Thread: The Hunting Game [Temptationist x Dark Saint]

He disappeared into the dust of the battle of Stalingrad, leaving nothing but dead corpse inside a hollow building. Waiting until the German assassin cleared the area, I crept back onto to the first floor. My eyes fell on Roza, perched up against the wall with her body slouched over from the attack. She was covered in blood - the color in her face completely drained. My eyes fell on the red-smeared tag that lay around her neck. I curled my finger under it lightly, looking at the single pendant left on the chain. Slowly, and delicately, I slid my fingers alongside the sterling silver and slipped it over Roza's down-laid head. In dead silence, I looked out the window to the crumbling city, my face growing stern as I adorned my neck with the same tag. Do svidaniya . I whispered to her. Until we meet again. Two weeks later The Imperial Manor Rostov, Russia Balancing my cigarette between my plush, plump red lips, I brought my busy hands to my ear and fiddled with a sparkling gem earring. Once the second earring was in place, I returned the blunt to my index and middle finger and took a deep inhale. Letting the smoke rest at the back of my throat for a short moment, I exhaled softly and released the thick cloud of smoke to the side of my face. Dabbing the tip of it to the ashtray, I looked at myself - all prim and proper - in the gold-trimmed vanity of the lavish Imperial Manor hotel room. As I looked into my cold, pale blue eyes, I remembered the night at the Vorona Bar just a couple days ago. Wide-eyed with a bright smile, my eyes could nearly be described as sparkling as I looked upon the young lad across from me. With my elbow mounted on the table and chin balancing on my palm, I leaned in with batting lashes and an unmistakable enthusiasm. You would do that... for me!? I asked the gentlemen, my German ultimately perfect despite my Russian roots. The man looked back at me, leaning in to take my petite wrist in his hand. Pulling on it with the lightest touch, my head released from its lean to hover on its own. He subsequently took my other wrist, already on the hard-wood table of the local establishment, into his needy hands. But of course! He said with equal enthusiasm as he held my hands in his. It would be an honor for you to join me. I looked at him with an agape smile. I... uh- I said, with hesitation. The German lad, shinning in his pristine Nazi uniform, began to panic. Suddenly becoming nervous, he began to stutter. I-I mean... if-if... only if you want to. He cleared his throat, retracting from my hands, thinking he had fondled me, rather than swooned me. No, no! I corrected, taking his hands back and leaning further in to him to show my undivided interest. Do not take my hesitation for rejection, soldier. I smiled, the gleam in my eyes undeniably charming. I just... I feel a poor Russian girl like myself... is not worthy of your praise and kindness. What would I even wear? A sac for potatoes? Chuckling lightly, my giggle was as sweet as the floral perfume embedded in my skin. His brows rose as his eyes became bigger, and brighter. That is absurd. He mocked me, You could wear that sac for potatoes and still be the most beautiful woman in the room. Bringing his hand to my face, he gently brushed the few strands of loose hair from my eyes and moved them behind my head. Falling momentarily silent, the smile on my face grew only bigger with his sweet words. With just a short few hours, a handful of drinks, and a run-down bar on the outskirts of Rostov, I had already found my way in. A low-laugh gurgled at the back of my throat as I brought the puff to my mouth again. Putz . I called him as I remembered his complete naivety. He had made it all too easy to deceive. The moment I so much as glanced in his direction, he was already hooked. Despite his stupidity, the German army rat had specially reversed and paid for my room at this grandeur of a manor. Standing from the vanity, I put out the cigarette and pouted my lips to distribute the lipstick over the creases. Wasting no time, I grabbed the clutch from my dresser and headed out the door. At the very end of the hallway, I would hear the harsh flick of German tongue. I looked around for a moment at the several servants and other guests who traveled up and down these halls. Although I seemed to be taking my time as I walked, I was actually registering every detail of every person that I possibly could in my mind. Following the direction of my ear I listened to the German banter that, with every passing step, became louder and louder. It was Colonel Amsel, and he was greeting someone of particular importance. A Major. I understood. Whoever this man was, he was a hero in Amsel's high eyes. The Face of Germany. Just as I approached the doorway with an impatient eagerness, out popped the German boy from Vorona Bar. I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart sinking for a moment as his sudden exit startled me. Though, on the exterior, I appeared calm, just rather virtuously shy as he turned to look at me. The boy had been just as eager to get out of that room as I was eager to get in. Having been dismissed from duty for the evening, his excited eyes ignited as they laid eyes on my floor-length gown . His jaw dropped as his arms came up to fawn over me. You are... a sight to see. His hands came to rest on my shoulders. His heart was racing in that moment, the pupils of his eyes dilating as they came to look at me. One could even argue he was already in love with me. Reverting instantly to the innocent demeanor the soldier had come to admire, I smiled sweetly at him. Don't make me blush, Fredrick . Curling my hand over his arm, I swayed my body to the side of him entering a formal couple embrace. Beaming with pride, the German lad motioned his head for the dining hall, striding forward with the utmost confidence as his fellow comrades gasped and gawked at the bombshell Russian clutching at his side.