[ He'd spent some time looking at the bodies up close — and no matter how much horror Konstantin has known as of late, this is.... something different. There's no gore, no blood or mess at all, only the remains of four men frozen in some state of perpetual terror.
It's difficult to look at their faces. There's a thing inside of his body that feeds off of fear, and Konstantin's seen enough screaming faces for a lifetime. He finds himself moving out of his inquisitive crouch, standing up again to take steps backwards, putting some distance between himself and the corpses.
It'd be hard to miss the young woman in the neon coat, and he finds himself drawn closer to her like some beacon; she stands a safe distance away, and offers a grounding point. Maybe he needs to keep close to someone, too. Years of intense training — conditioning — in the Cosmonaut Corps, psychological just as much as physical, a promotion to Commander, and he still found himself childlike last night, feeling smaller than he has since he can remember. Trembling and wet-eyed; the fear seemed etched into his bones. He can still feel it there if he lets himself, and he tries not to. He puts on a smile as he looks to her — sobered, heavy at the corners, but warm the way his smiles always are, even for strangers. ]
I didn't. [ There's an odd guilt that nudges up under his sternum with the words, like they're a confession. Like the death of anyone around him is something he could have helped avoid. Maybe it's a stupid thought, even selfish, but it's one that needles him, again and again and again. He's supposed to be a hero. ]
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It's difficult to look at their faces. There's a thing inside of his body that feeds off of fear, and Konstantin's seen enough screaming faces for a lifetime. He finds himself moving out of his inquisitive crouch, standing up again to take steps backwards, putting some distance between himself and the corpses.
It'd be hard to miss the young woman in the neon coat, and he finds himself drawn closer to her like some beacon; she stands a safe distance away, and offers a grounding point. Maybe he needs to keep close to someone, too. Years of intense training — conditioning — in the Cosmonaut Corps, psychological just as much as physical, a promotion to Commander, and he still found himself childlike last night, feeling smaller than he has since he can remember. Trembling and wet-eyed; the fear seemed etched into his bones. He can still feel it there if he lets himself, and he tries not to. He puts on a smile as he looks to her — sobered, heavy at the corners, but warm the way his smiles always are, even for strangers. ]
I didn't. [ There's an odd guilt that nudges up under his sternum with the words, like they're a confession. Like the death of anyone around him is something he could have helped avoid. Maybe it's a stupid thought, even selfish, but it's one that needles him, again and again and again. He's supposed to be a hero. ]
Did you?