A Home for the Living

He’s personally feverish and clammy. He’s shaking on some level because despite the heavy fur coat and the leather jacket, the two sweaters, he’s still cold. Heat here’s nice and warm and it’s still not chasing off the fever chills. Lara’s not a ton of body heat but she’s enough to heat up the innards of her blanket and the lining of his coat.

He never wanted to let her slip through the cracks. Her father shooed him off, he ran off with thieves, and then Lara got sick.

“The stabbing was quite the show stealer,” he mumbles out, “You can see right into my ribs with th’ hole in me right now. Barely sittin’ up but I ain’t allowed to lie down. Got me in a tailspin n’ sick as anythin’. Barley’s folk swarmed on in on account of a fool move by one of mine. Can’t fuckin’ believe it, still.”

He’s hurting now. Honestly it would be better to head home, prop against the wall by the stove, and take something to knock himself out.

“Nobody died or nothin’. Feel like I did, though. Just a little more of this… I’ll sweat right through you, though, Gravel.”

Lara sits in half-stunned silence. It was pretty bad. She notices his shivering now that he mentioned how bad his wound was and it concerns her once again. Though, she makes no move to abandon her position. The cup in her hands is only half gone. She had a little more time before she would have to send him off.

“Make sure you are being checked on by Stakh or Artemy every day. That sounds like a nasty wound and easily infected. I assume one of them has already looked at it before you came here, correct?”

She stares at her tea, deciding whether or not she should down the rest of it. It was hard not to be selfish with her time with Grief, but he shouldn’t stay there much longer. Not in the condition he was in. It was bad enough that he had chanced coming there to tell her she could come home soon. Her decision was easy to make and she tilts the cup back to drink this rest of the tea.

“Alright. I have finished my tea so I have no hold over you anymore. If you need to leave now, you can. You are in pretty rough shape. I don’t want to keep you from getting much needed rest. You are going it need all you can get.”

She thinks on her home.

“O-K, queenfish,” he says as he’s handed a cup of tea and no out to leave through. He sets the cane aside. He’s staying for an hour or two, it seems. The tea’s warm and works wonders on his cold insides after he taps a few scoops of leaves into the boiling water. Having tea like proper folk was so silly in context. 

“Uh huh, n’ its cause you drank that coffee when we were kids that you’re still the smallest of us,” he muses, the cup half raised to his lips, “–Heh- what are you makin’ faces for? Pull that one too much you’ll get stuck like that. Ravel with the pulled back lips n’ mean grimace. Fool her once, shame on you, fool her twice, shame on you too.”

He elbows her side.

“Yeah, I wish. No good news tonight other than that, M’ afraid. It’s been… a dark night.”

He sips his tea and mulls over what to tell her. Imagining her actually home for the intrusion made his stomach churn over the antibiotics coating it. Queasy…

“Dark, long night. Two nights in one. The days keep tickin’ n’ I keep kickin’ n’ not recallin’ the sun. Can’t do much now but slither slow and stay low. Got a knife in my back tellin’ me to stay in one place for the next few days. Can’t stand it.”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“I stopped drinking coffee and I know for a fact you all still do so I shoulda caught up. But I’m still the smallest..”

She blows on the tea more. Carefully taking another sip to make sure its cooler.

“I almost burnt the roof of my mouth on this tea.”

She smiles when he elbows her side. It was another signal to her that he was doing okay. If he could jest, he wasn’t at death’s door. That was good enough for her.

“I’m sure being forced to slow down is awful for you. Always the one running off and ahead, leaving us behind. We never kept up with you once you started going. At least, you waited to let us catch up. And you hardly ever stopped long enough for that either.”

She knew how it was to be forced to slow down. She still felt the urge to run and do the things she wanted to do. Keep up with Grief, Artemy, and Stakh again. Not worry about whether or not something would cause her to faint and if she would get back up afterwards. Grief knew all too well what that was like for her. He had been the one to get her back at least once or twice. That was the times she could remember anyways.

“Gravel I ain’t-”

She does actually move him upstairs with all the complaints that that came with it from the aches and pains in his muscles and back. Plenty to worry about without him being hurt indeed. It wasn’t anyone’s fault he got punched through besides the guy who had the intel it might happen, and he’s got nothing more to do with it. It’s a foul day for fowl people. She moves to a guest room they had set up pretty for her, and the bed. 

He doesn’t say anything this time, but he does raise his eyebrow enough that the worry lines on his face scrunch up. He would like to say something about it- she sets him up on purpose to say the dumbest things for her own entertainment.

“Eh…M’ hurtin’, dove. Maybe later if you ask real nice.”

He offers a weak smile and she tries to snare them some tea. She’s not used to being waited on, it seems. 

Grief settles in full winter clothing on her bed. There’ll certainly be snowflakes melting on it later.

“Business. Somethin’ like that. Business n’ bad news. Ain’t any good news these days, feels like. That n’ the Judge’s orders. Noose got bluntlined that day n’. Well, I don’t blame us for only talkin’ business. Been a bad run for a decade n’ change. Don’t blame your dad neither.”

“Look, I know you aren’t staying. You can stop reminding me. Just tea and then I can’t make you stay. It’s only to get you warmer to go back out in that cold. Give me that.”

There is a knock on the door and tea is brought in to them. Steam coming from each cup. One is handed to each of them and then the door is pulled to.

“I don’t blame my father too much. It was out of our hands at that point. I don’t know why still, but only that you would have good reason. It’s in the past. We are still here and I appreciate you still looking out for me. Like before. Still little Gravel. I never caught up to you boys.”

She sips the tea making a face at it being too hot and then begins blowing on the top of it to cool it down. It wouldn’t be too hot if she had just made it herself.

The last job doesn’t go well, and the subsequent meeting demoralized most of the crew. It’s not a good time for doubt to settle in, but they’re more hopeful than some of the folk in town.

He’s started to hear screaming at night that alarms him for a different reason in that it’s organized. The howling is still insane with grief, hunger, and despair, but there’s also singing, and doomsaying that sounds less and less human as the nights are going on. Two nights after Ilya left the clockshop, the door opened at around three in the morning, and a woman completely covered in burns and filled from toe to head in nails she’d punched into herself, limped into the shop and talked to herself about the end times. He found his fear again, and gently ushered her as quickly as he could to Burakh’s.

While a locked door does nothing for thieves, it certainly dissuades the sudden influx of nightcrawlers and madnesses at night. 

Which… it was fine, he wasn’t one to sleep well anyways. He couldn’t well move very quickly, and uncharacteristically, his meandering about town had changed to a strictly diurnal schedule. 

A lot of things were uncharacteristic for this week. Such as waltzing up to the Lump unannounced with Vokial’s old walking cane, twirling it to rap on the door a few times with the silver head. The sweetheart that answers it calls him Filin, an old monarch of a woman who peddles off to find “Miss Ravel” for him while he hunches over the cane and limps himself to a cowhide chair to sit instead of agitate the already agitated hole in his back. Waiting is not great for his attention. Stillness isn’t great for it either, and it’s been days of inaction, irritation, and thumping pain.

“Fifteen birds on a dead man’s tree, singin’ sweet ‘you can’t catch me’. N’ I’m with the corpses… Hmm… this place has the décor of a rich man still…”

Lara is upstairs sitting in Capella’s room. She is reading a book when she is told that Filin is here to see her and that he is waiting downstairs. Grief. Something had happened because he came in downstairs. Very out of character. She quickly puts down her book and descends the stairs careful to not do it too quickly.

As she gets downstairs, she hears him singing. She gets to the doorway to the room and sees Grief sitting, cane in hand.

“You came in the door? What happened? Are you okay? My house?”

She rattled off all the questions in her mind before stopping herself. With a deep breath, she starts again.

“Let’s go sit somewhere more comfortable. I’ll grab a blanket for us. Are you able to come upstairs to Capella’s room?”

Grief had to be hurt bad if he didn’t sneak in through the window. She felt impatient to know if he was okay. How bad it was. The state of her house. If it was anything based off of his injuries, she might not want to know. Or was his injuries a reflection on how little happened to her house... He would tell her.

“There is another place down here would could talk, too. If you can’t.”

“ Saburov’s been a lot of help recently. We spent…God, four or five hours on the first day. ”

He nods slowly. It’s a lot of work. His father was organized, yes, but in such a way that no one else would ever be able to find their way into his dirty secrets. It means a lot of work for him.

A break for company and tea, however, is doing wonders for his mood for the day, even if his eyes dart from Lara to the door and back more times than they should.

He’s paranoid. It’s been a lingering situation since the outbreak.

“ Well, if you’re not worried, then perhaps we shouldn’t be worried. I’ll let you put your trust in them that things will be alright. ”

The tea warms his gloves until he pauses at her question. School supplies?

“ You have always said something about schooling the children in town…yes, my mother’s things are packed up in storage. A number of tables and seats and a blackboard, if my memory serves me right. ”

“Yes, I have been interested in it. I am wanting to use stuff readily available for now, until better stuff can be gotten. I figured that your mom’s stuff was still around and I could make use of it.

I want to set up a small school in my home to start with and then maybe a whole stand alone building with multiple rooms for different groups of kids. Delegate help. I know my health won’t let me do it all alone. So I will need teachers.”

She crosses her legs and hovers the tea on her knee, warming it.

“The children deserve better education. At least, at a base level. After that, it would be up to them if they want to learn more. Some could even go off to study and bring back more knowledge.”

That they would need to be careful with, but it wouldn’t hurt the kids to give them more freedom. A better head start. They could always just stay in the town, too.

“We desperately need more trades covered. Skilled workers. Especially, with the state of the trains. We need to sustain ourselves without relying on the world outside the town.”

“ I’ll have tea brought up, then. ”

He ducks his head out of the room long enough to ask one of the housekeepers to send a tea set up before he returns to his desk, though the chair is pulled around to face her instead.

He does take a break from his work for her to tell him what’s been happening in her circle: her house is being watched by people with a problem with Grief, which makes his face twitch in…not quite anger, but irritation. The problem isn’t that she might have brought eyes here, it’s that he’s worried about her home and her safety in general.

“ I’m glad you could come here to hide out. The house is big enough for company, and no one would be foolish enough to even try to harm you here. ”

He’s very confident of this fact, really, despite the fact that many people have issues with the Olgimsky family. It’s actually that fact that makes him think no one would bother them here – there’s many who would have had a chance to in the past.

“ I do appreciate the company! I’ve been…going through my father’s things. It’s slow going, even when I have extra hands on it. ”

“That would take some time. I’m sure there was a lot left for you to have to sift through. I didn’t take your father as one to keep things organized and leave things in place for you to smoothly take over. Sorry. I am glad you have help though.”

Once the tea arrives, she happily takes her cup and takes a sip. The warmth slowly seeps into her from the hot tea. She shivers slightly.

“I made Grief promise that he would help fix the house if it got damaged. I’m not too worried.  This really was the safest place for me to stay while everything is happening. That is why I elected to join you here instead of bunking elsewhere. You know there are plenty who would offer me shelter with no questions asked.”

She did appreciate his open door. Even with his work and being busy, he made time to chat with her. She didn’t see him the same way the town did. He had the capacity to care and the ability to take over from the mess his father left. It would take time. The town would discover the truth sooner or later.

He nods to her, taking a moment to look over her appearance- her dark hair that seemed to be a common phenotype in this part of the steppe. Small frame, clad in sensible dark colors. Bright hazel eyes and plum lips.

Katerina Weber.

It’s information to be stored for later. He’s wholly focused on the summons from the Captain.

“Thank you very much, Katerina.”

He bows his head to her, respectfully, then turns to give Lara a small smile and wave, before walking the opposite direction to the Captain’s office. It’s a small, cozy space adorned with plush furniture and several plum curtains. The ones behind the desk are pulled back today, revealing the scenic Ghorkon river, and the overcast sky.

Captain Ravel himself sits at the desk with the paperwork, looking like a proper commander, still wearing the imperial issued coat and medals on his breast. A very handsome man with angular features tamed by soft blue eyes.

“Captain,“ Alexander says, smiling to his friend.

He enters the room and makes himself comfortable as Katerina the governess goes back to attending to Lara and her lessons.

“Why the summons?” he says, now that it is in the privacy of the office, “Is it to do more with the matchmaking?”

He’s dubious about the potential choices the town had to offer- and worse yet, the kind of women the townsfolk seemed to cherish. He hoped to find someone within the town… otherwise he’d have to do what the other families did, and bring in a monster from the Capitol.

His thoughts drifted to Nina, who had been terrorizing the locals- both the indigenous people and the settled populace…

There was a bloodbath that he had not been present for, but only knew of the aftermath. His uncle was expecting him to try to keep the peace after that. He didn’t see how peace would ever be an option when the ineffectual Victor Kain allowed his demoness to run free.

Victoria Olgimskaya unnerved him too. There was something about her “kindness” that prompted his hair to stand on end in every conversation.

Captain Ravel chuckles and shuffles together the papers into a pile. Sliding them neatly to one side and placing a paperweight on top. He reclines in his chair.

“Indeed. The summons was to discuss a topic of utmost importance according to the Governor. Most men pride themselves on their lineage. Lara means the world to me. Your uncle has told me of your lack of... female friends. Nor any friends for that matter. Stuck with the other patrolmen most days. Come now.”

He gestures towards the door, a nod to the other room.

“What did you think of Lara’s governess, Katerina Weber? She’s weird like you. Don’t underestimate her though, she’s as sharp as a tack. I’ve had her teaching Little Lara.”

“ Of course. You’re always welcome here – we’ll put your stuff in Capella’s room for now. If you’d like company, you can rest in my room while I work? ”

There’s a gesture behind him before he nods to Kostya to take her bag across the hall to Capella’s room, and then he’s taking the blanket from her to fold over his arm.

Lara was…they were friends. Not spectacularly close friends, but friends! He considered her one, anyways. He wasn’t sure the feeling was entirely mutual, but she had never driven him off, so…

She questions about his current habits and he laughs, rubbing at his face with one hand.

“ A bit of both. Paperwork and scanning through my old business manuals. I thought something might leap out at me as a solution to our current problems in town, but so far…nothing. Come on, sit down. I’ll have tea brought up for us to warm you up. ”

Vlad’s room is notably missing several things, some of the shelves cleared of books and knick-knacks that he had taken to Grief’s place. His desk, however, is a clutter of paperwork and a lectern with a book propped up on it.

“Tea would be great, actually. Maybe a break from looking might give you more insight once you return to it. Let me tell you what is happening on my side of town.”

She takes a seat, sighing from the slight exhaustion of carrying everything.

“Apparently, my house is being watched. The people who have been running around slicing are part of a group that split from Grief’s crew and want to do their own thing. They know that I am his friend so they have targeted me to get at him probably. He asked me to find somewhere else to stay will he sorts stuff out. So I came here. No worries, no one other than Grief knows I came here. I just have to wait it out and hope my house isn’t in shambles afterwards.”

She crosses her arms.

The person who greets her arrival is not Vlad Jr., surprisingly, but rather Mrs. Makarova – the caretaker of the house who was old enough to be Lara’s grandmother at this point. She’s standing in the kitchen, pulling a jar from the shelf nearby, when Lara sets her bag down and calls out.

Her hands brush Lara’s hair from her face and pats her down for a moment, considering the questions Lara asks.

“ Ms. Ravel! Hello, darling. Vladislav’s upstairs with his nose in a book, I think…dear, do you need help with your things? Kotsya! ”

Her voice is sharp when she gets the attention of one of the other workers, a young man with a shock of nearly-white-blonde hair. He’s only the barest bit older than Lara, likely the same age as Grief.

“ Upstairs, honey, upstairs. We have plenty of space for you here. The house has been dreadfully empty these last few months. ”

A sigh escapes her before Lara’s shown to the stairs and the upper floors of the Lump. Their feet hit the landing as the door across from the stairs opens, showing the younger Olgimsky looking like he’d fallen asleep at his desk (if the creases on his face were anything to go by.)

“ Lara? Is everything alright? ”

Lara nods a think you to Mrs. Makarova before following Kotsya upstairs. She raises an eyebrow at the lines on Vlad Jr.’s face before answering him.

“Yes, things will be fine. I assume I can stay here for a bit. My house isn’t the safest right now. I can explain more after I settle in. This blanket is quite heavy for me so I’d like to set it down somewhere, and have a rest from the little trip over here. I don’t get out all that often, after all.”

She hefts the blanket up as a show of its weight.

“Now, which room would be best for me to stay in? I don’t need a whole lot.”

She begins walking across the landing.

Lara hefts the heavy blanket over her shoulders while ferrying across to the Lump. She turns to glimpse at her house behind her hoping that it wouldn’t become too shambled with the coming fight between the gang and Barley’s crew. She knew Grief would do his best, but he could not speak for the latter group not messing up her living space. All she could do was trust that whatever happened that it would be fixed before she could come back.

At the other bank, she covers her head with the blanket and sneaks to the rear of the Lump. She knew the back entrance well enough to keep off the street, just in case anyone would see her. Once inside, she uncovers her head and calls out. Vlad Jr. spent a lot of time here recently, mostly working with Saburov.

“Hey, it’s Lara! Just me, not some crazy intruder. Well, I guess in this instance I am some crazy intruder... Is it okay if I bunk here for a bit. Trouble has found its way into my home.”

“Twice the work n’ half the man. F’ I was him I’d run.”

He sets her coat on her shoulders for her. She’s never left alone, but she had been for a while. There were plenty of nails in the coffins of their friendship and all of those nails had their names on them. One of them had Matvei’s. 

“You get alone n’ you start slumpin’ all over the place like the day’s never comin’ back t’ you. Rather you try n’ get amiable company while the heart’s still beatin’. Cold ones don’t dance unless you’re the big city Bachelor. Spooky.”

Grief pats her knee and offers his hands to help her up.

“L’ bring you back when I’m done. First n’ last time. Cross my heart n’ soul, Gravel.”

He could promise plenty, but he needed to live through it too, and he had one fucked leg and dozens of dogs running mad in the streets.

“Careful down th’ river, yeah?”

“I only slump when I don’t have any of my boys around to support me. For now, my heart is still beating but I don’t do much dancing.”

She takes his hands to stand and puts her coat on properly. 

“I sure hope its the only time I have to leave my house due to your trouble. Know that I don’t blame you. However, please don’t make it a habit. Promise.”

She makes a cross over his heart. Poking him pointedly at her saying promise.

“Ain’t nobody traipsing toes with the queen, that didn’t get her mean. Stakh’s this or that morality and I’m the other thing. We’re civil in the streets.”

He collects her clothing and counts how many nights he’d need. He’ll end it in two for her, so he packs enough clothing for three days, enough amenities. She gives him a little hook to bite and he laughs quietly and leans over mid step to peck her forehead.

“N’ for what the devil can’t do, send Gravel. F’ you can warm his lonely little heart up, now then I’d have somethin’ to say for a week to the bookkeep, Qu’est ce que c’est mon frère? Il y a quelqun dans ton balcon? – J’ai pense que tu étais le placard.”

He snickers to himself, and sets a full bag next to her hip.

“Little Vlad was born here but the prig has enough Capital in him to replace the stick up his ass.”

He sneaks another peck to her temple. Eventually he’ll get smacked for it. He picks through her things for coats, and pulls two out. 

“Keep th’ blanket, fish feet. You’re cold as ice, n’ less than nice. You’ll freeze.”

“More like put him to work, like I do to you. He does work pretty hard. If I can thaw you from the cold, I think I can manage him. Nous sommes tous les deux dans le placard.”

She props herself up by placing her hands behind her on the bed and locking her elbows.

“You did say you would have a pretty little thing stop by here. Why were you looking? Can’t stand me being alone. You forget that I am never left alone, especially not with you and the others looking out for me.”

Sometimes Grief talks as if she wasn’t sick anymore. Teasing her with normalcy. She didn’t mind it at all. It was quite refreshing and a little nostalgic. 

He’s already folding the heavy blanket and launching it over his shoulders. The aches had already started to settle in and smart. She holds his tongue before he says anything, which makes him snort laughter and cracks some kind of joke anyways out of her earshot. He holds an arm out for her like a real (fake) gentleman.

“Jus’ workin’ my way through the basket, Gravel. Workin’ towards a royal flush– shame it’s gotta be Stakh in that mix…”

She sits on the edge of her bed and he sets her blanket and her box down for her, offering his open palms forward to her. Whatever she needs. She’s queen Gravel for a reason. He peruses her things, finding old friends in her bedspace drawers and room. He picks up some of her little tokens, a brush, opens her clothing drawers.

Isn’t the first time he’s packed for a trip with her. They’d disappear into the steppe for weeks at a time. They’d go through a list of things to bring, and share clothes when they forgot them. He liked sleeping in the jeep back in summer. He fishes for her old army bag in one of the drawers, finding it where it usually was. It’s ancient now.

It’s been such a long time since seventeen. He starts packing for her, folding her clothes into small rolls.

“You’ll be fine with that stuffy fop. Better than here right now.”

“You have to include Stakh. It would be nice for us all to be able to hang out more without any of you trying to fight each other. At least not until I can interfere and put you all back into your places.”

She looks at her old bag as Grief starts packing. It brings back so many memories. What she wouldn’t give to just run off into the steppe again with her boys. Her health stood in the way mostly and there were some cracks still left between them all. The repairs were slow, but hopeful. Each visit from them gave her insight. She would have a word with Stakh just as much as she gave Grief an ear full. Artemy being back sure helped, but any wound took time to heal. Some more than others.

“I’m sure I won’t be unwelcome in too many places around here anyways. Plus, he could probably use someone else to talk to than Saburov for a while. I can be quite the distraction.”