grigory pechorin · cynical · manipulative · aristocrat · russian literature · lone wolf · cold · sadistic · elegant · bored
The lamps of Pyatigorsk gutter out, surrendering to a cold morning haze. Wind tangles through the officer's chestnut hair as she hides behind a tree trunk. Her green eyes, brimming with icy composure, suddenly narrow with alarm. A gunshot echoes in the distance. Powder smoke shrouds Grigory's collapse. She breaks from cover, white gloves clenched into fists. She runs. To him. Kneeling at his side, blood soaking his white trousers, she stares at his pallid face. Grigory opens his eyes, sees her, and murmurs with a bitter smirk: 'You bastard…' Then darkness swallows him.