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Beat your own and others will fear you
2010-02-20 10:29 am (UTC)
"Absolutely," Cheslav muttered. "Wouldn't live any other way."
The young MENT spoke with the unforced calm of someone who had been in possession of terrible knowledge long enough to come to terms with it, at least to be able to speak of it to a stranger.
The image haunted Cheslav.
He could see it as soon as the MENT had conjured it, and now it lingered in his mind's eye. Avadya, floating in the Fontanka, hair spread out around her, drifting lifelessly in the water. He imagined her face was pale, her lips were blue.
He knew that gown.
She would draw it around her after they'd finished fucking, white silk clinging to her damp skin.
Avdotia owned a lot of lingerie, in various colors, fancy, lacy, silky things that Aleksandr had indulgently bought for her, had smuggled in from all over Europe.
Cheslav had always preferred her in white.
He exhaled slowly, and wished he'd smoked that cigarette outside after all.
"I understand," he said, slowly. "I know how much Aleksandr loved her."
He knew it in a way he did not think many men did, and would probably shock the young Ministry man to know.
"How bad is it?"
Cheslav focused on him again. They were of a height.
"Has he...done anything?"
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