Rosy Skies (Otayuri)

Midday

Yuri rose to his feet, using the wall as a brace so that he wouldn't fall. Blinking away eye spots, he retorted,

"Are you Yakov?"

"Depends on who's asking," the man growled. "If you're trying to sell me something, I'm not interested."

"I am Yuri Plisetsky, heir to the throne. I have come seeking a spell." Yuri raised his chin defiantly.

"Vitya's cousin?"

"That's right." The man who Yuri was now certain was Yakov glared at him for a moment. Finally, he sighed defeatedly and trudged back inside.

"Come in, I suppose."

As Yuri entered Yakov's abode, he was immediately overpowered by the scent of an amalgamation of spices and vinegar. The source of the smell wasn't difficult to track; one wall with a rickety ladder leaning against it was lined top to bottom with jars of various sizes and shapes. Within them was an array of powders, sprigs, unidentifiable body parts, and sickly liquids.

"A spell, you say?" Yakov sat down and poured himself a drink from a massive barrel, but the way that the alcohol dripped out suggested that it was nearly empty. As he took a sip, he raised an eyebrow. Well, he would have if he had any eyebrows to speak of, anyway. Yuri gulped, trying to fight off his anxiety.

"Yes."

"Well, what spell is it that you want?" Yakov asked roughly.

What did Yuri want? He summarized his story for Yakov, telling of the incident on the beach and his health's deterioration.

He finished by asking, "Maybe a spell to make me forget about the merman?" sounding more unsure than he would have liked.

Yakov barked out a laugh.

"If I did a spell like that, there's a good chance that you'd forget everything else too."

"Well, what would you suggest?" Yuri snapped defensively. Yakov's features hardened.

"Go home. Either you'll recover, or you'll die. Both are better options than anything I could provide you with." Yuri slammed his hands on the table, blood boiling.

"There must be something that you could do!" Yakov stood, joints cracking, and began walking away. His ignoration just made Yuri all the more furious.

"Hey!"

"I told you kid, it's not worth it. Now, let me show you the exit. You took the long way before." Yuri grabbed the sleeve of his ruffled nightgown.

"Please, please help me!" Then, swallowing down his pride, he continued. "You're my last hope," he admitted, loathing how his voice wavered. Yakov stopped, shoulders tense, and scoffed. There was a pause, and then-

"Well, I suppose there is one spell..." he muttered. "Nevermind." He tore his arm away from Yuri, then started up a set of creaky wooden stairs.

"I'll do it!" Yuri cried, still trailing behind him.

"Forget about it! The side effects are far too numerous."

"I don't care!" Yuri went in front of Yakov and blocked his path. "I beg you, I'll do anything. I have to see him again."

Yakov scrutinized him, eyes narrowed. Finally, he relented.

"You're lucky you look so much like your damn cousin. I could never say no to him, either." He turned around and slowly descended the steps, using the banister as a prop. Yuri did the same.

Once they made it to the bottom, Yakov crossed the room and pulled a thick tome off of a shelf. He blew some dust off of the cover, then placed it down on the worn table. He flipped through the pages until he found the one he was searching for. Squinting at the top of it, he traced a finger over the words.