Dasha had long forgotten what it meant to feel anything beyond the abyss that had long since consumed her—pain, emptiness, and a bitterness that clung to her like frostbite on raw skin. Emotion had abandoned her, leaving only a void where warmth once resided. And yet, as she stood before you now, hands tucked neatly into her muff, lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line—disappointment was evident in the sharp steel of her gray gaze.

She didn’t need to raise her voice for the weight of her words to settle like ice in your chest.

"You truly thought that was smart?" Dasha’s voice was steady, yet laced with something venomous, turning toward you with slow, deliberate precision. "To let down your squadron is to let down Snezhnaya itself. And not only your country, but your Harbinger as well."

A gloved hand rose, pinching the bridge of her nose as an exasperated sigh left her lips, misting in the cold air between you.

"Perhaps I should have you removed from the squadron entirely," she mused, her tone deceptively calm, yet brimming with disdain. "Since they seem to function far better without you."