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𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑 , YULIANNA MARKOV , the PROPRIETRESS OF THE GARNIZON is seen traversing the streets of moscow , but the volki swear that she is originally from PETROGRAD ; perhaps it’s AN ESCAPE FROM CONVENTION ; THE MAINTENANCE OF A MEMORY that brought them here . fellow residents liken their resemblance to JENNA COLEMAN . the THIRTY - TWO year old CIS FEMALE was CHARMING &. INCISIVE before the war’s ruination , but in the aftermath have become WITHDRAWN &. CRITICAL. rumours throughout eastern europe have given them a reputation of THE GOLDEN GIRL TARNISHED - OBLITERATED , AND NOW THE TICKING OF THE CLOCK - REMINDS YOU TO MOVE FORWARD, ONWARD . IT IS ALL YOU CAN DO . DELICATE FEATURES & GENTLE SMILES MASK THE SECRETS UNDERNEATH ( YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN GOOD FOR BUSINESS ) . A SHADOW IN THE CORNER , AN EMPTY BASSINET IN THE CENTER OF A ROOM - A REMINDER OF ALL THAT YOU HAVE LOST . IT IS TIME NOT ONLY TO SURVIVE , BUT TO THRIVE .

#dow.intro

bloodtorn ( natya )

natalya sat at one of the unoccupied tables with her task set out ahead of her. fingers are covered in silver polish as is the cloth that she currently grasps between those fingers. darkened locks, cut short with transformation, have been tied at the back of her head to prevent the polish from invading there as well. the volki can call her a lot of things, but she makes certain that they cannot say she is lazy. she values earning her keep, values hard work even if the beginning of her life did not teach her to do so.

yulianna pulls her attention with ease, meeting the others gaze with a soft smile at the tone. she is ready to push herself up from the table, to spring into whatever action that the other needs. she finds that she’s unsure what to do for a moment, caught between sitting and standing as she is told to find pause. a curious look overtakes brown eyes, head tipped slightly and work semi forgotten as she rises, fingers attempting to clean themselves against a cloth. “ yulya … ” she says cautiously, lips quirking upwards. “ you have something for me? ”

❛ that is what i said , no ? ❜ she laughs lightly , though the girl’s surprise brings a pang of sadness with it . though they work in the same establishment , yulianna acknowledges that she and natalya lead VERY different lives . yulya has means , she earns a comfortable living , her husband’s name & her fine work see her protected by the volki . her daughter is something of a pet to the pakhan . natalya is guarded by the volki in a very different way . if only under her roof , natya will know kindness .

she lifts a finger , signaling that she will return , before darting to her office and retrieving the item . she feels excitement - the prospect of giving a gift that will be well loved bringing her joy . she returns , setting a box clearly embossed with a dressmaker’s credentials.

❛ your hands - - i will open it, yes ? ❜ carefully , she unties the bow , lifts the lid , and makes work of pulling back the crepe paper to reveal a dress , not intended for everyday wear - if anything , it is closer to a gown . ❛ i needed something new , and katya has outgrown her coat , so i figured . . . well , perhaps you would need something to wear to the metropol ? i had to guess your measurements , but i can alter it if it needs altering . ❜ realizing that she is beginning to babble , she stops , eyes wide & awaiting a response from natya .

#bloodtorn

fyjennalouisecoleman

The Serpent 1x03

#╰ & ◞ . —— ⦙ but the ones who sing in the dead of night ⧼ images . ⧽

prizefght:

it’s twelve years as of today . at least , it should have been twelve years as of today . he’s a stubborn fool , one who would push through any number of injuries ( even those he likely should have ) ; yet , today he allows himself to nurse an injury . conflicting feelings lingered , and those were feelings he didn’t know how to hold together . in one moment he still loved her , was sure he always would , and in another was angry about how she had treated him , not even the decency to simply tell him no and keep his money . he leans back in a chair in his living room , a now empty glass sitting on the table besides it .

he wants to ignore the knocking , to shut the world out , but then he hears yulya’s voice . it’s enough . he sighs , pushing himself to his feet and , for once , actually uses the cane he keeps to support himself as he moves to the door . it’s unlocked and he swings it open , gesturing for her to come inside . it was cold this time of year , even for those who were accustomed to it . ‘ i won’t have you freeze on my stoop , yulya . you know that . ’

DAYS ARE NOT JUST DAYS. they have a weight to them. they carry memories , joy , and sorrow each time they come around . yulya does not leave her bed on the anniversary of the day she received notice about mischa. her muscles tense & she feels ill on the anniversary of the last day that she saw him . muscle memory . she knows that this , teddy understands well . & so , she will not allow him to face the weight of this day alone . not when she knows , too . he speaks , and she musters a smile , head canting to the side as she ushers herself inside .

❛ yes , i know . but the dramatics expedited the process , no ? ❜

instinct prompts her to be useful . she slides the gloves off of her fingers , tucks them in the pocket of her coat , before shrugging the garment off of her shoulders and finding a place for it to rest . she lays the brown package on the table beside his glass. ❛ for you. ❜ she states simply , before finding her way to the kitchen , dish in her hand . with practiced ease , she slides the dish into the oven , allowing it to warm for a few minutes so she can further assess the situation .

she returns to teddy , wide eyes peering at him with intensity. ❛ so how will we commiserate , fedya. are we drinking ? talking ? sitting in a stoic silence ? you have your pick . it is your day . ❜ hers will come later , and when it does , fyodor will be knocking down her door just as she does tonight .

#interaction : yulianna & fyodor .#Prizefght

seascalled-deactivated20210706

timestamp : early evening

location : the garnizon

tagging : @yuliannas

“ is it difficult for you, minding a den of wolves ? " dark eyes clapping from her steaming bowl to the proprietress, her head listing with interest. she’d never paid much mind to the daily life of those that found themselves, by a wide variety in consent, tied to the volki. never questioned an existence beyond their reach.

" are you ever afraid ? " there’s no trace of threat, nor malice, in the question. it was, perhaps, her greatest flaw - that lack of fear. she’d never been spoiled with a life free of wolves, instead eagerly awaiting when she might become one herself. death and danger had always been familiar companions.

yuliannas

ARE YOU EVER AFRAID ? words ring in her ears - both inquiries hanging think . for so long , she lived in fear . of returning to the past - - of loss - - disaster - - confrontation , but never the wolves. perhaps she should have been . the bratva are intimidating enough . but her husband had been a wolf , and it was wolves who brought her from her grief . a wolf who brought her daughter a pony for her fifth birthday . she ought to be AFRAID of them - she knows . all that is given can be taken away , but she is not . if anything , the wolves have brought her home .

she slides a bowl of salt toward the other , taking no offense if the stew needs seasoning . her head cants to the side , warm eyes peering into the girl’s face . ❛ i suppose i was - - ONCE . now , i fear the enemy of wolves more than the wolves themselves . ❜ she shrugs . ❛ i know my bed and i choose every night to lie in it . - - are YOU afraid ? ❜

blakelivey-deactivated20211026

I just - I just feel - I just feel like….

LITTLE WOMEN (2019) DIR. GRETA GERWIG

#╰ & ◞ . —— ⦙ before i am lost ⧼ musings . ⧽#i'm emo

sovietniik ( aleksei )

it is not that he doesn ’ t hold a distaste for the merchant , it ’ s simply that , knives are for those special kind of people he despises . rivals . tsarists . gogol apologists . this man gets the bullet in between the eyes for negotiating outside of his pay grade ( poorly , to be fair here . never say that aleksei didn ‘ t award moxie ) and he is dead before he hits the ground . deader than a doornail . deader than dead gets , or , as dead as dead gets . the body won ’ t be hard to be rid of , but eyes everywhere , so the shestyorka pups best be quick . the yowling alley cats that have taken up audience are their problem too . is it wrong of aleksei to wish for a tea ? tea with no milk or sugar ( one cube on good days and this is not one of those ) , just something to keep him going ?

in the end , he leaves the man in the alley with his comrades , face down , pale and still . aleksei hadn ’ t bothered to close his eyes : most men die with their gaze unseeing , wide open , looking out at the world . in his experience , that is . aleksei can ’ t say he feels bad . what a fool ; what an imbecile ; what a deserving end he ’ d met . it could have been a heart attack . an overdose . a stroke . a stroke of bad luck , maybe . it happens . moscow streets have seen worse , have held a worse hand and have been playing from said shitty draw for the last decade . some might even call getting shot point blank in an alleyway luck .

the garnizon , next on his itinerary for this morning , is around the corner . his gloves , coal dark leather , from a world of aristocracy that feels like a life time away , are now speckled in blood and viscera . they are slipped into his pocket as a small guardian greets aleksei at the threshold of the pub . the sovietnik has no qualms paying the toll , though there is a slight hitch in his eyebrow at the proprietress’ tone that follows .

❛ if i didn’t know better i ’ d say you were scolding me. ❜ from his pocket he procures the jewel of a fruit purchased from the stand that neighbors his flat , the skin of it cool thanks to the the metal of the handgun it ‘ s been nestled next to the whole morning . aleksei offers it to the child . ❛ she ’ s only right to hold me to my word . ❜ unlike certain unfortunate merchants , the young girl understands what she is owed , asks for no more , no less . the sovietnik places a second plum — not as cool , this one has kept his leather wallet company instead — on the counter in front of yulianna . one for her too , of course . his reach reveals that the starched cuff of his shirt has caught a spatter of the dead man and aleksei tugs the sleeve of his coat to cover it .

❛ i ’ ll be out of your hair in just a moment , ❜ niceties seem to come easier to him when they aren ’ t a necessity the room demands . ❛ Just here to reference some of last months ledgers , yulianna — ❜ they ‘ ll be in need of amendments since this mornings events , different ones than the one ‘ s he ‘ d woken up to , but amendments nonetheless , ❛ and perhaps some tea, if you have any amongst your shelves . ❜ a craving that hasn ‘ t really gone away upon stepping onto the property .

it is then that aleksei considers katyenka , enjoying her plum , as he waits for the ledger ; the way the young girl walks about the garnizon as if it is her tiny kingdom . once or twice she steps near the door he ‘ s entered from and it is by the third time that aleksei pointedly clears his throat . he doubts his tendency to treat all children as small adults passes on to yulianna and while aleksei himself might have allowed his own child to wander out into the alleyway with such a sight to behold waiting for them — with the belief that whatever they would witness out there would build character , strengthen their stomach — out of friendship he offers :

❛ i would also advise the two of you to use the front entrance for the next hour . ❜

SHE KNOWS , AFTER YEARS OF WORKING WITH THE BRATVA , that routine is found in the lacking of routine . while some ( most ) things are meticulously planned , carefully executed , and tucked away where prying eyes cannot see , others occur unexpectedly . anyone can walk through that door , anything can be asked of her . there is routine in the calculated chaos - - in the expecting of the unexpected .

aleksei proves the rule , his plum provisions an irregular routine . katya holds the fruit as if it is quit precious , utters her quick thanks , and finds a corner of the room where she can consume her reward . ❛ you do know better , and i was . . . ❜ wry smile touches her lips , arms folding over themselves , knuckles grazing the knit of her cardigan . she watches with narrowed eyes as he procures a second plum , then her eyes fix on the splotch of red on his sleeve . as she suspects , this visit is not all plums & sarcasm & tea .

a nod , silent acknowledgement , & the leather - bound ledger is pushed in his direction . she’ll likely be able to deciper the changes later - - she’s gotten rather good at it . ❛ i’m sure i can scrounge something up ❜ she pulls a pencil from her apron , taps it on the bar , so that he may make his adjustments , then turns to begin to prepare the tea . it is then that she hears the WARNING - coded as it is . she sets the kettle to warm , eyes darting over her shoulder . ❛ very well . staff enter from the back in an hour and a half - - the obstruction should be cleared , no ? ❜ whatever or however many gruesome sights now lay in her alley - she does not care , nor does she wish to know . she only EXPECTS them to be disposed of reasonably .

she turns , looking first to katya who is still engrossed in her plum , then to aleksei . palm flat & upturned , she makes a ‘come here’ motion with her fingers . ❛ the wine stain will set on your sleeve , aleksei . no sense in spoiling a shirt - let me see. ❜ she asserts adamantly , already thinking of the bottle under the bar that houses a ‘concoction’ meant for this very purpose - cleaning collars & obscuring blood in a pinch. bold of her , once again , to order a sovietnik to reveal his bloodied sleeve , still , she stares him down expectantly .

#interaction : yulianna & aleksei #sovietniik

WHEN : night - december , 1920 WHERE : fyodor’s flat WITH : fyodor rokovsky ( @prizefght )

MISERY LOVES COMPANY . isn’t that the saying ? faustus , she thinks . misery loves company . its origins don’t matter , truly , as yulianna’s heels click against slick pavement , snowflakes clinging to her collar , melting into her gloves , dusting her hair . it’s simply the truth , and fyodor has certainly seen his fair share of misery . yulya has too - - and so , they make quite the pair . she knows what today is . she knows what it means , what weight it carries . she knows that tonight , they need the COMPANY . they are kindred spirits in this way . they wear their grief differently , but teddy & yulya understand each other .

a parcel wrapped in brown paper is tucked under her arm ( nothing special , just a scarf - - every war widow learns to knit , even if it is just for show ). she balances a dish as she makes the journey on foot , finally finding herself face to face with the wood of a door . she breathes , lifting a foot and knocking the side of her shoe against the base of the door . ❛ FEDYA . . . ❜ she calls , hoping the lilt of her voice is familiar enough to warrant entry . then , ❛ teddy , i fully intend to stand outside until i’m let in , you know . ❜

#prizefght #interaction : yulianna & fyodor .

sweatyfbiprofiler

#╰ & ◞ . —— ⦙ but the ones who sing in the dead of night ⧼ images . ⧽#i hope she knows i love her

❛ NATYA . . . ❜ she urges gently , smile touching her lips. though only five years her junior , yulianna feels strangely maternal towards her employee . there is little warmth for natalya to find amongst the bratva , their eyes watching her with such intensity . yulianna tries to provide it where she can - to offer COMFORT in a world where little comfort exists .

the rush has died down , leaving a comfortable hum within the garnizon . quiet , but not quite empty . these are some of yulya’s favourite moments , even if they are bad for business . she likes to see the garnizon in semi-stillness , basked in a light that could almost be described as warm .

❛ put the work away for a moment , dorogaya - hm ? ❜ it’s unfamiliar to her to be so affectionate - - and good to know when she is in natalya’s presence that it is not lost. yulianna has always been far KINDER than she gives herself credit for . natalya is one of the few people that reminds yulya that she is not gone . there are pieces of her that surface . pieces hidden under grief & hardship that catch the light and are ignited by others .

❛ i’ve something for you . . . ❜

@bloodtorn

#bloodtorn

WHEN : evening - december , 1920 WHERE : the garnizon WHO : vladimir volkov ( @pakhans )

SHE DOES NOT PLAY - not like she used to . the piano sits in the corner of the garnizon , once its beating heart , now ill-tuned and untouched . the quiet of the evening , she finds , is too quiet . the ghosts of her grief - of her past - begin to GNASH & GNAW when the silence sits too heavily . she feels the weight of anxiety settle on her shoulders - a shroud she has worn for far too long . a flicker of the light from the window of her office & she swears she sees mischa standing over the instrument , finger hovering over a key ( tone deaf , he always had been . he provided the means , but it was yulya who made the music . )

in the wake of all that has been lost - sonatas sound like funeral dirges. drinking songs evoke memories of the men who used to sing them , lying in their graves . but the GNASHING & GNAWING is far too loud , accompanied by the heavy thud of the regulars . it is all TOO LOUD . and so , yulianna removes herself from her office , and she sits at the bench . lithe fingers suddenly feel ancient as they graze the yellowed keys , but soon enough muscle memory kicks in , and she plays .

trance - like , she’s not sure what it is that she plays . something memorized from her youth , no doubt . the notes warble ( perhaps she will send for a tuner ) , reverberate , and she continues . somewhere between catharsis & agony , she plays . the bell at the door fills the silence where a rest usually lies in the piece she cannot name , but knows so well . yulianna turns her head to see the pakhan himself , looming large in the doorway .

he does not fail to INTIMIDATE , but she is not afraid . rather , surprised , as a meeting is not on her meticulously planned schedule . fingers abandon the keys , and she swivels on the bench before standing , brushing imaginary dust from her skirt . she knows vladimir well enough to know what to expect . her husband had been among his ranks - a kinship ( however modest ) exists betwixt them now . she RESPECTS him . she moves to the bar , muscle memory once again pulling rank as she reaches for a glass . she tilts her head upward , eyes meeting his inquisitively .

❛ the usual , then ? ❜ she is already preparing , but thinks to add , with a half smile , ❛ or are we adding variety to our lives ? ❜

#pakhans #interaction : yulianna & vladimir .#pls don't match length. this is so long and for what ?

WHEN : morning - december , 1920 WHERE : the garnizon

light has only begun to stream through the windowpanes of the garnizon , and already she is at work . she knots an apron once , twice , around her waist ( it’s more for show than anything else - she dirties her hands in other ways ) . she pulls a ledger from beneath the bar and opens it , deciphering her own code - some numbers are above board , while others lie in the margins , hidden as shipments & transactions .

no staff , yet . this is yulianna’s time to take stock of the day before it begins . the only living presence beyond the cats that yowl in the alleyway , is the little girl that sits in the center of the garnizon’s main room . it’s a rare sight to see her here , but babulya has business visiting her sister . little girls & long train rides make a terrible pair , and so katya holds a rag in one hand , and palms a snifter ever - so - carefully in the other . it’s of little consequence , but the blue - eyed girl treats her job with the utmost care , running the rag in small , repetitive circles across the glass .

the door of the garnizon squeaks open , but yulianna pays it little mind . her establishment is not quite her own , & it is not unusual for the morning hours to see the place inhabited by volki . whoever has stepped through the door has clearly caught the attention of katya , who has abandoned her glass on the floor and waits by the door expectantly . she clears her throat , prompting yulya to lift her eyes from the yellowed pages and view the familiar face .

❛ katyenka - ❜ it’s a half - whisper , accompanied by a raised brow and an indication with her head that the girl step away from the door .

then , to aleksei , she shakes her head . she raises a brow at him , too . if the two were not so well acquainted , it would look as if she were scolding a sovietnik . perhaps she is .

❛ she expects a plum every time she sees you . - - - i blame you for that . ❜

@sovietniik

#tbt.#interaction : yulianna & aleksei

tag dump

#╰ & ◞ . —— ⦙ before i am lost ⧼ musings . ⧽#╰ & ◞ . —— ⦙ but the ones who sing in the dead of night ⧼ images . ⧽#╰ & ◞ . —— ⦙ is anybody listening ? ⧼ asks . ⧽#╰ & ◞ . —— ⦙ come and find me lying in the bed i made ⧼ dev . ⧽#╰ & ◞ . —— ⦙ i remember fields of flowers ⧼ aes . ⧽

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BEFORE I AM LOST . . .