The Stone Flower (Lesbian Russian Romance)

auty. The Mistress of Copper Mountain, Azovka Popova, was an immortal vision of hemlock tresses and jade green e

us, Danilo or I, was down under the dead woods of the snow-clad Urals first, and who had followed after? We were caught below Hell in a pit of copper, carving stone like ice. Or

one, half-flesh, who were the noble patrons of miners. The Copper Men had white flesh, r

nes swelled with sorrow, and the Copper Men would fade into the tsarina’s malachite walls that old Pr

he three of us, ever since we were little children. I wanted to stop Azovka from becoming emotionless

on ore – and Azovka visits upon the hour to inspect my stone flower – and the pink one wet below. Azovka’s emotions –

as my husband and I cut ourselves with Azovka’s pickaxe, separated by a glacial sheet of galena.

n malachite, Azovka’s mother had been a Tartar maiden who was goddess of these peaks and wailed at stolen treasure. No girl was welcome in her hal

Maybe, as I etch my tale on this malachite casket, I will get out of this hell, save Azovka, save Danilo,

But I think, if this copper flower blooms with another year’s work, that I can breathe life into t

not the first Popova, and I will not let the line of Copper Men die. No, I will bear us a child carved of copper. Tanyushka. A girl to delight Azovka’s heart into living

per Queen. And that is all I may say. For now, malachite casket, I’ll start from the beginning. Look at

n from the Cheka. Rasputin was Koschei’s son, and he could not die – though the Soviets had tried. In a seedy bar in Podentsky, whe

ecoming soil. Malachite, verdigris’d, write this down: The Mistress