Spring Frost

[Guest]

One of the most interesting things man ever did was create time. Now people seemed to think that time has always been and always would be. However, the entire idea was abstract and even unnecessary. In the early years of man we only looked to the sun to find out how much more daylight we had left. The only thing that mattered to early man was night and day, cold and warm. Later we began to give names to these things. We called the seasons by name and told them when they should start and finish. We needed to know what time of year it was so that man could farm and harvest. Farming was not where we stopped though. Soon technologies began to demand we devise a system to tell them exactly what time of the day it was, and which day it happened to be. Then this concept became part of man's life. time was one with everything we did. Time became our god. We worshiped it and everything was compared to it or organized according to it. Our own artificial god. In other lands men made more gods and even killed and died for them. Yet here was a woman, an artificial woman, who was said to be an abomination of god. A product of playing god. Yet, these gods were all manifestations of man and she was created by man as well. How could one be an abomination of a construct when they both had the same creator?

The light whirling crystals of new frost took flight around the laced jackboots of a tall slender woman. The razor edged Winter cold swept up a thousand tiny gems that clung to the think gray wool of a long coat.Light Hair, light of weight and color, shifted and twisted like tendrils of gold as the wind pushed up past the woman's head. The one contrast to this scene was the flickering orange flame of a silver lighter held close to the woman's face. the chilled wind did it's best to extinguish this point of heat in a world of cold but to no avail. The flame licked at the end of a tightly rolled cigar and made the tobacco come to life. Snick-snack! a gloved hand flicked the lighter closed as the cherry of the cigar bloomed into a smoldering glow. Cyrillia pushed her old zippo into her left pocket and brought her right hand up to draw the cigar from her mouth. Pink lips pursed for a second and a stream of blue smoke escaped her mouth with a swirl. Cyrillia's gloved hand reached up and pushed her long blonde hair back behind one ear, exposing her crystal blue eyes shielded by the reflective lenses of eye glasses. The chimera turned her gaze up tot he gray sky as she took another pull from her cigar. It was cold for late March. A Spring frost had settled across her great country. A sign of evil to come perhaps. The woman strode forward, out of the door of the small hotel she had been staying at. She needed to walk among her people. No matter what they might think of her if they knew the truth.

Minutes turned to hours as her long legs carried her around the twisting side streets of Moscow. Most people were going about their usual business and didn't pay her any mind. Then again she was just some woman wandering about in a long gray coat. Maybe they thought she was military? She often gave people that impression, sometimes intentionally. After some time she brought her walk to a halt in front of a small shop. The shop itself wasn't anything special, just some red brick with a window in the front. Sitting in the display window was a shelf filled with hats. From different wool caps to ushankas. Cyrillia drew out her cigar case and lighter once more and lit herself a new cigar. The flavor filled her mouth as she stood looking into the window. As she blew out her first puff of smoke the wind picked up again. The ghostly voices of the dead could be heard howling through the allies and off the slick walls of this city as the wind rustled everyone's hair and clothes. The wind pushed by Cyrillia's face causing her cherry the glow brightly and her cheeks to redden with the cold. She hadn't spoke to a single person today. That was either good or bad, never in between. Which it was though she could not decide. She would know once she remedied this fact though. Without a second thought she stepped into the store, intent on talking to someone.

[Guest]

Nina sat in the Central Park, or what was left of it, in Moscow. Luckily, this beautiful spot had been relatively untouched by the ravages of a recent and ongoing war. A clear and gorgeous view of the starts, this is what the young Drachman had been searching for. Yet even in a place as beautiful and quiet as this, the smog and smoke of the city covered the glory of the night sky. She sighed lightly, her air visible in the cold air. It was especially cold for this time of year, the Spring already here and not a sign of it having done so. Perhaps it was a sign of what was to come. The impending shadow of war that seemed to cover the world, whispering a single, silent word unto the world. War. War. War...

The likelihood of another world war was greater now than it had been in decades, especially with RIOTE at large and the Soviets in power. It took everything in her not to call up a strike team and march on the new Soviet offices right this very minute, show them the might of the people of Drachma! But she knew not only would that action be foolish, but surely suicidal. No, she kept her rage at bay, telling herself the time would come soon enough. Perhaps sooner than anticipated. With the Communists gathering troops and supplies across the motherland, the rise in activity from the Red Army was...troubling, to say the least. She'd pulled most of the sects and small groups back from the major cities, pulling further north. The Soviets were distracted lately, focused on a unknown goal. Her inside sources said war, but the uncertainty around it was all too clear. Nobody but the higher ups in the Soviet Regime knew what was going on, and that worried Nina. If World War III was about to hit home, would her resistance be up for the task? Major operations had already been pushed back to mid-April, unlike their initial plans for late-March. With the lack of direct support from Amestris, and the length of response from other countries like Creta and Carraig was troubling. Maybe a war would drive them to support. Maybe it would drive them apart. Sadly at this moment in time, only time would tell.

She pushed this aside as she left the park, walking across the snow-covered street and into a store. Walking directly to the back, she waved to the man standing at the counter, who smiled and waved back. Nina continued on until she noticed a woman come in behind her smoking a cigar. She turned slightly to get a good look at her, first seeing the grey coat and upheld posture. Either current, or ex military, that was for sure. Her hair was beautiful, her eyes piercing and harsh. She looked strong, yet Nina could see compassion within her. But for what, she did not know. Shrugging, Miss Shostakovitch continued on her journey, going to the back of the store and looking through the refreshments. Grabbing a Dr. Pepper, she smiled and began walking down the isles, looking for some food. Anything was better than nothing at this point. Nina was wearing a black trench coat, a grey beanie and a red scarf today with her brown snow boots and winter pants. Was cold outside after all, had to bundle up. Not to mention the beanie kept attention away from her bright purple hair hidden beneath.

[Guest]

The store was quaint. Small and dusty with government regulated prices and substandard goods. Cyrillia stopped in front of the hat rack that she had seen from the street. She reached her gloved hand forward and gripped the fur flap of an ushanka. The material was soft, though she couldn't exactly feel it through the leather of her gloves. She lifted the hat off of the rack and examined it with her sharp and hard eyes. As she turned the item over in her hands she took a deep pull off of the cigar hanging from her mouth. The glow of the cigar illuminated the price of the hat. Expensive. She placed the hat back on it's hook and withdrew the cigar from her mouth and released a cloud of gray-blue smoke. The government had been raising prices all over town. Perhaps the new prices were to reflect the need for war, or something else. Cyrillia was a child of a secret project, she had no doubts that the Soviet government had projects of their own.

Cyrillis's long strides took her from isle to isle of the small shop, her gaze trailing over stacked and organized items with cool contemplation. In truth she didn't really want or need anything in this little store. However, she intended to buy something. These people needed to live just like everyone else. A long fingered hand reached out and pulled a bottle of water from a cooled shelf and passed it off to the other hand. Cyrillia reached up and pulled her cigar from her mouth again and expelled smoke as a young woman turned down the the isle she stood in. Despite her bulky winter clothes Cyrillia could see the figure of woman on this girl. Not only that but eyes she had were something Cyrillia hadn't seen before. An amazing green. Her two fingered grip on her cigar tightened as the girl neared her. Cyrillia pulled her red lips into a pleasant smile and she turned to face this girl. "Far too cold for Spring. Isn't it?" She asked with her smooth and deep voice. After Cyrillia pulled her cigar back to her mouth and bit the end of it, keeping it in place. "This new frosty weather hasn't been good for anyone. Not our government nor the people." Cyrillia's cigar bobbed as she spoke with a practiced ease, "Sorry for intruding. I suppose I'm just in a talkative mood." the blonde pulled her cigar from her mouth as she spoke and blew smoke from the corner of her mouth, making sure not to blow it in this pretty young girl's face. Though her face did seem familiar somehow. Cyrillia could swear she had seen it before, somewhere...

[Csilla Angelis]

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