And more fic from Big Echoey
12/14/04 01:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyFirebird and the Gray Wolf
All Previous Parts are here in memories. Wish I could get to my own memories like that, you know, the ones in my head? Instead of just these boring voices. Kill kill, blah blah, hunt my neighbors down and chainsaw them into bits, blah. Boring, I tell you.
Story?
Ivan dashed across the yard, crunching over snow-frosted stands of dry brown grass. His breath steamed out from his lips and he pulled his coat even tighter. He shuddered a bit. It was early, the time of day when the sun’s light was bright and gave a promise of warmth and did nothing to deliver on that promise. Ivan smiled. A way of life he was quite familiar with thank you.
He ran into the stable and shut the wooden doors behind him. He put coals in the small stove by the workbench and put a kettle of water on the top. He pulled out of one pocket a chunk of bread he’d taken from the kitchen, and an apple, and out of the other a piece of cheese, and a packet of tea.
Ivan gathered the leather that was to be cleaned and prepared to make a morning of it. He didn’t mind the work and he enjoyed the solitude, most of the time. He worked away until the kettle whistled, and by that time the corner of the stable he worked in had begun to warm up and he loosen the top button of his shirt.
He’d just prepared his tea, and sat down to drink it and nibble on the bread when a distinctly non- horse like sound came from the stall opposite the corner he sat in. He froze and a chill raced down his spine. He rose to his feet trembling and eased back the door of the stall in question and there was a heap of something there on the floor that shifted and became—Ivan had heard the phrase, ‘my heart stopped’ many times, but this moment was unique, it was a moment in which he actually experienced it.
Kirill lifted his head and stared at Ivan, as though he didn’t recognize him and Ivan had a second in which he was rather angry until sense reclaimed him and he tried to back up. Kirill was on him in a moment.
“Where is my Uncle,” he asked and Ivan stammered out a reply—“Hunting—” He hated the thin reedy sound of his voice, but he was truly terrified.
Did the master come back to kill him did he come back for him
“I’ve had terrible adventures, Ivan, and wonderful adventures, and now it’s time for me to come back to where I belong.” Kirill spoke; staring into the distance and Ivan knew he wasn’t there in the stall with them at the moment.
He was filthy, his clothing torn and his hair full of dirt. Ice clung in bits to his clothing, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were wide and vacant, and Ivan wondered what life away from the dacha must be like-it must be terrible to do this to *him*.
“I’m back where I belong, Ivan.”
Ivan nodded and tried to ease Kirill’s grip on his collar somewhat.
"I was an arrogant fool, little Ivan. I thought I owned the world. I thought I was a god. Until I met one and found how truly terrible and beautiful a god can be. I’m nothing my little one, nothing.”
Ivan closed his eyes and prayed. As soon as the master was done with this game, he expected to find himself in a world made of pain. It was a strange game, but he was an inventive man, the master.
"Ivan, Ivan, you poor miserable thing—I know because I’m one too. You and I have never had a choice in our lives, not like the high and mighty, the graced by God like Boris, or Felix or Alexei. What do they know of the bottomless pain of existence? What do they know about giving everything including your soul to be shredded and shredded until not even a powder is left?" He pressed his face into the join of Ivan’s neck and shoulder and let tears flow, “I apologize, I apologize! Please tell me you forgive me! Didn’t know, I – I--"
Ivan reached a shaky hand up and tentatively pat once at the tangled and dirt filled locks brushing his cheeks, what sound dare he make? What was this frightening game he was playing…
Ivan remembered seeing him for the first time, how beautiful he thought he was. Kirill looked like a dark angel and he’d been thrilled to be noticed, thrilled to be touched, and the touches had slowly become pain and he’d slowly become a slave to it….
Kirill turned into the tiny gesture of comfort with over whelming gratitude. He needed just a little kindness now—just one person to show him the compassion he knew he had no right to.
He was going to give up everything he’d gained; he would try and atone for his hideous crimes—if it was possible. He’d offended and sinned and he was ready to pay for the rest of his life if need be, and Boris would be the vehicle of that atonement. He could help him to see god again and if not, he wasn’t worthy and he shook and sobbed and drenched Ivan’s shirt. Ivan attempted another pat and when he wasn’t repulsed he got bolder and murmured soothing words and then bravely stroked Krill’s back and Kirill cried harder and when Ivan said softly, please don’t cry, master he wailed like a child. They dropped down onto the straw, and Ivan rocked him till he calmed himself.
“Do you hate me Ivan, do you? Kirill wiped at his dirty tear tracked face, and shuddered in the after math of violent weeping.
Ivan shrugged and stretched his legs out. “I’m afraid of you. I’m afraid you’ll lose control and kill me.” Ivan spoke in the matter of fact tones of someone who’d contemplated their possible future many times and come to accept it as true.
Kirill nodded. “Yes. Are you still afraid?”
Ivan looked at him as if he’d gone insane. “Yes. Why should I not be? You hurt me. You make me crawl. Of course I‘m afraid of you.” Ivan breathed a little heavier as he talked, and moved away from Kirill, and Kirill stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You may be afraid of me, but a little of yourself, too? That you should want such things?”
Ivan hid his face.
“I know that feeling, I know myself how it feels to want it. Ah, well,” he sighed. He stood and held his hand out to Ivan. "Help me get clean, Ivan, mine, I’m filthy, and I’m tired of being so.”
*************************
Ivan called for a bath in Boris’s room; the only one large enough for the big copper tub, and hot water was brought. He washed Kirill’s back and washed his hair, all in silence. Kirill seemed to be in deep thought and Ivan kept his mouth shut and moved slowly, carefully out of habit.
Kirill was out of the tub, and being rubbed dry by Ivan when a commotion broke out in the hall.
Ivan dropped the towel and blanched. "Your Uncle,” he whispered, his mouth gone dry with fear. Kirill stared back, his mouth partly opened, a questioning look on his face when the door flew open. He hurriedly snatched the towel from the floor and wrapped it about his hips.
“What in all hell’s are you doing here, you ass?” Boris was furious, so furious spittle flew from his lips as he roared at Kirill. “Why are you here—alone! What did you do?” Kirill backed up against the onslaught, and Ivan made a small sound of fear.
Boris rounded on him and slapped him to the ground. "What are you doing in my rooms, you?”
Kirill moved forward, angry,no one did that to his servant, no one punished except him and Boris casually opened a ring on his hand, Kirill swayed. “Yes, you young fool, I’m always ready. Though I confess, I thought you’d be with that one or in Petersburg with my,” He slapped him viciously, "new home.”
Kirill dropped and blood flowed from his lip and he bowed his head.
“Oh please,” Voronkov sneered. “Humble are we? Lowly creature, monster, you have no idea. Ivan, show this thing what you’ve learned. We need our little toys.” Boris smiled as Ivan crawled across the room and opened a cabinet there. He pulled out a gently glowing rod of crystal, and began to stand, rod in hand and Boris tsked. “No Ivan, not like that,” and Ivan put it in his mouth and crawled back.
The closer he came, the brighter the glow-- the weaker Kirill felt, and he shivered harder with each wave of queasiness.
Ivan reached Boris and knelt in front of him. He hesitated to remove the rod from his mouth and Boris nodded and put his hand on it, moved the end back and forth, pushing a little deeper into Ivan’s mouth each time, until Ivan’s eyes were wide and fearful as he struggled to breath around the rod, gagging when the unyielding length slipped into his throat, saliva poured out the corners of his mouth, wetting his chin and his eyes began to droop closed, Boris pushed the rod in deep as possible and Ivan squeezed his eyes shut against tears that wanted to run down his cheeks.
tbc, and this section is a shout out to ya'll know who you are.*G*
All Previous Parts are here in memories. Wish I could get to my own memories like that, you know, the ones in my head? Instead of just these boring voices. Kill kill, blah blah, hunt my neighbors down and chainsaw them into bits, blah. Boring, I tell you.
Story?
Ivan dashed across the yard, crunching over snow-frosted stands of dry brown grass. His breath steamed out from his lips and he pulled his coat even tighter. He shuddered a bit. It was early, the time of day when the sun’s light was bright and gave a promise of warmth and did nothing to deliver on that promise. Ivan smiled. A way of life he was quite familiar with thank you.
He ran into the stable and shut the wooden doors behind him. He put coals in the small stove by the workbench and put a kettle of water on the top. He pulled out of one pocket a chunk of bread he’d taken from the kitchen, and an apple, and out of the other a piece of cheese, and a packet of tea.
Ivan gathered the leather that was to be cleaned and prepared to make a morning of it. He didn’t mind the work and he enjoyed the solitude, most of the time. He worked away until the kettle whistled, and by that time the corner of the stable he worked in had begun to warm up and he loosen the top button of his shirt.
He’d just prepared his tea, and sat down to drink it and nibble on the bread when a distinctly non- horse like sound came from the stall opposite the corner he sat in. He froze and a chill raced down his spine. He rose to his feet trembling and eased back the door of the stall in question and there was a heap of something there on the floor that shifted and became—Ivan had heard the phrase, ‘my heart stopped’ many times, but this moment was unique, it was a moment in which he actually experienced it.
Kirill lifted his head and stared at Ivan, as though he didn’t recognize him and Ivan had a second in which he was rather angry until sense reclaimed him and he tried to back up. Kirill was on him in a moment.
“Where is my Uncle,” he asked and Ivan stammered out a reply—“Hunting—” He hated the thin reedy sound of his voice, but he was truly terrified.
Did the master come back to kill him did he come back for him
“I’ve had terrible adventures, Ivan, and wonderful adventures, and now it’s time for me to come back to where I belong.” Kirill spoke; staring into the distance and Ivan knew he wasn’t there in the stall with them at the moment.
He was filthy, his clothing torn and his hair full of dirt. Ice clung in bits to his clothing, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were wide and vacant, and Ivan wondered what life away from the dacha must be like-it must be terrible to do this to *him*.
“I’m back where I belong, Ivan.”
Ivan nodded and tried to ease Kirill’s grip on his collar somewhat.
"I was an arrogant fool, little Ivan. I thought I owned the world. I thought I was a god. Until I met one and found how truly terrible and beautiful a god can be. I’m nothing my little one, nothing.”
Ivan closed his eyes and prayed. As soon as the master was done with this game, he expected to find himself in a world made of pain. It was a strange game, but he was an inventive man, the master.
"Ivan, Ivan, you poor miserable thing—I know because I’m one too. You and I have never had a choice in our lives, not like the high and mighty, the graced by God like Boris, or Felix or Alexei. What do they know of the bottomless pain of existence? What do they know about giving everything including your soul to be shredded and shredded until not even a powder is left?" He pressed his face into the join of Ivan’s neck and shoulder and let tears flow, “I apologize, I apologize! Please tell me you forgive me! Didn’t know, I – I--"
Ivan reached a shaky hand up and tentatively pat once at the tangled and dirt filled locks brushing his cheeks, what sound dare he make? What was this frightening game he was playing…
Ivan remembered seeing him for the first time, how beautiful he thought he was. Kirill looked like a dark angel and he’d been thrilled to be noticed, thrilled to be touched, and the touches had slowly become pain and he’d slowly become a slave to it….
Kirill turned into the tiny gesture of comfort with over whelming gratitude. He needed just a little kindness now—just one person to show him the compassion he knew he had no right to.
He was going to give up everything he’d gained; he would try and atone for his hideous crimes—if it was possible. He’d offended and sinned and he was ready to pay for the rest of his life if need be, and Boris would be the vehicle of that atonement. He could help him to see god again and if not, he wasn’t worthy and he shook and sobbed and drenched Ivan’s shirt. Ivan attempted another pat and when he wasn’t repulsed he got bolder and murmured soothing words and then bravely stroked Krill’s back and Kirill cried harder and when Ivan said softly, please don’t cry, master he wailed like a child. They dropped down onto the straw, and Ivan rocked him till he calmed himself.
“Do you hate me Ivan, do you? Kirill wiped at his dirty tear tracked face, and shuddered in the after math of violent weeping.
Ivan shrugged and stretched his legs out. “I’m afraid of you. I’m afraid you’ll lose control and kill me.” Ivan spoke in the matter of fact tones of someone who’d contemplated their possible future many times and come to accept it as true.
Kirill nodded. “Yes. Are you still afraid?”
Ivan looked at him as if he’d gone insane. “Yes. Why should I not be? You hurt me. You make me crawl. Of course I‘m afraid of you.” Ivan breathed a little heavier as he talked, and moved away from Kirill, and Kirill stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You may be afraid of me, but a little of yourself, too? That you should want such things?”
Ivan hid his face.
“I know that feeling, I know myself how it feels to want it. Ah, well,” he sighed. He stood and held his hand out to Ivan. "Help me get clean, Ivan, mine, I’m filthy, and I’m tired of being so.”
*************************
Ivan called for a bath in Boris’s room; the only one large enough for the big copper tub, and hot water was brought. He washed Kirill’s back and washed his hair, all in silence. Kirill seemed to be in deep thought and Ivan kept his mouth shut and moved slowly, carefully out of habit.
Kirill was out of the tub, and being rubbed dry by Ivan when a commotion broke out in the hall.
Ivan dropped the towel and blanched. "Your Uncle,” he whispered, his mouth gone dry with fear. Kirill stared back, his mouth partly opened, a questioning look on his face when the door flew open. He hurriedly snatched the towel from the floor and wrapped it about his hips.
“What in all hell’s are you doing here, you ass?” Boris was furious, so furious spittle flew from his lips as he roared at Kirill. “Why are you here—alone! What did you do?” Kirill backed up against the onslaught, and Ivan made a small sound of fear.
Boris rounded on him and slapped him to the ground. "What are you doing in my rooms, you?”
Kirill moved forward, angry,no one did that to his servant, no one punished except him and Boris casually opened a ring on his hand, Kirill swayed. “Yes, you young fool, I’m always ready. Though I confess, I thought you’d be with that one or in Petersburg with my,” He slapped him viciously, "new home.”
Kirill dropped and blood flowed from his lip and he bowed his head.
“Oh please,” Voronkov sneered. “Humble are we? Lowly creature, monster, you have no idea. Ivan, show this thing what you’ve learned. We need our little toys.” Boris smiled as Ivan crawled across the room and opened a cabinet there. He pulled out a gently glowing rod of crystal, and began to stand, rod in hand and Boris tsked. “No Ivan, not like that,” and Ivan put it in his mouth and crawled back.
The closer he came, the brighter the glow-- the weaker Kirill felt, and he shivered harder with each wave of queasiness.
Ivan reached Boris and knelt in front of him. He hesitated to remove the rod from his mouth and Boris nodded and put his hand on it, moved the end back and forth, pushing a little deeper into Ivan’s mouth each time, until Ivan’s eyes were wide and fearful as he struggled to breath around the rod, gagging when the unyielding length slipped into his throat, saliva poured out the corners of his mouth, wetting his chin and his eyes began to droop closed, Boris pushed the rod in deep as possible and Ivan squeezed his eyes shut against tears that wanted to run down his cheeks.
tbc, and this section is a shout out to ya'll know who you are.*G*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
12/14/04 09:24 am (UTC)I'm afraid I know what's about to happen *cowers in the corner, pretending she's going to hate it*
I hope Alexei hurries up and returns for him.
(no subject)
12/14/04 04:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 02:12 pm (UTC)Don't want my little evol monster to bow to THAT man!!
*flails*
And damn, grrrrl!
Evol, kinky, sad and horrible!
And wonderful.
Oooh, can't imagine what next, no,no...
*pets Ivan*
(no subject)
12/14/04 04:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 09:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 02:43 pm (UTC)how beautiful and bleak! sounds like one of my mornings.
Poor ivan! Can kyrill keep him?
(no subject)
12/14/04 04:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 05:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 05:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 05:48 pm (UTC)Roxy, fantastic! brilliant! profound! staggering! bewildering! apocolyptic!!
And hot.
(no subject)
12/14/04 11:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/21/04 12:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/21/04 04:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/29/04 04:59 pm (UTC)I forgot to mention it in the last section of the story - but I'm still adoring your imagery!! This bit is lovely and shoves us right into Ivan's head. Love it!!
This - - is also fantastic! Love how Kirill identifies himself with Ivan - the fear of wanting something like that - the misery of being toyed with. Particularly Boris' cruel games at the end. Gah!!! Kiril is in for i, now!!!
Hurry Alexei!