singillatim | well, i've made so many new friends, with open arms they've let me in

[ Vasiliy's there again, touching him, and Konstantin's trying to breathe through his own pained moans, willing himself with every ounce of self-control not to dig his fingers into his stomach in some desperate attempt to stop the thing's movements. It won't work, he knows it won't work, will only make it worse, but every piece of him wants to fight against this unnatural thing within him, including his mind. Even if the flow of thoughts ultimately follow no logic, couldn't possibly be done, and he knows that—

If he could just dig it out, just claw through his own body, dig it out — or maybe plead with Vasiliy to just try cutting it out, take a knife, take any sharp fucking thing and just get it out of him

He turns away from where he's facing the wall, so that his back's pressed against it instead. Breathing labored, he slowly starts sinking down to the bathroom floor, uncaring of the streak of blood that follows him, staining his clothing. Long legs splayed out, he keeps that hand against his abdomen, but his other— his other has caught Vasiliy's arm and then slid down to his wrist as his own body slid down to the floor, and now his fingers are looped weakly around the other man's wrist like that, unwilling to let go. Konstantin holds on, looking up at him, eyelids fluttering. ]

I can't— I can't calm my heart down. I can't. I'm trying, but it's—

[ Spasming just like the little creature writhing fitfully inside of him. Konstantin isn't used to this nearly complete lack of control; he's been able to calm himself any time he needed. It's been part of his training, such an essential part. But it's so hard, and he's already so ill, and he pants for breath, fingers groping for Vasiliy's hand, latching against the younger man's slender digits. It's another display of weakness, vulnerability, things he'd never imagine he would show before. In this moment, so close to panic, they come so naturally. ]

[ He's seen countless panic attacks—it's not uncommon for people to call an ambulance because the constriction of their chest creates the illusion of a heart attack—but it's usually young women. He never thought he'd see someone he holds in such high regard—a cosmonaut—fall to pieces like this. He doesn't think any less of him, of course, but it's so human, such a far cry from the sorts of men he saw on postage stamps, the abstractions of this sort of character.

He's real, and painfully human, afraid and sick and in pain. He doesn't really process the rush of prospective emotions the hand-holding would elicit in normal circumstances; instead he just squeezes the man's hand, eyes never leaving his. ]

Okay. Alright. Why don't we lie down? I'll give you a towel to rest your head on. We can try again some other day.

[ Somewhere in the fog of his rising panic, there's... something else. Konstantin blinks widely, looking up at the other man.

This can stop. They can try again another day. There's... some degree of control over this situation. He can go lie down — and it's everything he wants, more than anything, but...

The creature continues to squirm, and although the shift is a subtle one, he can feel it, the way its movements become less frenzied — maybe it suffered a shock, with the blood uncharacteristically poured into its nesting place — and more insistent. It rolls, its slimy little body twisting this way and that, like a snake burrowing, only there's nowhere for it to burrow; it can only push insistently into the walls of his stomach. Bumping itself against its tight container, searching.

It's hungry, he thinks, remembering that at the core of everything, that's what matters. The thing is hungry; it freaked out, but it still needs to feed, it's smelled blood. He can't run away. He's... strong, has to be strong.

He's slowly releasing the other man's hand, lowering it to his side as he breathes, willing himself through. ]

It's okay. It's okay. I need to... do this. I have to feed it. Have to show it... how things are going to be, now.

[ This is still his body. And in this place, it's become apparent that the creature holds less capability and power. It's weak. It's... even more reliant on him than before. He swallows, closes his eyes for several long moments, and something to the control that Vasiliy's reminded him of helps. This is his body. His body.

After several moments of silence, the cosmonaut opens dark eyes again, and lifts his hand towards the glass resting on the counter. ]

I'll do it again. But you might have to help me hold the glass steady. If it.... moves so violently again, I might spill it.

[ To his surprise, Konstantin regroups—and reaches for the glass again. He nods, serious, and lets his hand hover near the one that's wrapped around it, ready to stabilize if it suddenly moves. ]

Alright. Slowly. Just a mouthful at first. See if it can handle that.

[ And if he can handle it. Raw animal blood would be a dramatic dietary change for anyone hailing from the USSR, regardless of which time period they're from, and there is his own body's upset independent of the creature unnaturally occupying it to consider, too. There's a reason people throw up if they swallow too much of their own blood. ]

[ He nods again, and this time steels himself harder, firmer, anticipates the reaction to come. This time he coaxes the liquid back and holds onto the concept of calm as fiercely as he can. His hand does shake, but he gets it down, just a small amount.

This time, the creature knows what's coming, too. No doubt it's still startled by all of this, but it's perked up at the scent of blood, wanting it. And he feels it squirming around again; he gives a soft gasp but manages to keep most of his composure, even if he's sweating at the brow, fingers clenched so tightly around his glass. Its writhing isn't so frenzied, doesn't make his stomach immediately upheave its contents, and that's... a mercy. ]

......I think it's eaten it. I can't.... tell exactly, but...

[ Abruptly, another grunt as he feels it shoving insistently against the already-sore walls of his stomach again. Although he can no longer read its 'thoughts' or 'feelings', the meaning feels very clear: it wants more. Konstantin grabs for the glass with both hands, trembling as he shoves it to his mouth; some of the blood spills over onto his lap but he's taking more down, then gasping as his mouth leaves the glass, drawing a much-needed breath. ]

It wants more— it's so hungry. Is there any more left?

[ All at once his houseguest transitions from shaky, apprehensive sipping to chugging what he's been given as though he's the one who's been starving, only coming up for air when the glass is empty. He drinks like a man who's gone days without water, blood running down his chin and dripping onto his pants, staining the corners of his mouth.

It's still uncanny, that he can tell when the alien life form within him is hungry, though he supposes between its connection to him and the fact that it's inhabiting his body around the clock, Konstantin probably can tell when it's feeling something as simple as hunger.

Vasiliy pauses when he asks for more, though. His stomach is already full, doubly so now that a good 300 milliliters of blood have joined the creature inside, and if the worm hasn't consumed it all, that much blood is bound to make him sick once his body registers what it's been fed. ]

There is. But we should wait a few moments to be sure your body will be okay.

[ There's a kneejerk sensation of— not irritation, not aimed at Vasiliy, but displeasure at the response, simply because he just wants to satisfy the thing, to make it stop squirming and pushing inside of him. For a moment, a flicker of that darkens the browns of his eyes, brow knit, but then he's exhaling again, knowing it makes sense.

So he nods, sets the emptied glass down on the floor beside him and lets his head fall back against the wall, chest moving up and down with the breathing he's still actively working to control. Vasiliy's right; he's just consumed a good deal of raw animal blood. It's... disgusting. He tries not to think about that, closes his eyes for a moment as he sits there.

And he can feel it. Still moving, but not all over the place. It's staying in one area, but he can feel its tail wiggling; there's a very nauseating mental picture that his imagination conjures up, of the thing trying to slurp up the blood he's given it, feeding with a mouth that's much smaller in its larval form. Konstantin swallows, tilts his head towards Vasiliy, to keep him informed of things. ]

I think it's working. I think it's..... eating. It's still... mmm. Moving around, but it's not.... frenzied.

[ Konstantin—and, presumably, the thing festering within him—is calming, his movements less jerky. Good. Relief rushes over him in a soothing wave: he's not retching this time, and seems to be able to sit with the discomfort and unquestionable nausea that would come from such a thing moving within him—and, most importantly, they've found a way to feed it. They found a way to keep it, and its host, alive without feeding on human beings. ]

Good. That's good.

[ He smiles, albeit only a little bit—they're not quite in the clear yet, but it's a victory, the first real one. ]

Let it eat for a few more minutes and then we can see if it wants more. How does your stomach feel?

[ He keeps his eyes closed for a few moments longer, shoving back the waves of dizziness, the lingering nausea, the disgust at the thought of all of it — trying to keep himself steeled against the sensation of the thing wiggling like that inside of him, eager but not freaking out anymore. ]

....Very strange. It feels like... I've swallowed a nest of snakes. [ He smiles weakly, eyes still pressed closed. Of course Konstantin would try to play around at a time like this.... (But if he doesn't, if he lets himself fall fully into the horror of his own situation, he might flinch too close to panic, like he had moments before.)

But he knows what Vasiliy means, he's needing to check on the state of him, and sighs carefully, a soft hiss of a sound that he doesn't allow to move his body at all, keeping himself as still as he possibly can while the little creature feeds. ]

Not great. It hurts— nauseous. I might be sick again, I'm sorry.

[ He can imagine it would hurt, something that size thrashing and twisting in his guts, kicking up the warm, unnatural liquid he's just downed; his heart twists with sympathy. He's being so brave about it, so stoic; Vasiliy's frankly surprised he's lasted this long without heaving, and grateful that he has. Hopefully by the time it comes back up the creature will at least have had time to consume some of it.

He reaches out, resting a warm hand between the cosmonaut's shoulderblades. ]

Don't apologize, Comrade. You're doing very well. If you need to be sick just let it happen. We have all the time in the world.

[ Konstantin's eyes peel open at the touch — certainly not the first time Vasiliy's offered him that through this and through all of the worst parts, human touch — and he stares at him for a long moment. His eyes are watery and ill, but there's a focus through them, something searching, thoughtful. ]

I know I shouldn't be, by now, but... I'm still surprised by how well you can handle this.

[ He manages a soft smile, something that barely touches the corner of his mouth, nudging it upwards. ]

You don't seem disgusted of me at all. Or even afraid.

How could I be? I know you.

[ He knows why, of course, so much blood has no effect on him, why he's never flinched at the violent vomiting, why the sight of blood hasn't had an effect on him in years.

It far predates his comparatively brief tenure in EMS. Had he been presented with those same hideous accidents he saw in Chicago back in the bowels of Lubyanka prison, he still probably wouldn't have reacted, even if he wasn't so tired that his reactions to everything were blunted. If one is so consistently exposed to enough human screaming, and enough blood, starting at a young age, it becomes another inert part of the environment: seagulls crying outside, a potted plant, water gushing from a faucet. A dead man frozen on the sidewalk, a human body impaled by plywood, screaming heard through a wall while mechanically signing page after page on a clipboard.

Hopefully, Konstantin will attribute it to personal fortitude, and won't think too hard on what kind of environment produces someone like Vasiliy Ardankin. He smiles gently. ]

I'm an EMT, Comrade. I'm trained for this.

[ 'I know you.'

Konstantin stares at him, once again finding himself quietly stunned. It's the first time in a very long while that anyone has, well enough to voice such a thing. And so easily. I know you, as though of course he knows Konstantin well enough to feel safe that he isn't something bad or repulsive, that he doesn't feel in danger around him.

It's still difficult to see how anyone, even with Vasiliy's particular type of training, would be able to stay so close to someone like him, and this situation, and be able to so willingly offer human touch. But it's not the first time Vasiliy has shown such resilient capability for such things. He truly must have a strong disposition; it's commendable. ....And, on a more personal level, something he's very relieved for. If the other man's eyes weren't quite able to meet his own, if he seemed to have to force physical contact.... it would be a particular ache. ]

I'm glad to have you.

[ He means it, and the soft smile that accompanies the words, something that lingers for a long moment or two before his expression slowly sours again, and he leans towards the toilet, this time having enough time to prepare himself to get there instead of throw up blood on the walls again... Clean-up after this is going to be quite the task. ]

....I think I'll be sick again. I feel it coming. [ He squeezes his eyes shut, wetting his lips a few times as the slick nausea coats the back of his throat. Complexion paling, he waits, and then it comes. It's not much, at least, just a little bit of watery blood, and so perhaps evidence that the creature has fed on the majority of what he'd swallowed down for it.

Konstantin shudders as he pulls back again, reaching weakly for some toilet paper nearby to press against his slick mouth, coughing against it. ]

It didn't eat all of the blood. But some, at least.... It's still very active, though. I think it's confused. [ He winces against the feeling of the thing, still so restless. Suddenly being coated in blood inside of its nest would surely throw its sense of normalcy off.... He tries not to think about how just moments ago he'd been practically ready to beg for more blood. Better not to let it get used to that. ]

Maybe I should take a break for a little while. Give it some time to adjust to what's just happened.

[ 'Still very active.' How calmly he reports on an alien life form inhabiting his body, a parasite. Vasiliy imagines his training as a cosmonaut must be playing a large role in how calm he is right now, in how well he's handling this. He hasn't seen the man truly panic once, and he's been occupying a sort of state of prolonged awe with him for that. He truly represents what man can achieve at peak mental conditioning, and it's still quite odd to meet such a person in the flesh after only hearing about them for so long. ]

That sounds like a good idea. Do you feel any different now that it's eaten?

I'm not sure yet. I think it's too early to tell.

[ Usually, things are felt, shared, so much more quickly between them. As though they're part of one singular entity. But here... everything remains dulled, muted. If the creature feeding has stabilised his own condition the way it usually should, he should hopefully know soon. But for now, the dizziness persists, and Konstantin runs a hand back over his face before moving to get to his feet, having to press a palm against the wall to steady himself in the process.

As he does, he glances up to the splatter of blood against said wall, and winces. ]

Even if that stomach of yours is made of iron, I'm sorry for the mess, Comrade.

[ A little smile, as much as he can muster. ]

[ Vasiliy immediately rises to his feet when Konstantin does, putting a hand on his upper arm to stabilize him as he presses his hand to the wall—he's a fall risk, and he more or less anticipated the little misstep. ]

It's alright. You make up for it with your company. [ He smiles, subtle but genuine, spreading to his eyes—of course he could reassure him that it's no problem, but he knows that wouldn't have quite the same effect as being reminded that he has something of value to offer, that he's not simply a burden. ]

Let me help you back to bed. You'll be in bad shape if you fall.

[ Help he hopefully won't reject—he's been a good patient, generally cognizant of his own weakness, but men other men tend to insist that they're capable of walking unaided when they're not—both in medical situations he's attended and, years earlier, when out drinking. ]

[ Konstantin turns towards the other man as he readies himself to exit the bathroom, exhaling slowly against the slick nauseated feeling still lingering there in the back of his throat. He can't think too much about what just transpired. He just has to keep moving. And Vasiliy's words — the way he phrases them — do help. Like his company is something of equal exchange, something worthy enough to make up for the worst parts of this.

His own smile nudges at the corners of his mouth, shaky but there, and Konstantin's letting it soften his eyes as he tries to keep his mannerism light-hearted, even playful. ]

That's all right, you don't have to worry. I can catch myself if I fall. [ ....It is some lingering stubbornness and pride, despite the fact he was literally just vomiting blood while hugging the toilet. But Vasiliy's done enough, and he's feeling mildly embarrassed about the whole thing — about any moments of upset along the way, about the act of having to drink blood at all. He's already starting to shuffle forwards, keeping one hand gingerly pressed to his stomach, when his own movement upsets the creature again, still so alarmed within him.

Konstantin's throat heaves, dizzy with a sharp surge of pain, and he's tipping sideways, one shoulder hitting the doorframe that he was just trying to move past. He's not a small man and the bump isn't gentle, and there's a loud thud as he makes contact with it, a sharp hiss through his teeth. ]

I'm all right—

[ At the same time as he insists he's alright immediately following the stagger, Vasiliy's already taking a large step forward, his hand returning to the man's arm to brace him, ducking his head to look at his face with evident concern. ]

Easy. Easy. It's probably still upset. Do you feel dizzy, or does your stomach hurt?

[ Either could be the culprit, given the nature of his medical situation. He gently rubs his hand back and forth over the fabric on his upper arm once he's sure he's not going to slip down onto the floor, an attempt at comfort. ]

A little bit of both, [ he admits with a laugh that's not quite self-deprecatory, but assuredly a bit embarrassed. This is still... difficult to deal with, this helplessness, this display of pain and fear and vulnerability around another person, no matter how much he's able to temper it down.

But his eyelids flutter with discomfort, breathing a bit erratic, and no matter how much he wants to keep it together on his own, when Vasiliy's hand finds his arm and gently rubs against it, he feels himself wanting to sink into the comfort of the gesture. The closeness of another human there with him through this. He turns his head to look at him for a moment, then tips it forwards with another shuddery exhale. This time he won't shirk away from being helped back to the bed, if Vasiliy wants to keep a hold of him. ]

I'm afraid our little friend is going to remain a big problem. But I suppose at least this is a start...

[ "little friend", as if every fibre of his being isn't curling in disgust at the thought of this inhuman wet thing inside of him. The thought of continuing to feed it like this is... incredibly unpleasant, but for now, he knows he should try to see this as a success. At least this may stop it from needing to hurt humans. ]

Alright.

[ He keeps his voice warm, subdued without being overtly patronizing, and guides him back toward the bed, matching his steps with the other's—it shortens Konstantin's strides, being doubled over like this, which makes that easier to do despite the height difference between them. He only lets go when they're standing at the edge of the bed, allowing him a little room to climb onto the mattress; truth be told, there's not much that he has to do, and if there's an emergency, surely someone will come get him... he can at least sit in bed and read until Konstantin falls asleep, so that he doesn't have to be nauseous and in pain and also entirely alone with it.

But he waits for him to get comfortable first, and asks, ]

Is there anything I can bring you? Another glass of water?

[ Konstantin's very careful as he crawls onto the bed — movements slow, every muscle tense and locked, trying as hard as he can not to disturb the fretful thing inside of him. But it's impossible not to be so uncomfortably aware of his own body, of the wrongness to the way it feels, and he's breathing shallowly as he slowly eases himself into his usual side of Vasiliy's bed. ]

No— thank you, I don't need anything. [ A beat as he looks up at him, trying to use the techniques he's familiar with to ease his own breathing. Every movement of it, every lift and sink of his chest and his stomach, can be felt by the creature. And it's still upset, confused, very much still awake and likely not to sleep any time soon, perhaps suspicious of this new experience, what might come next. ]

Just your company, would be nice.

[ It's maybe a little needy, and Vasiliy has no obligation to sit with him, but by now Konstantin knows that he'll want to, is the thing. He can't imagine the other man willingly parting from him; it wouldn't be in the EMT's character.

He lets his head carefully lean back against his pillow with another soft hiss of pain, but lying still helps. ]

Hopefully this isn't how it'll be every time we have to feed it.

Of course.

[ His company, nice. That alone is something of an honor—for such a person to desire his company, even if he knows, deep down, that probably anyone would be able to serve the same role for someone in so much pain. What matters, though, is that it’s not anyone; he, unremarkable Vasiliy, is the one who gets to sit here, keeping him company. ]

I don’t think it will always be like this. It’s not used to this. It probably panicked. It’s been a while since it’s eaten, too, hasn’t it? So that probably plays a part.

[ Konstantin keeps looking over at the other man as he speaks, and all of it makes sense; it's nice to hear someone voice such sense aloud, to have someone else there to listen to about it. In the facility.... he had an ally and even a companionship, to some extent, with Tatiana, despite their differences in moral matters, but they couldn't speak like this. Not freely. Not without being watched.

But he's never had anyone helping him the way Vasiliy is. Without any trace of fear or judgment. He stays quiet for a few long moments before his eyes drift down to look at his own body, something he's more and more loath to do these days. ]

You're right. And it's... very intelligent. Enough to understand when something's different from what it's used to. Its norms.

[ But he has to wonder what its norms were before its invasion of him. In its natural environment. Maybe gruesomely eating humans is just as strange for it as anything else. ]

It only knows to eat humans because that's what the researchers fed it. We can teach it to stop, can't we? With enough time. [ ...A pause, a breath, and perhaps, a risk to address it again, something he hasn't ever since that first strange night when he'd woken and realised it had been out of him but hadn't so much as bothered Vasiliy— ]

I mean, it doesn't try to eat you. It doesn't seem to view you as food at all. So... there's hope.

[ Hope that he doesn't have to be as much of a monster. He doesn't know what he'll do if this thing decides animal blood isn't enough, if it refuses to keep eating this way. He can't drink the blood of humans. He can't. ]

[ The observation, or perhaps more accurately, the voicing of it, the indication that it hasn't left Konstantin's mind, sends a chill through his core. It's undoubtedly because the creature can sense, somehow, that he's a dead man, that he came back, that something's not right about him. With the exception of a select few species with almost equally xenomorphic adaptations, animals know to stay away from things that are already dead. It's an instict that protects them from disease and danger in the wild—it's not unthinkable that whatever predator inhabits the other's entrails might be similar.

And then Konstantin attributes it as a hopeful sign, and indication that perhaps it might resist the urge to hunt living prey, and he still... doesn't say anything, doesn't correct him. Even if he were at liberty to discuss the matter of his own death and open the floor to questions that would inevitably lead back to what he had done in life, he's not sure he'd be able to take that faint hope away from this man—an almost disgustingly sentimental, unbolshevik thought.

He still can't bring himself to directly lie by outright agreeing with him. ]

I think we can teach it to survive on animal blood. It just got overly excited this time. I think it will get used to it. There were no humans for it to eat in space. ]

[ That's a very good point — and touches on thoughts he's nursed here and there, but rarely voiced aloud. ]

I've wondered about that. What it must have.... fed on, out there.

[ So much about the clearly highly adaptable creature is still an unknown. What even is its true nature? If there had been no human interference, how might it have evolved differently? ]

I wonder if it had even eaten at all, yet. Maybe it was only just born. It seems... young.

[ It was a strange move, for it to force its way into him, damning itself to a host of unknown species, to an unknown world. It didn't seem to know what it was doing. Perhaps it had panicked. ]

well, i've made so many new friends, with open arms they've let me in

EAT YOUR FOOD, WORMY!!!! you'll feel better... also this Gay Behaviour.....

covering my mouth,

the Gay Touch gave him the strength....

'it's his body' crying in the club rn

getting back some autonomy by manually feeding ur worm!!!! with ur undead roomie's help...

just think of it as a v8, kostya. an EXTRA bloody mary if you will

"bloody mary" as their code for when he needs to eat and everyone just thinks he's an alcoholic

someone drinking more than the one bloody mary it takes them to realize it's gross should be shamed

YOU'RE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT

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cw blood and violent imagery

cw: more vomiting....

the usual...

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and another possible wrap here/soon.... making room for some new future things 👀

YEA BOIII

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