#being so short there's v fast cuts OTL

[heymeowmao]

风月如雪 | The Snow Moon E8 ° This is... a prop that I use for my acting. Just a theatrical prop!

[martymusesloveinexile]

Update to LIE Chap. 7

Hey friends! I hope you are all doing well and had a wonderful holiday season!

I’m back from my long-ass vacation and will hopefully be back to writing Stranger than Fiction soon.

In the meantime I have something to share with all of you. While I was on vacation I was reading through LIE (I often read my own writing, I feel like this is kind of weird, but w/e). Now usually I’ll just read my master file, but I was actually reading on Ao3 for some reason, and I got to the beginning of Chapter 7 and was like “Huh. I swear there was another scene here. Hmm... maybe I moved it to the middle of the chapter?”

Well, long story short it was not in the middle of the chapter, in fact it wasn’t anywhere. An entire scene (a very important scene) has been missing from the beginning of Chapter 7 ALL THIS TIME. XD

The crazy thing is that no one even noticed! Or at least no one ever commented to me that it seemed like the beginning of the chapter was disjointed or missing something. But I guess you are all too kind to be like “Marty, I feel like your writing got really shit right here.”

So anyway I’m going to update the chapter on Ao3, but I’m also just going to post the scene below under a cut so you don’t have to go hunt it up. For those of you who don’t remember, Chapter 7 starts out with Victor in jail. The scene that has long been omitted is his actual arrest, which should have been the beginning of the chapter!

Anyway, I’m sorry, and also amused that no one has ever noticed this rather important scene being completely absent. OTL

Sakhalin Island, Korsakovsk Post, Spring 1889 - V.N.

I should not have been surprised by my arrest. To be completely honest I suppose I wasn’t surprised. If anything my surprise came at its timing. I thought - erroneously - that I still had more time. And I had hoped that by the time I ran out of time it wouldn’t matter anymore.

But Grankin’s patience with me had worn thin earlier than I’d anticipated. Or maybe this wasn’t about patience at all. More likely it was about power. My arrest had been arranged only so that he knew that I knew it could be done. Even as far away from Alexandrovsk as I was, I wasn’t out of his reach. As I’d hoped I had been.

In retrospect that hope seemed both desperate and naive.

Once I returned to Korsakovsk, I did what I could to reestablish and ingratiate myself to Bely and the others. But a famous dancer isn’t much good if he can’t dance, and the weather wasn’t yet good enough to expect visiting officials who might be interested in my simple notoriety, good looks, and charismatic conversation skills.

Grankin’s letters and their contents weighed heavily on my mind. He insisted that I get things moving by the spring when the shipments between the mainland, Alexandrovsk, and the other districts would increase. And if I didn’t have some sort of plan to our mutual benefit by that time he had plenty of colorful threats in mind. He would have me flayed, send Gilyak mercenaries to drag me back to Alexandrovsk by my neck, have me flogged, have me imprisoned, ruin me in various creative ways, ensure I was returned to Alexandrovsk in chains, or worse, sent to the Tymovsk district or the coal mines of Duay.

Most of this I took as the ravings of a small, fat, unhappy megalomaniac.

But there was one threat I took very seriously. The threat that he would find ways to do harm to those I cared about. As far as he knew the only person I cared about was Yuri, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have eyes on me in Korsakovsk. Or that he couldn’t or wouldn’t find out about Yuuri if I resumed my frequent visits.

Staying away from him and the minshuku was a conscious decision. One that ate at me day and night. I ached to be with Yuuri, just to see his face, so much that if it wasn’t for the rest of the mess of my life to keep me distracted, I might have quite literally gone insane.

Knowing that my absence and silence would also hurt Yuuri was worse still. But I was terrified that rumors would spread. That news of our attachment would catch and somehow he would become embroiled in this mess.

It’s ironic that fate waited just long enough for me to return to him before playing its hand.

I’d only gone down to the docks, because I knew Yuri was returning on the Baikal that day. I wanted to welcome him home, but he was still working, helping unload the freight. So I watched while I waited.

He’s much stronger than you would expect of someone so small and wiry. It’s hard work, but he never flinches from it. He worked alongside another young, dark haired boy, and I don’t know why but I got the impression that they were close somehow. They didn’t talk much, but maybe that is what made them seem close: despite very little verbal communication they worked side by side seamlessly.

They smiled at each other.

I didn’t recognize the other boy. He wasn’t a settler, not from Korsakovsk or Alexandrovsk anyway. Part of the ship’s crew then? Someone Yuri had worked with before or only just met during the last sailing?

A friend? Something more? A secret he’d kept from me?  

Could he be the reason he stayed longer in town when the mail came in?

My train of thought intrigued and troubled me. I would be happy if it was true that Yuri had a friend. There are so few young people on Sakhalin. But why not tell me?

Caught up in my thoughts I did not notice the guards going through the unloaded goods. Nor did I notice when their attention suddenly turned to me.  

“We found it! Like the telegraph said! A crate of contraband. Vodka!” one of them called out. I looked at them, curious as to what they’d found, and was unnerved to see them staring directly at me.

“That is unfortunate. Detain Mr. Nikiforov.”

The voice of Mr. Bely came from behind me. Turning, startled, I saw him standing with two more guards further up the dock. They had rifles. He was looking at me with a mixture of disappointment and contempt.

“What?” I asked stupidly, and had only a moment to brace myself before the guards were on me, grabbing my arms and twisting them behind my back. My muscles spasmed and I gasped in pain, clenching my teeth. “Wait! What are you doing?! I haven’t done anything!”

“Take him to the cell in the prison office. I wish to speak with him there.”

The guards pushed my head down as they propelled me forward. All I could do was splutter. “What is this about?!”

“Victor!” Yuri’s footsteps on the dock were fast and loud. “What are you doing? Let him go!”

I strained against the men holding me, trying to twist around and look over my shoulder. “Yuri, don’t! Stay back. I’ll get this sorted out.”  

My words didn’t deter him. He threw himself at one of the guards, grabbing his arm and trying to yank him away from me. “Let him go! He hasn’t done anything!”

“Yuri, stop!” Surprisingly it was another voice that said these words. Still craning my neck around, I saw the dark haired boy running after Yuri just in time to catch him as the guard shoved him back.

I heard the click of a rifle being primed and panicky fear welled up in my guts, cold and awful, threatening to choke me. “Yuri, stay back!” I shouted again, a tinge of desperation in my voice. The two guards beside Mr. Bely had both readied their guns.

“Control yourself, young man, or you will find yourself arrested as well. If one of my men doesn’t shoot you first.”

I couldn’t help the snarling sound I made between my teeth. Yuri’s face twisted in rage and for a moment I was terrified as it seemed he was about to spring forward again. But the dark haired boy’s arm snaked around him, holding him firmly in place. He said something in his ear, and my little brother crumpled a little.

I didn’t know his name, or what he meant to Yuri, but I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

“It will be fine, Yuratchka,” I said as glibly as I could, just before the guards grabbed my hair and shoved my head forward and down again.  

I was escorted none too gently to the prison office and deposited into the small holding cell kept there for disruptors of the peace and questioning. There was nothing in the cell. No bed. No chair. Only the floor and the bars, which clanged shut loudly behind me as I was shoved through the cell door.

I turned around immediately, wrapping my hands around the bars as Mr. Bely came to stand before me. The guards took up silent positions to either side of the cell.

“I am disappointed by this turn of events Mr. Nikiforov,” he said calmly, twisting his lips, and there was a note of sincerity in his voice.  

I looked at him evenly. “I wish I knew what turn of events you were speaking of Mr. Bely. My sudden imprisonment is a bit of a surprise.”

He made a thoughtful sound and then produced a neatly folded telegram from his pocket. “I received this several days ago from Alexandrovsk Post.” He unfolded it slowly and then began to read. “‘V. Nikiforov known kulak. Smuggling to Korsakovsk. Shipment suspected among Baikal cargo.”’ I watched Mr. Bely as he folded up the telegram paper and put it back in his pocket. “What can you tell me about this telegram?”

I pursed my lips and shook my head. “Nothing. Though apparently you found something among the cargo you think you can attribute to its veracity.”

“A crate of vodka, apparently.” He met my eyes evenly. “As you know distribution of alcohol by anyone but the government is illegal on Sakhalin, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“And you think I would be stupid enough to be so obvious? I would at least make some attempt to disguise what I was smuggling.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think better of it.

“Spoken like a man who has had some experience with such things.”

I stared at him, pursing my lips, but didn’t make any response.

“And there is the curious fact that you were at the dock, watching the cargo being unloaded, as well as the fact that your younger brother just happened to be working on the ship carrying this particular crate of illegal goods.”

“Yuri had nothing to do with any of this,” I ground the words between my teeth.

Mr. Bely canted his head to one side. “And how could you possibly know this if you had nothing to do with it yourself?”

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “Neither of us had anything to do with it. Leave Yuri out of this.” My nostrils flared as I clenched my teeth, filled with rage not only at the implication that Yuri could be at risk, but at my own powerlessness. “Who sent the telegram?”

Mr. Bely’s eyebrow arched a little. “Why does it matter?”

“Was it Ivan Grankin by any chance?”

His other eyebrow rose to join the first.

“That man is a worse crook than any of the criminals in your prison,” I spat. “If you found ‘smuggled’ vodka in the freight it’s because he put it there himself, and then sent you that telegram to implicate me.”

Mr. Bely was quiet a moment. “I know very well that the officials in the northern districts do not appreciate the letter of the law in the same way we do here in the south. I know how Alexandrovsk is run, and it disgusts me, Mr. Nikiforov. That is why I do not take incidents such as these lightly. I have rooted out every attempt that has been made to bring that corruption to my district. Ivan Grankin is a crook, you’re right, as are all of the officials in Alexandrovsk. This, too, I am aware of. But I can see no reason why it would be to his benefit to sabotage his own smuggling operation.”

I took a deep breath, grasping now at the slim chance that I might actually win Bely to my side. “There is no operation. Grankin agreed to my transfer thinking I would help him and the other officials spread their smuggling to Korsakovsk. But once I got here, I refused to work for him, and this is his retaliation. I have no desire to see the corruption of Alexandrovsk brought here! He sent that vodka and that telegram knowing it would lead to my arrest. That’s the only reason!” My knuckles had become white from gripping the bars.

Mr. Bely was quiet again for a moment and then looked down at his feet, tapping one thoughtfully. “Strangely enough I don’t find what you say to be entirely preposterous, Mr. Nikiforov. But regardless it is your word against his, and the quickest way to be rid of this problem is to simply be rid of you.” My blood felt like ice water in my veins. He looked back up, meeting my eyes. “I don’t want you in Korsakovsk any longer. I don’t need you or Mr. Grankin causing me headaches or sewing disorder in my settlement. I will be sending you back to Alexandrovsk where you and the Prison Overseer can deal with each other directly.”

My stomach sank like a stone. “You can’t do that,” I croaked. “I came here to get away from that place. My... my brother...”

“Is a free settler, and welcome to do as he wishes. Whether that means returning to Alexandrovsk with you or remaining in Korsakovsk. He is old enough to be considered an adult. His work on the docks should be enough so that he can support himself.” He smiled a little grimly. “Of course, that is assuming you are correct in your assertion that he is not involved in these underhanded business practices.”

“I told you, he has nothing to do with any of this!”

“Yes, that is what you told me.”

I stared at him through the bars, and after a moment I closed my eyes, trying to keep the overwhelming feeling of despair welling up inside me at bay. He was dangling Yuri in front of me like some kind of bargaining chip. I didn’t know why, or what it was he wanted from me in exchange for my brother’s safety. “Mr. Bely, please. I am begging you. Yuri is a good boy.”

We stared at each other for a long moment and then he grunted. “I won’t look further into his potential involvement granted that he behaves himself, and that you accept your fate and leave Korsakovsk without a fuss. You are popular and well known, and I don’t know who else you might have been working with here. The last thing I need on my hands is some kind of uproar among the prisoners and settlers because of you.”

My brows rose at that. So that’s what he was afraid of? Some kind of riot? On my behalf, or whipped up by me? The thought seemed ludicrous. But if it was truly a fear of the District Governor then perhaps there was something I didn’t know.

The Korsakovsk District was orderly and free of corruption, but the officials were also known for being heavy handed when it came to punishment and discipline. Unpopular prison wardens and palachs, the men who carried out floggings, had been killed in the past by unhappy and vengeful convicts at many prisons. If you were already convicted of murder and sentenced to serve a life-sentence of hard labor, where was the harm in adding another murder to your score?

I smirked faintly. “I think, Mr. Bely, you overestimate my popularity and the influence I might have here. I’ve been in Korsakovsk barely a year, and much of that was spent convalescing with the Japanese. I don’t think you need to worry. Nobody will even notice I’m gone.”

He grunted again. “For my sake I hope you are right, and that you will serve as an example to remind the others that corruption is not tolerated in Korsakovsk.”

My eyes flicked up to his, an unpleasant feeling roiling in my stomach. “What do you mean by that?”

“You have committed a crime in the eyes of the officials, Mr. Nikiforov. And crime begets due punishment-”

“You said you were sending me back to Alexandrovsk,” I cut him off, the unpleasant feeling becoming something more like fear.

“And so I am. But before you will have a date with the palach. A public flogging will serve as a much better deterrent than your quiet disappearance from the settlement, especially if - as you say - no one will even notice you are gone.”

I had never been flogged before, but I had seen it and I had heard it and I knew that men had died from it. The rozgi. The plet. The knout. These are the weapons of the palach, each more terrible and severe than the last. Strapped face down to the kabila bench a man loses not only all ability to defend himself, but all dignity.

A weak feeling made my knees buckle and I slumped forward against the bars. I heard Mr. Bely make a soft, tutting sound. “I know this is unfortunate, Mr. Nikiforov. In all honesty, I liked you, and was glad to have someone of some interest in my settlement. They keep all of the interesting people for themselves in Alexandrovsk. But you have to understand that maintaining order in this settlement and within my prison is my duty to Russia, and to all those who are in my care. If it makes you feel any better I will instruct the palach to go easy on you.”

To my mortification, I was trembling.

Mr. Bely tutted again. “Until arrangements can be made I think the cachots noirs will be the best place to keep you, Mr. Nikiforov. That will save us both the trouble of shackling you and keep you out of any trouble with the other prisoners.”