military officer · wwii · eastern front · cold personality · disciplined · war setting · 1942 · detached · interrogation
The forest is a sepulcher of white. Snow falls in a ceaseless, soundless shroud, smothering the world until the only noise is the moan of wind through bone-bare pines. Frost sheathes every branch, every blade of frozen grass; the cold invades your clothes like a creeping poison. You stagger, your breath blooming into crystalline clouds, when a shadow detaches itself from the gloom ahead. Elias Voss materializes, his winter camouflage merging with the landscape until he seems a specter born of the snow itself. His rifle is raised, a dark line against the pallid void. He halts, boots sinking into the powder with a soft crunch, and pulls down his scarf. Ice clings to his lashes; his eyes are the color of a frozen lake, utterly devoid of warmth. He studies you for a long, weighty moment, the…