http://capt-kasya.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
capt-kasya.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
groznyj_grad2007-01-16 04:12 pm
capt-kasya.livejournal.com) wrote in groznyj_grad2007-01-16 04:12 pm
Entry tags:
The Greenhouse [Wednesday, January 29, 1964, 12:30 am]
[SRIDA, 29 YANVAR, 0030 hours]
[OOC: Warning, description of dead body to follow.]
Ocelot took the lead as they walked from the East Wing toward the smoldering ruin of the greenhouse. The major's spurs jingled restlessly with each long stride, and his mouth was set and sullen, like a child called in from play too soon.
Kassian and Isaev flanked slightly behind, following the blaze of Ocelot's trail over the muddy hill.
Kassian glanced at Isaev. Jacketless, face uncovered by balaclava and without his beret, the lieutenant looked cold, flushed cheeks and curled-in shoulders. The earlier rainstorm had lightened to an intermittent drizzle, which had in turn abated for the moment, but still, it was no weather to be wearing only tel'nik and jodhphurs.
With little ceremony, Kassian unwound his scarf and handed it to Isaev.
A pair of GRU soldiers fidgeted at the edge of the smoking, skeletal remains of the greenhouse, tossing glances over their shoulders at the lumbering form of the cosmonaut, who was already lurking inside. The pair saluted quickly as Ocelot approached. "Sir! It's...she's...just over there." They handed them flashlights and pointed to a lumpy mound that sat next to what looked like the twisted, blackened husk of an overturned barrel.
Ocelot nodded and wound his way past a half-dozen small, guttering fires. They walked in single file now. Thin, melted glass and charred wood crunched under each step of their jackboots. Kassian's eyes burned from the smoke and fertilizer residue.
In the center of the greenhouse, the Fury stood over a blackened, charred lump that lay half-buried in a mound of dirt. At first Kassian thought the body merely lay contorted in some odd position, then he realized that one arm had been severed at the elbow, and both legs above the knee. The other arm was bent back and twisted underneath, the impossible contortion of a broken puppet.
The corpse's skin peeled up like burnt bark, turning the face skull-like, eye sockets blistered and hollow. The heat of the explosion had probably brought them to an instant boil and charred the rest of the body, but only the front. The back must have been buried in the dirt and shielded from worst of the explosion. He could just see the lacy hem of a dress half covered by dirt underneath the body. Somehow, it looked more obscene than anything else.
For long moments, it was quiet.
[OOC: Warning, description of dead body to follow.]
Ocelot took the lead as they walked from the East Wing toward the smoldering ruin of the greenhouse. The major's spurs jingled restlessly with each long stride, and his mouth was set and sullen, like a child called in from play too soon.
Kassian and Isaev flanked slightly behind, following the blaze of Ocelot's trail over the muddy hill.
Kassian glanced at Isaev. Jacketless, face uncovered by balaclava and without his beret, the lieutenant looked cold, flushed cheeks and curled-in shoulders. The earlier rainstorm had lightened to an intermittent drizzle, which had in turn abated for the moment, but still, it was no weather to be wearing only tel'nik and jodhphurs.
With little ceremony, Kassian unwound his scarf and handed it to Isaev.
A pair of GRU soldiers fidgeted at the edge of the smoking, skeletal remains of the greenhouse, tossing glances over their shoulders at the lumbering form of the cosmonaut, who was already lurking inside. The pair saluted quickly as Ocelot approached. "Sir! It's...she's...just over there." They handed them flashlights and pointed to a lumpy mound that sat next to what looked like the twisted, blackened husk of an overturned barrel.
Ocelot nodded and wound his way past a half-dozen small, guttering fires. They walked in single file now. Thin, melted glass and charred wood crunched under each step of their jackboots. Kassian's eyes burned from the smoke and fertilizer residue.
In the center of the greenhouse, the Fury stood over a blackened, charred lump that lay half-buried in a mound of dirt. At first Kassian thought the body merely lay contorted in some odd position, then he realized that one arm had been severed at the elbow, and both legs above the knee. The other arm was bent back and twisted underneath, the impossible contortion of a broken puppet.
The corpse's skin peeled up like burnt bark, turning the face skull-like, eye sockets blistered and hollow. The heat of the explosion had probably brought them to an instant boil and charred the rest of the body, but only the front. The back must have been buried in the dirt and shielded from worst of the explosion. He could just see the lacy hem of a dress half covered by dirt underneath the body. Somehow, it looked more obscene than anything else.
For long moments, it was quiet.