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I forgot I had this blog lmfao
SPECTRE :
Her breath briefly caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she even knew the answer to what she was asking. Or even what she was asking. It was something that she never really thought of until recently. “I’m.. Not really sure how to put it to be honest.” It was unusual for her to feel so flustered, but the way his icy blue eyes seemed to peer directly into her soul made the tips of her ears turn red. Thankfully her long hair kept that hidden from view.
The sky was starting to grow dim already. While Spectre did not quite want this outing to come to an end just yet, they really should start heading back. “I guess we should get goin’ soon, eh?” There was a hint of sadness in her voice. Days off like this were few and far between as it was, but having the same day off as someone you wished to spend it with was very rare.
The way she changed so abruptly, one moment settled in her seat looking like she could allow herself to become lost in the ambience forever, to rigid and almost antsy to return ------ He’s taken aback but won’t prod at her inhibitions. She’s not wrong after all; Like Quinn, the weather shifted as quickly as wine staining white lace. Saying nothing he finished off his drink and nodded. His eyes bore through her, a knowing perplexity analysing all the nuances of her sudden change in demeanour, reading the silence so he wouldn’t have to ask questions. He would not, however, go without one ------ ❛ Everything alright? ❜
He’d know, regardless of her answer. That’s the curse of being discerning. The truth is always there even if the way to that truth isn’t entirely clear. But it’s something he’s compelled to say despite that curse. The man who spoke only when necessary and kept far too much caged beneath bone & blood cared more than most would presume. They tend to see only the layer of ice, his armour, and not the warm-beating heart invisible to the naked eye. ❛ I have time. ❜ A luxury, and one he was never ready to sacrifice. But she didn’t have to be privy to that small detail. It’s his way of letting her know she’s in safe hands, inhibitions or not. Glaz could sense the coldness of outside seep in through the window glass and yet, he ceased to feel it. Was that coffee, or was that her?
SPECTRE :
“It’s pretty dumb.” her voice wavered with uncertainty. She followed his gaze out towards the busy street. It was surprising to see snow, but made her think of home. Spectre imagined it also reminded Glaz of his home. Through the window of the café, the town was reminiscent to a delicate snow globe. It also reminded her that she was going to freeze on the trek back. Oh well, for now she will push that thought out of her mind and just enjoy the steaming coffee that made her feel warm to the core, the sights, and most importantly, the company.
She could feel Glaz’ icy blue eyes back on her, watching. Waiting for her to continue or to change the subject. Although she had a feeling he already knew what she was going to ask, he always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone. Or maybe he could just bend people to his will with just a simple look from his hypnotic eyes. Sighing in resignation, she continued with her prior question. “Do you ever.. Feel lonely?” It was a silly thing to ask, Spectre avoided eye contact as best as she could in fear of the look he’d give her. “I mean.. Yeah we all work closely together. You could even say we’re kind of a big, weird, messed up family in a way. But do you ever feel like somethin’ is missin’? “
Glaz kept his silence by nodding his head in acknowledgement and doing that thing that he did when contemplating ------ The pensive look of rumination, building answers that were straight forward but never simple. It’s a hard-hitting question but he’s not caught of guard. ❛ It’s difficult to say. ❜ In truth, it’s not a topic he frequented himself. ❛ I’ve always favoured the solace of . . . my own company. Too many people in one place, eh, it’s . . . like clamour that I never found comforting. I think I feel more alone around many, than I do when by myself. ❜ Feeling their eyes linger for a beat too long ( they were lost in each other, like ocean and sky. He didn’t enjoy anyone swimming beneath the surface of Timur Glazkov. ) his attention shifts to two children outside with their parents, their smiles warm as if it safeguarded them from the cold. Closeness with others ------ It was alien to him. But maybe Quinn was right. Maybe there is a piece missing, something he could never place.
❛ You see us as family? ❜ Inquisitive, again. Only this time his voice carried not idle curiosity but surprise. He never saw them all in the same light. He cared, yes. It’s hard losing a comrade, yes. However distance is natural with him. There’s always a gap ------ always a barrier separating him, and blood, and water. He took another sip and made an attempt at a smile; Which resulted in something akin to a smirk. ❛ Well, I suppose they say you can’t choose your family but I don’t believe that’s true. You prove that theory wrong. So, what’s this ‘missing thing’ then? ❜ Their eyes met again, unintentionally. It’s not uncomfortable and he felt tranquil. He knew then he’d failed at keeping her out ------ And he’s glad for it. Familiarity is powerful.
SPECTRE :
Spectre smiled softly to herself and ordered a latte. Unlike Glaz, she got hers for here, the heat of the ceramic feeling sublime while her fingers curled around it. It didn’t come as a surprise when he took a table by the window. He loved to observe, and there aren’t many places better to do so than a quiet shop on a busy corner. It was one of the things she grew to admire about him. Before she got to know him, he seemed aloof - disinterested in the world around him. Now she knows that couldn’t be further from the truth. He takes everything in, never misses a single detail. After spending all this time with the sniper, she saw just how kind and compassionate he could be. He never seemed to mind listening to her ramble on about even the most inane subjects.
It was almost like peering into an entirely different world outside of the window of the small café. Time seemingly sped up as people rushed by. Parents with children in tow, people with places to be and others with nowhere to be, couples carrying on - each person living their own lives. A sudden ping of brief sadness mixed with curiosity tugged at her.
“Hey, Glaz? Do you…” Spectre hesitated for a moment before shaking the thought out of her head. “Sorry. Never mind.”
❛ Hm? ❜ His brow furrowed as he drank his coffee, peering over the paper ridge. She’s inquisitive and it wasn’t like her to back down from an opportune moment of curiosity. ❛ What was it? ❜ If she doesn’t want to say then she doesn’t want to say ------ and that’s fine. But maybe she was looking for assurance. The safety in knowing is a strong mechanic. Glaz didn’t mind her questions because they were genuine and thought provoking, and had him dwelling on things he wouldn’t think about in his own company. Things forgotten or removed by darker revelations. She’s not out to pick his brain for some ulterior motive ------ So for that reason he’ll take the time to indulge
❛ Don’t worry. Promise I won’t bite. ❜ He says with such apathy it seems to lose its humorous edge. There’s a beam of light spilling in from the window juxtaposed to their table and it encompassed her like a halo, the violet sheen of her hair almost glowing. He admired it for a moment before averting his gaze to the sea of people outside; some stopping to catch the falling snow in their hands, a look of surprise on their faces. It was amazing how things had a way of appearing out of nowhere at times unexpected.
SPECTRE :
Spectre nodded. “Yup, just around the corner.” She silently cursed the lack of parking in this area. “And don’t worry, I’m fine.” Her shivering betrayed her statement, but she still offered Glaz a bright smile. While she did grow up where winters could be brutally cold, and as a part of the jtf2 she was trained for cold weather operations, she still strongly disliked the cold. It wasn’t so bad in full gear, in jeans and a light sweater however.. It did not provide much protection from the elements. Of course she should have known better. Perhaps she was still in denial about the change in weather or her own sensitivity to the dropping temperature. Glaz of course was seemingly unphased. Even had he not had his jacket, he would not be bothered. Or at least, he wouldn’t show it like she was. Maybe he was simply much better at lying than herself. Just being close to him though, brought her some form of warmth.
Finally, a small café came into view as they rounded the next corner. Not bustling or loud like some of the larger, more popular ones around. Instead, it was peaceful. The few people inside seemingly having an unwritten rule of silence to follow. The warmth inside was a wonderful respite to the chill outside. Spectre sighed in relief. “Pick yer poison.” She said, gesturing to the small menu. “My treat.”
Immediately he could sense its ambience, the way it felt like stepping outside of their world and their troubled minds. He knew why she could feel so safe and complacent here. A sanctuary, in a way. Contemporary but homely like a Nordic dream. He’s lost in the atmosphere for a moment before resurfacing at the sound of Quinn’s voice ------ He blinks, ❛ Oh, no, you can’t do that. It was my idea to come out here so you paying for anything is out of the question. ❜ Before she can argue he’s already ordering an Americano, wallet open. Enough cash for the two of them and some. ❛ Have whatever you want. ❜ It’s a small gesture he thinks nothing of. For someone who had an avoidant inclination, he always made sure to act on the manners instilled in him during these rare occasions he decided to fight his ‘hermitism’.
He doesn’t tend to frequent coffee shops and it’s evident in his request of a particularly large Americano ------ The terminology is lost on him and so is his realisation of caffeine contents. Exhaustion will do that to a person. He asks for it to go even though they’re staying; prefers the feeling of the cup and the way it fit in his hands. Small nuances she may or may not notice about him ------ it’s all part of the process of learning more about someone. Timur has definitely noticed things about her like how she’s quick to be generous, and she listens as though she’s taking it all in instead of drowning out the noise with some asinine, narcissistic detail she can’t wait to spew at him. And it felt good to be getting acquainted with someone new; even if she didn’t feel new. ❛ I’ll go secure us a table. ❜ Glaz thanks the barista and with drink in hand he turns. He likes the table by the window, somewhere to sit and watch ------ which is exactly what he does.
SPECTRE :
“Absolutely! Let’s roll!” She beamed at him. Spectre had never really seen Glaz genuinely smile before today. The expression he usually wore was almost blank, making him seem like even more of an enigma. She decided that she’d do whatever she could prevent that smile from ever faltering.
She thought she was well prepared for the outing.. But she thought wrong. The drive into town was enjoyable, the dull hum of the engine and idle chatter making for a relaxed atmosphere. However once they parked and made their way to their destination on foot, Spectre realized her mistake. She had been wearing a sweater, and initially thought that would be enough. When had it become so cold? A hot coffee would be more than welcome, she thought as her teeth chattered slightly.
“They’re for preservin’ the memories. The photos I mean.” It had been nagging at her since they left. She felt as if she had to explain herself a bit more, so hopefully Glaz wouldn’t think any less of her. “I like taking candid shots of folks around base to save the moment. You never know if one day, they won’t return from a mission, ya know?”
Her voice trembled and he feared something was wrong, but a quick glance soothed his concerns. Even though the sentiment came from a place of morbid truth she wasn’t about to bawl on his shoulder in public. With slight relief albeit accompanied by an awkward, innermost ‘Do I offer her my coat’ he’ll nod and listen. ❛ I hope I didn’t bully you too much about that. ❜ It was all in jest of course and he knows that she knows. Glaz elbow-nudged her playfully, both hands in his pockets. ❛ I think it’s a viable reason ------ I’d say excuse, but I believe you. The truth is cold. ❜ But he always was somewhat immune to the cold. Call it Russian genetics or something else. He’s guarded, and had no tendency to manipulate repercussions into some type of silver lining. But he understood the urge to ‘preserve’ as she put it ------ It’s why he enlisted in the first place.
❛ And uhh, about being cold. ❜ Their icy breath was telling of the weather but he’s bothered none. ❛ Are you . . . alright? ❜ He’ll exclude the chivalry, for now, lest it reads as faux-chivalry and an incredibly awkward gesture he’s not accustomed to. It can’t be too long now ------ Typically there’s coffee shops dotted all along the high street. He’s growing curious to see where it is Quinn can be Quinn and leave Spectre on the field. ❛ I can hear your shivering in your voice. ❜ Meanwhile his never ending source of body heat tackled the ice speckling his skin, unshaken. ❛ We’re close yes? ❜
SPECTRE :
She sighed in relief when her phone was returned to her hands. Although she knew that she really had nothing to worry about in the first place. While she had just seen that he could be a tease, he was also honest and in no way was his teasing meant to be malicious.
Glaz’ offer came as a bit of a surprise. Spectre’s face immediately lit up. “Hell yeah! Sounds like a time.” she chirped. A chance to see the young sniper outside of his natural habitat seemed like a fun experience. Now that she thinks about it, she can’t recall ever seeing him off base, other than missions. Every now and then some of the Ops would go out to a pub for a drink and just let loose and relax for once. Spectre had seen his teammates invite him on these outings, but Glaz usually quietly declined. So the fact that he had brought up the idea made her heart swell. “Did ya have any preferences on where? Oh! There is a cafe that makes the best coffee and is a great place to just watch the world go by!” Spectre’s mind was spinning with ideas, but honestly, she really didn’t care where. As long as they went together, it would be a wonderful time.
He’s grateful she had a suggestion up her sleeve because he becomes frighteningly aware of his lack of knowledge regarding their whereabouts, more so what awaits beyond the base. He was never the type to wander the outdoors much ------ Which for one with such a vast imagination as his, flummoxed his peers. And perhaps it’s the realisation that he allows himself to frequent the stasis of being caged by endless reams of thoughts and those unnecessary, cold mindtraps that Timur decides today is as good as any to really breathe. ❛ That’s fine. I had nothing in mind so I’m glad you saved me the trouble of nitpicking. ❜ He showed his palm as if resigning to the mercy of Quinn’s recommendations and the sheer relief. ❛ I could use the extra caffeine boost. ❜ The coffee he knocked back earlier is starting to lose its edge and he’s flagging, with the added reminder of a soft yawn.
Glaz slipped his coat on then grabbed his phone & wallet, doing a quick skim of the room in case he’s missing something ------ Good to go. ❛ Ready? ❜ He can’t recall the last time he really went out for some other purpose than necessity. Can’t recall the last time he enjoyed something. Having a propensity to choose the quiet over clamour he’s glad too she chose somewhere he could envision himself ------ Somewhere that’s not overwhelming and full of noise. There were public spaces that were all that, noise, but others had a surreal charm. Every now and then, it takes a bit of people-watching to remember that oneself too is human, alive and breathing. How long has it been since he felt alive?
Here I stand,
BLEEDING BRUISED & BREATHLESS
— but still, standing.
aurapport:
Raising her brow slightly at the other gaze. ❝ Do you have something to say, monsieur? ❞
❛ Not necessarily. ❜ A man of few words, putting it lightly. ❛ I haven’t seen you around before. Curiosity got the better of me. ❜
@aurapport / blue. blue. blue.
❛ . . . . . ❜
Пули лучше слов.
“Puli luchshe slov / Bullets are better than words.” Timur ‘Glaz’ Glazkov (via timurglazkovs)
SPECTRE :
“Eh?” She raised a curious eyebrow at Glaz before it clicked in her brain what he was talking about. “Oh.. Ah.. Nothing really, just shots from around the base.” Her voice was a slightly higher pitch than usual as she reached to pluck her phone out of his hands, but she was not quite quick enough. She didn’t know that Glaz had such a mischievous streak. Normally she would ecstatic to finally see a break in his stoicism, finally get to experience his shell beginning to crack. Being on the receiving end of his sudden impish behaviour however… Although she thought that the smirk he currently wore fit him quite well, it was nice finally see him enjoying himself even if it was at her expense.
When the screen landed on the aforementioned photos. It was mostly a collection of photos taken in the workshop. Usually of different projects she had been working on. But among those were the shots Glaz had been referring to. They mostly included members of the SAS, GSG9 and the Spetsnaz during what looked like intense training. She should have known he would have caught those, his trained eyes never missed a trick.
Spectre just laughed nervously as her face started to flood with a reddish hue. “I mean.” she started sheepishly, clearly flustered. “Can ya really blame a girl?”
It was the Spetsnaz he noticed first, naturally. Such candid shots expertly composed suggested this was not her first time immortalising the visuals of other male operators busy at work. Glaz could only imagine the relentlessness of Shuhrat, or the brusqueness of Maxim. But her secret would stay between them ------ He was not so devious nor so spiteful as to blow the whistle on her little side project. Timur shook his head and returned the phone to its rightful owner, remnants of a smile still tangible. ❛ No, I can’t. ❜ He was something of a voyeur himself after all ------ absorbing what may otherwise go unseen. Regardless of their reasons he knows as an artist and a marksman that there is both beauty and taboo to be found in all walks of life; and what it means to either preserve, or erase. He can tease her ------ But judge her? Never.
❛ Don’t worry. I won’t tell. ❜ It felt strange. Like for a moment, the icy harshness in his disposition absconded, and made way for something without burden. A portion of weight lifted from his shoulders. At first glance Quinn was not somebody he could envision himself mingling with ------ But she being the innovator that she was, sparked things he thought to be dead & buried, she was a glimpse of light through the rain clouds of his mind. Somebody who surprised him. It was their dissonance that made it such an unlikely friendship but one he is grateful for. Her company thawed his battle-heavy heart and he knows he’d never jeopardise that; He’d never let the light within her be snuffed out. Timur wished he could shield the world from the unjust ------ if not the world, then at least Quinn.
It’s silent in the room but not uncomfortable. It’s silent outside. How long had it been since the hail ceased? When did he lose track of his surroundings? Strange indeed, to be at ease. ❛ . . . Since we are both free of our duties for today, we should go out. See the sights. Do something. ❜ For someone who had the moniker of notorious hermit he’s feeling inspired to feel the cold air on his face, exercise his tired mind. She deserved the break from their reality too. ❛ Sound good? ❜
SPECTRE :
She admired the photos as he scrolled through them. His home town seemed quiet and the people hard working. It seemed fitting for the sniper to hail from here. The final photo however caused her to snort back a laugh loudly. “I’m won’t lie.” she snickered. “I’ve been there too.” She had to admit, there was some satisfaction in seeing the normally stoic Russian in such a messy state.
When it was her turn, she gleefully fished out her phone and started trying to find some photos. It had been awhile since she was last at home so it took a bit of scrolling through more recent photos of events around the base, snap shots from missions, some sneaky photos of some of the male ops while training which she very quickly scrolled by… Finally she reached what she had been looking for. “Here we go.” she chirped while handing Glaz the phone allowing him to scroll through the photos at his own pace.
“That there is my dad’s hometown. It’s kind of a dump.” She laughed and pointed to the photo currently on the screen, which was of her next to a stack of lobster traps in a tiny seaside town. “Funny thing, my dad is from New Waterford in Nova Scotia, and my Ma is from Waterford in Ireland. Almost like it was meant to be, eh?” Her voice was light and cheery as the Sniper continued scrolling. There were photos of a larger seaside city in the summer, the boardwalk filled with tourists and small boats of all kinds in the busy harbour. She explained that was the city she spent a good portion of her life in. Other photos included large house in a wooded area next to a large lake. “This is along the Bras d’Or lakes back in Cape Breton. It’s the complete boonies out there but it’s really pretty.” She continued on as they came to a collection of photos of a large merry gathering of people at her parents house. “Ah, this is from the last family gathering I was able to attend. The Roach clan is pretty large.” she laughed fondly. There were photos of people with wide smiles, people clearly intoxicated while dancing and laughing. Photos of herself playing her fiddle on a makeshift stage with others from her family playing other instruments. “It’s always a good time with them.” her voice held a hint of sadness in that last statement. Looking at the photos made her heart hurt with a slight ping of homesickness. However she quickly shook it off. “Oh! Here. Here’s a video of this nonsense.” She scooted a bit closer and tapped the play button. Soon the quiet room was filled with a crowd hooting and hollering happily while some danced in circles to the Irish sounding jig that her and the others were playing from the tiny outdoor stage.
She had plenty more to share in comparison to Glaz, whom kept his life under wraps, methodically concealed even to those close to him. His family were reserved like him but not unfeeling. They valued ‘blood’ as most Russians traditionally did, but gatherings were scarce, and for those few and far in between he would separate himself from the bustle; preserving his air of enigma to friends and family alike. His parents never scolded him for it ------ A quiet, disciplined son who willingly engaged in fine arts & eventually military was the ideal for those Soviet-born ------ their own parents subjecting them to piano or violin or athletics / ballet before eighteen. Although his distaste for loud interludes and wild, drunken outings remains clear, he can’t help but channel Quinn’s enthuse when she recounts memories associated with the photos on screen. His smile lengthened, chuckle swallowed by the tinny noises from her phone. ❛ I can see how something like that would be fun within such a tight-knit group of people. Tough times and unusual backgrounds seem to form close families. ❜
His gaze lingered before he shot her a quick side-eye, removing himself from the vicariously-induced nostalgia. ❛ By the way . . . ❜ Sticking his finger out he flicked back through her pictures, ❛ What’s this I saw? ❜ He’s near certain he spotted some candid shots of comrades around the base ------ It’s no good trying to hide things from the trained eye. Observing is second nature. It’s like a switch he can’t flip. Glaz wonders if she knew that he knew, and how far he could scroll through before she nudged him away or tactfully locked her phone. ❛ It may be the lack of sleep playing tricks on me but for a second there, it looked like you had a fair few shots of, mm, I don’t know . . . ❜ It was perhaps the first time she would catch Timur in one of his mischievous turns which made it all the more entertaining for him to embarrass her. ❛ Mind if I take another look? ❜ Ah, the entrapment phase. But an opportunity is an opportunity ------ And for once, he would make it his task to toss some light-heartedness into an otherwise grim atmosphere.
RUSSIAN CLASSICS AESTHETICS.
BOLD whatever applies to / attracts your muse.
TAGGED BY : @amortean / danke lue!! TAGGING : @jtf2-spectre , @toxicvxpes , @strickenveteran , @deadlymatryoshka , @twitch-pichon , @thermitc , @thejackcl , @thesecondarchetype
BROTHERS KARAMAZOV : orthodox monasteries , deep woods , starry nights , the sound of paper being torn , dimly lit rooms , withered roses , an unfinished letter , piles of books , the sound of shattering glass , ticking of clocks in a silent house , heavy wooden furniture , the air before a storm , the smell of earth , a crowd of people dressed in black , distant murmurs , emptied streets , the fear of walking alone in dusk
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT : coldness of the skin against a blade , slender pale fingers & slightly shaking hands , a red stain blooming on white fabric , lonely steps in a corridor , the slow dripping of water , looking out of the window into the thickening darkness , a single dying candle on the table , listening to one’s breath & counting heartbeats , too many stairs , the desire to be invisible , a subtle memory of kind words
THE IDIOT : classical statues , wealth covered with dust , a dark house tainted with inherited madness , an unsettling feeling , long walks in a park , useless chatter , a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench , a melancholic face , an unexpected spring rain , the joy of reading one’s favorite book , the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around , looking at cloudless sky
ANNA KARENINA : fields of crops , flowers brought from an early morning walk , the wind caressing a girl’s hair , a bowl of fruit , the smell of ripe pears , the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea , children’s laughter coming from the garden , soft sunlight & white curtains , the sensation of velvet against skin , pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor , a sudden silence in a room full of people
WAR AND PEACE : a glass of wine , the brightness of a crystal chandelier , white lace , a raging snow storm , the sound of a door being gently closed , the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room , indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light , closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing , the sweet smell of strawberries , a pair of gloves left on an armchair , light scent of powder
THE MASTER AND MARGARITA : the chaos of a lively city , ambient jazz in an expensive restaurants , jumping on a moving tram , the sight of moscow from the roof of a house , yellow flowers in a vase , leaning out of the window , shelves stacked with books , a small tin box with old photographs , strange shapes in the night sky , laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony , colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind
EUGENE ONEGIN : a lonely mansion , reading a book in the parlour , faint piano melody lingering in falling silence , long evenings , passing seasons , discussing french novels of the moment , unspoken thoughts , leaning against the door frame , quickly averted glance , eating a peach absent-minded , bright mornings , footprints in snow , a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby
FATHERS AND SONS : birch groves , morning mist , moss-covered stones near a moor , scientific books , white roses , cheap champagne , shabby pocket - watch , light - hearted irony , a maladroit cello sonata , freshly mowed grass , letting thoughts come & go , a slow yawn , picturesque plates & bowls filled with traditional dishes , drinking tea on the porch.
DOCTOR ZHIVAGO : a strange feeling of loss , writing poems in a diary , traveling by train , the hesitation before touching someone’s hand , the gaze of one lost in thought , the warmth of cinnamon , a scarf brightly embellished with flowers , a glass of water , a threadbare jacket , the tempting void , the evanescent serenity of yesterday.
CHERRY ORCHARD : a lone chair in an empty room , falling blossoms , old samovar , the unsettling need for change , a mirror reflecting full moon , the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance , a piano out of tune.
Slides in $20 . . . Talk about Timir's paintings.
@strickenveteran / this is SO late and i apologise, i had to manually check my inbox because i didn’t receive a notification! anyway . . .
timur paints things that reflect a world in his mind. he’s a complex man, and there’s a lot of cerebral happenings going on at once that greatly contradict —— he can be quite pessimistic in the sense that he’s skeptical and cynical, but to no level of nihilism. however he’s very much the type that needs to escape. so he draws & paints things that are good for the psyche and things that depict how he wished the world was. idyllic scenes, dreamlike landscapes. he likes the look and feel of forestry / nature, so that’s often included. he’s particularly keen on the woodlands between the point of russia and finland —— and lapland. he admires the quietness and the isolated freedom. a lot of his paintings feature the seasons autumn & winter to add that je ne sais quoi. even in scenes where there’s lack of colour ie. dead trees / snow he’ll add it in like an enhanced photo. glaz is an old soul and it very much shows in his artwork.
TIRED DEVUSHKA :
She must look deranged — loitering in the hallway with her dirty, rumpled leather jacket and unkempt hair whorled into thick, unruly knots; standing unnaturally still in contrast with her torpid expression; gaze hypnotically transfixed on the door barring her entry to greaseman’s trash-heap abode — and he wants to invite her into his apartment?
If anyone happened to be watching them through the lens of a nearby security camera, they would surely feel as though they were witnessing the prologue of a horror movie; the part where the kindly but misguided protagonist is about to discover his apartment building is haunted.
A shadow of a half-formed thought blips briefly on the radar of her self-awareness, something abstract and muddled with equal parts appreciation and suspicion as she peels her attention away from the door and grudgingly steps in his direction.
She hasn’t been home in thirteen days. What’s one more night?
He’d half expected a scathing ‘no’ in the form of a glower or bitter riposte, or both. But much to his surprise here she is, shadowing his footsteps into there of which nobody other than him had ventured ------ A tidy place if one was to ignore the spare room used as a makeshift studio of sorts. Low-lighting, minimalism, and the bare essentials. Trademark living space of a man who isn’t equipped for routine visitors nor permanent residency. And truthfully, he hasn’t decided yet if he regrets or appreciates the company. What does he really know about her? Little to nothing. But her pallor and frazzled disposition beseech his sympathy, and a beer or two seemed a small kindness that may ease whatever burdens sapped the colour from her face.
Holding the door open for her he flicks on a switch luminating first the kitchen and compact breakfast bar adjoined to an equally compact living quarters made roomier by strategic interior design. There’s little to define him ------ Save for the empty bottles and traditional Russian trinkets or maybe his music collection. However Glaz has failed to remember the sketchbook left on his coffee table; If he’s lucky, she’s not the sort to rifle through peoples’ things. ❛ Uh, sit wherever you like. Glass, or bottle? ❜ He reaches for a pint glass just to be sure and popped the caps from a couple of Ochakovos. ❛ Although unplanned it’s good to finally meet the enigma behind three am noises I hear from the other side of the wall. ❜ It’s hard to tell from the lack of nuance but he is being facetious. Sound travelled well between these rice paper barriers.
SPECTRE :
Mortality was something that Spectre tried her best to push out of her thoughts. Glaz was right however, with their line of work the very real danger of not returning home from a mission always hung above them like a dark foreboding cloud. It only takes one misstep, one small mistake for a mission to go wrong. Like most negative thoughts however, she pushed them back as best as she could so she could keep the smile on her face. Not for her sake, but for the sake of others.
Glaz’ inquiry made her perk up before she travelled too far down the path of those dark thoughts, and she sat up straight from her lounging position. He too seemed desperate for a distraction from them. “Yeah, I’d love to!” she chirped. “Maybe I can show you some photos from mine too, eh?”
The faintest smile put a crack in his veneer. Glaz adjusts his fingerless gloves and skimmed through his photo gallery until reaching some years old images he took of Vladivostok, some in Winter and some in Spring. Thumbing through to the start he scoots closer to Quinn, holding up the illuminated screen that seemed all the more fluorescent in the darkness of the afternoon weather. He showed her the shipping docks where his father worked ------ including a candid picture of Glaz smoking on the pier, gazing off somewhere beyond the water’s edge, pensive and intense as he always was. Then he showed her some of town centres and the outskirts, all the typical things one could find in a more populated Russian domain.
❛ I prefer taking pictures at night. I always think towns and cityscapes look better with all those lights, there’s something . . . entrancing about it. ❜ Then came the pictures of snowcapped industrial sights and complexes, the quintessential Russian scene. They must have been familiar to her, being Canadian. Scrolling again he becomes flustered ------ There’s one of him face-down in the snow, asleep and oblivious to what could have been impending frostbite. He’s alarmingly unalarmed in the shot and had a redness to his complexion that implied his level of intoxication. He laughed, albeit a quiet laugh. ❛ Yeah it’s exactly what it looks like. I guess some stereotypes exist for a reason. Your turn. ❜