When they return to Buyan, when the campaign has reached its end for the moment with another sure to be on the way, things are different. The residents of Buyan recognize it as do the Domovoi that live within the walls of the black Kremlin. It settles in the air – not weighty, but lifted, enlightened, carrying with it the tunes of loyal soldiers and merriment of battles won, of union unheard of since Koschei and Asa had left the fortified walls the last time; and just like many moments throughout their venture beyond, it deserves celebration.
The Domovoi scurry around as husband and wife refresh and bathe, rest after their armor and their weapons are safely put away on the proper racks and stands to be found against later on and dress takes on the more familiar aura of nobility in draped silks and gold rings. The kitchen comes alive once more, more so than ever since their departure, and pots and pans clatter as the kitchen staff find a meal suitable for their return and the fires in the hearths are lit bright – if not by the Domovoi than Asa’s own hands, however dry, however scarred they may be after such an adventure, one he can’t say he has ever experienced before.
More importantly, the sense of distance isn’t found when they sit down to eat once more, the spread of food between them far more grand than it had been in those meals shared between two ships passing in the breeze. There is dark rye and fresh butter to spread, herring and salmon and caviar to garnish, and as the plates begin to clear of what many may consider a first round appetizer, the stew venison stew made of cuts brought back on the return trip steams warmly against what had once been cold distances.
For the first time that Asa can see with his own two eyes, as lemon rinds and onion peels are spared over shots of vodka and long, warm draws of tea, they’re happy.
And he’s happy as he watches them take their gifts, small trinkets that don’t come close to what Asa would inevitable do for the all-too-accommodating house daemons that watch after them and the homestead when they’re away, as he watches his husband – for once – not argue with him over a slice of warranted indulgence, and readily partakes in a meal without demands to be made.
And he hopes Koschei is happy - not only now, but as they settle into something more normal, more routine, something ado about a marriage that, however formed, has become far more true than it had before. There is little doubt now, that which remains left for occurrences on an ever-uncertain battlefield, but Asa can at least say that if something were to happen, he wouldn’t be the bird locked in a gilded cage.
He’d be there, right by his husband’s side.
The Domovoi scurry around as husband and wife refresh and bathe, rest after their armor and their weapons are safely put away on the proper racks and stands to be found against later on and dress takes on the more familiar aura of nobility in draped silks and gold rings. The kitchen comes alive once more, more so than ever since their departure, and pots and pans clatter as the kitchen staff find a meal suitable for their return and the fires in the hearths are lit bright – if not by the Domovoi than Asa’s own hands, however dry, however scarred they may be after such an adventure, one he can’t say he has ever experienced before.
More importantly, the sense of distance isn’t found when they sit down to eat once more, the spread of food between them far more grand than it had been in those meals shared between two ships passing in the breeze. There is dark rye and fresh butter to spread, herring and salmon and caviar to garnish, and as the plates begin to clear of what many may consider a first round appetizer, the stew venison stew made of cuts brought back on the return trip steams warmly against what had once been cold distances.
For the first time that Asa can see with his own two eyes, as lemon rinds and onion peels are spared over shots of vodka and long, warm draws of tea, they’re happy.
And he’s happy as he watches them take their gifts, small trinkets that don’t come close to what Asa would inevitable do for the all-too-accommodating house daemons that watch after them and the homestead when they’re away, as he watches his husband – for once – not argue with him over a slice of warranted indulgence, and readily partakes in a meal without demands to be made.
And he hopes Koschei is happy - not only now, but as they settle into something more normal, more routine, something ado about a marriage that, however formed, has become far more true than it had before. There is little doubt now, that which remains left for occurrences on an ever-uncertain battlefield, but Asa can at least say that if something were to happen, he wouldn’t be the bird locked in a gilded cage.
He’d be there, right by his husband’s side.