no one heard you but the stars.

[sputnik]

Who: Konstantin Veshnyakov + YOU!
What: catchall for various open + closed prompts. (will match format!)
When: throughout April.
Where: Milton / more tba.

Content Warnings: By default, this character comes with: space / sci-fi horror, body horror, + parasite horror. Various others will be labeled if they come up!

Comments

( open ) — physical fitness around town

[sputnik]

cw: introspection on institutionalisation, experimentation, weaponisation / brief mention of suicide attempt / mention of vomiting

[ When it happens — when he realises he's become strong again, strong in a way that surpasses normal human capacity — Konstantin's initial reaction isn't shock. No, he was almost expecting this, maybe ever since his arrival in this place over a year ago now.

He still has dreams of cold concrete floors and sound-proof walls and the unforgiving slam of a reinforced door, keeping him contained to his smaller area at night. Always with the one-way window, always with countless eyes watching, observing, charting, documenting, always with security cameras aimed his way from each corner of the room. Even when they moved him somewhere more comfortable, even when they let him have free time outside, he was an animal guarded by men with needles tucked into their pockets, ready to sedate him if needed. And the tests— the endless tests. He wakes from sleep some nights here expecting wires and tubes to snap from his body as he jolts upright, the phantom taste of so much medication unpleasant in the back of his throat.

They were never going to let him go. And whatever this place is, whatever and however it might be able to be explained, Konstantin knows it has to be connected to his imprisonment back before. Beneath their surface claims — to help him, heal him, fix him... separate him from the dangerous organism housed in his body — the truth was always there. They were never going to really separate him and the nightmarish entity from the stars. They needed him, and it, intact. Needed them together. It was only when connected to the creature that he was strong, almost inhumanly so, and someday they'd make him their tool. Him, an esteemed Hero of the Soviet Union, now a weapon. He would have rather died. He tried to.

This place wouldn't let him. This place also removed that borderline inhuman strength — or so he thought. Now it's back, only it's more. He feels like he's been reborn, like he's greater than a man in the peak of his life, greater than he's ever been. The implications of this shift should terrify him — and they do — but he's also... relieved, if he can dare to admit it to himself. He likes feeling strong again, feeling capable. For a year now he's been so fucking weak, despite his efforts to keep in shape. The creature's been hard on his body, and he lacked the supernatural strength to counter those effects.

Not anymore. It's still a hindering, fetid presence in his body, like a disease, something every ounce of him wants to reject. He still finds himself sick often, throwing up food and bile and leftover blood that the creature hasn't digested inside of him yet, after its grotesque, pulpy meals. And largely unbeknownst to him in this moment, there will be negative effects to come for it, for all this physical exertion; the thing will react, and not well.

But he's strong again and it's almost worth being happy about. He fixates on that feeling. So Konstantin can be found over the month, out and about nearly every day engaged in various forms of physical exertion. Running, not just at a cautious jog with one hand pressed to his abdomen, but actually running again, all around Milton, no doubt ending up near your place eventually. (He hasn't quite grasped yet that his stamina to run hasn't necessarily been enhanced, and is inevitably due for some bad fall-out, there!) But exercising in other, more vigorous ways is where he truly seems able to shine — ways reminiscent of his training days in the military and as a cosmonaut, hard and pushing and driven. He can be found many days exercising in the Community Center, doing push-ups or crunches on the floor or lifting objects like weights — tubs of supplies, boxes, whatever he can find. Ever the sociable man, and especially now that he's feeling more like himself than he has in a long, long, time, he's happy for company, and if he spots you looking his way, he might pause and lift a hand to wave you over, or flash a bright, inviting grin. Maybe you catch him after one of his work-outs, a sweat-soaked towel draped over a shoulder, trotting up to ask if you happen to have any clean water to spare.

Or, you might see him outside playing with a ball, kicking it into a makeshift soccer net, which is a cluster of treebranches piled up high and wide together. The snow makes things more difficult, but he's having fun anyway, practicing rolling the thing around with his feet and balancing it inbetween kicks aimed hard and fast into the "net". There are other games that can be played with a ball, though, and if he sees you nearby, he'll most certainly extend an arm in gesture, inviting you to come play something with him. Whether you're a stranger or friend makes no difference to him!

He'll be amiable at first and maybe for most of it, but the Old Bear's Blessing prickles against some deep dark place inside of him that sees red, and he might be prone to getting very competitive or aggressive, depending on how a situation goes. ]

[bigbaddy]

[ If Bigby has learned anything about this place after having been forced to live here for so long, it's that there's all sorts of people here. So it's not even that surprising to suddenly see someone doing an entire workout out here - but it's not exactly the most common thing either. Not here, anyway.

Which means that Konstantin's actions are definitely drawing his attention. Especially when the other is even starting to lift things, like he thinks he's in some sort of gym. It's not surprising, just.. kind of weird, really. Especially to a guy who's a wolf. Wolves don't work out.

Still, he'd have a difficult time straight up ignoring the way the other man waves him over - especially when Konstantin is smiling like that. Who even knows why. Bigby isn't used to being greeted with smiles! Not to mention that his mood has been kind of down in the dumps ever since Connor's extended absence has confirmed the boy really did disappear like so many people here have in the past.

Needless to say, it means that Bigby does approach the other when Konstantin waves him over, but he doesn't exactly look excited about it either. ]

What are you doing here, huh? Trying to show off? [ It sounds gruff, but in that usual Bigby way. It doesn't sound like it's intended with more annoyance or anger than the usual. It's just.. Bigby being Bigby. ]

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin doesn't take the gruffness personally at all, and his smile only brightens further when the other man heads over, the gesture wide enough to show teeth. ]

Sheriff! Hello!

[ By now, it truly has been confirmed. Bigby's boy is gone, and that's— a horror that Konstantin feels in his bones. He's spent a long time thinking about it. About the fact he knows what it's like to be unable to reach your kid. The frustration, the ache, the guilt.

But right now he maintains that cheerful air, and gives a delighted laugh at the question. ]

Maybe a little bit of showing off. No, I kid, I kid! It's been too long since I got up to some proper training. I'm getting too soft. So— [ he curls one arm up, lifting the "weight" he's holding onto, which looks like some kind of cement block he found outside... ] —back at it now.

You should join me! You're definitely the kind of guy who likes to work out, right?

ball is life

[ployboy]

[Tim shouldn't be out here- he needed to get some pens, pencils, markers, artsy stuff. That type of thing isn't scavenged from the great outdoors and besides, he's feeling an ache like his muscles are too stiff, too uncooperative. It invites a headache, which Tim is learning to ignore. After a year from the Glimmerfog, one would think he would have a handle on it.

But no.

Because he's trekking through the freaking snow, and instead of heading indoors to alleviate the sickly pull of his body, to lay down and close his eyes and rest after a month of no or horrid sleep (again something he oughta be used to by now), Tim Drake's soul morphs into that of a Golden Retriever at the sight of

ball

sportsball

and he's so in.

So in, in fact, that he's dropped his backpack and started to sprint for an interception before he can even figure out: oh, it's RussiaMan.

This game'll be a Classic, then.

--surprising himself, Tim takes possession of the ball.]

First to 3 goals wins?

[sputnik]

[ As soon as the other starts heading over, Konstantin's immediately perking right back up in response — Golden Retriever Energy, meet Golden Retriever Energy. Someone wants to play with him!

And he's delighted that it's Tim, one of The Youths. Beaming, the man nods— ] Sounds like a plan! [ —and he's moving inbetween Tim and the silly little branch net (have to make do with what one has to work with! Maybe there's some better sports supplies scattered in some Lakeside homes way off; they seem to have the good stuff. Not that he imagines Canadians in the arctic were playing much football.)

Konstantin'll focus on blocking him, gently to begin with as they warm up into it. He hops back and forth on his feet, right to left, and claps his hands together as though preparing himself. ]

You played back home?

[clothed]

[ this is very simple: lady sees a round bouncing thing and chases after it, never mind that she's the size of a small horse that's large enough for a child to ride. so there's a grey blur that's dashing across the makeshift playing field, intercepting the ball, and very quickly on lady's heels is a flushed sansa with her hair windblown and in disarray.

it's been a day of, as they call it, the zoomies. she's a mess and twice out of breath, give her a moment. ]

Commander Konstantin... oh, by the Seven, I'm so sorry... That this is happening...

[ deep breaths. big breaths of the crisp wintry air. ignore sansa as she chooses to flop onto the snow in surrender. ]

Lady, give it back!

[sputnik]

[ At once, Konstantin's one-man game becomes significantly more interesting. He's startling as something huge and grey comes sweeping in fast, but then he's quickly enough giving a bright laugh of amusement and delight as he realises he recognises the young woman rushing up after her furry companion. ]

Lyanna! And Lady!

[ He's laughing some more as he watches the display, hands moving to his hips for a brief moment. ]

Someone's having a good time! Please, don't be sorry at all. I was hoping to get some exercise going in this place, and your friend here is a model representation.

[ Beaming, he then jogs up to Sansa to crouch down beside her for a moment, watching Lady rush back and forth chasing the ball with all the thoughtful eye of a man who is definitely planning out some Moves in his mind. ]

Maybe after a breather, we can take back the ball if we work together...

[ Trying to recover it from Lady would actually be extremely fun... it's basically a proper little game of football just waiting to happen! ]

[tinstar]

[Greene Street was closer to the town center than not but that didn't stop Raylan from being surprised at seeing someone actually running around. He himself was fit, but that fitness came from practical muscle usage and a lean kitchen cabinet, all of which was on display as Raylan worked on his firewood pile, alternating between splitting logs and making them from the trees drug in between his house and the next.

He lifts a hand at Konstantin at the man as he jogs up, offering him an easy smile and a gesture towards the sweat pouring off him. ]

How many laps around Milton that kinda build up take? [he asks, hand on the axe handle of the steel he'd planted into a stump to hold it. ]

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin beams at the other man as he comes up to a halt near him, reaching up to tug the towel around his neck down one side a little. ]

Lost count after a few hours. I started with the sun rise, [ he chuckles, realising as he says it that it's a lot. He's been at this for a long time. Maybe too long; as he catches his breath, he can feel an agitated squirm from the creature inside of him. He ignores this. It should be fine! ]

Looks like you've been plenty hard at work yourself! [ The cosmonaut looks the other man's work over almost appreciatively. ]

i was also going to use "ball is life" tbh

[afterdrop]

[The thing is, Charles knows it's not spring, not in the way he understands it. London is generally mild by April, a bit damp, but far past the need for bundling up. Comparison is a funny little trick of the brain, though, and coming out of the stretch of frigid darkness, it feels brighter and warmer than he ever felt in the autumn. He leaves behind the face covering these days, slips on just one pair of wool socks. There's no need to wipe ice from his eyelashes. And when he hears the familiar smack of a shoe hitting a ball, he walks over to check it out instead of rushing back to the safety of indoors, head down and jaw trembling.]

Oi! [He calls out through cupped hands to get Konstantin's attention.] Need a few more people for a match, yeah?

[He may not be up for taking a lap around town at the break of dawn, but balls are right his fieldhouse.

... Footballs, that is.]

we BALLIN

[sputnik]

[ The man's head immediately turns, face lighting up to see his approaching company. He's extending an arm up over his head in one big sweeping wave, like he's signaling Charles through an ocean of bystanders. It's literally just the two of them... but Konstantin is ever the performer, even when there's hardly anyone to perform in front of.

(There's some irony here that right now he feels the most like himself than he has since probably arriving to this place. But matters of existence and social perception can be saved to think about later. He's in a good mood and it's only gotten better at the arrival of the teenager.) ]

Charles!

[ Konstantin laughs brightly as he trots over to retrieve the ball he'd kicked into his net of tree branches, drops it back down on the snow, and gives it a mild kick over to Charles like a greeting. ]

Two is better than one! I was having a match against myself. Not nearly as much fun. [ He flashes a grin, hands going to rest at his hips. ] You play?

( open ) — alien inquiries

[sputnik]

cw: introspection & discussion of aliens / space horror things


[ The trepidation creeps into the spaces between Konstantin's glee about his strength that feels like something both newfound and regained.

What comes after it? After this... experiment here in the remote wilds of Canada is over? Will he be sent back to the facility before? Shipped somewhere else? Or maybe he's kept here instead, for years and years and years. Progressively altered further, enhanced.

Can he ever be free, again? The closest thing he's felt to that, to freedom, is the life he's come to build with Vasiliy Ardankin here in a small cabin on the outskirts of town. He doesn't want to lose that, and this... change feels like a new chapter, a push forwards towards an inescapable outcome. When he lets himself be, he's deeply afraid.

But he's never been one to wallow in fear. There are answers to be found instead, things to look towards. He knows he's not the only one here whose existence involves the extra-terrestrial, and he's never been more desperate to find possible methods to separate himself from his own alien life form, because that has to happen. It has to, or else... he'll become that weapon in the end, he'll never find his way back home to his mother, to his son. The fucking thing has to be removed from him someday. There are people who might be able to help him with that — The Doctor, Arthur — but he's always seeking out as much knowledge as he can find on such matters. He's been cautious up until now, and he's still going to be smart about what he reveals, but...

He spends a lot of time through April with aliens in the brain (...as much as he also has them in the stomach), and he's been here long enough to know that sneaking around only goes so far. It's time for a more direct approach.

So you might catch him with some books from the little library, anything he could find relating to outer space, whether it's a children's fiction book or a collection of informational facts. He carries them around with him, poking through them, and he'll look for any opportunity to approach people and bring his spacey agenda into conversation. You could be anywhere at all that a cosmonaut with a mission could amble up to, and there he'll be — one of his books held out in gesture, brows lifting as he sends you his most charming smile, voice accented in a rich Russian. ]

Oh— hello there! Pardon the intrusion, it's just that I'm heading to return this one — have you read it yet? Feel free to take it if you haven't; reading material's so scant, here. [ Beat, and he pretends as though he didn't plan this conversation word for word, tone perfectly easy in its curiosity — ]

It's about space. Very interesting stuff! Though, some is a little lacking. It's made me realise that extra-terrestrial life forms haven't even been discovered in everyone's worlds, yet... Ah, what about yours?

[ A completely normal, unsuspicious way to bring up the topic of aliens from a man who's clearly just really enthused about space!

Or, you might find him outside in the later hours, staring up at the sky... Astronomical twilight is dark enough to still be able to see the stars, and he spends a lot of time studying them. Sometimes he's standing right there in the road or off to the side of it, and other times he's sitting down on a bench or a cabin porch that's yet to be claimed, head tilted back. There's a notepad in hand, and he frequently pauses to jot something down, mouth held in a thoughtful frown. There are also drawings, little doodles scribbled here and there as he looks through some books and picture encyclopedias for reference — mostly seeming to be an odd variety-pack of animals and insects. There's a snake, a spider, an eel-like thing that might be a lamprey... a centipede, a tapeworm. ]

[solitarysoul]

Huh?

[Levi makes frequent trips to the library, so he's seen Konstantin there a few times. He blinks and looks down at the offered book.]

Um, no. I-i don't think I have.

[He has a Western pulpish novel in his hands that he was ready to trade out for something else. He's not that into sci-fi but with the lack of books here he'd probably have gotten to it eventually.
Though looking at the book he's not sure if its fiction or non-fiction. It can be hard to tell when you're in a different world.]

[cactusy]

I'm not a big reader.

[Shaw says, though since it's right there in her face, she does give the book a cursory glance. Nonfiction has always been more her bag, and even though she can't remember ever reading an astronomy book in her life, this one could have some info on celestial navigation that could come in handy here. :She might not end up reading it - but she'll take it, tucking it under her coat to keep it dry.

Lacking how?, she almost asks, but then he asks his own question and her eyebrows jump in surprise.]

Uh-- nope. Some hoaxes, some crackpots willing to believe the government is covering up evidence, but that's it. Is this book about aliens?

[imperatour]

[ Time is odd here, Furiosa decides.

There's no real concrete way to mark time, but she watches the way the sun comes up over the horizon, creeping further and higher into the sky for longer periods. It traded night for something brighter too, a fact that confounds her. She scrapes through the back of her mind, something about the earth being round or spinning around the sun, but only in the places that are near the poles, right? It's far in the recesses of her mind, something one of the more academic-minded mothers or the history man had said while she wasn't really listening.

Long ago, the stars would've been her map home. Here, they're unfamiliar although she still chances a longing gaze up to the sky when she is out at night.

She doesn't expect to find anyone else out at this hour (she thinks it's late? Hard to be sure.) hunting rifle is strapped to her chest and shoulder, adaptive equipment she can use to quickly slide the gun up to her left shoulder to make up for the fact that she's missing most of her left arm below the elbow. A little late to be hunting, but she's mostly scouting.

She pauses for a moment, watching the man look up to the stars. She follows his gaze, a soft, almost homesick expression slipping over her face. ]

Can you read them? For navigation.

( closed ) — randvi

[sputnik]

cw: body swapping, inevitable body / alien / parasite horror things, description of facial & eye injury, uncontrolled use of fire powers


At first, he doesn't think much of the odd disconnect he feels from himself as the month trickles in. His body's been changing again these days, with the Old Bear's Blessing fueling him hard and fast. It's easy enough to ignore any pressing strangeness on the side — a habit or two out of sorts, sensations that don't quite seem to belong to himself. Konstantin is now no stranger to feeling very out of touch with his own body.

Then one morning he wakes up and he's someone else entirely.

He'd managed to sneak out of Randvi's home in the early hours of morning without drawing attention to himself, but as he rushes down the streets of Milton, anyone who happens to be out and about will no doubt notice that something's weird about Randvi. He'd managed well enough with her clothing (though she's missing a few of her usual layers), but the thick mane of red that's usually tied back in a neat braid is now haphazardly put up in a messy ponytail, half of it starting to fall into her (his) face. ...It doesn't help with his newfound obscured vision, a hand moving up to touch the patch covering one of her eyes, his sense of balance weirdly off-kilter due to being half-blinded and his shorter stature.

This is bad, and it's only due to get worse. In his alarm, a nearby pile of firewood spontaneously combusts, and Konstantin flinches back, before he remembers what his younger friend's body is capable of. Wincing, he hurriedly tips snow onto the wood to extinguish the flame and tries to coax himself into a state of calm.

He's heading out past the border of town where he and Vasiliy stay in their isolated little cabin. All he can think to do is try and locate his own body. Is she... in it? Or is he somehow possessing her body right now? Is she still in here with him? He doesn't feel her...

Another roar of flame and he startles, turning to see a nearby shed suddenly ablaze, a small inferno disturbing the peace of this otherwise still, serene morning. Konstantin — as Randvi — starts spilling some of his favourite Russian curse phrases, hair an absolute mess as he waves his arms around as though trying to will the flames to stop that way...

might as well put an emeto cw on this whole thread too…

[meadqueen]

Randvi had awoken in a bed that was not her own as well, but unlike Kostya, she wasn't alone. The wave of fire she’d both expected and dreaded at the rush of adrenaline at the sight thankfully doesn't come, but her guts twist and writhe like a living thing. She sits bolt upright, pitching dizzily at a sort of strangeness to her vision, a feeling of seeing double.

She recognizes the man next to her as Vasiliy, but refuses to think about what the other signs mean. Perhaps they had switched places in the night for some unknown reason.

Randvi slips from the bed, nearly falling again from how strange and foreign her body feels, and walks off in the cotton sleep clothes she woke up in. She barely pauses to put on boots before leaving the house, still nearly on the edge of hysteria. There's a horrible slimy feeling at the back of her throat that is only intensifying.

Her stomach rebels at the cold air and she gags, but fights through it to head down the path. Soon she comes upon a burning shed, and then she can't deny what is happening any longer, face to face with herself as her body stares at the shed in consternation. Is it him? It has to be. What else could possibly be happening?

The panic makes her stomach heave again - is this the creature? - and she doubles over in agony.

“Please, help me.”

( closed ) — dorian

[sputnik]

cw: this thread will involve body / parasite horror, seizure associations, emeto things, & more inevitably to come with these two yucky horror guys


He's overdone it. This strength that he's been given — the one that feels so reminiscent of how the alien creature was affecting him before this place tempered it down (it made him stronger and faster and practically inhuman) — isn't as all-encompassing as he'd assumed. Or maybe it's that the creature is reacting unfavourably to it, not understanding why its host body is suddenly so active again, unwilling to rest, pushing himself harder and harder.

He'd been on a run when it hit him. A sudden tight coil in his stomach, like something seizing up. Then a fretful writhing, and Konstantin came to a quick halt, panting for breath against the very upset alien squirming around in his guts. The horror grows as he realises that the thing isn't reacting favourably to him standing still and working his breathing back down, that it continues its fitful movements. Someone's had enough, and there's a swell of alarm as Konstantin realises he tastes a slick nausea in the back of his throat, which gives a sudden convulsive movement against his will. He feels feverish, a cold sweat breaking out at his forehead.

Is it— is the thing about to come out of him? Here?! He's in the middle of the street!

If the alien wants to come out, there's no stopping it. It'll send his body into seizure, shut down all of his muscles and leave him unconscious so that it can safely slither up his throat. He needs to get inside somewhere, fast—

In a near-panic, he spots the nearest building to him: the church. Konstantin knows the young man that's been living there ("knows"... one could definitely say that), and he doesn't know what else to do. He needs help and he can only hope that Dorian's in, or that the front door's unlocked. Even in this moment, he doesn't want to just barge in (it would make him look so bad!) so he tries for the first method. Stumbling forwards, Konstantin manages to slam a fist to the front door several times before he clasps his hand over his mouth, the other arm curled tightly around his middle.

Re: ( closed ) — dorian

[brushoff]

People are actually using the church! How irritating! Normally, Dorian would be perfectly happy letting some of it fall into disarray or letting it gather dust. But that eager little sailor has been posting notices about Bible study. Here? In this place? He knows that men cling to the familiar but come on, there's no need for something like that.

So, despite the fact that his entire body revolts at the light, that he wants to do nothing more than sleep through the entire daytime, Dorian forces himself to do some basic tidying. He's dragged out some melted water, ready to mop the entryway and main hall of the church, when he hears a loud banging on the front door. Part of Dorian just wants to leave it alone—he already feels horrible and that banging isn't helping matters. But despite all this, he has a reputation to uphold and an image to craft. He's Dorian, a lively, flirtatious, cheerful yet useless young man, not Dorian Gray, eternally damned, eternally cursed, and now eternally nocturnal.

He's keeping those windows a bit dustier than normal, though. If anyone asks, he can't find a tall enough ladder. It's certainly not that he finds himself staying away from sunlight these days!

Forcing a good mood and hoping he doesn't look too tired, Dorian opens the door...and is instantly rewarded when he sees that delightful hot Russian. Dorian's face lightens up but then almost immediately frowns when he looks over Konstantin: that man's going to barf.

"Good Lord, let's at least get you inside," Dorian frowns, as he reaches over to pull Konstantin into the church itself. Noticeably, Dorian doesn't step out into the sunlight. He'll help support and move Kostya around once he's in, but like hell Dorian's stepping outside.

( closed ) — wynonna

[sputnik]

cw: this thread will involve body / parasite horror, seizure associations, emeto.... and woman x worm violence


[ The newest establishment around Milton is a welcomed addition; it's about time this place had some entertainment. When Konstantin finally makes his way up to the old post office to check things out for himself, it's later in the day, he thinks — the progressively shorter and shorter stretches of nightfall make the days seem almost endless, and keeping track of time is weird. There's not many people around, which is disappointing at first, until he spots the sole other occupant of the saloon who is there behind the bar counter, seemingly manning the place on her own right now.

Konstantin immediately brightens, strolling up with an easy, confident gait. He's not exactly where he was before this place; his physical stamina still has limits here (a thing he's finding out the hard way, realising he might have been pushing himself a little too hard with all the running around he's been doing lately). But he's still strong again, strong in ways that push boundaries, and despite the worry about what that implication means for him in the longer term, he has to admit he is feeling it. For the first time in a very long time, he feels like himself again. Like who he used to be, and it's easy to settle back into that man's skin. It fits, it's comfortable.

He sits down on a bar stool and crosses his arms atop the counter, tilting his head back to look right at Wynonna with a smile that could melt butter. ]

How nice to see you.

[ There's no mistaking that Wynonna still makes him feel a certain unease — and these days, there's an added layer to that, with the fact he knows a little too much about her and she knows a little too much about him. Having access to someone's thoughts was a particular level of too much, and he's not sure he likes being seen into like that.

But it's all the more reason to push back against discomforts with his usual defenses, which is— ]

Very nice, indeed. You look good. This place compliments you.

[ —to immediately flirt with her. It's playful, harmless, they both have someone that's theirs. But he isn't shy in letting his eyes look her over, appreciative and unashamed about it, and he gives his fingers a few drumming taps against the wood of the counter, energetic. He can't drink most of what's here, but he'll still ask, play this up, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards. ]

Is there a specialty of the day? Besides you, of course.

[pacificator]

[ She does look good, thanks for noticing, Konstantin. Maybe it's because, for the first time in kind of a long while, she feels pretty good, more like herself. She and March had done a lot of work to the old Post Office, and right now, in the wintry half-light that passes for evening these days and with candles glowing on various surfaces and gleaming off bottles, it could almost pass for a place from home.

Not Shorty's, sadly — it lacks the electricity, the inventory, and the overall Western pastiche — but the old counter makes for a decent bar for her to lean on as he settles onto a stool, and just that motion feels so familiar she almost expects the CD player they'd scrounged and plugged in for Aurora nights to start playing some Patsy Cline.

Wynonna folds her own arms on the polished bartop and grins at him, all white teeth and dimples and a warm, almost flirtatious look in her eyes that totally belies the way she says: ]

Nothing you can have.

[ It works on multiple levels to mock his inability to drink alcohol and her total lack of interest in that charm attack he's beaming her way, which is satisfying enough that she doesn't actually stand back up to go do something else right away. She stays where she is, leaning on the bar, her hair falling over her shoulder in a waterfall of chestnut-colored waves. She wears her t-shirt the way Waverly wears her Shorty's uniform, snugly tied up at her ribcage to expose smooth pale midsection, and she knows exactly how good these jeans look when she leans over like this, mostly because March has no filter on anything he says to her, even after he stepped back to let her actually give things with Edward the old college try.

So she's reasonably mollified, enough to tilt her head just so to the side, like she's considering her options, before she goes on. ]

But I might be able to dig up a juice box for you, or something. What's your poison, comrade?

( closed ) — rorschach

[sputnik]

cw: potentially physical violence to come in this thread! + mentions of alien parasite / body horror


It's too easy to lean into that strength that pulses through him like a second life force. (...Or a third, technically. Konstantin has too many life forces inside of him.) He knows he needs to be worried about this, and he is — he thinks he's progressively being turned into a weapon, just like he was before this place. Just what the Soviet Union plans to do with him then, one can only imagine.

But god, does he love feeling strong again. He can lift and throw and push things beyond human capacity. He spends his days vigorously working out, adjusting too easily to the changes in his body brought about by the feat.

There's something else. An anger that lurks down in him, and sometimes he feels it clawing there at his insides, so hot in his blood, but so far it hasn't had reason to burst out of him like a beast. He's grown accustomed to trying to keep his monsters locked inside, after all. He's no stranger to that.

He's out for a run on a bright morning, and he's already a little annoyed. He wants to keep pushing his body, keep going harder, harder, but his unwelcomed little occupant from the stars has other plans. It's agitated by all of the physical exertion his body's been experiencing lately, and as he breathes in the crisp air, working it down into his lungs and organs, the alien starts getting upset. It writhes angrily inside of him, causing Konstantin to have to come to a quick halt, one hand pressing against his belly.

"Stop it," he mutters darkly, looking down. "You're fine."

But as he starts moving into a jog, the creature's tail slaps against the walls of his stomach, and the man gasps sharply. Fuck. Fuck, this is so frustrating. Something's always limiting him, making him less, making him weak. Anger swells fast inside of him, and his nostrils flare in impatience. Fine. He'll walk, then.

So he starts walking around the line of town, already in a mood. He almost doesn't see the lurker perched atop a nearby roof, Rorschach's good at sneaking around, but the sun hits subtle movement in just the right way, bringing Konstantin's eyes to jerk up in startle. Then—

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He practically snarls the question, brown eyes dark and devoid of any of their usually easygoing demeanour.

cw: sexual repression, internalized homophobia, misogyny

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach liked to watch Konstantin more than he was willing to admit. If someone had asked him why, he wouldn't have been able to honestly give an answer, at least one that was based in logic. On some vague level, he was aware that, yes, the cosmonaut was handsome but he tried to think of it in terms of how like the ancient Greek statues of men could be handsome as well, which helped him to justify it as thinking in terms of it being something abstract in his mind rather than concrete.

It never occurred to him he might be attracted to Konstantin on an actual human level, enjoying the sight of him because he was physically attractive, but this was because Rorschach was so far back in the closet he was still in Narnia. If he'd been truly aware of what he was feeling, he would have been disgusted with himself.

Which meant he was doing his usual creepy watching and staring when Konstantin suddenly snapped at him. Normally, Rorschach would have ignored it, but he honestly had been feeling a little on edge recently too, much like he often got when in the middle of patrolling the mean streets of New York at night. So he shot back his own biting words telepathically. "Watching someone who is apparently oversensitive. What's the matter? You sound like you're PMSing."

( closed ) — john

[sputnik]

As planned, Konstantin takes some time before he starts up this new exercise initiative for the mysterious being known as John Doe. It's a few weeks before he reaches out about it to arrange a good morning to show up — and in that time, much has changed. The Old Bear's Blessing makes him strong again now, in ways that almost feel inhuman, similar to how he functioned back home with the parasite's influence before this place weakened it. It's not exactly the same, but— it's close.

It couldn't have come at better timing. Konstantin's been back in action with his own exercising, taking up his old routines as much as possible with the limited equipment available in this place. He has found a few things scoured from empty homes, however, and managed to request a few supplies from someone's latest venture out to Lakeside.

So he shows up with a bag slung over one shoulder on an early morning looking every part of a physical fitness trainer, dressed in the dark green tracksuit and sneakers he arrived to this place in. He's beaming whenever he's let into the home, whether by Arthur or his unearthly companion, setting his bag down in the living room and clapping his hands together cheerfully.

"Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

Re: ( closed ) — john

[dies_irate]

John has no idea what a fitness trainer looks like, but he thinks that Konstantin is dressed Distinctively and he wonders if he should try and find things that look like that for himself, much to his dismay. The best he's managed so far is mostly blankets and skirts, cloth to drape over him like a robe (or a laundry pile) to cover him in layers that keep him warm. Thankfully, his legs have a kind of void-black wool that do the job just fine for most things, and he doesn't really get cold feet since he's got hooves instead of the usual type with the toes.

All the same, it's intimidating.

"...I slept, yes."

John does not like sleeping. It is creepy and weird and he had one dream and he hated it. He's never going to be enthusiastic about sleep. But-

"Do I... need to have slept well?"