Searching
The young boy searched the room with his glimmering eyes, their usual violet shaded with a darker color. They seemed to drink in every detail the room offered, hour the padding bulged from under the stiches, of purity of all.
Pure
His arms were growing weary from the strain of the jacket they had put him in, but he could bear with it. Just as he could bear the red snow that always fell. Snow, that's was what he was trying to think of.
Like snow untouched by the blood of humans, pure, white. But, no matter how hard he tried, he could not see past the things he was so accustomed to seeing; creams of desperation, of hate, of ambition. Fear, anger, and hope, no, he could not deny the eyes that his history had given him. He could see everything, even if he did want to.
Everything, but that window
He couldn't; simple as that, unlike life. He knew what was behind it; watching, waiting, scrutinizing him. He could recognize the honey colored eyes that were tracing his every move, like a cat planning to end a mouse's life; his own life. For a fleeting moment, he was in control.
For a moment
His body tensed, registering the signal for fight or flight. He rarely chose the latter. The canvas material chafed against his bare arms, they had stripped him of his winter coat when he arrived. He could hear support from former captives as he felt rage boil over, fueling his furnace of a heart.
But encased in ice
He felt many things from the past, the memory of losing his first love due to immortality, the sight of his brothers fallen pray that bullets and disease alike, frustration.
Frustration
His life in a winter landscape trained his body, in a moment, his tore the device of his arms and chest. He let out a silent cry of freedom, the walls following in suit. Rearing back, he sent the mass of leather of cloth towards the mirrored window. He watched in anticipation as his wavered under the sheer impact, but did not break. Like his will.
Both of theirs'.
He sought out those amber eyes once more, not doubting they were widened in fear and shock. He wanted to see them again, for it had been a long time; too long. He found a door, of course, lacking a doorknob. He did have much time before the gathered enough men, and courage, to infiltrate and subdue him. But for the moment, he had control.
It was time to seize the moment.
He charged towards the window, seeing his own reflection as he came closer.
Closer.
Closer
Impact
He slammed his monstrous fist against the plastic as his buckled once again. And once again, it did not shatter. He wished, for something else other that sunflowers, to see something; w certain glint that would be playing on those two eyes when he succeeded. He would succeed.
No matter what
He almost scoffed at what he was about to do, but knew that the situation was too serious at the moment. He drew his head back and aimed for where he sensed the man was standing. And he brought it down with full force. The window did not buckle nor did it protest. It fell to piece onto the pure white floor.
Beautiful pieces
He could feel a familiar liquid trickle down from the wound on his forehead, staining the floor a crimson red.Just like the red snow that always fell. He grinned in satisfaction as he found what he sought after; through the pain, through the grief, through the difficulties of being a nation.
Pride.