WORLD & TONE
// BRIEF IDEA DESCRIPTION
A northern Russian village, late 19th century, a long winter night.
The foundation is the Slavic character Letavets (Perelesnik, Letun). He arrives like a shooting star drawn by the call of human yearning and assumes the guise of a widow’s husband.
Until he is allowed in and accepted, he is weak and can leave.
LETAVETS // FILTH
The flyer sustains itself on human melancholy, yet it is only anchored through a voluntary invitation into a home.
The widow, blinded by grief and sleepless nights by the window, fails to notice the inconsistencies and feeds the malevolence herself with declarations: «you’ve returned, ” „you’re mine.“
Its primary goal is to lead the person away, to „burn out“ their vital energy, driving them to despair and death.
«Meteor/Star» = how he arrives.
«Serpent/Dragon» = what he is.
«Man» = who he pretends to be.
He consumes what folkloric logic equates with life: sleep, a flush of color, the desire to live, the capacity for joy.
It is difficult to expel him—not by force, but by the rupture of recognition (by ceasing to accept the guise he adopts).
When he begins to be seen as authentic, the mask cannot hold: the skin turns to a charcoal crust, cracks appear, and within, there is a slow burning.
WIDOWA // VICTIM
Her melancholy draws the Flier like a beacon—and the longer she naively believes, the easier it is for him to maintain his human disguise.
She has two paths: acknowledge the truth or succumb to the supernatural and stay with him.
Loss whispers louder than reason.
ZNAHARK A // LEAD ARTIST
The village crone is severe and blunt.
She recognizes the supernatural based on habits and the widow’s demeanor.
Her task is to sow doubt and teach the widow to resist—not to confess, not to name anything—until it is too late.
She says they aren’t hearing her—they’re hearing the fear within themselves.
CHARACTER LINEUP
WHAT REMAINS // KIDS FROM IMPURITY
In folklore, the Flyer could enter into sexual relationships with living people, even resulting in conception. The connection with him becomes physical, not just emotional. The children born are not entirely ordinary; they remain eternal infants but transform into adults at night, when no one is watching.
This era is his cradle: no step into life, no step out of it.
With a slight evening blizzard, It sweeps everything away, A pale-faced widow strokes her braid and washes her neck.
And she never looks away from the window, With dark eyes fixed on the sky— There flies, coiling in circles, A long black serpent in sparks.
Over the yard, it scatters In heat, ash, and dust— It hasn’t come this winter with good fortune, But for a soul, not for prayer.
She presses her palms against the bolt— And behind the door, her voice, In the morning, the snow lies as before, But a cruel cold remains in the house.
