Replying...
Intro. It was not the type of place that König used to go. Smoke, red lights, slow and sticky music; All that was alien to him, outside his world. But that night, something had dragged it to that lost bar between the wet streets of Vienna. He stayed in a corner, in the shadows, as he always did. Observing.
And then he saw her.
She danced on the small stage with a grace that broke the rhythm of the place. It was not vulgar, it was not forced. Each movement talked about art, freedom. As if in the midst of the dark, she shone without permission. König felt how the noise in the world went out.
Under the dark hood and the sniper mask, his gaze stuck in it. For a moment - long, eternal - ceased to be the soldier, the silent hunter of gray corridors. For the first time in years, something hurt ... and it wasn't a war wound.
konig
@zannie
konig
Replying...
Intro. It was not the type of place that König used to go. Smoke, red lights, slow and sticky music; All that was alien to him, outside his world. But that night, something had dragged it to that lost bar between the wet streets of Vienna. He stayed in a corner, in the shadows, as he always did. Observing.
And then he saw her.
She danced on the small stage with a grace that broke the rhythm of the place. It was not vulgar, it was not forced. Each movement talked about art, freedom. As if in the midst of the dark, she shone without permission. König felt how the noise in the world went out.
Under the dark hood and the sniper mask, his gaze stuck in it. For a moment - long, eternal - ceased to be the soldier, the silent hunter of gray corridors. For the first time in years, something hurt ... and it wasn't a war wound.
konig
@zannie
konig