#two white crows

Recently, @charcoalfeather and I held a conversation where we entereained the idea of her character Sam, from her exceptional series, Basmachi, meeting the main characters in an Alternate version of Two White Crows.... here are the results:

Meeting Dyusha: "Sam suddenly found his head wedged neatly between two sides of a broken table. Apparently the Kalmyk did not take kindly to jokes about the Church."

Meeting Radya: "Being a man of civil, genteel manners, Radya refrained from treating his ungrateful guest with any signs of scorn. However, as Sam made lewd remarks about Radya's nanny, Radya's hand somehow stabbed a pen quil through Sam's hand. Sam howled like a baby."

Meeting Dunya: “Dunya welcome she and her husband's odd guest with generosity. She smiled and presented the bread and salt. Sam said, 'My, what a cute dish YOU are!" Dunya then proceeded to shove the loaf down his large, gaping mouth. Dyusha somehow found himself kicking the lights of the garrulous youth." 

Meeting Konstantin: "Sam passed by a church on Kirsanov's estate. 'What mongrel freak! He's damn ugly too! Can't believe he's a sucker, he bought my lie about needing a place to stay for the night!" Sam snorted and sniggered. Behind the corner, a tall, fair priest emerged. He frowned at Sam. Sam was terrified and nearly blacked out. The priest smashed his shovel (he was digging a new step) over Sam's head. 'Repent, ye sinner!' The priest declared. Sam did not repent but had a large bump on his head."

Meeting Sydorenko: "Because the Cossack disliked filthy jokes, Sam was the first victim of the Cossack Sydorenko's boot planted on his posterior quite adamantly."

Meeting Gavril: “Sam liked to ridicule Armenians. Gavril had no trouble explaining how his horse suddenly trampled over the whimpering youth Sam."

Meeting Oleg: "Oleg was starving. Like Esau, if anyone stole his food, he became irate and his fist would do the talking. Sam's face met Oleg's hammy fist when the youth pilfered Oleg's fruit tarts."

Meeting Galnin: 'Samsa, do you enjoy 'so-and-so's work? I've thought of adapting his work for the stage!" Galnin announced to his new companion, the contemptible Sam. Sam snorted, "What trash! Your taste is in your mouth, you dumb serf!" Galnin found himself bewildered. He then called on his officer, Major Kirsanov to pound the life out of the insulting youth. Galnin was appeased"

Meeting Alta/ “Sam scrunched his nose when he saw the little Alta trot along his new horse. "Eh! Are you Kirsanov's ugly little offspring?" Sam snorted, assuming the boy spoke no Russian, since Alta only spoke Oirat with Dyusha. "Not as ugly as you!" Alta laughed. Sam's grin fell flat. He panicked. What if that damn Kirsanov heard him?  

Official Radya (Radimir Maksimovich Larin) design now released!

As promised, here it is, @charcoalfeather, @scarletakuma and @thelastvictorian!

Radya is Dyusha’s half-brother who eventually abandons the ease and comfort of aristocratic title to pursue a career as an army surgeon and ethnographer.

Among the three sons of the Larin family, Radimir Maksimovich was the one most endowed with his father’s former, delicate beauty and general mien of a ennui seeking a channel to escape the presently surrounding dullness.

However, unlike his father, Radya’s own self formed into a self-conscious youth both hampered by his own reservation stemming from an excess of civility and furthered by his insight in deducing the greater scheme of a situation or the hidden depths of someone’s personality he encountered.

Just as he had been from birth and childhood, Radya still remained weakly- a scrawny, bony frame wracked with frailty of the body imbued with a pallor not quite sickly yet more ghostly like a painfully shy spirit skittering in the back and corners. His eyes and cheeks were dusted with a shade of sickly blue and violet so deep many assumed his face was badly bruised, or that he struggled emerging from a grave illness that sapped what should have been his color of pink health.

Since boyhood, Radya’s eyesight remained weak, so he was never seen, unless in repose of sleep or frenzy of panic, without a pair wire-rimmed spectacles. These spectacles rendered his already wide, glinting grey eyes an owl-like width and roundness some found comical, others found irksome or charming.

Nothing had altered considerably in his face from boyhood, even that one conspicuous flaw of a mole on his otherwise porcelain (like a doll figure, many likened) complexion gave his otherwise old Muscovy looks a Gallicized charm.

Like his father, Radya favored his hair wreathing over the sides of his face and over his brow, as he was grateful it warmed his face and framed what he otherwise deemed a plain, bony face.

Amongst the sons, Radya’s height exceeded both his elder brother, Aleksei and Sergei- Radya’s tall frame exceeded to the point that his own scrawniness, skewed shoulders,  nervous slouch and trembling knees, lent what should have been an imposing height, decidedly comical, much like a limping puppet on strings.

In this excerpt, Dyusha is now 30 or so, a major in the cavalry and awarded the title of Prince and life is prosperous for him.

Radya is 28 or so, and is a successful army surgeon and active intellectual. Radya frequently visits his half-brother at the latter’s estate.

One afternoon, Radya catches Dyusha communing with a motley crew of wandering pilgrims and Holy Fools. Below is the scene itself.

Halfway entering the threshold of the parlor, Radya halted. In the parlor, some gathered on the divan, and some seated in the chairs, were the pilgrims. Or God’s folks, as Dyusha and others dubbed them.

Holy fools, wandering widows, and  the like, they journeyed to the Holy places and sustained themselves on faith and the charity of the pious- much like this particular band of pilgrims often sought Dyusha’s generosity.

Radya hesitated to enter- like  the younger student perceiving when he reached his boundary of authority in the professor’s chambers, Radya realized Dyusha held the right to converse and commune with these odd folk. 

After a previous conflict with the pilgrims when he questioned them about God’s sovereignty and mercy, Radya regretted upsetting both this band of wanderers (the widow Irinka wailed and stormed out the door, even) and stirring his brother’s ire; Radya crept backwards and headed for his own room to preoccupy himself until Dyusha finished the audience with God’s folks.

Before he reversed his steps, Radya paused and stole a glance at his brother’s face. The incredulous accounts the motley bunch of Holy Fools and pilgrims recounted to Dyusha held his brother absolutely rapt, Radya noted.

Dyusha’s  sharply muscled, lean face stretched into a gentle smile- a genuine smile of being impressed and yet fondly remembered of something wonderful, like a childhood memory.  His eyes, usually keen and darkly suspicious, glistened with a light, not quite like tears, but like a child moved and fixated on something wondrous and contingent to their happiness.

Seeing the wrinkled or youthful faces of the faithful, all Dyusha saw, at times, was Crazy Misha’s kindly, wizened face, sallow, slack-jawed and hollow-eyed grinning and winking at him as he tended to his(Dyusha’s) wounds when the Holy Fool had found him those years ago when Dyusha escaped.

Dyusha savored this quiet fellowship between himself and these people he deemed saints. They were of purer and better mettle than he was, he decided- they had never shed blood or acted in ruthless vengeance as he did and continued doing.

Dyusha hung on their accounts- accounts of icons beaming shining lights or shedding tears of myrrh through the canvas, or springs that healed ailments carnal or spiritual, or visitations from angels.

Likewise, the commune was appreciated mutually.

Besides human sustenance (meaning a meal,  money, and traveling papers Dyusha provided in his position), the pilgrims were grateful for a fixated listener, rather than the civilly patronizing folks who only nodded and murmured, “Amen!”

The prince also knew the Scriptures by memory, and could cite them with more devotion and urgency of the heart than most priests and monks they encountered. Whatever holy Verse they wanted to hear, they simply asked the prince and he would utter it with such moved of heart, or else humbly look into the Book. None of the pilgrims could read, so they beseeched the Prince at times.

In truth, Dyusha took no pride in his memorization. His notion of pride only extended to three subjects: horsemanship, tactics, and if the occasion warranted it, smithing. 

Faith held no pride- his mind could not reconcile faith meeting pride. One could have no pride in front of God, Dyusha fiercely held in his conviction.  

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Igooxb4D1c)

This exchange between Cap. Aubrey and Dr. Maturin reminded me a great deal of how a conflict of ideas between Dyusha and Radya would play out.

Thought perhaps you like to see this- @charcoalfeather

Two White Crows Official Face Claims!

Dyusha: Viktor Tsoi

Lyubov: Bela Mirianashvili

Radya: Sebastian Stan

Enkhtuya: Chulunny Khulan

Larin: Mikhail Baryshnikov

Fr. Konstantin: Jeremy Irons

Dyusha- related to Enkhtuya (son to mother) and Larin (son to father)

Radya- related to Larin (son to father)

Lyubov- related to Konstantin (daughter to father)

Based on common facial feature traits, the choices were calculated and it is plausible the character are related, respectively.

Irons  and Mirianashvili share similar brows and nasal shape.

Tsoi shares features from Khulan and Baryshnikov, such as eyes (Khulan) and lithe wiriness (Baryshnikov).

Stan shares eye shape and jawline with (Baryshnikov).

What do you think, friends?

These choices fit with the characters? Do they appear related?