❝ 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 ❞
Tucked away in the depths of Russia,
Natalia Romanova buries her unborn daughter. (Underneath the first snowfall of winter,
Natalia Romanova births another.)
A regime burns,
As mother and da...
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𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭
It was too crowded.
Czarina glowers at the people brushing past her, slinking further back against the tall frame stood beside her.
She tugs his hand, eyes flickering around warily.
"Lets go."
His gaze hardly even looks over her.
"Just hold on."
Czarina glares, swallowing tightly as irritation itches at her chest like an untamed beast. She pinches the skin on his flesh hand viciously.
"You keep saying that. We shouldn't even still be in America, why are we hanging around this useless museum."
He shakes her small hand free from his, indents of her nails pressed deep into his palm.
"It's important."
Soldier still hasn't torn his gaze from the displays around him, eyes transfixed on the floating faces of men in uniforms.
"You're not him."
Her word come out sharper than she intends, more spat than spoken. She swallows and looks away.
Czarinas eyes latch onto a small screen below her, static video flickering to life repeatedly. On loop two men laugh.
In the video her Soldier looks different. His hair is shorter, slicked in a stylised way she had never seen before. His face less gaunt, frame more flesh then bone. She hardly recognises him.
He laughs at something the blonde man says.
Her gut twists unpleasantly, she feels wrong inside. (she had never made him laugh.)
"You're Soldier. This man died years ago, it's not the same version of you! Lets just go."
She feels like a desperate child, whining relentlessly to get her own way. She can't help herself, there's panic clawing up her throat and she feels wrong inside.
Czarina could almost feel the hands tickling against her skin, restraining her as they gut her from the inside out. Bright lights and pain dancing along her veins, The Doctors voice echoing in her brain.
She couldn't go back.
She had to get out.
A woman squeezes too close to her, ducking through the small gap between Czarina and another man in the crowded museum.
Her body jerks back involuntarily, eyes wild. She nearly screams, mind alight with panic.
They were coming for her. They were going to find her.
Nails dig into her chest, she scratches violentally. Her lungs felt too small, her skin too tight. The urge to flee slammed against her ribs alongside the jack-rabbit beat of her heart.
