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Aleksandr · Vasiliy · Yaroslav


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December 20, 1941

The winter rooftop had become something of a refuge for him, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel ashamed of spending the mass amounts of time up there as he was. There were no girls giggling at him, no orders being called to him, no odd Jan staring at him like… like Jan was waiting for something important to happen.

Turning his face upwards, Aleksandr knew his time was drawing near. He had stayed here for almost a week, and paired with his previous disappearance of a week, his family had probably been informed of his death or at least disappearance. He had sent a letter though, without Jan’s knowing, to where he knew a military base was to inform them of his current situation and location. He could not betray his country… there was a purpose of serving.

He could hear some of the girls laughing and playing some silly game between their chores. They did not follow him when he was up on the rooftop… just one did.

He did not know her, but he did. She haunted him now, more so than ever before. He had dreamed of her as a child, but her importance had been lost in his childish mind because of her seeming grudging acceptance of his presence. He was nothing to her, and he knew that he would be nothing for as long as he served, existed, and followed her every move. Her eyes were turned elsewhere.

Yet, Aleksandr knew he served with all the dedication of a wayward puppy with no where else to go. He loved her, he had realized as he watched her in his mind as he slept. She had become everything for him, the entire reason for living when he was without… something. He supposed he would even kill for her; he would throw away his life too.

He sneered where he sat. “I would slit my own throat for your happiness,” he murmured, remembering well the haunting feelings that rose just when he looked at her. “…but I would slit the throat of your enemies before that because they are not worthy of your attention, of your pain, of your hatred.”

He had no name to go with the face that often swum in the back of his mind. She was beautiful though, cold as if a block of ice separated her from the world. She had short blonde hair and blue eyes, much like someone else but not. Her clothing was out of the world he had known. He seemed to think that she had thrown snow in his face once, and at another time, she had gifted him with part of those odd clothes.

Shaking his head, Aleksandr did his best to push his current train of thoughts away from where he knew he would think about them. He had no such dedication, to a woman. He never liked the female sex all that much and not just because he didn’t understand them all that well. All the women he had known or seemed to know had never been particularly kind to him, so he was never kind to them in return.

As a general rule, he stayed away from them even as he grew older. He had little choice when it came to Tatiyana, his younger sister a constant reminder of just why he stayed away from other females. He would still see his sister married off, perhaps only to want to know for certain that she was gone from his life and into ruining the life of someone else.

“I’ll tell her she has a fat ass in her dress… and she’ll probably slap my face,” he murmured. It would be worth it though.

He twisted his fingers together and considered taking a bit of a nap. He had been having trouble staying asleep recently, mostly because her face haunted him with desires he never thought himself capable of. Every time she would appear, he would simply wonder, Why won’t you look at me?

Sighing, he laid his head against his arms and scuffed his boot into the snow on the roof. He mentally berated himself for his foolishness, first losing touch with his position in the war and now this… feeling a pull to go to a woman he never even knew.

Maybe that was what was bothering him so much. He felt a pull, an unconscious one to walk, drive, fly, crawl (if he had to) to the West. It came to him frequently lately. He found himself randomly walking West, and he would have to correct himself quickly. He would sleep facing the West lately too, which was very strange.

What really lay to the West that called?
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