. His eyes that looked green under sunlight but turned grey in darkness, and hair that was too dark to be blonde but too light to be brown. The way he chews his lip when he’s concentrating and the crinkles around his eyes when he laughs and scars littered around his hands and arms from years of working with a scalpel. Daniil had noticed all of these things unconsciously, unaware that they would be contributing to his falling for the man. It sickened him how quickly just the thought of Artemy had made him come undone.

It was rapidly approaching nightfall, shadows growing taller as the sun dipped below the horizon. There were no curfews in place anymore, but it would still be in his best interest to return to the Stillwater as quickly as possible. The fastest route would be to follow the train tracks, through the Warehouses and past the station. The smokestacks of the warehouses and factories towered over him, a looming presence that felt much more oppressive than that of the Polyhedron. The size of the dark windowless buildings made him feel small, uncomfortable, itching to get back to the open space of the Stone Yard quarter. He hated this part of town.

Trekking along the railway, placing his feet carefully with each step to avoid any broken planks or rusty nails. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniil spotted a single light turning on. The front entrance to one of the factory buildings, the Haruspex lair; perhaps the light used solar to turn on automatically when the sun went down. Daniil turned his gaze away from the workshop, feeling a telltale itch in his throat that preceded another coughing fit. He tried to suppress it, which just made it worse; it felt like the flowers in his throat were trying to force their way out. Unable to hold it in anymore, he bent over and hacked out the clump of petals onto the train tracks. It hurt getting them up, his throat feeling so raw and irritated. Just as he thought the worst was over, another spasm arose in his chest that made him retch. Daniil vomited onto the ground, grimacing at the disgusting feeling of petals and bile in his mouth. His sinuses burned, his eyes bleary with tears as he disgorged. He was left panting, sweat beaded on his forehead, saliva dripping from his lips. It felt like he’d successfully gotten everything out, and now he just had to get back to the Stillwater as quickly as possible to clean himself up. Daniil hoisted himself up from his doubled over position, and immediately felt lightheaded. He stumbled forward a few steps, vision spinning from the sudden dizziness, and passed out in the grass.

Chapter Text

The Bachelor lay motionless in the grass beside the train tracks, unconscious but alive. Small footsteps patted along the grass, approaching where the man had collapsed.

The heavy door of the lair scraped open.
“ABAAA!” The voice of Artemy’s teenage son rang out from the entrance.
“Yes, Sticky?” Artemy stood up from where he’d been crouched over the alembic, preparing to pack it down to transport it to the Burakh’s new home. Now that the plague was over, Artemy had decided to permanently move into his late father’s house, which had stood as a grim reminder of Isidor’s death since the moment he arrived back in Town on Gorkhon. Although he was somewhat comfortable in the damp lair, he knew that it would be in his children’s best interest to live in a proper house. They had been urchins for many years, Murky had floated between living with the Soul-and-a-Halves and alone in a train cart, and Sticky stayed either with Isidor or in whatever abandoned house he could sneak into. They deserved better than that, they deserved a real home that would keep them safe and warm.

“Dankovsky is outside. I think he’s passed out.”
“He’s what??” Artemy shot up in concern. It was a surprise to hear that the Bachelor was still in town, why hadn’t he returned to Capital like he’d said on that night at Broken Hearts? When the menkhu hadn’t heard from him after that, he had assumed that he’d gotten on the earliest train and gone home without another word, leaving this whole mess behind him. So the news of him being outside the lair, unconscious, was a bit of a surprise. Artemy clambered up the stairs to where Sticky was standing in the entrance and opened the door. The boy was right, the dark haired man was laid sprawled out in the grass, his signature snakeskin coat crumpled and hair askew. Artemy had a hundred questions (what is he doing here? Why did he pass out? Why hasn’t he left this town?) but decided to just keep quiet and wait until he woke up.

Daniil’s face was pale, and his lips and chin were wet with saliva - perhaps he’d choked on something? Artemy crouched beside the man and hoisted him into his arms, holding his limp body gently as he brought him into the lair with Sticky following closely behind. He lay Daniil down on the cot, tugging the man’s coat off and placing it at the foot of the bed. Dankovsky probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture; he’s hardly ever seen without that ugly coat, so having someone take it off him without his knowledge would likely be something he detested. Same with his gloves, which Artemy also pulled off and placed aside, it’s a rare sight to see the Bachelor’s bare hands.

"Sticky,” the Haruspex turned to the blonde boy, who was standing awkwardly at the threshold of the room, “do you wanna help?”
Sticky’s face immediately lit up with excitement, “I-I can help?”
“Dankovsky might not be amused,” Artemy smiled, “but it’ll be a good learning opportunity.”

Sticky pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, sitting closely next to his father to get a good gauge of the situation.
“First of all,” Artemy started, putting on a teacher-like voice, one that he’d imagine Daniil would’ve used back when he did lectures, “it appears he’s fainted. What causes fainting?”
“Um…” Sticky chewed his lip in thought, “dehydration, shock, low blood pressure, low blood sugar, or reduced blood flow to the brain?”
“Perfect. What do you notice about his physical condition?”
“His skin is very pale, he’s almost white,” the boy commented, reaching out to place a palm on Dankovsky’s forehead, “he’s clammy too. There’s some stuff around his mouth, maybe he threw up?”
Artemy nodded, “That’s what I think too. Could you grab a couple of rags and some water?”

Sticky scampered off, ever grateful to be of assistance, returning with the requested items. Artemy wet the cloth and wiped Daniil’s mouth clean, careful to not press too hard in case it irritates the skin.
“Do you know what position to put someone in if they’ve blacked out?” The menkhu quizzed Sticky.
“On their side, right? So they don’t choke on anything in their mouth.”
“Yep.” Artemy nodded, noting that Dankovsky was breathing fine, which meant there wasn’t anything lodged in his throat, but he shifted him to the recovery position nonetheless.

“What do we do now?”
“Well, he doesn’t appear to have any wounds, so I don’t think he was attacked. I can’t smell any twyrine on him so he’s probably not drunk. He’ll wake up within a couple of minutes.”
Sticky shuffled his feet and fidgeted with his hands, obviously unsure of what to do, waiting for either an instruction from Artemy or for Daniil to wake up.
Artemy patted the boy on the shoulder, “You can get back to packing for now, I think Murky will need some help with her things.”

The boy nodded and took his leave, not before shooting a suspicious glance at the menkhu from the doorway, then disappearing behind the corner. Now Artemy was alone, sat next to the unconscious Bachelor.

Daniil awoke not even a minute later, opening his eyes and groaning as he came to. He grumbled something incoherent, probably disoriented and wondering where he’d ended up.
“Hey erdem.” Artemy smiled, speaking low and soft so as not to startle the man.
“Burakh?” Daniil’s eyes focused on him and a look of confusion crossed his face, “Wh… where am I?”
“My dad’s— my lab,” Artemy corrected himself. He supposed Daniil must’ve never been inside here before. “Sticky found you outside, passed out on the tracks.”
“Shit…” the Bachelor mumbled, “was I unconscious for long?”
“Just a few minutes, long enough for us to take you inside and clean you up. What were you doing in this part of town? I never see you around here unless you’re at Andrey’s.”
“I was visiting someone in the Crude Sprawl,” Daniil said vaguely, propping himself into a sitting position. His eyes narrowed as he noticed that his coat and gloves had been removed, but didn’t comment on it. “I felt a bit lightheaded. I guess all the stress of the past few weeks is catching up to me. I might be coming down with something.”

Artemy handed him a bottle of water, “Here, drink this. It looked like you’d vomited, you should rinse your mouth out.”
Daniil took it hesitantly, his eyes darting away from the menkhu’s face and focusing on the floor as he drank. “Well, thanks for your help,” he started, “I should be heading back to the Stillwater now.”
“Are you sure? You still look pretty pale.”
“I’m sure—“ Daniil’s words were cut off as he lurched forward, clamping a hand to his mouth as he dry heaved.

Artemy tutted at the pitiful sight, “You might have a stomach bug, food poisoning maybe? Stay here, I’ll give you some tinctures to see what Layer this is attached to.” He stood up and took a step towards the cabinet.
“No!” Daniil interjected in protest, “No, this has nothing to do with your Layers. I’m just a bit under the weather. Have you forgotten that I’m also a doctor?”

The menkhu chewed his lip. It’s not surprising that Daniil would reject his offer of using Steppe medicine. He’s a Capital man, educated strictly on western medicine, but he can’t help but feel a bit rejected. Artemy had poured so much work into relearning the ways of traditional medicine, it felt a part of him now, an integral part of his profession that he’d accepted from his father.
“… will you at least let me walk you home?”
“No.” Daniil retorted without even a second to consider it, “Aren’t you busy relocating to Old Burakh’s place?”
“We’re in no rush,” Artemy smiled, the mention of his new life habitually filling his chest with warmth, “we’ve got all the time in the world now that the plague is over.”

Daniil’s gaze shifted to the floor uncomfortably and he made a sour face, as if that line saddened him. Then he sighed, resigned. “If you insist.” The Bachelor tugged his gloves and jacket back on, the crease in his brow indicating that he didn’t appreciate them being removed while he was unconscious.

Night had fallen, Artemy struck a match and lit his lantern to guide them. The two doctors walked in silence, side by side along the train tracks. During the plague days, the screams of the infected would be audible even outside of infected regions, but now there was nothing. No screams or moans of tomorrow’s victims, no echoes of gunfire from the army men’s guns, just the sounds of their footsteps along the gravel. The sky was clear, and the stars shone brightly, no longer drowned out by the glow of the Polyhedron. The horizon looked unusually empty without its towering presence; Artemy would always use it as a landmark to guide him to the Stoneyard.

The menkhu spoke up, breaking the silence between them, “I thought you were returning to the Capital.” He intended for it to be a question, but it came out as a statement.
“Minor setback. I would’ve left already if I hadn’t gotten sick. Eva said I could stay until I feel better.”

Those words reverberated in Artemy’s head: I would’ve left already… it gave the impression that Daniil was simply planning on slipping away without saying goodbye. The two hadn’t seen each other since the fall of the Polyhedron, and even now their meeting was just coincidental. Daniil likely wouldn’t have bid farewell to Artemy anyway, he wasn’t the type of man to get sentimental about leaving a town and people he’d only known for a fortnight that had caused him endless grief and stress.

“You haven’t been in town for too long, yet I think your absence would leave a hole,” Artemy said, “Almost everyone has warmed up to you now. Especially the children.”
Daniil scoffed, but Artemy could hear the smile on his lips, “How would you know?”
“Because they tell me,” the menkhu proclaimed, “they call you uncle Bachelor, say that you barter with them.”
The Bachelor shrugged, turning his head in Artemy’s direction, “I do often give treats to the little ones, peanuts and the sorts, even if they don’t give anything to me in return.”
Artemy chuckled, “Wow, I guess you do have a heart.”
Daniil feigned offence, “Do you really take me to be the type to be rude to children?”
“Well you’re rude to me.”
“That’s because you’re an idiot.”

Despite their bickering, both of them were smiling. It warmed Artemy’s chest, it felt nice to chat casually with the Capital man considering 90% of their conversations thus far have been in regard to the plague: work and procedures and treatments and death tolls. If Daniil were to stay in town, Artemy hoped they could be friends.

They arrived back at the Stillwater and said their goodbyes. There was a slight air of hesitation as Daniil nodded and muttered out, “Well, goodnight, Burakh.”

As he turned to enter the building, Artemy stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. There was something wrong, he could feel it in his chest. Daniil tensed under the touch.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
The dark-haired man remained facing away as he responded, “How much convincing do you need? Yes, I’ll be fine.”

Artemy chewed his lip, the sinking feeling of unease not letting up. He reached into the pouch on his smock and retrieved a glass vial, “Take this tincture. I know you don’t want to get involved with Steppe medicine but… it will make you feel better. And, if anything, it’ll make me feel better as well.”

Daniil grumbled under his breath, seemingly weighing his options, before taking the vial from Artemy’s hand and quickly retreating into the entrance of the building. Artemy sighed as the door swung shut, leaving him alone in the autumn air with his dying lantern. Despite Daniil taking the medicine he offered, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of rejection. Whatever feeling was threatening to bubble up inside of him, he quickly extinguished; it would be stupid for him to start developing feelings for Dankovsky, someone who obviously thinks nothing more of him than an adversary. Perhaps a colleague, at best. And besides, Daniil is definitely straight, he’d have no interest in someone like Artemy. On top of that is his racial bias against the Khatanghe: if Daniil were to be in a relationship with anyone it would no doubt be with a Russian woman. This spark that Artemy was feeling, he had to quench it before it burst into a flame.

He finally managed to shake off Artemy and make it inside the Stillwater, closing the door with a sigh. The light of the centre room was on, and Eva poked her head out to see him come in.
“Hey, where have you been?” She asked. Daniil tried to mumble out an excuse and head upstairs to his room, but was stopped by Eva’s voice.
“You’re still sick, Danya, you should be resting.”
His skin prickled at the use of the nickname; no one had called him by a diminutive since he was a child. “I just had important business to attend to.”
“This late? It’s almost midnight…”
“I’ll head to bed then.” He replied, turning sharply to disappear up the stairs before Eva could respond.

The Bachelor put the tincture on his desk with a clink, examining the orangish liquid in the vial. It’s true that he wasn’t a fan of Steppe medicine, he’d spent so many years at university and medical school and residency that he couldn’t believe that a simple mixture of herbs and water would be as effective as actual medicine. But then again, this ailment of his was Steppe-related, so maybe it would help. Daniil popped the cork and was hit in the face with the scent of herbs. It prickled his throat on the way down like a hard liquor, leaving a burning sensation that flooded his stomach. Jesus Christ, did Artemy really give these things to the Sand Pest victims? No wonder he had to stock up on so many painkillers when they were working in the hospital. It may have just been a placebo, but Daniil did feel a bit better.

6am the next morning, Daniil awoke to knocking on his door. He groaned, feeling groggy and half asleep, and heaved himself to his feet.
“Eva, what are you doing up so early?” He yawned, stumbling to the door. Last night she had insisted he be resting, so why would she be waking him up at the crack of dawn? Daniil opened the door, expecting to see the short blonde woman, but instead was greeted with the broad chest of the Haruspex. He jumped back in surprise.

“God, Burakh, what are you doing here?” Daniil exhaled, his heart racing from the presence of the unexpected visitor.
“I wanted to check on you. Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Daniil stressed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Although, as soon as the words left his lips, he felt a tingling in his throat. He forced back a cough, swallowing thickly to avoid gagging; if Artemy saw even one petal fall from his mouth, he would be forced to confess.
Artemy’s eyes drifted to the circular window of the room, then down to the desk. He must’ve spotted the empty glass bottle, his eyes softened as he smiled. “You took the tincture.”
“Yes, and it was awful,” the Bachelor grimaced, “felt like swallowing sandpaper dipped in vodka.”
“It does hurt a bit, but it will help you overall,” Artemy said, his voice slipping into doctor-mode like he was talking with an anxious patient, perhaps unintentionally.

Daniil sighed and retreated to his bed, sitting down heavily, “Alright, you’ve rudely awoken me and you’ve done your check up. Is your business all taken care of now? Can you leave?”
Artemy frowned, not looking sad but instead concerned. He approached Daniil and put a hand on his forehead, “You feel warm, are you feverish?”
Daniil quickly swatted away the hand, “I’m fine. Are you forgetting that I’m also a doctor? I know how to take care of others and I know how to take care of myself.”
“Even doctors need doctors,” Artemy commented, “it’s not like you can perform surgery on yourself.”

The mention of surgery made Daniil’s chest tighten. Mes zasal, as Aspity had said, a lifesaving procedure that would remove these god-forsaken flowers from his respiratory tract, but would also impact his ability to feel… “I don’t need surgery,” he snapped back, almost too quickly, “seriously, it’s just a cold.”
“What about the vomiting and passing out? Those aren’t cold symptoms.”
“Flu then,” Daniil said, exasperated, “whatever it is, it’ll be gone in a few days, so please stop fussing over me.” His impromptu diagnosis of the flu was also a lie, he was worried Artemy could see right through him.
“You’re not sure what it is, and an illness like this would likely cause brain fog, maybe you need a doctor to assess a proper diagnosis,” the Haruspex kept pushing.

“I should be resting. Which I was doing until you woke me up.” Daniil lay down and shuffled under the blankets, facing away to signal that the conversation was over. He waited to hear Artemy’s footsteps leave, but the menkhu hesitated and lingered for a second as if going to say something back, but he ultimately remained silent. There was a clink as Artemy placed something on the desk, presumably another tincture, and then he left.

Once the door had clicked shut, Daniil immediately leapt out of bed and raced to the sink basin, just in time as a mouthful of petals painfully exited his throat. He had been forcing himself not to cough or gag while Artemy had been here, until it felt like he was holding razor blades in his oesophagus. The menkhu was right in his observation though, Daniil did feel quite feverish. His immune system was trying desperately to battle off the disease, not aware that it was a fruitless fight. It was a curse, not an infection, no amount of white blood cells attacking could get rid of it. The smell of swevery assaulted his senses, sickly sweet that made him wince. He cleaned up, washing the petals down the drain, and silently hoping that this wouldn’t cause any damage to the Stillwater’s pipes.

Daniil glanced over at the desk where Artemy had left a tincture, seeing that the menkhu had also gifted him a hunk of bread and a handful of coffee beans. The pain in his chest swelled, throbbed, and he couldn't tell if it was caused by the flowers or the longing. 

Chapter Text

Artemy visits again the next day, and their encounter is much the same. Daniil bickers at him, desperate to be left alone, and Artemy is just so fucking kind to him and it’s making him fall in love even more. He’s so close yet so far out of reach. Daniil knows he can never confess to Artemy, first of all he’s probably straight, second he’d probably want to be with a member of the kin for lineage reasons, third it’s just not something that D can imagine ever happening
He doesn’t really see himself as worthy of being loved in return. Respected, yes, but not loved

A: it could be stress related
D: the only thing stressing me out is you barging into my room every morning. Don’t you have children to take care of?
A: they’re very self sufficient
D: and you assume I’m not?

A smiles and Jesus he’s so good looking it makes D want to die. His stupid green eyes and stupid sharp jaw.. A leaves eventually and D throws up.

There’s blood accompanying the flowers now. yeowch 

Luckily A doesn’t visit the next morning. D had told him to stop worrying, he’s been through enough recently with taking care of the bound through the plague. Speaking of the bound, D wanted to check up on them. Artemy and Rubin were likely all up to date on the status of most people in town, but D doesn’t know how any of them are going, so maybe he could pop out and check on some people. The twins, yulia, Anna, the kains …

He forces himself out of bed and is determined to stop bed rotting. Unlike a normal cold this one can’t be treated with rest so there’s really no point in him staying cooped up here. He doesn’t have much longer to live, might as well be productive in his final weeks

Gets dressed and tries to look presentable but his eyes look tired, dark circles and deep wrinkles that make him look much older. He makes his way to the earth quarter. It’s getting colder now, mid autumn and approaching winter. He wonders if he’ll be alive to see the snowfall.

Goes to peter’s place first, he’s doing fine, he’s still depressed but adopting Grace has definitely given him some initiative to get sober. Grace is also fine. Still scary, but fine.

D starts to walk in the direction of Anna’s place, and he inevitably passes isidor’s- artemy’s place. During the plague, after isidor’s death, the house had been left abandoned and looted by robbers, which gave it the feeling that it had been abandoned for much longer than just a few weeks. There was definitely new life breathed into it now.

An enormous bull stood in the yard, the same one he’d seen at the factory, is Artemy keeping it as a pet?
Probably a steppe tradition
The house looked so much more lively, the burakhs had only been living here for a few days. There was light emanating from the windows, showing that lanterns and candles had been lit inside

He could hear the scuffling of furniture being pushed around. Light chatter and laughter, from Artemy and his kids, all carefree and happy now that they’re free from the shackles of the plague.
D hears sticky shout “Aba!”, —the steppe word for dad, he remembered — followed by the crash of something falling over and Artemy bursting out in laughter. D can't help but smile, A had only been a parent for two weeks and already he was a great dad, there was something about him that made children flock to him

D remembers his own dad, who was a bit of an asshole. D never planned on becoming a parent, his life focus was just on science so he knew there’d be no room for any children. He assumed Artemy was mostly the same, or at least he wasn’t planning on becoming a parent so soon without warning. A is still very young, only 26, fresh out of school and fresh out of his service in the military, coming home to find his dad is dead and now he has to care for his wards — permanently in sticky and murkys case.

Daniil is glad that Artemy’s found happiness and a family after losing his own. And it makes him sad that he’ll never get to experience that himself, if this disease keeps progressing he’ll be dead in a matter of weeks

He’s really at a standstill now, since even if he were to return to the capital there wouldn’t be any surgeons that would be able to help him with this problem since it’s steppe related, he would need to be treated by a menkhu, and Artemy is the only menkhu here

Surgery option is off the table, feelings being reciprocated is never gonna happen, so that means the only outcome is death

D looks up to an upstairs window and sees murky push it open. They meet eyes and D smiles and waves, she waves back with a blank face and then runs off. She doesn’t like him very much presumably, or maybe that's just her face? Oh shit she’s probably going to tell Artemy that he’s outside
Gtg
Daniil skedaddles off to continue his rounds

Later that night
Or maybe a couple more days later idk how much I should space it out

After visiting all the people he needed to, D takes some time to just stand at the bank of the Gorkhon and think
That area in the skinners that goes down to the water edge
Thinking gets interrupted by a coughing fit, petals spilling from his mouth and landing on the murky river water and floating away. There’s blood in it too, tainting the water red. The ailment is progressing faster than he was expecting, probably because he keeps falling further in love with Artemy, and Artemy doesn’t feel the same way

D’s thoughts get interrupted again, this time by a hissed voice coming from behind him. He turns around and sees a bandit, a man with a beanie and splotchy scarred skin
Shit, he shouldn’t have been out here this late, the plague may be over but there are still dangerous people that roam at night. The man has a knife in hand, is taking strides towards him. D doesn’t have a weapon, he has a scalpel somewhere in his bag but he doesn’t have time to get it out. There’s no point in fighting, better to just flee

D tries to run but the bandit pounces and grabs his arm, slashing his knife around wildly to hit wherever he can. It gets D’s upper arm and shoulder, he can tell he’s been cut but the adrenaline kicks in so he can hardly feel it. He kicks the bandit in the knees, aiming for the sensitive spot. The bandit buckles a bit, giving him time to sprint away

D doesn’t dare look back to see if he’s being followed, he just runs to the nearest place he can think of: Artemy’s new house. He rounds the corner into the yard, praying that he wasn’t seen ducking behind the fence
Runs to the door and flings it open, not bothering to knock, and shuts it behind him

Bandits only break into abandoned houses, so if he was followed the guy would have probably lost interest now that he’s inside. D is panting hard, heart racing so hard it hurts, and the pain of the wounds is starting to appear

A appears behind him, brandishing a knife: …oynon?
D’s legs feel like jelly and he stumbles forward: it’s a good thing you kept your door unlocked.
His voice is wavering, he grips his arm and feels that his coat is tacky with blood
A rushes towards him, placing the knife down before wrapping an arm around D’s waist to stabilise him; what happened?
D: just a bit of a scuffle, nicked my arm pretty good

The kids are standing nearby, they’d come to see what the noise was

A tells sticky to prepare some first aid equipment, sticky nods and rushes off
A helps D hobble to the closest room, the dining room, and sits him down on a chair. Sticky comes back down the stairs with an armful of medical stuff

A: are you badly hurt?
D: I can’t tell just yet, adrenaline is still high
A helps him take off his coat, revealing his white shirt sleeve soaked in blood
D’s hands are shaking as he tries to unbutton his shirt, A’s hands swiftly take over which makes his throat tighten
Now is not the time you gay mf !!
Dress shirt gets shrugged off, he feels so very bare now, he normally wears so many layers and now he’s so exposed even his literal insides are showing

A looks at the gashes and dabs them with gauze: almost hit the subcutaneous tissue, luckily not too deep to cause lasting damage, may have hit a vein but luckily not an artery. D exhales shakily, feeling a bit woozy from the drop in blood pressure
A: This is the second time you’ve appeared at my door needing medical assistance
D: *sarcastically* Aren’t you glad to have a regular patient
A: I’m not complaining, if it’s you
That makes his heart leap omg

A gives him some morphine to numb it and gives him a heads up before he starts the sutures: I’m gonna stitch you up, lemme know if you want more numbing. D can’t see him but he knows sticky is nearby watching, he can feel the boy’s eyes on the back of his neck. A shoos him off, telling him to go to murky and comfort her, she might be scared

A washes his hands in the sink, sanitises the equipment, then sits back down. He’s so close, his hands are warm against D’s skin as he begins to close the wounds. D can feel his breath, he glances down to take a peak at what A is doing.
Green eyes focused and unwavering from the task at hand, a crease in his brow, large fingers being so uncharacteristically gentle for this delicate work

The surgery is finished, A bandages D up and hands him some antibiotics
D: … my apologies for the disturbance, I suppose I should get going—
A: ah, no. I’m not letting you back out to wander the streets at night after getting stabbed just an hour ago. You’re staying here until at least sunrise
D: ??? No really I should head back to Stillwater—
A: also may I remind you that your clothes are torn and soaked in blood, you’ll be walking in the dark, in the cold, half naked
D: grumble grumble
A: you can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch
D: I’m not sleeping in your bed
A; why not? I slept in yours a lot
D: those were desperate times, you needed that rest regardless of where you got it
A: just like you, right now, mr just-been-stabbed bachelor
D sighs, too weak to argue: okay

A smiles and helps him up, D tries to shrug him off and walk by himself but he starts swaying and A stabilises him again. D suddenly feels dead tired, a mix of the blood loss and morphine and general exhaustion. As well as still being sick with this fucking curse, thank god it hasn’t reared its head while he’s been at Artemy’s place for the past hour or so

He blinks and suddenly he’s in bed, Artemy is pulling a blanket over him
So warm so comfy … it smells like Artemy
He can hear small voices nearby, the kids must be standing at the door asking what’s happening

A explains that “dr Dankovsky needs to stay here tonight because he’s hurt”

He might’ve said more, but D couldn’t catch it bc he falls asleep

Chapter Text

D wakes up feeling better rested than usual. His eyes adjust and wtf
Where tf am I ????

The walls are decked out in illustrations and writings relating to herbs, Layers, steppe symbolism, anatomy
This is .. Artemy’s room

He suddenly remembers all that happened last night: puking into the gorkhon and then immediately getting attacked, sprinting to the nearest trusted person he knew, almost collapsing in their foyer covered in blood, Artemy delicately stitching up the lacerations. His arm aches really bad which is to be expected, and there’s a patch of blood staining his night shirt. Wait… he was shirtless last he remembered… did Artemy dress him? The fabric was pretty loose on him, was this Artemy’s shirt too ???
Jesus Christ I hate this guy

He drinks some water, his throat tastes like swevery but luckily he hasn’t coughed up any today yet
The door cracks open

A: oh, you’re awake
D acknowledges him: burakh
A snickers at the formality: Dankovsky. How are you feeling?
D: Could be worse
A: need more meds?
D: no, it’s my fault for getting into this situation, I don’t want to bother you further
A: you’re not a bother. Never
D looks down, not really sure how to rebut, his head is still a bit spinny
A: take off your shirt, I’ll replace the soiled bandages

Jesus man you can’t just say take off your shirt

D: I can do it myself yknow—
A: you’re so stubborn, just let me help you
D takes off the shirt and A sits next to him on the bed w new bandages in hand. A unravels the bloody ones, fingers being so gentle around the wounded flesh. He dabs the sutures clean with water then bandages them back up

D can’t help but watch his face as he works, focusing on his lips and thinking how easy it would be to just kiss him right now. But that wouldn’t help anything, in fact it would just make things worse once A inevitably rejects his advances...

A: there. Come downstairs, I’ve made some breakfast
D wants to turn down the offer and just leave, A has already offered so much and he feels guilty for taking up his time and space
A: you can wear this, I’ve washed your clothes but they’ll need to be stitched up. I would’ve done it myself but I assume you’d prefer to go to a proper tailor
A hands him a sweater
D: … why are you being so kind to me? Are you trying to get something out of me?
A: what? No! You’re my friend, I care about you. I would do the same for any of my friends

D doesn’t know how to feel about that, A isn’t giving him special treatment and he also just got friendzoned

D: .. I see
A pats him on the leg and stands up: you should come downstairs. The kids are a bit worried about you
A doesn’t give time for this to sink in before he leaves, D is a bit frazzled

He pulls on the sweater, gently over the new bandages. It’s too big for him, ofc, and it smells like Artemy. D coughs into his handkerchief, grimacing from the feeling of petals flooding his mouth

He heads downstairs, feeling a bit ridiculous wearing this huge sweater, also since sharing clothes was like typically a couple thing. Sticky and murky are at the table eating toast and fruit, it was a relief to get some fresh produce now that the trains are coming. D notes that murky looks distinctly less .. murky. Whenever he’d seen her during the plague days she’d been wearing tattered clothes, covered in grime, hair a complete mess, But now she’s been showered and cleaned !! With fresh clothes that look similar to what the teensies in town wear, a shirt and tunic/smock

D: hello
Murky: hi
Sticky: aba says you got stabbed last night
D: .. yep. One of those bandits, in the skinners. Luckily he didn’t follow me and I got away, and I ran here
S: you’re having the worst luck lately
D: sigh yeah
M: but you’re okay now?
D: yes, Artemy stitched up the wound and now I’m okay

The conversation feels awkward, he’s bad at talking to kids, luckily A slides him some coffee so he can preoccupy himself

M: you slept in aba’s bed last night and he slept on the couch
D: .. yeah
She’s really blunt with her words, it makes it sound like she’s accusing him of something
M: are you going to sleep in aba’s bed tonight?
D chuckles: no sweetie, it was just one night, I’ll go back to my own place today
M: you also slept in aba’s bed last week at the lair when you fainted
D didn’t know murky was around for that (bc he was unconscious): I-i suppose i did
M: you’re wearing aba’s sweater
D: um.. yeah
M goes 'hm' then wanders off

D looks at Artemy like 'hey what was that' but A just smiles bc he loves her that's his baby

Sticky shuffles closer: can I see the sutures? I’m gonna be a doctor someday so I want to—
A cuts him off: sticky leave him be, you’ll get to learn eventually. Also we just redressed them so we shouldn’t take off the bandages again
S grumbles and pouts

They all eat breakfast and chat, D takes note of the family dynamic, how A has fit seamlessly into the role of a father. When they’re done D stands up and oops too fast he gets dizzy and suddenly feels nauseous

Artemy grabs his shoulder to steady him: shit you okay?
D grumbles: yeah just stood up too fast, sorry I really should head back to Stillwater now
A: go lie down, I don’t want you passing out again on your way home
A leads D to the couch and he lies down, realising that he feels this way because he’s forcing back the urge to vomit

He hears A walking away and just lies there for a bit, is about to get up when there’s a frantic knock at the door.
A rushes to get it and it’s Lara looking frazzled and exhausted from running here
She frantically explains that a woman at the shelter is going into labour and she needs a doctor and she couldn’t find Rubin

A is like shit fuck shit
He’s rushing around gathering his things and medical supplies
A calls out to the kids: kids im heading out for an emergency, uncle bachelor will look after you until I get back k thx bye !!
And then him and Lara run off

D was about to protest like 'oi I never agreed to look after your kid's but it’s not a big deal tbh, they’re self sufficient as Artemy said

Anyway now that A is gone that means he can puke in peace. D staggers to the basin and vomits and ow it hurts !! It’s scraping up his throat and making him spit up blood. Bright orange flowers in the kitchen sink of the man who caused them

D coughs out as much as he can, then feels like he’s being watched... a kid might’ve wandered in, so he quickly tries washing the flowers down the drain

S: is that swevery?
D jumps out of his skin
S: were you eating the flowers? You can’t eat them they have to be brewed into a tincture, but I thought you weren’t into steppe medicine?
D is trembling from being caught, grasping at straws to find a way to explain himself out of this: this isn’t steppe medicine! It’s just— never mind just don’t tell Artemy
S: why not? If you’re stealing the herbs then—
D: I haven’t stolen anything! These damn flowers keep appearing in my oesophagus and vomiting is the only way to get them out
Sticky stares blankly, cogs turning: … you’ve been puking flowers?
D exhales shakily, knowing that he’s fucked: just forget I said anything.

Switch to Artemy pov

It’s now afternoon. The birth had gone well!! No complications but it was definitely better to have a dr onsite and providing pain meds. Artemy had congratulated the mother, gave Lara a hug goodbye, then made his way back to his house

He comes in and sees thankfully Daniil is still here, a large textbook open on the table and sticky pointing at the diagrams
Smile :)

Sticky: hey aba
Daniil: hi Artemy
Artemy: was he good?
Daniil: yes sticky was fi—
Artemy: I wasn’t asking you
Sticky snickers and D tries to scowl but he can’t help smiling
S: Dankovsky was fine

Artemy sets his things down: the birth went well! A girl
D: that’s good. Well I suppose since you’re back I should get going
A wants to come up with another excuse to get him to stay, but he can tell D is itching to be alone
A: take care of yourself
D: don’t worry about me burakh
A pats D’s good shoulder as he leaves, eyes lingering for a moment longer than they should

S approaches him from behind: aba I need to tell you something
A: yeah what’s up?
S: it’s about the bachelor, he told me not to tell you but..
A perks up, wth kind of secret would Daniil have with this 12 year old son that he couldn’t tell A himself?
A: is something wrong? Did something happen?
S: after you left he started throwing up again
A: oh, is that all?
Surely Dankovsky isn’t so prude that he’d be willing to deny puking just to uphold an image, an image that A sees right through
S: it’s not that, it’s that in the vomit there was swevery
A: …. Swevery? The herb?
S: the herb
A: so,, do you think he was eating the swevery? That doesn’t sound like him
S: I asked him and he said that the flowers keep appearing in his throat, and he has to vomit to get them out. It’s weird I don’t get it, but idk if he’s lying because what could he gain from lying about that?

A’s chest tightens, he thinks somehow it’s steppe related. 
A: the herb brides ..
S: what?
A: I gotta go talk to Sahba
S: wait is it serious?
A: I’m not sure, that’s why I need to talk to her. Stay here, look after murky, I’ll be back

Artemy had only just gotten home and already he was rushing out the door again, heading south for the crude sprawl

Gets to the hospice, all the candles have been extinguished. He goes inside, there are a couple worms but aspity isn’t here. His heart drops seeing her empty room, he remembers that after the polyhedron fell she had told him she was dying, was he too late? Was she gone and he didn’t get a chance to properly say goodbye?

He’d caused her death and he didn’t get to apologise ..
A worm approaches him: you’re seeking Sahba ötün?
Artemy: y-yes is she…?
Worm: relocated to Shekhen
He feels a wave of relief: oh thank boddho she’s not dead, ok thx

Starts walking down the steppe. Passes sprouts of swevery, picks them and looks them over. Was this herb really torturing D from the inside out? Why? And why hasn’t he said anything?

A gets to Shekhen and looks around the yurts, eventually finding the one where aspity is
She looks even more disheveled, hollow cheeks and sunken eyes
He almost wants to cry seeing her like this and knowing that it’s his doing, but she looks up at him with such warm eyes and love. he feels a Huge amount of guilt, but they shouldn’t talk about that, they already discussed it on the day of the fall and she said she’s forgiven him

A: sahba
He sits next to her and is tempted to give her a hug, but decides against it bc she looks weak
Asp: Artemy, emshen, i suspected you would come to see me
A: you did?
Asp: it was only a matter of time
A: …. It’s about Daniil, he’s sick
Asp: I know
A: you know?
Asp: the curse of flowers
A: curse? He’s been cursed?
Asp: a curse has found him, through you
A: ??? Aspity just tell me what’s going on, what do you mean he’s been cursed through me?
Asp: tsetsgiin kharaal is the ailment your dear bachelor is suffering. A curse from the herb brides, of unrequited love. He has fallen in love with someone who does not love him in return, and his pain is being manifested in physical form as herbs

A feels a stab of jealousy. D is in love with someone? I mean, that’s not too surprising, he’s an adult with a social life and normal desires, but why does this knowledge hurt?

A: is there a way to dispel it?
Asp: unless his feelings are returned, he will perish a slow suffocation
A: oh boddho so he’s going to die unless this person likes him back?

He can feel his heart racing, over the past few days D had not made any effort at all to fix this curse, even though all he would’ve needed to do is confess to the person he has feeling for. How could it be that hard? Maybe the person is back at the capital where he physically can’t reach?

A: shit… do you know who it is? Maybe he could send them a letter or something just.. just confess so that he doesn’t die!—
Asp: you haven’t figured it out?
He pauses, suddenly feeling like he’s done something wrong, that he’s misunderstanding somehow
A: figured what out?
Asp: this is a steppe curse. Connected to the lines of the Khatanghe. He is in love with a kin

A feels a huge stab of jealousy. Daniil in love with a kin person?? He maintains a bit of classic capital prejudice against the khatanghe so he assumed that if he were in love with anyone, it would be a fellow Russian person

A: who? Who is it?
Asp: Artemy… she sighs
It clicks into place. She wasn’t just addressing him, this was also her answer. Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck

How could he be so blind?
Daniil was in love with him, and Artemy had been too oblivious to realise

This sets off a chain reaction of realisations in his head: since he fainted at the factory, the days following when Artemy had made house visits to check up on him, last night when he’d appeared at his door.. Daniil had always had a slight air of hesitation, like he wanted to avoid Artemy and just stubbornly ignore the feelings until they ultimately killed him. The reason he didn’t want Artemy coming over, the reason he was so insistent in going home after getting stabbed, was because he both didn’t want Artemy to find out about the curse, and also to avoid falling in love any further

In the end, it was A’s fault. He didn’t know it, but this curse had found D through him

And another thing, this coming to light has made Artemy come to another earth shattering realisation: he also had feelings for Daniil

But he’d been so deep in denial, so sure that D was straight or even homophobic, racist against Khatanghe, planning on going back to the capital, no time for someone like Artemy now that the plague and the polyhedron were gone

Artemy has been sitting and thinking for a while: how do I fix this?
Asp: tell him.
He doesn’t need to be told again, he springs to his feet: bayarlaa sahba, thank you

Time to run to Stillwater and find that fucking bachelor

Switch back to Daniil pov for the confession

He had planned to leave Artemy’s place in the morning, but A asked him to look after the kids while he was out helping with the birth ..

Even tho he did say that sticky and murky are self sufficient……….. but he didn’t have time to argue before he left
Sticky had caught him puking flowers and interrogated him, and although he told the boy not to tell A he suspects that he did
D had quickly left as soon as A came home and went back to Stillwater, still wearing A’s oversized shirt that made him look like a child
He got home, Eva was out luckily so she wouldn’t see him wearing A’s clothes
D changes back into his usual clothes, folding the sweater neatly and making a mental note to return it eventually

He’s very anxious that sticky has snitched on him, it’s making him feel sickkkk
And ofc the nausea makes him puke, and god it’s more painful than last time, the density of flowers and petals is higher so it’s not stomach contents with flowers, it’s now flowers with stomach contents
And blood, a mix of fresh blood and digested blood which means internal bleeding. He washes it away and washes his face and hands and lies down on the bed, tummy hurt

He’s dying!! He’s fuckin dying!!

He’s trying to make peace with it, at least in the past few days he’s visited all of the bounds and they’re all doing well, he’d said goodbye to Artemy and his kids .. how will he tell Eva tho she won’t take it well …

He feels like a failure, all of this was for nothing. He’d come to this town in search for a cure for death with Simon kain, suspected it had smth to do with the polyhedron, got smacked in the face with a sudden outbreak of plague, heard news of Thanatica burning down, tried desperately to save the polyhedron but failed to stop the artillery, and now hes been stuck in ToG with this ailment that will kill him in seemingly a couple days

He wonders if he’ll be buried in the steppe graveyard, or would they ship his body back to the capital?

Depressing thoughts get interrupted by the door swinging open

It’s Artemy, panting and red faced like he ran here
D sits up: burakh what are you d—
A: tsetsgiin kharaal
D recognises the steppe language, A’s voice gets a bit deeper when he speaks the kin language, but D doesn’t understand the words
D: what-?
A: the curse
His heart drops to his stomach, he’s been found out

Fucking hell he was literally lying down and preparing to die and now he’s gotta spill the beans ??

D: … who told you?
A: Sahba ötün, aspity. So you did know

D’s throat feels tight, like he’s being questioned for a serious crime
He can’t read the expression on A’s face, it was like a mix of frustration and determination and a bit of.. relief maybe ?

D: I-i… perhaps I did know
A raises his voice, not angry just concerned; and you didn’t tell me?? You could die from this!!
D snaps back, feeling tears prickling his eyes: It’s incurable, I am going to die
A: it’s not incurable, it’s not a death sentence, I know how to fix it
D huffs: what, the surgery? I’m not interested in you poking around in my organs, yargachin

Artemy grumbles, then grabs D’s collar and forces him to his feet like he weighs nothing. Now that they’re face to face D can see that A is also on the brink of tearing up

A: you’re really so stubborn that you were prepared to die before just… telling me how you feel?
D’s voice is wavering and quiet: i didn't want to admit it
A urges him on: admit what?
D: admit that.. im in love with you
The air stands still, D can feel his pulse thumping in his neck. verbalising it made the whole thing feel so much more real. the silence between them is deafening, it has only been a second but it feels unbearable
D breaks the silence with a shaky voice: besides, it's not like just saying it will change anything. the feelings need to be reciprocated. to be cured you would have to... love me back

A’s expression twists in a way that is unreadable, his lips twitch like he’s fighting between a smile and a frown
He looks like he’s about to shout this, but instead he just says plainly: I do love you back, you fucking dumbass

A doesn’t give D time to process this confession before he lurches forward and forces their lips together, making D freeze in shock bc he was not expecting this
Artemy holds their faces together for a solid second or two before stepping back, keeping a hand on D’s neck

D feels a sensation in his stomach .. he feels lighter, less congested, like the blockage had just disappeared…

Oh shit, did that just cure the curse?

He looks up and locks eyes with A, he can feel himself smiling, and A’s face immediately softens
D: do that again
A immediately leans back in to kiss him properly
D’s heart jumps and he melts into it, exhaling in relief bc thank fuck this pain is all over now
A smells like earth, his stubble prickles D’s face

He's finally free!! no more curse!! 

and then they live happily ever after