(no subject)
Ivanova had ignored the bells. The church bells were ringing, what did a good little Jewish girl care? And too wrapped up in her own little dramas - stupid, teenage dramas - she hadn't realised anything was wrong.
She had to read it in her own damn broadcast notes. How sick.
And all she could think of was one of those ancient cartoons Garibaldi loved. A round-headed kid on his knees in the snow lamenting a Christmas tree. Everything I touch is ruined.
This was supposed to be a new start. One without war and senseless death and why, why did it have to be like this again? And in the midst of all this why, there was one door Ivanova went to after running from the station.
[[For Faith and probably prone to massive slowplay.]]
She had to read it in her own damn broadcast notes. How sick.
And all she could think of was one of those ancient cartoons Garibaldi loved. A round-headed kid on his knees in the snow lamenting a Christmas tree. Everything I touch is ruined.
This was supposed to be a new start. One without war and senseless death and why, why did it have to be like this again? And in the midst of all this why, there was one door Ivanova went to after running from the station.
[[For Faith and probably prone to massive slowplay.]]