Chapter Text
The snow came too early this year. As it waited for the sand pest to fade away to cover everything in a white layer of cold. Daniil has always hated the cold, but now even more than ever. He didn’t pack enough warm clothes for this trip, and his snakeskin coat was getting more useless with each degree below zero.
How long has it been since the Polyhedron fell? A couple of weeks. Perhaps even a month. Time seems irrelevat now that this town is not actively dying. The trains are arriving again, but for some reason, he can’t leave. There is nothing holding him in this backwater town, but every time Daniil wanders to the train station, it feels like an invisible barrier stops him mid-step. He tries to approach this problem scientifically, of course, but eventually comes to the conclusion that the barrier is only in his mind. The town has finally made him mad.
Despite the fast-approaching winter, the town is slowly putting itself back together. The people grieved and went back to work. The children found other ways to occupy their endless playtime. Only Daniil stands in the midst of it, frozen. He also mourned, just in his own way. They burned down Thanatica. It was only natural that he grieved his life’s work. Every time his mind wandered to his precious research, a quiet voice in the back of his head asked him a very poignant question: Even if you went back, would you have something to return to? So Daniil decided to stay, because at least here, he was permitted to stay in the abandoned Stillwater, far away from the Powers That Be. He could almost imagine his life like this.
And then the rash appeared. At first, Daniil’s skin started to itch. But when it peeled away, there was a new skin underneath. Black, smooth and shiny. A medical anomaly, most doctors would call it. A nightmare, Daniil would correct them.
Two days. Two days of monitoring, sampling and testing. It took Daniil two days to seek out a second opinion. He excused it as such, but deep down, he knew the real reason. Daniil Dankovsky, bachelor of medicine, was terrified. When logic falls short, his composure cracks. Panic rises. When the world stops making sense, Daniil seeks comfort in things that are logical. Hopefully, he can find them among other doctors.
It’s a late morning when Daniil finally decides to visit the clinic. The scales must be some sort of infection. Even if Artemy or Rubin cannot help him, their supply of medicine surely can.
Daniil didn’t expect that he would be stuck in this town until the first snowfall. The snakeskin coat is warm, but not enough for freezing temperatures. Not to mention his shoes. The walk is unpleasant, so when Daniil finally arrives at the newly established clinic in the Hindquarters, he doesn’t waste any time outside. The house used to be a residential building, but Artemy and Rubin quickly reworked it into a makeshift clinic that this town so desperately lacked. Daniil can only imagine Mark Immortell’s joy when they cleared out his beloved theatre. He helped with the preparations along with other volunteers, but hasn’t worked at the clinic itself. Nobody asked him to. He isn’t local. Artemy and Rubin can manage without him just fine. Daniil dusts off the snow from his coat and heads towards the door leading to the main office, but the argument from behind it stops him mid-track. Seems that both Rubin and Artemy are in today.
“You live the closest to the clinic yet arrive later and later with each passing day, Stakh”
“Perhaps I would like to catch up on some sleep. Have you thought about that? It’s been a rare resource during the epidemic.”
“Or you’ve been staying further away.”
“What are you insinuating, Cub?”
“Has Gravel been treating you well?”
“I’m warning you…”
“Oh, please. Have you thought I wouldn’t notice you walking here from the Flank? Where else would you spend your nights there if not at Gravel’s?”
“I cannot refuse her invitations to dinner.”
“Of course you can’t, Stakh.”
“We are friends, Cub. Friends take care of each other. She cooks, I help around the house and bring her groceries.”
“Right… Because you are friends.”
“What do you want me to say, Cub? That I love her? Yes, I do, and I don’t care she doesn’t reciprocate. Now drop it!” A rattle of a wooden chair follows Rubin’s words. He must have got up abruptly.
Daniil’s hand hovers above the doorhandle. He’s been telling himself to knock and enter after every sentence, but each reply just made the timing worse than before. Now seems like a good time.
“I hope I am not interrupting something.” Daniil sincerely hopes none of the men realises he’s been listening behind the doors. He tries to keep his voice as clueless as possible, and only hopes his body language doesn’t betray his knowledge.
“Not at all, Dankovsky. We’ve just finished,” Rubin growls and sits back down. He’s as red as a beet, and there is a mischievous smile on Artemy’s face. It’s almost unnatural seeing him without his permanent frown.
“It’s good to see you, Oynon. What can we do for you?” Artemy turns his attention to Daniil. Is he imagining it, or is there add, joyful glimmer in Artemy’s eyes whenever he lays them on Daniil?
“I would like your medical opinion, Burakh.”
Daniil’s eyes shoot towards Rubin, sitting at the desk. He respects the man, especially after all the work he’s done at the makeshift hospital, but this affliction is too personal. Rubin seems to catch on quickly, but before he nonchalantly announces he’s going to take a walk, Artemy gestures for Daniil to follow him to the office in the back.
It’s a small, dark room used as a medical storage rather than an office. There is a desk and two chairs, but also a number of cabinets stocked with various kinds of medicine. Most of them were brought here on the freight trains, but Daniil recognises handmade tinctures. Surely a work of Artemy’s ancient alembic.
“What ails this patient of yours, Bachelor?” Burakh asks and pulls a chair for himself. The one closer to the desk remains empty, inviting Daniil to sit down. He takes off the snakeskin coat and follows Artemy’s example.
“Rashes I’ve never seen before. The skin is itchy and peels away. It’s the new, uncanny skin underneath that causes me to worry.”
Before Artemy has the chance to ask more, Daniil rolls up the sleeve of his shirt. There, surrounded by his pale human skin, is a patch of black shiny scales. Both parts are seamlessly adjoined. When Daniil contracts his muscles, the scales move along. It is an unmistakable part of his biology.
“Say it, Burakh. I know you are dying to point out the obvious.”
Artemy hums, deep in his own thoughts. “They look like scales-”
“Exactly! What kind of steppe infection is that?”
“I have no idea. And I would appreciate it if you stopped calling it a steppe infection. This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Artemy frowns, but Daniil can’t tell whether it’s because he’s just insulted the steppe culture, or because of the elusive diagnosis.
Daniil hides his face in his arms. The scream of desperation is muffled by the flesh. “This is why I have to leave this backwater town. Nothing makes sense here. Blood spouts from the earth, impossible towers loom over the city, and men grow scales!”
“Calm down, Oynon. How long has this been a problem?” Artemy gets up and heads to a bookshelf. At least one of the books there must hold the answer to Daniil’s reptilian problem.
“Two days.”
“Are they spreading?”
“Yes. They started at the forearms. Now the skin on my back is peeling away as well.”
Fear finds its way into Daniil’s voice as he continues: “I thought it was a stone disease at first-”
“It’s not stone disease.”
“I know, but that would at least make sense!”
Artemy flips through another book, then returns it to the shelf. “There has to be something we are missing. We will figure this out.”
“Again with your condescending tone! I shouldn’t have come here. You are not even a doctor.”
“Now you are just lashing out.” Artemy’s voice is still calm, which angers Daniil more. What does he have to do for his anxieties to be taken seriously?
“Everything in this cursed town is trying to trap me here. I should have gotten on the first train out of there when I had the chance.”
The velocity with which Artemy closes the book startles Daniil. Despite the abruptness of the gesture, his voice is still calm. “Then why haven’t you?”
It’s a genuine question, one that prompts Daniil to think. He could self-reflect, but his anger and anxiety are too loud. “There’s still time to fix that mistake.”
Daniil turns on his heel and heads out. Artemy calls after him, but he doesn’t hear him. Anger blinds him, strips him of hearing. He will board the next train passing through this town. This time, he will do so without hesitation.
When Daniil opens the main door, the freezing air hits his face. It immediately leaves behind its red mark. The snakeskin coat is still inside the clinic, but Daniil is too proud to turn around and go back. He still has his spite to warm him from the inside. Traversing the snow is not an easy task, especially when he has to cross the whole town to get to Stillwater.
The cold is merciless. It attacks every part of Daniil’s body. Steals the warmth and slithers underneath his vest and shirt. He hasn’t even made it out of Hindquarters when his legs betray him. Maybe there was something hidden in the snow that made him trip. Or maybe it was the cold that cut him down as if he were a wheat stalk facing a scythe. Daniil’s fall on his hands and knees is muffled by the snow. Getting up seems impossible.
“What’s going on?” Daniil mutters, but even speaking drains his energy. Why can’t he get up? Why are his limbs locked in their frozen states? Why does it feel like he’s becoming one with the ice?
“Bachelor!” Artemy’s voice now sounds like a sweet promise of safety. He is seemingly not bothered by the cold, and if he is, he doesn’t let it show. The snakeskin coat is hanging over his arm.
“What happened?”
“Can’t move.” Daniil feels pathetic. His own state disgusts him. Twelve days of a mysterious, deadly plague, and it’s the winter that brings the famed thanatologist to his knees?
Artemy helps him up and wraps the coat around him. When he wavers, Artemy is there to help by sliding Daniil’s arm around his shoulders.
“Let’s get you to Stillwater.”
The walk across the town takes forever, but it’s bearable with Artemy by his side. Daniil cannot describe how happy he is when Artemy lays him down on the bed and wraps him in blankets. A cold hand is slapped onto Daniil’s forehead. He flinches underneath the touch.
“You might have a fever. It’s hard to tell,” Artemy says and rubs his hands to warm them. He should have known it’s highly inaccurate to guess the temperature with cold hands.
“Do you think I’m dying?” Daniil pipes up from his blanket cocoon.
“Don’t be dramatic, Oynon.”
“But the scales!” Daniil wriggles underneath the blankets. Artemy has tucked them tightly, most certainly expecting a fight for Daniil’s pride.
“They are worrisome. And so was your collapse outside. I promise I will look into this, but you should get some rest first.” If Artemy’s concerned on Daniil’s behalf, he doesn’t let it show. Rest sounds nice, but Daniil still has more to say before he allows himself to fall asleep.
“I mean what I said,” he blurts out. Artemy shoots him a confused look, so Daniil elaborates further: “I still want to leave. I have to. There’s nothing for me. I just…”
“What awaits you in the Capital?” Artemy’s question hangs in the air for a moment. It swings above Daniil like a sword of Damocles.
“It’s not like that. I don’t belong here, Burakh. This is your town.”
“It could be yours as well, if you let it.”
It’s not the answer Daniil expected, but it’s one that stays with him. Just the idea that the town, which has tried nothing but kill him, would be able to welcome him with open arms was something he couldn’t wrap his head around. Daniil can hear Artemy shuffling around the room. It doesn’t take long for the sounds to go quiet and for the world to be plunged into darkness.
When Daniil finally falls asleep, Artemy considers returning to the clinic, but after their little fight, he can only assume Rubin is enjoying his time alone right now. There are no patients to be visited, and the Burakh house is quiet and lonesome. The children are not expecting their adoptive father to be home before dinner.
As Artemy sits on the chair, his eyes fall on a letter lying on the desk. He doesn’t want to pry, but his eyes catch a few odd words. Thanatica. Burned to the ground. He knew that Daniil mourned his laboratory and colleagues. Despite the common rumour that the big city doctor lacked a heart and soul, the grief made him appear human, just like anyone else.
Artemy glanced towards sleeping Daniil. Maybe he could close his eyes for a moment. He’s been so tired lately. Just for twenty minutes, nobody is going to notice.
Except when Artemy jolts awake, more than twenty minutes have passed. The sun is slowly setting, so it must be already afternoon. Artemy stretches and gets up to wake his sleeping colleague.
Except something’s wrong.
“Dankovsky?”
The pile of clothes have some semblance of a human shape. As if the man wearing them simply vanished. Artemy gently lifts the snakeskin coat, only to reveal the shirt, red vest and silky cravat.
“Boddho, what’s happened?”
Daniil wakes up to the entire world shaking around him. It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s soft. Has he finally succumbed to his mysterious scaly illness?
“Burakh?” he tries to call out. Is he even here? Maybe he dragged Daniil to Stillwater and left for the rest of the day. Anyone sane would have done that. Why does Daniil even entertain the idea that someone as busy as Artemy Burakh would stay with him?
Despite the darkness, Daniil is certain he’s surrounded by fabric. It’s everywhere, encompassing him like a cocoon. Maybe he’s simply wrapped himself in the sheets too tightly. The nightmares of the plague still follow him, making him toss and turn in his sleep. Sometimes he’s trapped in an infected house with no exit. Sometimes he himself is infected, wrapped in rags and waiting for the freeing embrace of death.
An opening appears above his head and lets light into the dark fabric cave.
“Dankovsky?” A head appears in Daniil’s field of view. Messy light brown hair, permanent frown…
Daniil’s tongue forces its way past his lips. It flickers in the air for a moment and darts back into his mouth. Daniil doesn’t know what startled him more, his tongue doing this animalistic gesture on its own, or the fact that the air has a taste now. It tastes like salt and old books with a hint of rose. That’s all around him. Then he smells soot and cigarettes, tainted with a hint of fine leather, cedar and brandy. That’s his own cologne lingering on his clothes. And then there’s the smell coming from above. The most intense one. It smells of hide and herbs. Blood and twyre. Somehow, he immediately knows it’s the smell of Artemy Burakh.
“Burakh?”
The face of Artemy Burakh is huge. He’s always been a huge man, much taller and bigger than Daniil. But now Artemy resembles a mountain. Dread fills every centimetre of Daniil’s now tiny body. The world suddenly feels more dangerous in this size. His body starts moving by itself. Slithering, coiling. It assumes a defensive stance, curls on itself in an S shape. Ready to strike, to defend itself from anything that could pose a threat.
“Bachelor, is that you?”
It’s not just Artemy’s face that's huge. His hands hover in the air, and Daniil now realises he’s the one who caused the earthquake. Artemy is holding the snakeskin coat and the vest, revealing Daniil’s hiding space.
“Burakh, what’s going on? This is insane. Impossible. Why are you so big-”
“I can’t understand you, Oynon. You… you are a snake.”
No. No, no, no.
This is not real. This is all just a dream. A nightmare caused by that strange scaly growth. The realisation makes Daniil aware of his new body. Not only is it small. It’s long. At least proportionally. It’s thin and sleek. The scales now surely cover his whole body. And the tongue! It periodically finds its way outside of his mouth to taste the air.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Can you… Can you understand me?”
Daniil is still coiled in his defensive stance. He’s ready to strike, and Artemy knows this. His voice is low and calm, as if he were talking to a child or an animal. Because that’s what Daniil is right now. Just a small frightened animal.
Everything is too much. Too bright, too big. The air tastes weird, and everything poses a danger. Daniil looks at Artemy and then darts towards one of the sleeves of his shirt.
“Oynon, wait!”
Artemy is smart enough not to lunge at him. He’s well aware Daniil can and will bite him.
“I know it’s you, Bachelor. The Lines don’t lie. What I don’t understand is, how?”
“I would love to know that as well.” When Daniil focuses on his words, he can hear hissing in between them. Is that what Artemy hears?
“I suppose you do understand me then? I can bring you a mirror, if you’d like. Just come out, please.”
Artemy’s scent pulls back. He probably walked away to find a mirror and give Daniil some time to calm himself down. As if he could come to terms with his new body in mere minutes. It is somewhat working. Daniil’s heart is no longer racing. The world doesn’t appear too overwhelming. His tongue doesn’t stop sampling the air around, and Daniil is secretly glad for this. Every flick of his tongue provides new information about his surroundings. Knowing there’s no immediate danger comforts him.
“Bachelor? Are you ready?”
He is. It’s surprisingly easy to move his new serpentine body. Slithering comes to him naturally. When Daniil leaves the safety of the sleeve, the dread settles in once again. The whole room opens in front of him, and it’s terrifyingly big.
Artemy is sitting on the bed next to the pile of clothes. He’s holding a small shaving mirror. Daniil is not sure what he’s expected to see. Perhaps his straight black hair streaked with silver from accumulated stress. Or his brown eyes sunken in from the lack of sleep. The reflection dissolves all those hopes. All he sees is a black smooth snake. The shiny scales closely resemble those that appeared on his skin a few days ago. He feels his forked tongue dart out of his mouth. The reflection does the same. It really is him then.
Daniil looks up at Artemy. He’s not sure whether the menkhu can read the fear in his eyes.
“Do you know what happened?” Artemy asks, despite knowing what kind of answer the snake would give him if he could understand the hissing.
An idea arises in Daniil’s head. He tries to shake his head but finds the gesture too difficult for his new body's limits.
“I see. Can you maybe nod? I am not sure whether snake anatomy even allows that…”
It does. Daniil manages to nod his little head, even though he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t be possible for normal snakes. He could retain at least some part of his humanity.
Artemy smiles and lets out a sigh of relief. “Good. Nod when you agree and flick your tongue twice if you don’t. Is that okay?”
Nod.
Then it finally dawns on Artemy. He’s talking to a snake. A snake that used to be his colleague. All of this is crazy and impossible.
“Have you felt something while you slept?Something different?”
Flick. Flick.
Artemy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows the answer before he even asks the question. “Do you think you would let me examine you?”
Every muscle in Daniil’s body tenses. Examining him. Picking him up. The image of Artemy’s gentle hands wrapped around his body fills him with dread. But it also strangely excites him. All this time, he could have felt the body heat seeping from Artemy. He’s always been warm. Whenever Artemy would squeeze his hand in greeting and touch his shoulder, Daniil could feel the warmth permeating his skin. Now this concept sounded appealing to his new cold-blooded body.
To Artemy’s surprise, Daniil gives a little nod.
“Thank you, Oynon. I’ll be gentle.”
Those gentle, long fingers scoop Daniil off the bed and lift him into the air. The lack of solid ground forces Daniil to instinctively coil around the hand that holds him. He’s always feared heights, and now he is hanging in the air with Artemy Burakh holding Daniil’s life literally in his hands.
“You appear to be a smooth snake, although I’ve never seen one with scales of this shade. And, pardon my observation, but you are rather small for this species.”
Of course he was. Daniil has never been blessed in the height department as a human, so why would he expect something different as a snake?
“Aren’t you cold? We can only assume your new body is cold-blooded. You should be kept warm. The outside could probably kill you right now.”
And he’s right. Daniil can see snow falling from the sky behind the small attic window. He can taste the cold finding its way inside through the bad insulation.
“I want to move you to my house. It’s warmer there, and I can look for an explanation in my father’s books. We just have to figure out how to move you safely and discreetly.”
It makes sense, and Daniil was expecting this turn of events. Artemy is right, he can’t stay here in Stillwater. But just the thought of going out to those freezing temperatures sends shivers down his elongated spine.
“I know you are going to protest, but can you wrap around my neck? The sweater and smock would hide you and my body heat…”
Absolutely not! Being touched and held was one thing, but being pressed against Artemy’s bare skin was something else! Too intimate, too vulnerable. Artemy gets the message from Daniil’s furious wriggling between his fingers.
“Well, why don’t you come up with something better, erdem?” Despite the implications, Artemy is not upset. He understands that, despite being a small snake, Daniil deserves the autonomy to decide his own fate.
They settle on Daniil's idea of wrapping his long body around Artemy’s forearm. When Artemy decides that Daniil is safely latched on, he heads out. The freezing cold immediately bounces off the leather smock, but sinks its icy teeth into any exposed skin. Artemy’s hands are one of the first victims.
Staying wrapped around Artemy’s forearm proves to be much more difficult than Daniil expected. The cold also doesn’t help. How could Daniil, a bachelor of medicine, forget that limbs are the first parts of the body that lose body heat due to extreme external factors? They haven’t even made it to the Maw yet when Daniil finally admits this wasn’t his brightest idea.
“Are you faring well, Oynon?” Artemy strays away from the busy street, stopping behind one of the houses far away from prying eyes. Before he takes his hand out of the pocket, Daniil lets go and slumps back into the depths of the smock.
“Does my neck look more appealing to you now?” Artemy smirks. It’s not malicious, but conveys the message of ‘I told you’ efficiently.
Before Daniil can come up with a witty response that Artemy won’t understand anyway, he’s being lifted up and placed around Artemy’s bare neck like a shawl. It’s not the most stable placement until he curls around Artemy’s throat and rests his head on the shoulder. The difference is immediately noticeable. Before they head out, Artemy fixes the loose collar of his sweater and the smock. The layers hide Daniil well, and the heat makes his body relaxed.
“Don’t praise yourself too much, Burakh,” Daniil hisses with wounded pride. Artemy chuckles, which sends a rumbling wave down his throat. Daniil has to admit that the vibrations feel nice and calming. It feels safe. His body soaks in the heat willingly, as long as Daniil doesn’t think too much about the source.
The Burakh house is quiet and warm. It’s still too early for dinner, too early for them to return from their daily adventures. The fireplace is but a gaping void. One that Artemy immediately starts tending to without even releasing Daniil from his warm hideout.
“Burakh, we are finally here. Put me down!” Daniil starts wriggling around Artemy’s throat. The tightening feeling catches Artemy’s attention.
“Stop it, Dankovsky. Let me tend to the fire first.” Artemy slides his fingers between the slithering snake and his skin, loosening the grip as if Daniil were an itchy collar. So humiliating. Daniil has to muster all his self-control not to snap at those prying fingers. Smooth snakes are not venomous, but that doesn’t mean the bite would be painless.
Artemy works quietly and methodically. An occasional hum of an unknown song interrupts the silence. The sound would be too quiet for anyone in the same room, but Daniil hears everything. The way Artemy’s throat moves when he hums and breathes reminds him of being on a boat.
It doesn’t take long for the fire to start crackling. Artemy stays crouching in front of the fireplace for a few minutes afterwards, making sure the flame biting into the timber is strong enough to survive without his supervision. When he’s satisfied, he moves over to the sofa and finally frees Daniil from the safety of his clothes.
“How are you feeling? Have you noticed some changes?”
Daniil swallows an elaborate answer and simply flicks his tongue twice. He’s slowly starting to feel the warmth reaching towards him from the fireplace. He stretches as much as Artemy’s lap allows him to do so. He fits in there perfectly. Only the tip of his tail is hanging loose. He might be about half a meter long, give or take. This only adds fuel to Daniil’s self-consciousness about his size. Of course, he would draw the short straw during this transformation.
Simply lying there, watching the dancing fire and basking in the heat, feels almost homely. For a moment, Daniil allows himself to forget about everything that has led to this moment. The events of this morning feel like a distant dream. And so does the sand pest ravaging through the town.
“Bachelor? Dankovsky.” Something touches Daniil’s side, and he’s thrust back into reality. A reality where his body is not his own, but covered in scales. Some time has passed. The fire has been reduced to glowing embers, and Artemy looks like he’s also fallen asleep for a few minutes.
“Why don’t we go upstairs? There must be some explanation for this in my father’s books.” Artemy’s voice staggers a bit when he mentions Isidor. They are not his father’s books anymore; they are his. A part of the menhku inheritance. Isidor knew that knowledge can vanish, and he was smart enough to leave a trace.
A trace that Artemy and Daniil were now uncovering together. Artemy goes through one of the stacked bookshelves in Isidor’s study. No, Artemy’s study now. With gentleness and care, he touches every exposed book spine, but takes out only a few that he deems to be worthy. They are laid out on the wide desk where Daniil has been curled up.
“Hiss if you find something or if you need to turn a page.”
It’s nice of Artemy to include Daniil in searching for his own cure. It’s a small gesture, but the snake appreciates it. Unfortunately, Daniil is a fast reader. Artemy is not. Both Daniil’s eyes and body fly across the papers, soaking in information with the speed of a seasoned researcher. At first, Artemy quickly notices every time Daniil needs help with the heavy pages. But as time goes on, he gets absorbed into his own reading.
Daniil doesn’t find Artemy’s lack of attention annoying. What he finds frustrating is his own inability to do something as simple as turning a page. He’s a scientist. Reading is supposed to be one of his strengths. How can he do that if he struggles to turn over a simple paper? The book is heavy, and so is the pile of unread pages. Daniil tries to wriggle his snout in between them and flick them to the other side, but it tires him too quickly. He is not going to ask Burakh to do everything for him. His dignity screams in agony with every failed attempt, but if there’s something Daniil Dankovsky has always had enough to give out, it was stubbornness and determination.
“Dankovsky, what are you doing?”
Artemy gently pushes the snake off the page and turns it over. Daniil hates the ease with which Artemy can achieve something he’s been struggling with for so long. He hates how useless it makes him feel. He hates the vulnerability. He hates the need to ask for simple things he should be able to do by himself. He hates himself…
“I know you are too proud, but it’s alright to ask for help.”
“This is humiliating, Burakh. Don’t pretend you know what I am going through!”
“Based on your tone, I can only guess you don’t agree. But please remember that I am here to help. I can’t even imagine your struggles, but you don’t have to go through all of this alone. Let me help you. I know I can’t understand you, but your hissing is not so different from all that Latin you keep using.”
Was he teasing him? The innocent joke, accompanied by Artemy’s warm smile, flies completely over Daniil’s head. Not only does Artemy manhandle Daniil in his current form, but he’s also making fun of him! It’s all his fault anyway. It’s his fault that Daniil got stuck in this town after the plague was eradicated. Artemy always cares. He always wants to help. Why is he so interested in whether Daniil drinks himself to death? Or overdoses on morphine. He’s the reason why Daniil hasn’t boarded the first train to the Capital. He’s the reason why Daniil doesn’t lie six feet under the steppe soil with a bullet in his head.
Artemy Burakh is the reason Daniil is still alive.
Daniil finds himself curled up on himself. All he sees are his black scales and his moving body tightening around itself. He hates it. He hates everything. But his last thought snaps him out of the spiral. Was Artemy the reason why Daniil decided to stay? After the town took a much-needed inhale of the plague-free air, there was nothing that held the esteemed Bachelor here. It could heal without him, and yet Daniil remained in Stillwater. Until now, he couldn’t pinpoint the cause of his voluntary entrapment.
It was Artemy Burakh who trapped Daniil in Town-on-Gorkhon. All those nice sweet words, intelligent debates over a glass of twyrine, casual check-ups, homemade meals…
“Daniil?”
A finger carefully touches Daniil’s spine, and he hates how good it feels. Why can’t Artemy just give up on him, throw him outside into the snow and let him die? Daniil tightens his coils even more. It’s slowly getting painful, but he will do anything not to look at the face of his saviour and caretaker.
“Bear, we are home!”
Voices can be heard from downstairs. Artemy’s heart skips a beat or two. “I forgot about the time. Please, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
Daniil can hear the heavy footsteps getting further away. His tongue only confirms he’s alone, but Artemy’s scent still lingers in the air. A deep voice joins the two childish ones, and the Burakh household starts feeling like a home again. There is laughter and the excited chattering of the children. It’s so warm and homely. And Daniil can only listen in and occasionally sample the air filled with joy.
“Uncle Bachelor?”
The girl’s voice startles Daniil more than it should have. Not only isn’t Murky supposed to be here, but she is not supposed to recognise him. Yet she does and currently stares at Daniil with her big grey eyes, which are full of awe and wonder. His body slowly relaxes and loosens its grip. To the girl’s giggle, Daniil pokes out his head and flicks his tongue at her.
“How do you…”
“Your hissing is cute! How did you become a snake? Can I become a snake?” she asks with genuine curiosity. Every other question leaves Daniil more confused.
“Can you understand me?” There’s a sliver of hope, and Daniil desperately grasps at it.
“Your scales are really pretty. Can I touch them?”
It appears she does not. Or maybe she does and simply chooses not to respond. Daniil wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter. Murky has always been a peculiar child.
“Murky, get away from it!” Sticky appears at the door and doesn’t waste a second to drag her away from the table. “Bear, help! There’s a snake in the house!”
With Artemy bursting into the study, the room suddenly feels too small, tight. He’s red in the face, clearly taking two steps at a time despite his bad knee to get upstairs as quickly as he can.
“Stay back. Daniil, are you okay?”
Daniil nods, but all he can think is, since when are we on first name basis?
“She knows, Burakh. How does she know it’s me?” Daniil’s hissing is drowned in Sticky and Murky’s argument. The boy is still wary and defensive, while Murky is bursting with childish excitement.
“What are you doing? It’s Uncle Bachelor, Sticky!”
“What are you talking about? That’s a snake!”
Artemy takes a deep breath. He does it every time he needs to calm himself down. The children notice. “Murky, pumpkin. How did you know it’s Bachelor?”
“Just look at him!” Of course. A very straightforward exclamation. Every scientist would already be considering changing their profession if they had Murky as a primary source.
“Wait, is she telling the truth? Is that Bachelor?” Sticky’s confusion starts to slowly dissolve as Artemy nods. Daniil does the same, and Sticky accept the new reality with simple: “Awesome!”
Artemy gets down on one knee to get on the children’s level. He doesn’t do it often, so he knows Sticky and Murky will get serious about what he’s about to say: “Listen to me. Both of you. Nobody can know about this, understood? Bachelor is… sick. He’ll stay here until he gets better, and I don’t want you to bother him. He’s still the same Bachelor as before, and I expect you to treat him as such.”
Sticky nods, but it’s Murky who speaks up. “Okay. He can stay. I’m hungry now.”
Actually, Artemy isn’t sure what he was expecting from Murky. Maybe people turning into snakes seems completely logical from a child’s point of view, while a late dinner does not. Hopeful for a little more grown-up reaction, he turns to Sticky, who rewards him with a shrug. Artemy is not sure whether it’s an answer to his pleading or to Murky’s demand for food.
“Fine, go wash your hands. The dinner’s ready in fifteen minutes.” Artemy pinches the bridge of his nose and turns his attention to Daniil. “I’m very sorry for all of this. Can you manage on your own for a little while? I’ll be back.”
Daniil flicks his tongue and nods in response. For all its worth, this revelation could have gone worse. He is thankful that the kids are so open-minded. Yet the humiliation still haunts him. It would have been better if nobody except Artemy knew about his situation, but it’s better than being attacked by a scared boy who only wants to protect his sister.
The books that Artemy let open on the desk provide no new information on the serpentine curse, and Daniil is too tired to struggle with the thick, heavy pages. A soft knock interrupts the stillness of the study.
“Dankovsky? I brought you some food. The children are in their rooms.” Artemy still closes the door behind himself. Just in case Sticky and Murky are not asleep and decide to wander through the house.
The plate that Artemy sets on the table contains a few pieces of raw beef, carefully cut into small cubes. Daniil knows he should be disgusted, but his mouth waters instead. The raw meat has a distinct smell that draws him closer.
“I hope you will appreciate this instead of mice. I suppose your appetite has changed along with your body, but if it hasn’t, there are still some leftovers from dinner.”
Daniil is embarrassed to admit, but the meat does look incredibly appetising. Perhaps even more than a dead mouse. He slithers towards the plate and tries to bite into one of the cubes. The meat slides away from his jaw, and Daniil lets out a frustrated hiss.
“I’m sure snakes swallow their prey whole. Your jaw is not made for chewing,” Artemy chuckles and watches as Daniil tries a different strategy of conquering the piece of beef.
“Do you want me to hold it?”
Despite the humiliation, Daniil nods. Artemy picks the meat between his fingers and holds it in the air. It’s awkward, and somehow strangely intimate.
“Ow. Shudker!”
It was an accident. The fangs weren’t even supposed to have been near Artemy’s fingers. They sink into the living flesh before Daniil realises it. The taste of blood fills his mouth, and all he wants is to gag.
“Fuck. I am sorry, Burakh. I didn’t mean to-”
“Daniil?” Artemy’s quivering voice should have been a cue for Daniil to notice something’s wrong, but instead he continues with his rambling.
“It was an accident. I didn’t want that to happen. I’m not just some animal that can’t control itself. Please, trust me...”
“I do… trust you.”
That’s when it hits him. Artemy answered his question. One he shouldn’t have heard. “Did you just…”
“I can understand you.” Artemy is still holding the bloodied hand. He should tend to it, but his eyes are fixated on the talking snake. It hasn’t even been a full day of not being able to talk to Daniil, but he already misses hearing that smug voice.
“I don’t mean to alarm you, but you should do something about your hand.”
Right. Wrapping the bandage around the bite is awkward, since the wound is on Artemy’s dominant hand. But hearing Daniil’s apologies and unsolicited advice was worth the pain.
“Great, now I just have to bite every single inhabitant of this town to have a nice conversation,” Daniil announces before biting into the last piece of beef, propped up in the air by a fork Artemy fetched. It’s rather endearing seeing him finally relax in his new skin.
“We will fix this before the need arises,” Artemy chuckles, and he means it.
“The research is going to be much easier now.” Behind Daniil’s words, Artemy can still hear embarrassment. He will still need help with moving the books and turning the pages, but at least he won’t have to be silent about it. Artemy doubts Daniil will let him know when he needs help, but at least he has the ability to do so now.
“It can wait until tomorrow. We need rest. Both of us.”
Artemy is certain Daniil will protest. Now that he can be heard, he expected the protest to be loud and filled with urgency. But to Artemy’s surprise, Daniil relents.
“Very well, but I will need warmer sleeping arrangements than this study.”
“You can sleep in my bed. It’s big enough for two people.”
Once again, Daniil doesn’t voice his discomfort. Perhaps he’s too tired, Artemy decides. There is a free bedroom in the Burakh household, but Artemy’s bedroom feels safer. There’s no doubt the children will try to swarm Daniil in the morning. Maybe he worries too much, but Artemy doesn’t feel comfortable leaving Daniil alone. And something tells him Daniil himself doesn’t want to be alone either.
“Don’t hesitate to wake me up if something happens during the night.”
If you turn back to human, is what Artemy means but doesn’t say out loud. Daniil answers with a nod and curt ‘goodnight’ before coiling around himself.
Artemy has always found Daniil adorable in its own way. Maybe it was his height, anxious pacing, long and passionate rambling or his habit of slipping into Latin when he got upset. And now, seeing him lying on the white sheets, the fragility reminds Artemy of the time Daniil got sick with the sand pest. Sticky was the one taking care of him until there was another shmowder to spare. Artemy hadn’t even realised at first that his colleague was sick. It wasn’t until Sticky found him, panicked and desperate about Bachelor’s worsening state, that he realised the other doctor’s absence. He was ashamed of how long it took him to notice. Daniil claimed not to remember anything from that day, and maybe it was for the better. But the sight of dying Daniil, the feeling of his feverish skin and empty, glassy stare will remain in Artemy’s memory forever. He’ll do anything to help this man, even if Daniil’s gonna fight him about it.
The steppe is vast. The steppe is immense. Daniil looks around, hoping he would at least catch a sight of anything other than grass. Some rocks or lights of the distant town. But there’s nothing. Just the moon and stars and an endless sea of grass and herbs. He can recognize constellation in the sky, most notably Taurus and Orion. That means Pleiades are near…
Should he just pick a direction and walk blindly with only the stars to guide him? He might just get lost. Then he finally realises something. He’s got legs. Daniil looks at his hands. They are sheathed in the gloves, but when he strips them, there are no black scales in sight. He must be dreaming then.
“Is anyone here?” he calls. If this is a dream, perhaps he can manifest himself a company. Or a completely different dream altogether. Telman would know what to do in this situation, but Daniil doesn’t want to spare a single thought on his rival.
“Latet anguis in herba.”
The voice sends shivers down Daniil's spine. Familiar, yet not his own. He turns around only to come face-to-face with... himself. The man in front of him is his splitting copy. He tries to look for anything odd in the other Bachelor’s face, but the moonlight reveals nothing.
The other Bachelor smirks
“So we finally meet, little snake. Or perhaps you’d prefer Moga? We grew rather fond of the local barbaric culture, I must say.”
“Who are you?”
“Daniil Dankovsky, bachelor of medicine. Phrase the question better.” It makes Daniil wonder whether he’s this smug to everyone he meets. No wonder people flat-out hate his guts.
“What part of my psyche are you? You must be a part of subconsciousness, which means you want something from me.”
“That’s better. But it’s not me who wants something. Isn’t it your desire to shed the scales and go back to how things were before?”
“Do you know how to get rid of this… affliction?”
“In fact, I do. But will I tell you? This steppe dream is hardly the place to talk about it. Do not look for me, Moga. You are not ready. And for your sake, I hope you are deemed ready soon.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Can you threaten yourself? No, it’s a premonition. Have you given much thought to what’s going to happen to you the longer you stay in that reptilian body? The show must go on, whether you are a human or a snake.”
The last word is accompanied by a distant hissing. The transformation is sudden and painless. One moment, Daniil is looking at his double, the other he’s lying in the tall grass, much smaller and scalier than before. The night is warm, the grass rustles in the gentle wind. Somehow, Daniil knows he’s alone. His double has vanished into thin air, yet the wind still carries his mocking words:
“Bayartay, Moga.”