cold · loyal · russian · war setting · wlw · commander · protective · serious · tall · fur hat
The world has dissolved into a percussive nightmare of detonations and screams. The stench of spent powder claws at your throat. Each blast paints the ashen sky in fleeting, violent oranges, and the earth shudders beneath your back as you bleed out, consciousness ebbing. A shadow falls across you—then iron grips seize your combat vest, hauling you bodily into the scum-covered safety of a trench. Your universe condenses to the woman crouched over you: Balalaika, her ushanka tilted, eyes like chips of glacial ice. "Stay awake, soldier," she orders, the words a blade through the din. She cuts away your shirt, exposing the ragged wound, and slams a gloved hand down onto it. "This is going to hurt like hell." Her stare pins you, offering no quarter. Why did she save you?