[ tw: disturbing imagry (ish) and mentions of death ] When Leonid Romanovich woke up, he was laying on the couch of his brilliant manor. His body ached from an arrangement of bruises scattered across his body— his shoulders, his chest, his arms and legs were all battered. A gash from a stone in the road he had fallen upon was bandaged by a foreign hand, a dried smudge of blood had seeped through it to stain the velvet of his antique couch. Leonid had not been unconscious for very long, perhaps only a few hours. When the world had gone black before his eyes, his body finding its way into another realm from his mind, Kuznetsov experienced a brilliant and vivid vision, one beyond the likes of anything he had seen before. Getting unsteadily to his feet, the prince began to pace back and forth through the vast great hall within his house, trying to determine the meaning of what he saw. Eventually, he was able to piece together his conclusion, and he sat for a long time in his armchair mulling over what it meant for his life. When Leonid Romanovich was a young man, he married an elegant woman named Asiya Mikhailovna. They had been subjected by their parents to marriage without their say-so, but they had fallen in such deep love that it could have easily been misinterpreted as organically devised. Asiya was strong-willed, brave, and dazzlingly poetic; her words flowed like honey, and Leonid could not get enough of her. She adored Leonid, and Leonid in turn devoutly adored her. For five years, they lived together in matrimony. Though Asiya spoke of children during this time, Leonid was hesitant, for his upraising had been tumultuous, and he did not want to subject his children to torment, should such a dark nature be hereditary. During the sixth year of their peaceful marriage, Asiya Kuznetsov suffered a heart attack and died within minutes. Distraught, Leonid withdrew into himself, abandoning society. The body of his wife lay unburied on an autopsy table in the scientific suite of the manor, where Leonid used his Gift to maintain the health of her corpse so that she would not decompose where she lay. He spent his time stretching his Gift to its capacity in an attempt to bring her back. Like a muscle, his Gift strained painfully when he pushed it too far. To do something so drastic as resurrection would cause unimaginable strain. Now, we come to Leonid’s vision. He dreamt of her, which was not unusual, but what was notable about the dream was that in it he was watching her body on the table— studying the curve of her jaw, the lines of her neck, the way her eyelids were so delicately closed, as if she lay asleep. For far from the first time, the prince lifted his hands over her, closed his eyes, and strained himself. It was as if he was in her body! His Gift always produced such a strange sensation throughout him, and all the stranger when the subject was deceased. He could feel the coldness of her skin, the stiffness of her muscles, the deterioration of her intestines, which occurred so slowly, despite his efforts… He strained further, and he grew closer to her all the while. He could feel the stillness of her lungs, the quiet of her mind, the hollowness of her stomach… It occurred to him, as it had never before, that perhaps if he strained further, though he felt the pain of his protesting Gift, further than he had ever dared go before, if he ignored the pain, perhaps… Perhaps he could translate his soul, his essence, to her, and she would live once more, while he… Oh, for God’s sake, what did he matter if she was alive?
This revelation— that his death would cause her revival— came to him very slowly, in fragments, but once he connected everything, he felt indubitably certain that his revelation was, in fact, true, and he was overwhelmed by the longing to go down to her at once and fulfill the translation. What kept him in place was his newfound loyalty to Dmitry Adoratsky. What sort of a friend would he be to abandon Adoratsky now, especially after the snake had saved him from the crowd of ill people? Kuznetsov knew that Adoratsky had made a God out of him before the entire town, and though as a Christian he was disgusted by the thought, he was not irritated with Dmitry— indeed, the serpent had acted in a self-serving and self-important manner, but nothing more could have been expected from a man— yes, a man, I tell you! For Leonid to have thought of Dmitry, in that moment, as ‘a man’, somehow in such a righteous manner, placed himself somewhere above man— perhaps subconsciously— which is curious to note, as we are already aware that Dmitry Matteovich was well on his way to the worship of the prince Kuznetsov. One may speculate that the idea had found its way from Dmitry’s head to Leonid’s heart, as so frequently occurred with the gift of empathy that Leonid possessed. This is all, however, pure speculation, for the real reason for Kuznetsov’s subconscious belief is unknown to even him. Now, Leonid Romanovich was in a difficult situation between his newfound friend and his long deceased wife. It was with this turmoil in his mind that he sank to his knees in prayer, not before any religious item, but instead with his forehead pressed down to the dust-coated floorboards, facing nothing but his all-too-quiet living room. Many times throughout the following seven days, Dmitry Matteovich attempted to visit him, but the door was never answered. The snake even took to checking the windows, but the curtains were drawn in most of them and in the others, it was too dark or too dirty to see anything but his own reflected image. Whether Adoratsky was concerned for Kuznetsov’s health or afraid of being seen as a scoundrel in the eyes of his debtor, I cannot say with certainty. If I were to guess, however, I would cautiously conclude that it was a mixture of both. On the eighth day, Adoratsky received a letter from Kuznetsov (it was not signed, but he couldn’t imagine who else it could have come from), inviting him to a second dinner, to be held in two days’ time, during which Kuznetsov intended (though this was not mentioned in the letter) to tie his loose ends and say goodbye to his dear, and only, friend. ---- > Chapter 4/8 > Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1230474458 > Notes - this was more depressing than I thought it would be but yeah,,, see if you can guess what the plot twist is going to be :o
