a moment with asa before koschei
It was difficult, albeit not impossible, to believe how many bloody battles the city had seen when balanced with moments like this, sunk deep into a bath of Staraya Russa’s mineral waters while life – most parts of it anyway – passed him by. The zakuska of salted bread and small garnishes and pour of honey mead remains untouched as he allows himself a moment of tranquil, soundless thought before the splash of water signals a stir.It’s no mere thought, but a memory Asa has, one which readily deserves its place on parchment in charcoal black. There’s a village on the sea which stretches far across the horizon towards a rising sun and a voice, one he doesn’t quite know, and a melody, murmured now on lips that know not the melody out of practice…
a moment when he was raising his child as asahi
He knows it here, in this place, in this time, and the melody flies freely from his lips even as his arms hook and pull the lines of sunken net pens meant to catch the day’s – perhaps even a few days – meal. It is all too often a hit or miss in such small form, Asahi unable to compare to the larger fishing vessels with far more manpower than he, but still, he hoists each out of the water with hope that there would be something inside.But perhaps not as much as the wonderment in the eyes of the child next to him, knees bent, body sunk down as compact as he could reasonably squat to see what they may have caught before his father. It is a game, who can identify the fish first, but only Kaito keeps count.
“Be careful,” Asahi says. “You wouldn’t want to fall in.”
the moment he met mizu the very first time
They had been afraid of her as men tended to be when greeted by the unknown, come up from the ocean they so readily fished with barbed hooks and trawling nets, taking far too much from the sea; and the sea, understandably, was angry, lashing out so ferociously against those who had done her harm.But those had been stories, long tales told by aging fishermen when their nets had been stored away and hooks set aside for a tokkuri of sake and warmth found only in company; so when he meets her, fair-skinned and made up in a geisha’s kimono with kanzashi decorating her hair, there is no reason to be terrified and there is no reason to run.
Rather, he bows respectfully though very few otherwise seem to. “こんにちは。”.
making a floral arrangement
They’re small centerpieces, the lotus-heavy vases that line the florist’s counter, but Ash takes care with each and every one, carefully clipping the stems to sink them at appropriate heights in the water before arranging the decorative leaves just so. They are punctuated with smaller buds, not yet blooded, and wisps tall grasses that join stalks of baby’s breath in a reach for the ceiling.They’re for a marriage not his own, but they still bring back as many memories as the glittering band of gold on his left finger that, even as the bride-to-be walks in with a growing focus on the vases being wrapped and set carefully in a box for easy carrying, goes unnoticed in such high spirits as hers.
And he understands it.
a cute moment from the impromptu wedding
It hard to feel anything else in that moment but happiness, pulled into quiet corners under a wave of merriment and laughter that has easily swept over both of them though it is hard for Ash to blame it on the nectar or the proposal as it unfolds. It isn’t formal, it isn’t even planned, and he knows there will be plenty of things to think about by the time the mirth wears down, but in an evening propelled far more by heart than head, he can’t be bothered with it. He’ll hyperventilate about it later.For now, there is simply this: Dancing with a husband long-lost and found again, a domovoi on one shoulder while the other grabs onto the train of his suit with tiny hands that seem to cling for dear laugh even among his laughter, beard swaying even as Ash hoists him up.
And for the first time in a long time that he can recall, it feels like home again.
a moment with asa when koschei wasn't home
It isn’t foreign for Koschei to be gone from the halls of Buyan, traveling, fighting, doing his part to thwart the invasion of his country by those who stand to conquer it, and Asa takes advantage of the near-silence. While the domovoi do their due diligence to maintain the palace with its tall towers and extensive halls, he sits in the parlor, a fire burning beneath a portrait that, even now, he finds overstated though Asa doesn’t dare say.In front of him, there is parchment and ink for writing, for correspondence with kingdoms afar and poetry quick to come to mind, a tray with hot water and hand-tied satchels of tea that he sips at while putting permanence to his thoughts, and it seems there is peace – until there isn’t, the loud clatter of something falling to gilded floors striking his ears with enough of a rattle to draw an unintended line of ink across the page.
The knife that soon finds itself in tow is meant more for erasure of unintended marks and efforts, but becomes a weapon against what; he hopes not to know…
gorgon snake bite death
Ash doesn’t know what strikes him at first, but the fangs sink in deep from a single snap and he knows the feeling that follows. It isn’t necessarily the course that the venom takes through his veins or how they seem to restrict with each collapse. It isn’t the excruciating headache that overtakes his thoughts or the fatigue that suddenly hits his body and sends him crashing to the ground, thirst hitting his tongue under the drain of perspiration, lungs gulping for air like a fish out of water.It’s death – that old friend – who meets him on the ground with a sinking cold that finds itself flashed with heat in short order, eyes staring up at faces shrouded in fear and panic and then surprise as his skin starts to singe and burn away, no trace left of his poisoned body left behind by the time the first responders arrive.
firebird, caged
He is purchased as an egg and kept in a cage for purposes he doesn’t quite know, a pet to an old hag and her ward, a young girl, dark hair, and witness to the comings and goings – and sometimes not even that – of travelers so foolish to believe there was some reprieve in that hut. How readily he could have spoken, how readily he could have warned, if he had the tongue to do so, but still he remained in bright oranges and blues and violet plumage with only feathered traces left behind.Gifts, perhaps, for the young girl who, under her own devices, had returned the favor in an unlocked cage from which he wouldn’t be seen again – not for some time, not in such a form, not with the same name.
a moment from his current childhood
They name him Ash. There is no reason other than where they had found him, a fallen egg from an ash tree, which grew into something other than the bird expected and provided the couple something they didn’t have: A son.And he’s happy as he grows, oblivious to his own parents’ knowledge of his strange whereabouts as is his sister, born not long after his own supposed conception, who wholly believes Ash to be her brother. They’re family and there is no reason to disrupt that, no reason to change it, not even when the tumult of formative years finds Jieun on his back, hand in his hair, shouting fiercely through their parents’ New York apartment with all the fury of a teenage girl.
“You’re just mad I’m taller than you!” He yells, head twisted, trying to counter the pull she gives his hair. It is a stupid argument over nothing more than borrowed nail polish, but then again, what isn’t among siblings?
someone threw a fit at the florist
It isn’t the first time someone has come into the florist unsatisfied with their purchase. It doesn’t matter that it had something to do with the transit company versus the florist themselves, that something might have happened while in route to the destination or the tracking tag might have been lost and during the moments something is wrong – the flowers are unhealthy or they’re the wrong color or there simply weren’t enough – it seems no means of rectifying the problem is enough for some.He’s calm as she storms in, calm as she practically slams the bouquet of flowers down on the counter and sends an array of petals spilling across the top, and calm even as she continues to berate what she claims is “piss poor” customer service and it is only a matter of time before the very same calmness seeps into her behavior. Still, she has her hand on her hip and she taps her foot, huffs and puffs.
“Now that we’ve calmed down,” he says, sweeping the flowers aside before delicately resting his hands on the counter top, “what can I help you with?”
ash getting his tattoos
“Try not to make it hurt so much?” It comes out as a question though he knows there is nothing but patience and acclimation that is going to stop the hurt from buzzing needles and by the time the guide lines are inked in, there really is no turning back from the orange and red panel that strikes in bold contrast against his side. It takes hours – just a couple – to see it brought to life, not without its ups and downs as blocks of color are shaded against his skin and rattles bones, but by the end of it, it is all worth it to see the finished product.The phoenix and, not long after, a building that reminds him of a home long left and just as readily, until recently, forgotten…
the last old photograph that made him feel something
Seeing it now, staring down at him from such looming heights, Ash feels insignificant and, vaguely, dizzy, but then again, “dizzy” was the perfect word to describe an impromptu marriage and whirlwind of a honeymoon that had become this trip to Buyan. He recognizes the figure draped in gold and alone with nothing more than shadows as companions though he knows, standing there beneath the Firebride with Koschei at his back, that was never really the case.His throat closes up as if dry – parched – from the weight the portrait carries, not just in size, but domination of the space only recently opened again; and he doesn’t know how to describe what he feels as his eyes trail up towards the highest edge of the frame and his body all but tumbles backwards to simply sit.
write about a time your character felt horrified
He just stares. It isn’t from any lack of words to say, but the nonchalance of what he has just been told: That there was a wife before, a wife far less kind and far less understanding, who had found reason to hurt him; who had sought out his death to do so when she simply couldn’t compare to the long revered dead; but while that in and of itself is a burdensome thought, it is what he hears next that truly strikes as horrifying.“… Excuse me?”
“She almost killed me, and Marya got even. Couldn’t just let her get away with it.”
smelling something that triggered a memory that made him very sad
He’s in the kitchen when it happens, going through the cabinets long unused by anyone as he cleans and retrieving anything that might have been left behind. Most of it is dust with so much time passed, but there are containers within – spices and all matter of dry ingredients brought from afar – that, however old, still permeate the scents of a working kitchen, full of life and creativity, of scurrying domovoi with their lemon rinds and onions, and a chef at the helm Ash remembers spending time with when Koschei was away or too toiled about war preparations.And he knows Jai isn’t around, knows the choice that he had made to live his life until his mortal death, and there is a moment of sadness that doesn’t fleet in the silence or knowledge they’re doing their part to make Buyan whole again rather pangs his heart and burns his eyes with tears…
a time a piece of media made him cry
It seems silly and under any other circumstances, had he been watching the movie years before without the memories that weighed on the back of his mind now, he might not have found reason to weep, but something in his stirs – not with the words though they are hauntingly beautiful, but with the crescendo and choir of voices that call ghosts to long empty ballrooms of kingdoms past, ones not unlike the one he stands in now, dilapidated by age.But leave it to a Disney-like film with all the hallmarks of forgotten memories to make him cry, smoothing out light calluses on his palms and fingers from the toil of hard work.
And a song someone sings once upon a December…
his most peaceful moment
It’s the first day he wakes since leaving the warm, lively halls of a palace dressed in the fervor of marriage and he feels at ease. He knows there is more going on beyond the walls of Buyan, beyond the room he lays in and the lush fur he is draped in without much purpose, and he knows there are parties sure to have vested interest in searching for him, but still, he feels peace, the weight of obligation not so heavy as it had been the night before and the unhappiness felt no longer pressing firm against an already heavy heart.He can simply be in this place, in these furs, in these gilded halls hidden behind Buyan’s walls, the bright sun of a cold place that still teams with life like the fire in the hearth before him – warm, relaxing, peaceful...
ash trying to enjoy a quiet moment with his tea, and being thwarted
It is what tea time is supposed to be – relaxing, calming and peaceful – but even as the pieces fall into place from the boiling water in a tea kettle to the blend of leaves meant to take the edge off, there still seems something amiss about the set up as he sets everything on the dining room table.There’s a sound – something rattling – and though Ash checks everything he can, ensures burners are off and the domovoi are nowhere to be found as they enjoy the spoils of new clothing, handmade, and favors, he still can’t place it until he sits again and stares more intently at the teapot and the lid which, for reasons he can only attribute to Koschei’s steps, shudders.
Peculiar as it is, no domovoi inside as if to play a prank, the distraction takes center stage, Ash resting his elbow on the table only to point at the teapot. “What did you do to the teapot?”