Chapter Text
Daniil Dankovsky is dead. It is not a question. He has no heartbeat, and thus his blood does not flow, and his chest does not rise nor fall. The Bachelor's corpse is a color living people cannot possibly be. He is cold, too.
Artemy Burakh allows a blanket to cover it. It will not make him warm. He is still dead. Artemy will say it is because he doesn't want to look at it. He will be happy to think it over and over in his head, because that is true. Artemy has more important things to worry about than the temperature of a corpse laying in his home. Dankovsky caught the plague before he died, and Artemy didn't want to give up the corpse. He could study it. Artemy could figure out something about the Sand Pest.
The loss of Daniil Dankovsky is a good thing, Artemy continues to say. It is a very, very good thing because Daniil was an obstacle. He was a villain. He was a stubborn, stubborn man. He would have prevented everything from going right, he would have burned and buried the town and its people, he would have burned and buried Artemy's life- maybe even Artemy himself.
It is a very good thing Daniil Dankovsky is dead, because he was always a prickly villain, looking out for himself and no one else. He would have ruined it all. Artemy isn't fully convinced he personally is even safe around Daniil.
It is safe to say that Artemy doesn't spend much time with the corpse.
Artemy has been around bodies plenty. He knows the smell, he knows their unnerving stillness, and he knows that it cannot do anything. Artemy knows it is childish to be scared of something so mundane. He even tries to convince himself that he is scared to stay in the room with the idea of the Bachelor that he has built up.
None of that is true.
But, Artemy doesn't need reason to leave it be. He has things to do.
He spends the day out in the Steppe, occasionally drifting in town to find and talk to his Bound, but he never goes far in. It is far too dangerous, and he has gotten way too far. He is back a few hours past sundown.
His hideout is empty.
Artemy tries to reason, it was always empty. Since this whole thing started, it has been just Artemy here, besides the children weaving in and out. Semantics don't matter. There are no children home, but there is no corpse either.
Corpses do not get up and walk away. It is stupid, but he knows his mind was heading there. Artemy paces the area. It is destroyed. Things are scattered and broken in a path of destruction, and luckily the worst of it happened to more or less useless items.
It doesn't take long for the realization to cross his mind. Someone was here. Someone saw the corpse, and not only did they see it, but they took it.
Artemy is tired, and he is hungry, but he is back in the town. He sneaks around, crouching in the shadows. He cannot afford to be seen anymore. Especially not when he is hunting down the corpse of the Capital Doctor.
He knows it is probably one of the rogue Butchers. He might be able to reason with them, but a patrolman might notice them before Artemy can find them. Artemy may be able to get a body back from a Butcher, but if Saburov's men take it into custody, Artemy is done for.
Artemy has recovered bodies before. He can do this.
❉ ⚘ ✤ ⚘ ❉
The Bachelor is running. He does not know why he is running. He runs, and he runs, and no matter how fast he runs, he does not breathe or pant, and he cannot feel his heart beat. Nothing seems to be working besides his clawing and aching stomach, and his legs which are so happy to run. So, Daniil Dankovsky runs, and he runs. He doesn't know where he is going despite all the running.
It takes so long for Daniil to stop. He ran throughout the Steppe and through several districts which he never learned the names for. He slows, and stops, and sits against a wall. He can see the Stillwater. He can see the Cathedral. He can see the Polyhedron. He stares at the buildings, so distinct against the background of other houses, so non-distinct and boring.
Daniil cannot see the Polyhedron for what it is. He could never see it, not like the children of the town did. Daniil never could see it right, but he can see it even worse now. Its outline isn't even stable. It jumps around when he isn't focused on a specific spot, and even then it is so blurry he can barely make it out. It is only a silhouette, a shell of what it was before. Daniil is getting a headache as he tries to look at it.
He stares at what once was the Polyhedron. The dark is so comforting. Even the occasional street lights are blinding. He covers his eyes with his hands and lets his head drop. His hands are so cold, and his face isn't much warmer.
What can he even do? He has already lost his stuff. He bets its in that damn place he woke up in. He does feel bad about wrecking the place, but he was laying dead there for however long. He is surprised he could get himself to run. He just needed to get out. He didn't know who lived there, what was going to happen if he stayed there.
Daniil doesn't even know what happened to him.
He is dead. He is conscious and awake and so hungry, but he is dead. Someone killed him. But Daniil is walking around, aware that someone killed him. Daniil compulsively checks his heartbeat. He presses two fingers against his wrist, then his other wrist, then his neck, then his chest. He still does not feel a pulse, and he doesn't even feel breathing. His hands that check for a heart beat are so cold.
A dead doctor is not a good doctor.
A dead thanatopist is not a good thanatopist
Daniil stumbles back to his feet. He barely has control of his own body. He needs to figure out, though, and he needs to figure it out fast. He needs to figure out what happenedto him, too. He needs to figure out why he is so hungry. It almost hurts.
He takes a few moments to orientate himself.
Last he remembers, he was in an infected district, somewhere near the Termitary. He was hacking away at yet another random fetch quest bestowed upon him by people who wanted Dankovsky distracted. It was too bad Dankovsky had reputations and relationships to keep. He wandered the district, poking his head in long abandoned homes, clutching his handkerchief to his mouth and nose even though it doesn't do much. He walked, and he walked, and he searched. Dankovsky didn't turn anything up.
Soon, he gave up. He dragged his feet as he forced himself out of the district, far past sunset and nearing midnight. He was tired and hungry and he needed to go home. He didn't know what happened, what he did to get any extra attention, but an infected woman, swaddled in rags and bandages began towards him.
No matter how he casts his memory, Daniil can't remember past that. The infected women did something, but he can't remember. He only has a radiating pain from somewhere by his collar bone.
That doesn't matter.
Daniil is at Maria's door. He needs to ask for help, so it's too bad he would rather daydream and reminisce. That woman must've done something. Maria must have some answer for it.
He knocks instead of letting himself in. Daniil eyes the doorway, marking the threshold between the outside and the inside. Perhaps Maria didn't expect him to knock, either. She took far too long to get to the door, enough time for Daniil to knock once again.
She opens the door and stares, dumbfounded at Daniil. He stares back, though face is blank besides the extra wide eyes. She does not start talking, so Daniil decides that he must.
"May I come in?"
Maria sputters for a moment. "Y-you're dead, idiot!"
Daniil tilts his head. "Yes, that is what I want to discuss with you." His eyes are far too wide, and he would like to reason that is why his eyes are watering. "You see, I don't have a pulse! And yet I am walking and talking. I supposed you might have even an inkling of an answer."
"I don't know a thing!" she says, rather sharply. "Get away from here! I do not want to converse with a corpse, no matter how many words it says!"
Maria slams the door in his face. Daniil winces at the noise, but he does not move. It wasn't the kind of rejection people usually rescind, but he still stands there, just in case. Daniil draws his arms around his chest as he is suddenly far too aware of the cold.
He casts glances around as his disappointment begins to give way to hungry. When is the last time he ate? Before he died? He shudders weakly and stumbles down the stairs and out of the Crucible.
That is when he notices a passerby, and said passerby notices him.
It is so unlikely that Daniil Dankovsky is hungry, so painfully hungry.
Daniil inches off the steps and out of the Crucible. He waves at the man and utters something dull, probably asking for help or checking if he can offer help. He is too hungry to know what he said, to know what the man replied with.
He continues approaching the man, and he does not seem frightened, or he is too frightened to move. Daniil can't tell. His vision is blurring even as his eyes lock.
The man must notice, because he runs, and Daniil is desperate and starving enough to give chase. So he is scared.
❉ ⚘ ✤ ⚘ ❉
The Haruspex cannot give up. There is a corpse out there he must recover. It is dark, and people are weary, which means that Artemy is not alone in his fear. Everyone on the streets is scared of being mugged, or catching an illness, or just missing sleep.
He needs to find this damn-
Corpse.
Artemy nearly trips over the bloody and mauled body.
He begins to panic until he realizes that it is not the Bachelor. He should not be so relieved that it is not the Bachelor. He takes several seconds to gather himself. It is not the Bachelor. But it still seems to have been attacked by some wild animal. It is scratched and ripped and nearly bled dry. He can even see bones and organs sticking out. Anything teeth can bite into has been bitten into, even bones have been gnawed out of place.
The body is tucked into a dark alleyway, dark enough that Artemy didn't see it in time to prepare or step over. Now that Artemy is aware of his surroundings, he sees a blood trail, thick and deliberate. This body was dragged, still and unwavering by a human.
Artemy's hair stands on end. No Butcher would do this. No Butcher could do this, because this corpse was bitten and clawed. A human couldn't do this, or a Kin, or anything like that. He barely represses a gag.
He just has to move. Besides, he thinks he hears someone on their way towards him, and he can't afford to be seen next to such a corpse. This morning, he thought things couldn't get worse, but he doubts that this will be pinned on anyone but him.
Artemy barely squeaks by a company of passersby, and barely in time to miss the patrolmen who were indeed towards the alley.
The sooner he gets this situation under the control, the sooner he can get back to dealing with the Sand Pest. It is far more pressing to the people of the town than hunting down one measly corpse. Artemy can worry about one tiny thing all he wants, but he doubts the rest of the town even cares.
Just find the corpse and get back to a cure.
Artemy quietly locates all his weapons on his body before persisting.
He has a job to do. Several, actually.