Date: 2007-07-14 04:46 am (UTC)
Rakitin blinked. "Sadomasochist...?"

Sometimes people made no sense at all.

However, it was difficult to stay bemused when they were offering you a chance to meet entomological legends.

"That's all?" Ippolit said brightly. "With the way you said 'conditions,' I thought it was going to be something strange."

With care ingrained in his hands by habit, but wasting no time, he resealed the evidence he was working on and tucked it away. Progress was slow, and it would keep.

"The Boss doesn't look much like an evil old sorceress," he said as an aside, ducking to reach the lower levels of the freezer. Quite the opposite, in fact. Where Baba Yaga was myth and spirit, substance without solid form, Rakitin's brief meeting with the legendary soldier had brought a strange impression of a firm shell holding fast around incorporeality. Like a thick rind of ice over an abyss. "If she has a hut on chicken legs, she hides it well."

He stripped off and disposed of his soiled gloves.

"We can go to the hanger right now," Ippolit said, and stopped.

Liadov was looking at him. Very much so.

Ippolit's brow creased.

"Unless...there's something more important we need to do?"
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The Groznyj Grad Living Novel

December 2010

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