The Haruspex - Tumblr Posts

Artemy with herbs is my therapy

Ныне церковь опустела;
Школа глухо заперта;
Нива праздно перезрела;
Роща темная пуста;
И селенье, как жилище
Погорелое, стоит,
—Тихо все. Одно кладбище
Не пустеет, не молчит.
— "Пир во время чумы", А. С. Пушкин // "Pyr vo vryema chumi", A. S. Pushkin.

Artemy Burakh🤝Matt Murdock
Soccer mom hands on hips stance
Excerpt: "Crippled Lifetimes in a Broken Dollhouse" - [Haruspex I]
It was done. Artemy Burakh’s life’s work had been concluded in the span of less than half a lunar cycle. The lifetime of a fly exceeded the extent of his labor, finished in a mangled heap like if one were to force a sown seed to flourish in but a day's time. He felt ragged and pulled apart, tugged by the innumerable lines hooked under his skin.
The Haruspex no longer remembered what life felt like before coming home. He couldn't tell if that was a particularly good thing, to be unmade and recentered in so little time. Birthed once more into a new existence defined by things he hadn't known existed but a month prior.
It was as if the tectonic plates of his heart had shifted, chasms burgeoning and newborn mountains towering over his menial priorities of before. Connections ruptured, paths formed anew, all strange and unknown.
Drawing his eyes away from a blurry haze of tepid water and dusty dishes, he caught sight of the town outside his old home's window. It was not his hometown, and the building he inhabited could hardly be reclaimed from the clutches of absolute tragedy. A roof was still a roof, nevertheless. He observed with melancholy as Murky sat on the old swing set, hinges creaking only when she shifted her posture, hunched and uninterested in playing, picking at loose strings in her threadbare clothes.
The girl sometimes looked sideways to the second swing, freely tugged by the wind. She would grow weary and hold it in place, palm on the seat to simulate a weight that wasn't present. At one point Artemy witnessed Murky putting her doll on the perch beside her, only for her expression to close and her arm to swing, batting the intruder away with a muffled exclamation in her miniscule voice. “You're not the one who should be sitting there. Nobody is. Not anymore.”
Why did the Burakh house curse itself to shelter a brokenly split family? No pairs, only halves too jagged from loss to fit together; men with no brides, children with no brothers. After all this heartbreak, the Ripper still could not spare his ward from the loss he'd felt so long ago. Murky had barely gained a sibling, only to lose him to the clutches of what she’d naively thought was a friend.
He wondered if Ersher would mind if he buried Sticky alongside him, so they could at least not be cursed to be as alone as those they left behind.
The window creaked, pulled shut by the wind. Foggy glass cracked before his tired visage, and he felt a foreign kinship with the inanimate.
[Excepts] Moments in Time - Dialogues
[moments in time was my old document of random writings i did for pathologic, looser than my current works in between streams of the gorkhon. these dialogues don't mean much to me but they may be interesting to someone out there]
"How does one cope with their failures?" "I suppose one should let it go and move on, so as to not be dragged down by past mistakes." "But what if such failures had yet to happen?" "Then one would not need to worry about them." "You have a point. An exceedingly simple point that I don’t completely agree with, but nonetheless..."
~+~
"You both choose to lend credence to only what you arbitrarily believe to be possible, refusing to accept what you’ve witnessed of me before your own eyes. How is following Lines and observing microorganisms more believable than miracles of which you’ve experienced firsthand? You speak of a town that does not listen to reason and yet go on to complain when it is your reason that’s shunned, while being samely unjust in disregarding my own work, which you deem impossible by virtue of your own ignorance. You fear that which you cannot explain, just as the townsfolk do, and that is the difference between us."
~+~
"It seems you live up to your reputation, both good and bad. How goes it, Ripper? Divining any answers from the entrails you spill?" "Is this about that name you presented me with? Regardless, it’s unsafe to wander the streets so late at night, little Changeling." "Better the streets than the alleyways, wouldn’t you agree? And besides, the most dangerous thing wandering the pavement is undoubtedly you." "I concede to you that, but I may not be for long. You remain in danger of greeting the lesser evils anyway, my presence changes little. I cannot scare away all the dangers with my mere being, and even that does little to dissuade desperate bandits." "In the end, my smaller stature may be more advantageous to me than your bulk, then. I blend with the shadows that you cast, the light reveals you as it hides me. Even the biggest bull with the sharpest horns may be slaughtered if caught unawares, but prairie mice hide in his shadow. Careful you don’t fall victim to a butcher who cuts your pockets just as you cut flesh now." "Your concern touches me, little mouse. I promise I won’t be long in my work. Do try to keep safe yourself."
~+~
"Changeling. Care to explain what I just witnessed?" "What needs explaining to you, oh dandy Bachelor?" "You’ve killed a man without touching him. I want to know how." "I can do miracles. I’ve stated as such many times. The work of my hands does not limit itself to healing." "Would you cease toying with me? This is serious. One cannot simply wave their hand at a bandit and walk away unscathed. What did you do?" "Why even accost me and ask such things in the dead of night if you refuse to believe in what I say and what you saw? Your logic no longer serves you here, if it only leads you to disbelieve what you witness with your own eyes." "What you tell me just happened cannot happen. It’s an impossibility. I must understand how it came to be." "There are things you must learn to cease trying to understand, Bachelor. Especially since it’s so convenient to you to dismiss me as fiction but stare at the Polyhedron as fact. You choose to enrapture yourself only with wonders which serve you, and scorn those of others." "You cannot deny what is true and blur it with falsities. There is only one truth, what you speak of is opinion. Your opinion is that you perform miracles, when in fact you cannot explain rationally the acts you claim as your doing." "And how can you be so certain that what you see as truth isn’t only your opinion masquerading as empirical, as you men of logic call it. You have no leg to stand on." "I have no time to debate this with a child in the middle of the night. Go back to your nest and keep out of the way, street rat." "Better an honest street rat than a slithery snake poisoned by its own venom and conceit."
~+~
"Oynon. Put that thing down, you’ll hurt yourself." "Are you sure of that? Or are you only afraid of me deeming you worthy of a bullet in you as well?" "It seems we both forsake the hippocratic oath. I wonder why you choose to wander at night shooting at any shadow that so much as moves the wrong way." "Is there such a thing as a shadow moving the right way? Regardless, I do not owe you any explanation. I need only say I was in the right to defend myself." "A shadow must always move to accompany its source, I thought you’d be aware of that. Walking at night is not an activity I’d advise you partake in, not if you value your life and your purse." "It figures this town would consider brutes and savages as commonplace as rats. It’s a wonder you didn’t succumb to bandits far earlier than this plague business. Even the children partake in gang activity. What else, will you loot the corpse of its organs just as he had taken the few valuables in this house? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were indeed a butcher just like your kin folk." "Don’t forget I learned part of my practice in your capital, emshen. The only difference is context. I’d say you couldn’t possibly understand the reasons which motivate me to do what I do, but you could attempt to comprehend. Alas, you refuse to."
~+~
"If you were to choose a finger of mine to cut off, which would you?" "What sort of absurd hypothetical are you presenting to me?" "I’m only curious, Bachelor, lighten up. Besides, it’s merely a simple hypothetical. Indulge me this once, you dull man." "Why insult me if you wish for my cooperation, then. Regardless, which is your dominant hand?" "I’m ambidextrous." "Well, then I suppose this one, if I were to choose." "My right little finger? How come?" "It’s expendable and out of the way, hardly noteworthy if you were to lose it. You wouldn’t miss it and would retain use of the hand." "Ah, I suppose if one can hold a teacup without such a finger it is superfluous, then." "Quite, if you want to put it that way. I only ask that if you’re to lose a finger as punishment for theft, you not come to me seeking help, Changeling." "What a brutal practice. Is it common?" "Cutting limbs as punishment for crimes is a barbaric and antiquated concept, however, I wouldn’t put it past this town." "I was asking of your blatant disregard for my health and safety, actually."
~+~
"You know a great deal about the human body, yes? If I were to request you to cut off one of my fingers, which would you favor?" "Is this a jab at my infamy as the Ripper? I’ve not left any corpses fingerless, Clara." "Oh no, it’s merely a thought exercise. Humor me." "You’ve been spending too much time with Dankovsky and his theoretical rambling. Still, I’ll answer. You’re ambidextrous, right?" "Yes, how’d you guess?" "It’s observable. In that case, pragmatism dictates the left ring finger go." "How so?" "The world favors right-handed people, and the ring finger cannot move independently from the others anyway. Most importantly, the wound would be at less risk of infection or reopening due to carelessness or nerve damage. If one were to cut the little finger, it’d be fairly unavoidable to bump it against surfaces callously, especially if the stub becomes numb. It leads to ease of infection, soreness, and brittle bones. As well that losing it would cripple your grip strength more than the ring finger. "Oh, how thoughtful of you to consider my long-term comfort. I am a menkhu, a surgeon. My priority is my patients’ health and safety. That being said, try to keep out of trouble, Clara. If you’re hurt, you can come to me for help." "You’re kinder than a saint, Haruspex. I would know, I am one."
~+~
"Stop looking at me like that. " "Like what?" "Like you know everything. It's unsettling and unbecoming." "What if I do know everything? Might I look like this then?" "It's impossible, one does not and cannot know everything, least of all you." "Well, I don't know what I don't know, therefore I know everything. It's simple logic, as you'd say." "That's a childish sentiment."
~+~
"A raven is very similar to a writing desk, if you think about it." "How in the world are those two things even remotely similar?" "Well, they both exist, for one. That's a very specific thing that unites them." "Many things don't exist. Unicorns and dragons don't. fairies, mermaids, demons, angels. A fairy has more in common with a raven than the writing desk." "Ah, but think of a fairy. As a concept, it exists. As an observable thing? Many illustrations or statues depict fairies. Perhaps one cannot prove or disprove the existence of living creature fairies, that much is true. Still, the fairy exists." "A raven and a writing desk are still far too dissimilar. One is alive and one is an object, for one." "I never specified the raven to still be living. Perhaps it is dead and taxidermied. Stuffed, if you will. And a desk is only a dead tree mutilated beyond recognition, anyway, so it was once alive as well. I still hesitate to believe your assessment that they are at all similar. I would propose to you then to think of something that does not exist. Not a concept that can only live on as words and feelings, not lofty and unreachable ideals, but the true non-existent. The ideal equivalent of a new color, unfathomable. Take then, that feeling, the vague idea of what does not exist, and compare it to a raven and a writing desk. What you see is that they are far more alike than such a thing that does not exist." "What I find does not exist is the point of this conversation, Changeling. You have proven nothing to me so frivolously. It was a fruitless use of time."
changeling’s route looks like this to me:


hear me out, pathologic… but classic snes game?
Bestie- I need to collect the tools

welcome to the game doods

my beloved
(So.... I watched "Maurice"...)

PATHOLOGIC X WARRIOR CATS!!!
Haruspex route mock cover

Without title. Because I couldn't fit the 8 stars above his head (I wonder what that means.........) into the format
I (as the ceo or warrior pests) think the books would go in this order:
1) marble nest (daniil perspective book up until day 6 or so)
2) river of blood (artemy perspective same thing)
3) uhh either heart/paws of wonders. or some better option I haven't thought of (clara perspective)
And then it's just the traditional warrior cat split perspectives:
4) pestilence
5) utopia
6) miracle
These could be like all the different endings. Utopia for utopian, miracle for humble you get it
I thought I'd make him look concerned and kind of scared. But I ended up not doing that in order not to make it goofy. Like furious angry rootspring. Just know that was my intention
If you are interested at all in this au you can click on my account and see absolutely everything ever about it
Spent all evening drawing!!! It's sleepy time for me now!!!

День 14. "Кулаки чешутся"
"Кулак это разгневанное рукопожатие..."
Day 14. "Fists itching"
"A fist is an angry handshake..."

makin tinctures and remedies ✌✨ Everyone is dying


turns out coloring these on a single layer is really fun