[ When he finally glances at the clock, Vasiliy realizes that he must have awoken in the wee hours of the morning, because only an instant seems to pass between his waking up and the sun beginning to rise. It's subtle, here; the aurora fades and the sky becomes a dark, brooding gray, everything dim and quiet outside. The winter birds begin to sing.
And still the alien is hiding under the same blanket.
He recalls Konstantin saying something about the duration of its ventures outside of its host, that it doesn't stay out long. Maybe it's like a salamander, and will dry out if it goes too long outside of a moist environment. Either way, it's been hours, and the creature still hasn't left its hiding place; it must be getting cold outside of its host, and soon there will be more light, which Kostya also said it doesn't like.
How does he coax it back in? He'd rather not touch it, but what if it can't get back up the bed? It didn't climb down, it just fell. What if it strikes at him when he pulls away its hiding place, like a snake might? He presses his lips together, brow furrowed. There's really no good answer.
It's easier, safer to do nothing, but Kostya's wellbeing, and his life, are connected to the health of this thing. It has to find its way back in. He lets out a sigh and issues a verbal warning: ]
I am going to move your blanket.
[ Then, slowly, he begins to pull it out from under the bed, reeling it in like fishing line and leaving the alien with less and less square footage to hide under... ]
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And still the alien is hiding under the same blanket.
He recalls Konstantin saying something about the duration of its ventures outside of its host, that it doesn't stay out long. Maybe it's like a salamander, and will dry out if it goes too long outside of a moist environment. Either way, it's been hours, and the creature still hasn't left its hiding place; it must be getting cold outside of its host, and soon there will be more light, which Kostya also said it doesn't like.
How does he coax it back in? He'd rather not touch it, but what if it can't get back up the bed? It didn't climb down, it just fell. What if it strikes at him when he pulls away its hiding place, like a snake might? He presses his lips together, brow furrowed. There's really no good answer.
It's easier, safer to do nothing, but Kostya's wellbeing, and his life, are connected to the health of this thing. It has to find its way back in. He lets out a sigh and issues a verbal warning: ]
I am going to move your blanket.
[ Then, slowly, he begins to pull it out from under the bed, reeling it in like fishing line and leaving the alien with less and less square footage to hide under... ]