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Sierra Lonewolf - Gulag
"Alright Sierra!" The Pilot crackled over the loudspeaker, barely audible over the roar of the Engines of the Ilyushin Il-14. "We're nearing Kolyma, you'll be dropping in a few minutes! Remember, you're a Ruskie now, sent from Berlin. Allies intercepted your team and you were the only one to survive! We've already dealt with their real team, just make sure you're convincing! We can't do anything for you once you're out of this plane!"
Sarah slowly nodded, clutching her Dragunov close as she checked the straps on her parachute, the blood smeared over her form making her feel uneasy, especially since it was her own blood that they had taken beforehand, and her torn clothes were letting in the chill with ease, although her fur helped somewhat. "I understand." she sighed into the little microphone that sat beside her.
"Good. Hope your Ruskie's good Husky." the Pilot said in farewell, before a quiet American Soldier in his civvies got up and slammed open the door of the plane, gesturing to
Sierra Lonewolf - Ruskie Husky
The Rifle clattered as it spun backwards along the concrete, the Wooden Furniture cracking with a cry of wooden pain, and the gunmetal ringing out loud in protest at it's treatment, leaving the faithful Dragunov metres away from it's owner, looking forlorn and betrayed. She hissed, breathing in fast as she ducked to the side, the black blade of the knife parting the air with a shriek as it skimmed her coat, tinkling against the badge on her breast. Spinning on her right heel, she drew her left up and took her own blade from her boot, before slamming her left foot down with a near-silent 'tap', like a bird forlornly pecking at the window of a warm house in the winter.
"Ah." The man grinned, leaning over the railings and staring down at the Husky as she drew into a fighting stance, as her attacker slowly circled her, his face obscured by a flight mask and helmet as he weighed the knife in his hand. He gently reached over, and tapped his colleague on the shoulder, prompting her to look up
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More