Silent Soldier| Children! La Squadra x fem!reader

один | Nero and the soldier

Cold. A freezing, numbing cold. That's all Risotto could render in his state of mind.

He buried himself deeper into the coat he found himself tucked neatly in, head pressing against a broad chest as he shivered endlessly. At one point, he even gripped the hem of the coat shielding him and pulled it inward, veiling him from the harsh weather and letting him regain an bit of heat, however small.

For a few days now, he'd been traveling under the protection of this strange woman, the owner of both the chest he held himself against, and the coat that kept him warm. She came out of nowhere, too, accompanied only with a rifle, canteen, rucksack, and a silver whistle.

She didn't speak-- and whether she doesn't by choice, or has some sort of disability, the truth was never obvious.

His mind raced with questions about who this person was; her motives, her goal, her background. The possibilities were endless, his mind going down the rabbit hole of 'what if she did this' and 'what if she came from that'.

As Risotto was sure his theorys and thoughts would soon drive him mad, the woman halted her walking and came to a stop, the side of the coat peeling open to reveal her half-covered face peering down at him.

He, instead of making eye-contact and trying to assume what she wanted like normal, took the liberty of observing his surroundings and gasped. A shelter, obviously rundown, was only a few feet away and completely vacant for their use.

However, after spending all this time with this stranger, Risotto knew better than to rush inside and relax immediately. So, he slid off of her hip, and allowed the bitter winter to bite at his exposed flesh in order for her to equip her rifle and infiltrate the shelter.

There had been a few rest-stops similar to this one in the past-- just a lone, somewhat destroyed building in the middle of a wasteland with barely enough supplies to last. In each place they had visited, there was always someone waiting for them; whether it be a soldier, a civilian, or a straight lunatic.

Thankfully, after inspecting every room she could, the stranger found nothing, and motioned for risotto to come inside and warm up.

As usual, a small fire was made, and Risotto quickly scurried over to it to warm up.

As usual, the stranger joined his side, and allowed him to sit in her lap.

As usual, she popped open her bag, and tugged out a disheveled photo with a smile barely visible under her mask.

And, as usual, Risotto asked the same, pointless question.

"Why did you run away from the army?"

It's not like the stranger would answer. She never did, anyway.

"Are you mute?" He continued, staring up into a set of hollow (e/c) eyes.

Still, silence.

It was then that risotto took into account that if this person was from the Russian army, then they speak Russian. Wow. How oblivious he was. Of course she couldn't understand Italian.

A few weeks by estimate, but four exactly, was the amount of time he'd spent with this stranger. Despite being only nine years of age, Risotto had developed a high sense of awareness, and often analyzed anything and everything in his surroundings to the extreme.

It's how he found out his savior was a Russian soldier, after all... or maybe an ex-soldier?

Her body build, the crest on her hat and coat, the incoherent writing he'd never been able to make out-- It all just screamed 'vodka, blyat, i fight bears in the woods'.