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capt_kasyaKassian leaned close to the door, listening.
He heard quiet beyond, no sound in particular. Not that it necessarily meant no one was inside. It was the middle of the night, and most people would be asleep.
Or they should have been.
He'd woken up feeling a lingering chill on his back, and far too much room in the bunk. A few minutes later, he'd realized that Andrei had not gone to the barracks lavatory at all, but rather seemed to have slipped out of the room. Kassian had thought to wait for a while, in case Andrei had gone to the gym and would be returning shortly.
He hadn't been able to wait long.
He'd dressed quickly in his black uniform, complete with its smart red gloves and scarf, donning the balaclava so that no one would know who he was. It also meant leaving his rifle in the barracks, but that was better than getting caught roaming the base Isaev-less, when he was supposed to be keeping track of Andrei's every move.
The gym had been empty. No luck. Kassian had thought for a few moments, wondering where else Andrei could have possibly gotten to, and then it had hit him, almost like relief.
Almost.
Kassian glanced both ways down the hall before he pulled off his balaclava, pausing for a moment to push back his hair, black and thick and willful.
He sighed, then raised his fist to the door, wondering if he was going to regret this.
He heard quiet beyond, no sound in particular. Not that it necessarily meant no one was inside. It was the middle of the night, and most people would be asleep.
Or they should have been.
He'd woken up feeling a lingering chill on his back, and far too much room in the bunk. A few minutes later, he'd realized that Andrei had not gone to the barracks lavatory at all, but rather seemed to have slipped out of the room. Kassian had thought to wait for a while, in case Andrei had gone to the gym and would be returning shortly.
He hadn't been able to wait long.
He'd dressed quickly in his black uniform, complete with its smart red gloves and scarf, donning the balaclava so that no one would know who he was. It also meant leaving his rifle in the barracks, but that was better than getting caught roaming the base Isaev-less, when he was supposed to be keeping track of Andrei's every move.
The gym had been empty. No luck. Kassian had thought for a few moments, wondering where else Andrei could have possibly gotten to, and then it had hit him, almost like relief.
Almost.
Kassian glanced both ways down the hall before he pulled off his balaclava, pausing for a moment to push back his hair, black and thick and willful.
He sighed, then raised his fist to the door, wondering if he was going to regret this.
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no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 12:24 am (UTC)"Why? I didn't kill Papa Irinarhov," he said, dismissively. "My father didn't even kill him."
Ilarion looked down, frowned, and leaned over to brush at an invisible scuff on the vamp of his boot with precise, gloved fingers.
"My only crime was indifference to your..." he waved his hand for a moment, "...pain."
He sighed, almost whimsical.
"Youth is a malignant disease," he said. His eyes darkened, as he drew out his handkerchief and began to burnish the leather with perfunctory adoration.
Eventually, momentarily satisfied, he stopped and straightened once more.
"In time, I learned a modicum of compassion."
He had learned. He had learned that Nikanor Grigoriivich looked favorably upon the smallest concessions on his part toward the greater good.
"I know a man who has nothing but sympathy for the wretched. Through him, I learned restraint, and reverence for suffering. I learned that self-possession and decorum are more important than contempt for the rabble."
He folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.
"Now that he's gone...well, I do my best, but sometimes...I'm not so kind."