aloysha had spent much time during conscription thinking about commander morevna. when the lights were low, when he was bid sleep but could not do so despite days that would both begin and end with work, he would turn over what she’d told him he’d done wrong that day. he would think about how he would improve in the morning. he would resolve to be a better soldier the next day as this would make both his and her time worthwhile, though he doubted he was even the worst among them. he doubted she would relent, either, but she might be pleased with a renewed dedication or, if not pleased, she might be inclined to ignore him for a few days.
he thought, too, that she was a curious case, as so often were those who chose combat instead of allowing combat to choose them. and he thought further he would like to fit a role as well as she fit hers like an oil-slicked hand in a soft leather glove but he’d not quite pinpointed how she’d managed to suit so well in the first place. he had never < suited > anywhere. but perhaps she had grown up in the country ; perhaps she was from the farthest reaches of siberia ; perhaps she had spent her childhood snapping chicken necks on a crumbling farm and so when it came time to find a better path there was but one choice.
and he supposed he could have asked her then, put the questions he’d once asked to rest, but he felt it rude. he was a civilian, which was a change since they’d last spoken, but he remained as artless a conversationalist as ever.
❝ commander morevna, ❞ he straightened his back. he did not know what to say. he had not planned past that point. he had only known he wanted to say her name ❨ because one could not avoid her, could they ? she stood out - ❩ but a simple greeting did not seem correct. she was not a very simple woman. ❝ . . i never pictured you leaving work. ❞
@mashencka STARTER FOR : // COMMANDER MARYA MOREVNA