Wing and Sword: Life During Wartime

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr makes another smile, this one more genuine. "Whatever it is, remind me to check you for lead magnets before we head out, yes?"

 

[Barak]

Normand turns to Pyotr, and frowns "menacingly", although he's smiling.

"Hey Pete, gimme a break, will ya? I'm big, you know, even you would prolly manage to hit me!"

 

[Bobitron]

Normand turns to Pyotr, and frowns "menacingly", although he's smiling.

"Hey Pete, gimme a break, will ya? I'm big, you know, even you would prolly manage to hit me!"

"The less Swiss cheese I have to deal with, the better. I dealt with some nasty wounds in the hospital, and I would appreciate if you guys don't get shot this time around." Marcel grins at his friends. "So what about Duval, Lavereaux, or Dinter? Nobody knows where they are?"

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr smiled at Normand. "At this rate, I'd be surprised if I haven't hit you already."

Laughing, he then turns to Marcel, the smile slowly fading. "I haven't heard a thing since I got back. I'm surprised you guys didn't see them in the hospital." Pyotr then shrugs to illustrate his point.

 

[The Shaman]

Before Marcel can respond, the stranger stirs slightly, then tilts back the beret drawn down over his eyes. The face that looks out is swarthy, with a thick black mustache that clearly toes the line on regulation under a long, straight wedge of a nose. His brown eyes are alert as he looks at Pyotr.

“Govorite li vy po russki?” he asks. His Russian carries a distinct accent – it reminds Pyotr of the soldiers from the Caucasus during the war. Without waiting for an answer he reaches into his rucksack and pulls out a grey Thermos bottle, pours himself a cup of steaming liquid as he looks over his companions.

 

[shadowbloodmoon]

Pyotr's eyes light up as he listens to the other man. It was strange, knowing how Pyotr felt about home at this point in time, that he felt a sense of comfort at hearing his own language spoken to him again, and not butchered like many others. "Da! Ya iz vy'Ukrainski. Vy?"

 

[Barak]

Normand looks at Marcel and Vidal, and raises his eyebrows.

"Great.. Another russkie. Now I know we'll never survive our next little skirmish."

 

[The Shaman]

The stranger’s deep-set eyes look out from under thick brows at Normand, their expression impassive, then return to Pyotr. “Turkski,” he replies in a deep voice, taking a sip from his cup.

“Replacements?” he continues in French, the accent still strong.

 

[Bobitron]

Normand looks at Marcel and Vidal, and raises his eyebrows.

"Great.. Another russkie. Now I know we'll never survive our next little skirmish."

"Hey, what's that all about? Pyotr did a great job last time."

Marcel extends his hand to the stranger, introducing himself. "Pleased to meet you."

 

[знаток]

“Replacements?” he continues in French, the accent still strong.

"We had to take a short break from combat to finish jump school, but yeah, I guess we're replacing somebody." Vidal thinks of Berg and Martinez at the mention of the word, solemnly introducing himself and extending his own hand to the man.
"We did see Sergeant Duval, Dinter, Neumann and Lavareux at Maillot," he says to Marcel. "I'm actually surprised not to see Neumann here, but Duval and Lavareaux needed more time to recuperate, and I expect Dinter met the fate Mador and I avoided by making it to the last of the jump training for awhile."