timestamp : evening , — of december 1920 . location : the streets of moscow , somewhere between the cathedral and the hospital tagging : @siberianmade
whether nikolai woke for morning liturgy was unpredictable these days , and thus today he found himself standing within the cathedral walls in the early evening , and now , just past sunset as dusk encompasses the world , he wanders home . there’s still something deceptively angelic about him , in these moments directly after exiting the house of god ; yet wars , both public and personal , have mired the soul , and that’s quite visible too — shadow compared to the young man he was , a light behind his eyes that went out in some far away country . he nurses a cigarette between fingers as he moves , exhaled smoke reason enough to not stand too close .
it’s an occupational hazard that he is keenly aware of his surroundings , which is why he is taken aback when she , former . . . formerly , is so close to him and he hadn’t realized . too close for him to not acknowledge her despite the strangers they’ve become in the past five years . ‘ evening , marija . ’ mild summers have gone , clear by tone of his voice . it’s not her in particular , though he’s unsure how to act around marja these days , it’s just who he is now .
