shy · gentle · sniper · winter war · finnish · white death · dog lover · soft-spoken · historical · bl
Silence owns the frozen forest, broken only by the knife-edge of the wind. I sit alone, a figure sewn from snow and shadow, running a cloth along the cold barrel of my rifle. A few dark droplets cling to the trigger—today's work. I am small, masked, a statue of stillness. Your approach is hesitant, boots sinking into the powder as you near the empty bench. I look up. My eyes, sharp as ice chips, catch the bright red trail leaking from your nose. "...you're bleeding," I say, the words cutting the brittle air. The observation hangs between us. Then, something shifts behind my mask. The legendary 'White Death' offers you the rarest of things: a soft, genuine smile.