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Eternity never held much weight for him when he was a thirteen-year-old boy. It seemed like any other word then. But it was different now. He has memories of a century with him, and he still didn't look a day over 21. And suddenly, he is burdened by the reality of his life more than he ever was.
Each one you see here is destined for ashes, destined for bones. Only we remain, his mother used to tell him that. Tried so hard to beat those words into the thick skull of his. But it never really stuck with him — the gravity of it.
But now, it's looming over him, threatening to swallow him whole.
A loud booming sound, followed closely by a thud of the wooden flask against the chipped table of the disreputable-looking tavern, startled him out of his thoughts, rattling his concentration. "Another," a feminine voice demanded loudly, two tables across from him.
Igor couldn't see her whole face, but she looked high-born. The back of her head covered with a fine-black cloak fell backward when she lifted her neck. When the moonlight touches her hawkish profile with silver, all he can make out is a shock of black hair and high cheekbones. Still, that wasn't the only thing that attracted Igor's concentration. She somehow struck familiar to his eyes, but he couldn't place where, how, or why.
"Think you had enough for the day?" the innkeeper appeared, questioning, as he puts one of the battered mugs that he gripped in one fist by the handles as he takes the empty ones before her in another hand.
"Do I look drunk to you, Victor?" She doesn't wait for his reply, continuing as she leans back into the chair, hands spread wide on the table as she gestures to herself. "No? So shut up and get me some more kvas," The woman says, dropping her hand hard on the heavy table in emphasis, making it rattle under the weight. It seemed impossible that such a petite woman could do it.
"It's Vadim, woman," The man grunts in reply, knowing the woman wouldn't bother remembering.
At a distance, the church bell rings. She perks up at the sound, craning her head in its direction, all while her ears pricked like the cats'. And Igor almost loses his breath when she turns his way. While she called back the innkeeper and dropped a bag of coins onto the table for Vadim to see, much to the beady-eyed man's surprise( both at the heavy pouch and her apparent change of plans to stop drinking kvas like water)... Igor continued staring at her from under his dark hair, stupified.
It can't be, he thinks. He must be mistaken.There's no way it's the same woman.
