sobaka-soldat-blog

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Politely accepting the jeans, Aquila set to work on mending the hole by stitching the denim carefully back together, his calloused fingers working the needle like a fine instrument. Delicate purple flowers began to form on the blood-stained fabric.

“Back when I was a younger man,” he began, “I always volunteered to mend the tunics of the other equites singulares. At first it was solely an act of extending my hand in friendship, but over time I’ve come to appreciate embroidery as a craft. No matter how destroyed something may appear, there is always a way to mend it, make it more lovely, even.”

“Sometimes things must be destroyed first in order to improve them,” Vannika added, beneath her breath.

“Well I simply throw away my garments when they’re torn,” Germanicus declared, “Why bother fixing something when you can simply replace it? And you, guest, what of you? When something is broken, how do you choose to act? Do you mend, destroy, or replace?”

sobaka-soldat​:

Vannika gave her handiwork one last look over before flopping onto the bed beside Layla, pulling out her phone. The glass screen was hopelessly smashed from her careless use, but it still managed to function, albeit barely.

She pulled out a crumpled wad of cash from her pocket, and decided it was more than enough to order a few burgers off the delivery app. It wasn’t often that she spent her hard-earned money on others, but she was feeling oddly generous today.

“What about me,” Germanicus asked, leaning over nosily to look at her phone screen, “perhaps I would like a ‘burger’ as well.”

Vannika sighed, “…do you want a burger too, Germanicus?”

“No,” he replied, satisfied at feeling included, “modern human food disgusts me.”

Meanwhile Aquila examined the torn, blood-stained jeans resting around Layla’s knees. “Would you like for me to repair your braccae, milady? I have many colors of thread, oh you wouldn’t believe the variety one can acquire these days at the markets. Purple, even!”

Layla had leaned over to see the work and nodded with a grin. “Thanks doll,” she said, giving Van a lazy slap on the knee. At Germanicus’ griping, she simply kept ignoring him. That seemed to be working quite well to deflate the little punk.

When Aquila spoke up, Layla looked down at her messed up jeans, she shrugged as a grin came to her face. “The marvels of the modern world. I’d be honored.” Then she wriggled the rest of the way out of the jeans and handed them over.

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as far as I know, I was busy fighting multiple wars, what do I know of his lizard-scavenging-ways...

Did he die doing what he loved (finding lizards)?

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Vannika gave her handiwork one last look over before flopping onto the bed beside Layla, pulling out her phone. The glass screen was hopelessly smashed from her careless use, but it still managed to function, albeit barely.

She pulled out a crumpled wad of cash from her pocket, and decided it was more than enough to order a few burgers off the delivery app. It wasn’t often that she spent her hard-earned money on others, but she was feeling oddly generous today.

“What about me,” Germanicus asked, leaning over nosily to look at her phone screen, “perhaps I would like a ‘burger’ as well.”

Vannika sighed, “...do you want a burger too, Germanicus?”

“No,” he replied, satisfied at feeling included, “modern human food disgusts me.”

Meanwhile Aquila examined the torn, blood-stained jeans resting around Layla’s knees. “Would you like for me to repair your braccae, milady? I have many colors of thread, oh you wouldn’t believe the variety one can acquire these days at the markets. Purple, even!”

sobaka-soldat​:

Aquila smiled giddily at the success of his introduction and ducked out of the room, only to return moments later with a wooden box containing an embroidery kit.

Vannika wordlessly held out her hand for him to pass it over and inspected the contents.

“So you want me to sew you up, or would you like to do the honors yourself?” Vannika asked Layla as she pulled out bundles of silk thread and selected an appropriately sized needle.

“Well I say we should amputate, just in case,” Germanicus chimed in, “or perhaps euthanize the poor, suffering creature. Desanguination is a very humane death, she’ll hardly feel a thing!”

“Oh,” Layla rolled her head back. “The sheer decadence of someone else sewing my wounds up. You’re going to spoil me.”  She then proceeded to undo her belt and wiggle out of her jeans. “If I croak mid-way, please let Aquila have my blood as thanks for the sewing kit.”

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Aleksandr Pushkin “The Tale of the Dead Princess and the Seven Heroes”. Cover art by I. Kuznetsov (war-time publication, 1944)

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Wooden church in the village of Kuritsko, Novgorod oblast of Russia (1967)

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Wolf illustration by Yevgeny Rachyov (1958)

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Dmitry Simchenko, 1975

Дмитрий Симченко, 1975

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☆Anju Note: This is going to have descriptions of wound-suturing!☆

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Aquila looked taken aback at the statement.

"Your kind words flatter me, milady, I will honor thy spirit in its afterlife and pray to Her Lady Maria for its salvation."

"No one's dying just yet," Vannika muttered, "believe it or not, I have first aid training from the military, it's how I survived the..."

Her words trailed off as she carefully rubbed a vodka-soaked rag along Layla's thigh, lightly tracing a finger and examining the depth of the wound as she did. Selecting a bundle of thread that looked the strongest, Vannika threaded it through the needle and cut the excess off with her teeth.

Germanicus made a show of examining his perfectly manicured nails and discussing the finer points of Roman wines with Aquila in the background, pretending his ego was not just a little bit bruised from being ignored.

Vannika stabbed needle through flesh and pulled the edges of the wound together with surprising gentleness and expertise, wiping away the newly oozing flow of blood. As she tied off the end of the suture, she stopped to tear off a section of her own cotton shirt, wrapping it around Layla's thigh in place of gauze.

"Now I recall you said something about a burger."

sobaka-soldat​:

Aquila smiled giddily at the success of his introduction and ducked out of the room, only to return moments later with a wooden box containing an embroidery kit.

Vannika wordlessly held out her hand for him to pass it over and inspected the contents.

“So you want me to sew you up, or would you like to do the honors yourself?” Vannika asked Layla as she pulled out bundles of silk thread and selected an appropriately sized needle.

“Well I say we should amputate, just in case,” Germanicus chimed in, “or perhaps euthanize the poor, suffering creature. Desanguination is a very humane death, she’ll hardly feel a thing!”

“Oh,” Layla rolled her head back. “The sheer decadence of someone else sewing my wounds up. You’re going to spoil me.”  She then proceeded to undo her belt and wiggle out of her jeans. “If I croak mid-way, please let Aquila have my blood as thanks for the sewing kit.”

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Aquila smiled giddily at the success of his introduction and ducked out of the room, only to return moments later with a wooden box containing an embroidery kit.

Vannika wordlessly held out her hand for him to pass it over and inspected the contents.

"So you want me to sew you up, or would you like to do the honors yourself?" Vannika asked Layla as she pulled out bundles of silk thread and selected an appropriately sized needle.

"Well I say we should amputate, just in case," Germanicus chimed in, "or perhaps euthanize the poor, suffering creature. Desanguination is a very humane death, she'll hardly feel a thing!"

sobaka-soldat​:

“I— actually you know what don’t worry about him,” Vannika swiveled on her heel and carried Layla past a set of curtains acting as the doorway into the bedroom.

The windows there were covered over by black trashbags, vintage newspapers, and haphazardly nailed in wooden boards, much as the windows of the living room had been. A guitar sat perched in the corner, looking slightly less ancient and more recently used than everything else thus far.

“A nap on the bed then,” murmured Vannika nonchalantly as she tossed Layla down onto a dusty mattress, covering her over with a moth-eaten quilt as an afterthought.

Despite his earlier claims of still working diligently on his lounging hours, the “twink” followed after them into the room, curiously.

“How rude of you to not introduce our dear guest, Vanya! What’s your name, strange girl? And do you prefer a pinot noir or a chardonnay sauvignon? There’s also ale and vodka of course, but those are drinks enjoyed by barbarians and the plebeian class, wouldn’t you agree? Ahahahaha!”

Layla hadn’t really taken in her surroundings, as loopy as she was. She did grunt a thanks when she was set down and covered, however. Once the prior mentioned twink reappeared she tilted her head at his words. “Sorry to be a barbarian, but I could use the vodka. And a needle and thread, if you have it,” she slapped her thigh, immediately regretting it. “Got a couple spots that need tending.”

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"So no introductions then? In my apartme-"

"This is my apartment, you're not even on the lease," Vannika interjected flatly.

"In my apartment?" he continued, unperturbed. "Hm, well no matter. I'll go first then, my name is Germanicus Albinus Fulgentius, aedilis curulis of the senatus romanus. You may refer to me as Germanicus if you don't have the head for long titles."

The wide grin plastered on Germanicus' face never wavered, though perhaps he did sound just a touch annoyed.

Vannika rummaged around the room behind him, already having procured a bottle of bottom-shelf vodka. She took a long swig before tossing it to Layla.

"Where's Aquila?" she asked, glancing towards Germanicus.

"Oh he's been hiding in the broom closet since noon. The fire alarm scared him again, you see."

As if summoned on cue, a new face popped into the bedroom— a man with dusky skin, strong shoulders, and a streak of silver in his dark hair. He blinked a few times in confusion at the sight of a stranger bleeding out on the bed, but soon regained his composure.

"Greetings milady, I am Aquila of Byzantium, trusted eques singularis of my lord Emperor Flavius Valerius Constantinus. At your service."

Aquila took a deep bow towards Layla before turning to his two roommates and whispering, "We're not eating her are we?"

"No," sighed Vannika, "we're not eating her. Which is why I'm going to need you to go grab your embroidery kit, Aquila."

sobaka-soldat​:

“I— actually you know what don’t worry about him,” Vannika swiveled on her heel and carried Layla past a set of curtains acting as the doorway into the bedroom.

The windows there were covered over by black trashbags, vintage newspapers, and haphazardly nailed in wooden boards, much as the windows of the living room had been. A guitar sat perched in the corner, looking slightly less ancient and more recently used than everything else thus far.

“A nap on the bed then,” murmured Vannika nonchalantly as she tossed Layla down onto a dusty mattress, covering her over with a moth-eaten quilt as an afterthought.

Despite his earlier claims of still working diligently on his lounging hours, the “twink” followed after them into the room, curiously.

“How rude of you to not introduce our dear guest, Vanya! What’s your name, strange girl? And do you prefer a pinot noir or a chardonnay sauvignon? There’s also ale and vodka of course, but those are drinks enjoyed by barbarians and the plebeian class, wouldn’t you agree? Ahahahaha!”

Layla hadn’t really taken in her surroundings, as loopy as she was. She did grunt a thanks when she was set down and covered, however. Once the prior mentioned twink reappeared she tilted her head at his words. “Sorry to be a barbarian, but I could use the vodka. And a needle and thread, if you have it,” she slapped her thigh, immediately regretting it. “Got a couple spots that need tending.”

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Anybody get a little feral when the full moon comes around…or is that just me?

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Cave Canem, Patrick Loste

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Old Friend by Jakub Rozalski (jakubrozalski on artstation)

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"I— actually you know what don't worry about him," Vannika swiveled on her heel and carried Layla past a set of curtains acting as the doorway into the bedroom.

The windows there were covered over by black trashbags, vintage newspapers, and haphazardly nailed in wooden boards, much as the windows of the living room had been. A guitar sat perched in the corner, looking slightly less ancient and more recently used than everything else thus far.

"A nap on the bed then," murmured Vannika nonchalantly as she tossed Layla down onto a dusty mattress, covering her over with a moth-eaten quilt as an afterthought.

Despite his earlier claims of still working diligently on his lounging hours, the "twink" followed after them into the room, curiously.

"How rude of you to not introduce our dear guest, Vanya! What's your name, strange girl? And do you prefer a pinot noir or a chardonnay sauvignon? There's also ale and vodka of course, but those are drinks enjoyed by barbarians and the plebeian class, wouldn't you agree? Ahahahaha!"

sobaka-soldat​:

maroaexpress​:

“Ah ah ah,” Layla called, voice sounding a little slurred. “You gotta buy me dinner first.” The walk over had been bumpy but fine. Layla had kept quiet for the sake of not making them suspicious, but now that they arrived… Well, she trusted Vannika not to throw her to the dogs. And if it had been mislaid trust, well, not much she could do about it now anyway.

“Oh, but dear friend, you are dinne-”

“Not this one,” Vannika interrupted as she carried Layla past the kitchen and into the living room. “This one’s an… acquaintance let’s say. Here for a sleepover.”

The owner of the second voice was now in view; a pale, spindly waif of a man, draped luxuriously over a sofa that looked as if its seen better days. In fact, the entire apartment had probably seen better days. Yellowed, floral wallpaper peeled down in large strips around them, and absolutely none of the furniture or appliances looked newer than the 1970s, at best.

“A sleepover, how exciting! Shall we break out the pinot noir from the closet? And I do hope our little guest isn’t planning on displacing me from this sofa, I haven’t finished my daily scheduled lounging just yet.”

Layla liked to think she was good at navigating social situations. It came naturally and she’d always enjoyed the give and take that came with it. However, as her throbbing leg was still seeping blood, she’d lost enough to be a bit loopy. “Didn’t know you lived with a vamp twink, Van.”

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Jenna Barton

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The ceremonial burning of a wicker tower in the final day of Maslenitsa. Nikola-Lenivets. March 13, 2021.