* / let it all burn !

FULL NAME: TIKHOMIROV, aleksandr sasha dmitriyevich

KNOWN SOBRIQUETS AND/OR PSEUDONYMS: sasha

REGISTERED BLOOD STATUS: MUGGLEBORN.

KNOWN LANGUAGES: IN ORDER OF FLUENCY. russian, english

BIRTHPLACE: STALINGRAD, soviet russia

GENDER, PRONOUNS: CIS MAN, he/him

FAMILY: TIKHOMIROVA, nadezhda née golubova. TIKHOMIROV, dmitriy

MARITAL STATUS: single

SPOUSE, IF APPLICABLE: n/a

OFFSPRING, IF APPLICABLE: n/a

ORIENTATION: bisexual, biromantic

DATE OF BIRTH & AGE: december 03rd, 1926 & 24

WESTERN ZODIAC: SAGITTARIUS. straightforward/intellectual/philosophical/large-hearted/careless/tactless/impatient/inconsistent/over-confident

PROFILE:

EYE COLOR: hazel-green

HAIR COLOR: dark brown

BUILD & HEIGHT:  strong square jaw offset by softened dimples ; broad shouldered and muscled, & 6′3″

IDENTIFYING MARKS & SCARS: dimples on his cheeks, several silvery long-healed but still visible and notable scars climbing up his body, did we mention the dimples?

SCHOOLING: KOLDOVSTORETZ.

HOUSE, IF APPLICABLE: ––

N.E.W.T.S EQUIVALENT: dark arts –– o, defense against the dark arts –– o, charms –– o, ancient runes –– o, history of magic –– o

OCCUPATION: AUROR, specializing in the tracking and capture of dark wizards and dark creatures for the rossiyskoye ministerstvo magii

  MINISTRY FIELD, IF APPLICABLE:  otdel magicheskogo pravoporyadka

REGISTERED WAND: 12.03″, pine with a dragon heartstring core. rigid. the straight-grained pine wand always chooses an independent, individual master who may be perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious. pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. the pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic.

AMORTENTIA: dark chocolate, a blown out candle, the first snow of the season, a cup of steaming hot black tea with a spoonful of cherry preserves mixed in

BOGGART: DEMENTOR. sasha had spent the better part of his life training toward and then carrying out the career he landed himself in at just shy of eighteen. tracking down darkness around all four corners of the world had rid him of many nightmarish fears due to having to face them again and again, leaving him with just one- the idea that there was something left that he hadn’t encountered yet, that could or should be feared. although he’s certainly not afraid of dementors themselves this fear materializes in the form of a dementor, symbolizing fear of fear itself.

PATRONUS: NON CORPOREAL. no recorded successful castings.

KNOWN AFFILIATIONS: PIQUERY, henry. FORTESCUE, florean. BLUDD, trystan.

CURRENT MAILING ADDRESS: 44𝄢W2, DIAGON ALLEY. apt. 2

LAST SEEN LOCATION: MINISTRY OF MAGIC, london. first flood.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: to be held in london in conjunction with PIQUERY, HENRY until further instruction. under no circumstances is TIKHOMIROV to leave the country until otherwise noted. 

AND  THERE  HE  WAS,  back  in  the  reliquary,  after  the  shop  boy    ––    owner?  manager?    ––    had  yanked  him  in  moments  before  the  wards  sealed.  it  was  a  precarious  situation  to  be  in,  sealed  in  an  apothecary  with  a  handful  of  half-familiar  faces  and  yet  still  more  he’d  never  encountered  before.  sasha  tapped  his  foot  on  the  ground,  lingering  around  jars  of  newt  eyes  and  pickled  mushrooms  and  feigning  interest  in  the  contents  of  said  jars  whilst  he  surveyed  the  room  and  gauged  each  person  for  their  potential  probability  to  pose  a  threat.  there  was  one  face  in  particular  that  his  eyes  kept  dragging  themselves  back  to,  distracting  him,  captivating  him,  almost  as  if  he  were  a  spider  caught  in  a  web    ––      the  logical  part  of  him  knew  he  wasn’t;  it  just  so  happened  that  he  had  an  eye  for  fine  features.   knowing  they’d  all  be  trapped  in  those  four  walls  for  an  indefinite  amount  of  time  made  sasha  feel  as  bored  as  though  he’d  been  in  there  for  a  fortnight  already,  bored  enough  to  feel  so  inclined  as  to  introduce  himself  to  a  few  of  his  new  friends.  none  of  them  seemed  particularly  threatening  to  him,  anyway.  what  could  it  hurt  to  be  sociable?   sasha  maneuvered  himself  closer  to  the  brunette  without  making  it  seem  as  if  he  was  moving  toward  her,  instead  continuing  to  inspect  the  various  potions  ingredients  with  all  the  interest  of  a  gawking  child.  he  waited  until  a  third  person  happened  to  come  within  arm’s  length  and  then,  with  his  head  still  turned  toward  a  bunch  of  dried  gillyweed,  his  left  leg  shot  out  and  then  darted  back  just  quick  enough  to  trip  the  poor  fellow  without  taking  the  blame.  in  a  flash,  as  if  surprised  and  thinking  on  his  feet,  he  turned  and  tugged  the  woman  he’d  been  eyeing  out  of  the  way  just  in  time  to  clear  the  aisle  for  his  victim  to  stumble  and  then  right  themselves  without  disturbing  any  of  the  displays.                                           “careful,”    he  admonished  the  pawn  in  his  plan.   a  grin,  a  flash  of  dimples,  and  then  he  steps  away  before  their  position  could  have  a  chance  to  be  seen  as  unseemly.  then,  he  addressed  her  directly.  “are  you  alright?”

we won’t say that carlotta pinkstone had seen better days because that gives the implication that this is the worst she’s ever looked which certainly wasn’t the case. she was standing in the middle of the candy aisle in a tesco with her brunette locks swept up into a haphazard bun, her wand plunged through it to keep it atop her head. it was practically useless for her magic anyhow, might as well give it a different purpose. hands on her hips as her eyes roam the shelves for what — she wasn’t sure. all she knew was that she needed sugar, was craving chocolate, and there were far too many options for her sluggish brain to keep up. 

the reason, apart from her outfit which was rather disheveled at this point, that she looked so exhausted was that she was currently sharing the wards around tesco with one other person. even two people on the job didn’t feel like enough to keep the people inside protected and so carlotta gave the effort almost everything. the sugar was to keep her going as much as it was to satiate her chocolate craving. she’s about to reach out for a kit-kat when a voice that is only vaguely familiar speaks, triggering a memory from days she liked to keep hidden. 

with hand halfway to the chocolate bar, she closes the distance to grab it before turning. her breath catches at the smile; merlin, she’d forgotten he was handsome. in return for his smile, she offers a smirk,   “ yes, keeping the monsters from coming in is much better than being thrown t’them is a much more in style look these days. ”   a beat of silence before her empty hand is offered to him,   “ i don’t think we got t’do this the first time; carlotta pinkstone. ”

"ALEKSANDR  DMITRIYEVICH  TIKHOMIROV.”  then,  a  beat  later,  “sasha.”  he  accepts  carlotta’s  proffered  hand  and  uses  it  to  tug  her  forward,  the  momentum  just  enough  to  turn  the  supposed  handshake  into  a  small  twirl  that  allowed  his  free  hand  to  grab  that  heath  bar  he’d  been  coveting.   “it’s  very  nice  to  meet  you,  i  think.  would  it  be  very  terrible  if  i  asked  what  you’d  done  to  earn  that  visit  down  in  the  ministry’s  cell  holdings?”  sasha  released  her  hand  and  folded  his  arms  across  his  chest,  brow  raised  and  head  canted  in  the  direction  of  the  chocolate  that  she’d  grabbed.  “was  it  your  chocolate  preference?  choosing  wafer  over  toffee  IS  a  crime,  after  all.”

       timestamp :    ——,  october 26th, 1950     location :    tesco’s,   public  &  unwarded    tagging :      @caughtdusk·

                 if  thaxter  had  any  choice  over  the  matter,  he  wouldn’t  be  in  london  at  all.  he  hated  the  idea  of  his  family,  alone,  during  all  this.  he  knew   (  he  hoped  )   that  the  ministry  detail  assigned  to  his  family  had  kept  them  in  the  know  and  protected,  but  he  had  an  itching  feeling  he  would  get  some  message  about   shifting  priorities   soon  enough.  perhaps  it  made  sense,  but  that  did  not  mean  he  had  to  like  it.  someone  should  be  there  with  them.  instead,  he  was  sitting  behind  the  butcher’s  counter  at  a  grocery  store  he  had  ducked  into,  staying  quiet  as  the  muggles  around  him  speculated  about  what  was  happening.  his  thumb  runs  along  his  wand,  tucked  into  his  jacket  pocket,  debating  the  pros  and  cons  of  doing   anything   really,  when  he  hears  a  familiar  accent.  he  looks  up  and,  despite  the  current  events,  manages  a  smile  at  sasha.  he  doesn’t  think  he’s  ever  been  happier  to  see  the  man  who  had  offered  to  kill  the  son  of  the  american  president  if  he  was   bothering   thaxter.  well,  the  ghosts  outside  were  certainly  bothering  him  and  maybe  together  they  could  do  something  about  it.   ‘   sasha  !   ’   he  scrambles  up  from  where  he  had  been  sitting  and  moves  towards  the  other.   ‘   wha’s  the  plan  ?   ’

IF  SASHA  had  any  choice  over  the  matter,  he  wouldn’t  be  in  london  at  all.  actually,  he  wouldn’t  be  in  england,  or  the  united  kingdom.  he’d  be  in  russia,  given  the  choice    ––    an  opinion  he’d  shared  broadly  and  generously  during  his  extended  stay  in  london  these  past  few  months.  the  unbridled  rampage  of  the  undead  was,  in  his  book,  another  checkmark  in  the  ‘cons’  column,  and  were  it  not  for  the  stern  reprimand  he  knew  he’d  face,  he  would  have  written  a  letter  of  complaint  to  his  superiors  back  home,  once  again  criticizing  their  decision  of  sticking  him  in  this,  of  all  places. as  it  were,  his  current  situation  wasn’t  all  that  bad    ––    he’d  even  managed  to  give  his  charge,  henry  piquery,  the  slip,  and  thusly  found  himself  wandering  aimlessly  up  and  down  the  aisles  of  a  muggle  grocery  store,  munching  on  a  pack  of  m&m’s  he  had  no  intention  of  purchasing.  when  his  friend  and  fellow  piquery  victim,  thaxter,  scrambled  into  view,  he  simply  smiled      ––      it  was  a  small  enough  city  that  he  could  not  longer  afford  to  be  surprised  when  he  repeatedly  ran  into  people  he  knew.  leaning  back  momentarily  in  an  attempt  to  catch  an  m&m  he’d  thrown  into  the  air,  in  his  mouth,  sasha  made  a  great  show  of  pretending  to  seriously  think  about  thaxter’s  question.  then,  he  leaned  in  conspiratorially    ––    “we  stay  here,  and  hope  piquery  doesn’t  think  to  look  for  us  here.  with  any  luck  he’ll  get  stuck  behind  some  sealing  wards  and  then  we’re  free  to  go  where  ever  we  want.”  

THE  TINKLING  BELL  signifying  that  the  door  had  been  opened  now  also  served  as  a  cue  for  every  figure  standing  within  a  six-meter  radius  to  stare  daggers  until  he  slammed  the  door  shut  behind  him.  sasha  grimaced,  leaning  back  just  enough  to  lift  up  his  boot  and  survey  the  state  of  his  sole,  which  was  smeared  with  no  small  amount  of  a  ghostly,  slimy  substance.                                                   ECTOPLASM.                                    

                                                                                                 GROSS.   of  all  the  beings  he’d  encountered  in  his  line  of  work,  the  undead  were  far  beyond  his  least  favorite  to  contend  with.  admittedly,  most  of  his  distaste  stemmed  from  the  mess  that  inevitably  followed  a  neutralization.  sasha  grumbled  under  his  breath  as  he  scraped  his  boot  against  a  mat  near  the  door,  then  headed  further  into  the  grocery  store’s  maze  of  aisles.  it  wasn’t  long  before  he  found  what  he  was  looking  for    ––      the  candy  and  sweets  section    ––    but  the  semisweet  chocolate  he’d  hunted  down  was  obscured  from  his  view  by  a  brunette  who  looked  a  far  cry  close  to  giving  atlas  a  run  for  his  money.  was  she  single-handedly  supporting  the  wards  around  tesco’s?   sasha  blinked  and  stepped  closer,  fully  intending  on  simply  asking  her  to  take  a  step  to  the  left  so  that  he  could  grab  a  heath  bar,  until  something  about  her  face  tugged  at  his  memory.  he  lit  up,  a  smile  of  recognition  unfurling  across  his  features  “––it’s  you!  i  must  say,  this  is  a  much  better  look  for  you.”

part  of  the  verdant  reliquary’s  charm  was  the  man  behind  the  counter,  with  his  disarming  smile  and  bright  eyes  and  always,  apparently,  the  right  disposition  for  each  customer  he  dealt  with.  he  was  also  particularly  observant  and  in  the  twenty  minutes  that  the  handsome  man  had  been  in  the  shop,  lazarus’  gaze  occasionally  flitted  towards  him.  unfortunately,  it  would  have  been  particularly  rude  as  the  madame  selwyn  was  a  frequent  customer  and  a  close  friend  of  his  mother’s  who  would  have  reported  even  the  slightest  of  missteps  if  lazarus  had  cut  their  interaction  off  or  eschewed  her  for  another  customer.  bidding  her  a  good  day,  he  only  had  a  moment  to  breathe.  his  smile  was  easier,  now,  not  so  much  a  mask  as  it  had  been  with  madame  selwyn,  it  was  as  relieved  as  it  was  kind.      

❛  morning.  ❜  the  corner  of  his  lips  tipped  up  a  little  bit  more.  at  the  request  of  his  newest  client,  lazarus  produced  two  menus,  one  of  things  that  he  had  ready  to  be  sold  and  another,  slightly  more  dubious  but  not  necessarily  illegal  (  although  some  might  be  cutting  it  close  to  barely  legal  )  list,  of  things  that  were  within  his  skillset  to  make,  as  well  as  a  line  simply  labelled  as  custom  and  lacked  any  price  point  attached  to  it.  at  the  very  least,  it  was  certainly  a  nod  to  those  seeking  dubious  items  that  he’d  be  the  one  to  talk  to.  ❛  if  there’s  anything  not  listed,  i’d  be  more  than  happy  to  price  something  out  for  you,  depending  on  what  you  need.  ❜

he’d  barely  given  the  menus  a  cursory  glance    ––    his  request  was  for  something  far  less  common  than  amortentia  or  pepper-up  potion    ––    before  tapping  the  line  labeled  with  nothing  more  than  a  single  word:  CUSTOM.  the  lack  of  price  or  additional  information  sparked  a  small  grin.  it  was  becoming  more  and  more  likely  that  he’d  find  what  he  needed  at  the  reliquary;  however,  there  was  no  such  transaction  as  this  that  didn’t  demand  a  delicately  handled  push-and-pull  between  vendor  and  customer  beforehand.  two  strangers,  establishing  a  acromantula-silk-like  web  of  tentative  trust  between  them.                                   it  was,  in  other  words,  extremely  unbecoming  to  baldly  ask  for  a  slightly  less  potent  version  of  THE  DRAUGHT  OF  LIVING  DEATH.   sasha  met  the  clerk’s  gaze  once  more,  perhaps  enjoying  the  moment  more  than  he  should  have.  “what  i  need  is  an  especially  talented  potioneer.”

                  he  had  just  finished  his  interview  and  felt …   surprisingly  calm.  he  hoped  this  would  push  the  investigations  into  what  was  going  along  further.  at  the  same  time,  cecil  norris  was  back  where  he  should  be,  and  thus  taliesin  had  one  less  tie  to  an  event  gone  wrong.  he  was  successfully  repressing  any  of  the  confusion  that  had  been  created  at  the  party.  his  birthday  would  be  coming  up  soon,  but  he  could  enjoy  the  tail  end  of  summer  for  now.  all  things  considered,  taliesin  lestrange  felt  the  best  he  had  in  at  least  a  few  weeks.  there  were  loose  ends  (  and  certainly  a  few  things  he  had  decided  simply  to  ignore  until  otherwise  required  ),  but  those  could  be  dealt  with.

                taliesin  turns  a  corner  in  the  ministry,  planning  to  head  back  out  onto  the  streets  and  then  back  to  his  apartment,  when  he  hears  an  interesting  combination  of  sounds:   banging,  a  muffled  voice,   and  someone  reading  a  witch  weekly  quiz  aloud  with  a  russian  accent.   he  stills,  head  cocking  slightly  as  he  blinks  at  the  scene  before  him.  the  russian  wizard  begins  to  speak  to  him,  while  the  muffled  voice  pleads  to  be  let  out   (  …  an  american  ?   this  kept  getting  more  strange  ),  and  there  are  so,   so   many   questions  taliesin  lestrange  could  ask,  but  he  quickly  decides  he  isn’t  going  to  ask  any  of  them.  

                  ‘   no,  i’m  not  lost,  but  thank  you  for  the  concern,  ’   taliesin  says,  managing  to  sound  genuine  as  he  does,  despite  the  fact  that  the  expression  on  his  face  doesn’t  change  much.  he  does  his  best  not  to  even  look  at  the  door  as  it  rattles.   have  you  tried  asking  them  who  they  are   sounded  like  too  obvious  a  suggestion  and,  frankly,  taliesin  had  had  enough  of  being  involved  with  things  that  went  wrong  to  put  forward  any  suggestions.  a  botched  trial  and  a  briefly  missing  animal  trainer  was  enough  for  one  summer,  he  did  not  need  to  be  involved  in  whatever  in  merlin’s  name  this  was.  especially  not  after  the  hell  he’d  gotten  from  morys  after  he  heard  from  cadfael  about  the  dinner  at  the  norris  house.  taliesin  could  worry  as  much  as  he  wanted  about  placing  himself  in  the  line  of  fire  of  whatever  shadowy  entity  was  pulling  strings  these  past  few  months,  but  morys  lestrange  would  always  be  the  more  concrete  threat  hanging  over  his  head,  even  if  that  was  just  a  threat  of  cruelty.

                  he  should  just  walk  away  from  all  this,  let  the  russian  wizard  and  who  or  whatever  was  in  the  closest  be,  but  he  was  stunned  into  stillness  against  all  his  wishes.   ‘   i’m  sorry  to  hear  that  you’re  distressed,   ’   he  says  carefully.   ‘   hopefully  someone  comes  to  deal  with  it  soon.   ’

sasha  shrugs,  brightening  once  it  seemed  the  other  wasn’t  in  any  sort  of  rush  to  free  the  trapped  wix.  “i’m  sure  he  will  be  fine  until  they  do,  there’s  water  in  there. if he gets thirsty.”  silence  folds around them,  and  it  strikes  sasha  once  more  just  how  strange  it  is  to  see  someone  else  in  the  corridor  at  this  hour––  while  it  was  true  he’d  only  been  a  prisoner  guest  of  the  british  ministry  for  a  couple  weeks,  for  as  long  as  he’d  been  there  this  corridor  had  been  empty  from  eleven  until  three.  which  was  why  it  had  been  chosen. he  taps  the  folded  magazine  against  his  knee  a  few  times,  inspecting  the  man  before  him  as  well  as  he  could  from  his  position  in  the  chair.  something  about  him  seemed... well,   he  didn’t  know,  he  couldn’t  put  a  finger  on  it,  but   he  did  know  something  was  not  quite  as  it  should  have  been,  like  a  phantom  last  step  on  a  staircase.  “...are  you  here  about  the  necromancy  scandal?”  a  wild  shot  in  the  dark,  but  something  about  his  stature  and  broad  shoulders  labeled  him,  in  sasha’s  mind,  as  a  man  of  action.

he’d  been  loitering  around  the  very  edges  of  the  shop  for  about  twenty  minutes  now,  having  thoroughly  inspected  each  nook,  cranny,  and  corner.  at  some  point,  all  the  time  that  had  gathered  there  and  hung  about  him  would  only  make  him  look  bad    ––    and  as  it  were,  his  prepared  line  of  questions  weren’t  going  to  help.  he  threw  a  glance  at  the  busy  front  counter,  then  turned  back  to  the  dried  sage  bundles  he'd  been  pretending  to  inspect.  then,  he  looked  back  again,  annoyed  by  the  chatter  of  the  customer  who'd  been  monopolizing  the  shop  boy  for  approximately  nineteen  minutes  and  fifty  seconds  of  the  time  he'd  been  there.  sasha  waited  for  the  wix  with  particularly  loud  freckles  and  louder  voice  to  finally  leave  before  he  approached  the  counter,  leaning  forward  with  palms  placed  down  against  the  surface  of  it. he  paused  for  a  moment,  catching  the  green––  blue?  blue-green?  no,  лазурные  gaze  of  the  shop  attendant.  “...good  morning,”  he  started,  taking  in  the  rest  of  the  view,  and  suddenly  understanding  why  one  might  want  to  pull  up  a  chair  and  stay  there  for  a  while.  “do  you  have  a..  brewing..  menu?”

“–––would  you  say  i’m  more  likely  to..”  he  pauses,  peering  at  the  colorful  magazine  page  before  him,  “...spend  a  friday  evening...  A...  at  home  curled  under  a  heat-charmed  blanket,  B...  stirring  up  trouble  in  my  cute  cauldron,  or  C...  gossiping  with  my  fellow  witches  at  the  local  tea  parlor?”  sasha  asked  aloud  in  his  clipped  accent,  although  he  appeared  to  be  alone  in  the  otherwise  empty  hall,  lounging  on  a  chair  clearly  spirited  away  from  elsewhere  and  commandeered  for  himself.   the  door  of  the  office  he  sat  beside  rattled  in  its  frame,  as  if  a  large  body  had  been  thrown  against  it.   sasha  huffed  out  a  breath  of  annoyance.  “PIQUERY?  are  you  listening?  i  said––”  he  cuts  himself  off  just  as  another  person  comes  into  view  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  distracted  by  the  intteruption.  wasn’t  this  area  supposed  to  be  empty  until  well  past  lunch?  the  door  that  sasha  sat  beside  rattled  again,  harder. sasha  bookmarked  his  page  in  the  edition  of  witch  weekly  he’d  been  flipping  through  with  the  quill  he’d  used  to  mark  his  quiz  answers  and  folded  it  closed,  offering  up  a  small  smile  to  the  unfamiliar  face  that  approached.  “ah––  hello,  are  you  lost?”  the  door’s  rattling  stopped,  quickly  replaced  by  something  that  sounded  akin  to  pounding  fists  and  a  voice  pleading  to  be  let  out.  sasha’s  eyes  rolled  before  he  caught  himself  and  rearranged  his  features  into  a  near-perfect  facsimile  of  concern––  were  it  not  for  the  hint  of  the  cheeky  smile  that  lingered  around  his  mouth...  and  the  monotone  delivery  that  was  clearly  disingenuous  and  betrayed  the  lack  of  effort  put  forth  into  the  performance.  “someone    ––    we  have  no  way  of  knowing  who    ––    has  been  locked  in  that  office  with  an  unbreakable  sealing  charm.  it  is  very  distressing.  i  am  very  distressed,  as  you  can  see.”