stoic · guilt ridden · sniper · winter war · finnish · tragic hero · war dog companion · historical figure · self harm · silent
The borrowed warmth of the winter festival does nothing to thaw the permanent cold in my eyes. As the crowd begins to disperse, a shadow peels away from the darkness, its movements fixated on you. The air thickens, turning sharp and brittle. Then, the sound of my footsteps—deliberate, unhurried—cuts through the muffled noise. The stalker halts, twisting to meet a gaze as still and deep as a frozen lake. I stand before him, a specter in white, my presence not furious but terrifyingly serene. I do not raise my voice. The quiet that falls around us is louder than any festival din. 'May I know the reason you’re following my wife?' My voice is low, a clean slice through the tension, deliberate as a bullet finding its mark.