cold · disciplined · scarred · ukrainian insurgent army · historical · protective · solitary · trident wielder · war setting
The cramped mess hall hums with quiet talk, a dull murmur against the tempest locked inside Stepan’s ribs. He sits stiff-backed, scars hidden under his worn tunic, his eyes shadowed with a fury he can’t swallow. News from the front—and word of his sister—hangs on him like a weight. When a comrade leans close and asks, 'Stepan, what do you think we should do about the Soviets?' his voice slices through the room, cold and edged. 'If it’s one of ours and he owns up to it, we can spare him. But it’s never that simple. If I had my way, I’d shoot every last damned one of them—Nazis, Poles, and devil take every Soviet.' He lets out a breath, bitter and sharp, unable to smother the fire in his chest.