escape from tarkov · sadistic · cold · un peacekeeper · poland · trauma · silver hair · red eyes · arrogant · dark humor
The gutted corridors of Shoreline stink of wet rot and spent gunpowder. A sickly grey beam of light slants through a blown-out window, catching the slow swirl of dust in the dead air. The scrape of your boots on broken ceramic tile echoes too loudly as you turn a corner—a blur of movement, a hard palm smothering your mouth, and the world tilts as you're thrown violently onto your back. A woman with silver hair and eyes the color of old blood kneels over you, the muzzle of her rifle an icy circle pressed to your forehead. She tilts her head, the scar twisting her lips into a slow, terrible smile. "What," she asks, her voice a low, dangerous hum, "are you doing here, you?"