Dour And Dour-Er

Building 7 - Generator

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Theatre is : Building 7

Coordinates : 3 1

The only part of this building still running with any certainty is its power station, housed in this dank, cement-walled room. From wall to wall run massive generators with turbines still spinning, thrumming a low groan against the sounds of men at war.

A walkway lets workers pass up above the dangerous machinery on their way to other areas of the factory, stairwells leading down into the bowels of the generator pit for those unlucky enough to have to perform maintenance.

Though parts of the factory have been heavily damaged by Fascist attacks, the areas of it that can still work are working. Some better than others. Those in the factory labor on back-breaking schedules in an attempt to keep production moving. And, today, Sokolof has joined them. For a little while, at least. He's down in the generator pit, dressed in coveralls and work gloves rather than the uniform of the Red Army, assisting some of the workers as they perform maintenance in the bowels of the machine.

Elise had gone for a walk through the factory, checking out the other side of the war. Her rifle is slung across her back, a sign that her hand is doing well enough that she could actually hold it. She walks through the generator room, eyeing the machinery with curiosity, when she recognizes Sokolof there. "Comrade Sokolof?" she says, less a greeting and more an expression of surprise.

Sokolof does not immediately hear his name from Elise over the sounds of work and voices of the other men and women around him. It is slow going down there currently, as the light they've brought down flickers. Toying with generator wires in occasional darkness is no fun. Finally the man does look up, albeit with a curse. Oh, and there's Elise. A slightly abashed shrug and polite raise of a hand in greeting to her. "Comrade Berg. They have you up and about?"

"Just Elise," she says, catching the glance of one of the other workers, who looks up at Sok's greeting. "And Da, Comrade Doctor does good work." She motions vaguely with her hand, still bandaged. "Still hurts like hell but it's getting better." She shakes her head, "I'm sorry, though, I didn't mean to disturb you. You look to be hard at work."

Sokolof passes a look back and forth between Elise and the worker who looked up at her name. He does not appear particularly apologetic, but he does not repeat it. A shake of his head at the apology. "This generator needs to be completely re-wired. Too much stress is being put on the system. We will have to get by with…redirecting some of it, however." Long nose bends down to peer at the panel he's stripped open, glasses low on his nose. "If you can make the trip could you bring another lamp down, please? The one we've got is about to give out itself."

Elise eyes the worker back for a moment, a solid gaze that dares him to say something. He doesn't, though, and just goes back to his work. Elise's mouth turns downward in a resigned frown at the exchange, then nods readily to Sokolof. "Da, is there one… ah, there it is." She finds the lamp and holds it in the crook of her elbow as she climbs down the ladder into the pit, still babying the hurt hand by not using it.

Sokolof is frowning himself. Though it's his habitually dour expression rather than anything in particular aimed at Elise. "Step carefully," he cautions as she comes down, waiting until the light is delivered before returning to work. He looks more comfortably in the coveralls than he ever does with a rifle on his arm. "They are still turning out tanks here. It is astounding what the workers have managed under such conditions."

Elise nods to Sokolof's warning, taking care as she comes down into the pit. She hands over the lamp and then tries to step back out of the way. There is a flicker of interest in her otherwise typically dour expression when she eyes the machinery, and she nods absently to him. "Da, I was watching some of the work earlier. Amazing. I saw them send one tank right off the assembly line into the fight."

"Hold it up here, please," Sokolof says to Elise, gesturing with a gloved finger without actually looking at the young woman. Now that he can see again, his long nose and pincer-armed hands are back in the innards of the generator. He hums to himself as he he works. Snatches of some old song that does not sound particularly Russian, though it's too muted with too wandering an attempt at the melody for one to really tell. "It is sights like this that give me more hope than more soldiers coming over the Volga, I must tell you. But, we all labor for the Motherland as we can I suppose."

Elise holds up the lamp as instructed. "Sights like what - the tanks?" she wonders, watching him work. "More soldiers coming across the Volga would be nice, though." She wonders at the song but doesn't ask about it yet, straining to listen to the snatches.

Sokolof breaks off his idle humming as he answers Elise, leaning at an angle so the light can best get to the bit of wiring he's working on. "The tanks, the work…all of it. Makes me think I should not have been so glad to not be sent to a life in the factories. Well. Too late to dwell on such things now. Da, Comrade, certainly would."

Elise tilts her head curiously when the humming stops, thwarted in her attempts to pick it out on her own, "What was that tune? I didn't recognize it." She nods slightly to the latter. "I think I wouldn't have minded working in a factory. Did you not want to?"

"When I was a younger I thought I might want to go study at university," Sokolof answers, again without looking up. "I was not selected for it, however. I managed to get a place in technical training. Gives one more of a choice in the sorts of places they can work. It was decent work." He sounds neither particularly happy or mournful of his lot in life. As for the song, he shrugs. "Just something my grandmother used to sing. I don't even remember the words. It was a very long time ago. I barely recall the tune…"

Elise nods, "Technical training is valuable as well. I think of all the workers in the factories, here and in the rest of the country - we'd not have a war to fight without them building everything." She flicks a glance over when he shrugs about the song. "Would you mind humming it again?"

Sokolof flushes a little in the light of the lamp, looking up and askance at Elise. Almost suspicion in his gaze. He does not start humming again. "It is just an old song. Better forgotten." His eyes narrow back on the wires and he asks, after a pause that's long enough to be uncomfortable, "And what was it you wanted to do with yourself, Comrade? Before all of this began."

Elise looks stung at the gaze from Sokolof. "Sorry," she mumbles, sounding contrite even though she's not sure what she did wrong. She focuses her own gaze on the lamp, shifting the position of her arm a little bit to make it more comfortable. The light wobbles for a moment before growing steady again. There's a long pause before she answers his question. "I don't know. I've thought only of the war for so long. I enlisted in the defense force when I was old enough. I never really thought beyond it."

Sokolof looks somewhat abashed but provides no explanation. And the question has left him a little uncomfortable. Her answer prompts a long sigh from him, however. "How old are you, Comrade Elise?" he asks, turning his head to look up at her again.

Elise continues to hold the lamp like a good little lamppost. She finds other things to look at so she doesn't have to watch Sokolof's face, afraid of what she might read in his expression. Somehow knowing that she's stepped wrong, but uncertain what to do about it. His question surprises her, though, and does cause her to look back. "Eighteen," she answers.

Sokolof keeps his expression carefully hard to read, should Elise chance to look at it again. He frowns, but that isn't much different than his standard dour look mixed with concentration. "My daughter, Raisa, is thirteen," he says, attention going fully back to the innards of the generator as he talks of his family. "My one hope now is that we are able to drive the Fascists out before she is old enough to join in this horror."

An unreadable expression is in some ways worse than a bad one, leaving Elise on uncertain footing. Especially when he starts talking about his family, which she hasn't heard him do often. "I hope that as well, Comrade. For her sake and all of ours." Unspoken is the conviction that none of them will be alive if this war drags on for years and years. After an awkward pause, she tries again at the casual conversation thing, "You have two children?" Her memory is hazy on that score.

"Up a little please, there's a part above the wiring I need to get at," Sokolof instructs her as to the light, shifting his hands very carefully inside the machine. Gloves or not, that could get messy if one touches the wrong component. "Yes. Raisa is my eldest. My son, Isak, is eight. They are with their aunt now. Safe, last I heard. Finally got some word back in the mail drop." He does not bother to disguise the relief in his tone.

Elise raises the lamp obligingly. She is still avoiding looking at him, but can't help but look back at the opening in the machine now and again as he fiddles with it. Hands are a safer target than face, providing they don't get zapped. There's a long silence after his last comment, then finally she says, "I'm glad they're all right."

"As am I," Sokolof says softly. If he's at all aware of her discomfort he gives little sign of it. Fiddle, fiddle, fiddle. A squint to examine his handiwork. He seems satisfied, easing back from the machine and getting the panel in hand again. To screw it shut. He looks up, toward one of the workers laboring near him and calls, "I think I've got it. You can fire it up again. It should last you a little longer now."

Elise just waits quietly while Sokolof finishes his work and calls to the other worker. She tilts her head to peer inside the finished wiring for a moment while he gets the panel. She spies a screwdriver and hands it to him, not noticing whether he already has one or not, or even if it's the right kind.

Sokolof hadn't acquired the screwdriver yet, and Elise saves him the trouble of reaching for it. "Thank you, Comrade," he says. Screw, screw, screw, and he gets the thing safely shut. He straightens, arms stretching over his head idly to relieve the stiffness of being tightly position for so long. "And my thanks for the light."

"No problem," Elise says readily. She's glad to give her arm a rest, though, when he gets the panel back in place, a faint grimace remaining at the effort. Wasn't too long ago that arm was cracked, and it still aches. "Glad to help. Have you been at this all day?" she wonders.

"A good part of it, when I came off watch," Sokolof replies, striding over to head back up the ladder. "It was…relaxing. Feels good to work with one's hands again." In some task other than desperately firing a rifle.

Elise nods. "I'm sure it's a welcome break. Better than just sitting around waiting for the next attack." She sounds a little envious of Sokolof and his diversion. The lamp is turned off and tucked back against her elbow so she can climb back up.

Sokolof reaches the top of the ladder before Elise, offering her a hand to assist her on the final leg up. While he brought his rifle with him, it's lashed across his back, out of the way.

Elise takes the hand up with her uninjured one, offering a grateful nod. "Thank you, Comrade." She sets the lamp back where she found it and looks around for a moment, somewhat at a loss. "I suppose I should go back and see if I can help with the wounded." Though she'd rather walk over hot coals. Especially in this weather.

"I shall be back in not long myself. I want to have another look at the tank assembly before settling in again. I can do little for it but…it is heartening to watch. Good evening, Comrade." If Sokolof is uncomfortable it doesn't particularly show, beyond his generally withdrawn nature. He shrugs his shoulders and his angular form walks off, to another chamber in the factory.

Building 7 - Blast Furnace

The Grid-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION < < <


Theatre is : Building 7

Coordinates : 4 2

Though battered by shelling and fighting, this part of the factory was spared enough that work is still ongoing here. The heat from the furnace and near-deafening noise of production are ever-present, and laborers slave on schedules that make the soldiers' lives almost seem easy to keep the engine of Soviet production running.
The sounds and smells are the clatter and burnt oil of heavy industry, littered with the human and mechanical waste of warfare. Massive sliding doors allow access between the modular grey iron blocks of the Red October factory. Everything is in blasted shades of grey, from the bare iron rafters far overhead, to the painted grey staircases which zig zag up from the main factory floor to the elevated walkways which bypass the chaos below.

Elise was gone for a little while, but now returns to the main area. Her hand is a little better, out of its sling at least, and her rifle is slung across her back. But her expression is even more sullen than usual, small lips locked in a frown. She makes her way back over to the spot by the furnace that she and Zoya had camped.

Gregor is bundled up, waking from sleep, sitting up, blinking around. blink blink.

Novikova is determined not to lose the decent spot. Not while her cousin is hurt and certainly not as things grow colder. She has her SVT propped up beside her and from the looks of things, she was on water duty. Something they are fond of using the sturdy Novi for. She looks up, hearing someone enter. It's Elise! She smiles a little then pauses. A frown. "Cousin?" She asks quietly. And a Gregor. "Good … evening, Comrade."

"Zoya," Elise greets in response, settling down on the bedroll beside Novi's. She makes sure her rifle is tucked in safely beside the bedroll, within easy reach. Zoya's frown is not commented upon. "Did you go out on water duty again?" Noticing the blinking Gregor, she gives him a little nod in greeting.

Gregor sleeps when Gregor sleeps. Getting sleep when you can and as much as you can has been a soldiering thing since.. soldering. he nods to the ladies. "Graphleak. Ack! Kaff! Hello." He manages to rasp out eventually.

Novikova nods, "Da. I'm not hurt or sick yet, so I have plenty of chores." She smiles a little. "I am glad you can sit with me. Are you thirsty or anything?" She tries to make Elise comfortable as she can. "I spent watch with good company, so I don't mind it so much." Then a smile at Gregor. "Hello. Did you need some water then?" She notices his rasp. Novi is trying to be diligent.

"I'm glad you're well," Elise says when Zoya comments about not being sick or hurt. The 'yet' part bugs her a little, but she is realistic enough to know it's probably an accurate statement. "Da, if you could open my canteen please." She hands it over. It's about half full. "I wish I could heal faster like you. I was just holding a lamp for Comrade Sokolof and now my arm is aching," she whines with a frown, cradling the non-bandaged arm, the one that was only too recently cracked. Sputtering Gregor gets a concerned look. "Are you all right, Comrade?

Gregor looks around and nods slightly, getting his canteen and drinking. He's pretty self service. He nods, "Yes, just a little fairy came and crapped in my mouth while I was asleep." He grimaces and starts extracting himself from the grip of sleep, getting up.

Novikova smiles at Elise, "I'll probably get the sniffles at least once this year." It's not unusual after all to get a cold, war or not. She takes the canteen and opens it for Elise. She looks questioning - need help drinking? "I wish I could give you my ability too," She admits. "And oh? A lamp?" She seems curious, "Were you guys working on something?" And then a blink at Gregor. A soft giggle. "Sorry, that's pretty rough."

Elise lifts eyebrows briefly to Gregor. "Inconsiderate fairy." She thanks Zoya for opening the canteen but then takes it back. Achey arm or no, she seems to want to be at least partially self-service herself. A slight nod to Zoya's query. "He was working on the generator. I just held the lamp." She takes a sip of water and then frowns down at the canteen. "I think I've done something to offend him, but I have no idea what."

Gregor rubs his hands together, taking his rifle and checking it. "Something to offend him?" He thinks, and shrugs, "Afraid I really couldn't say." He makes a face, "If anyone sees the fairy, step on it for me, hmm?"

"Sure thing." She promises Gregor. Then a smile at elise. The smile fades and she tilts her head. Novikova is curious, "Offend him? How? You've never been anything but kind to him. Although Comrade Sokolof is hard to read sometimes, and very serious." It's Novikova's polite way of noting that Efim can be dour too. She looks thoughtful though. "And working on the generator?"

"Stepping on fairies seems like bad luck," Elise remarks. Or just plain bad, maybe. She shrugs at the queries. "I don't know how." Hence part of the problem. "All I did was ask about a song he'd been humming." The sullen frown returns, and she pulls her threadbare blanket from her pack. "And Da, the generator. Don't know what was wrong with it. He wasn't very talkative about what he was working on."

Gregor nods, "Perhaps the song was important in some private way. Don't take it personally." He thinks, "Well, this fairy shit in my mouth, so it started it."

"Hm. Well, he is pretty serious and it may have been something personal. You had really no way of knowing, don't feel bad at all. And it could be he felt the generator was boring. Or someone told him not to talk about it," Novikova points out. "I don't know. I would think he'd mention if he were really offended. Besides, if I were sad everytime I stuck my boot in my mouth I think I'd have jumped into the Volga by now," She admits with an embarrassed blush.

Elise shrugs to Gregor. "It was just a song." When Zoya speculates about the generator, it jogs her memory and she says, "I think he said something about the load. I don't remember exactly. All that stuff is beyond me anyway." She doesn't lose the dour expression, sulking as only a teenager with bruised feelings can sulk. Even Zoya's self-depracating comment at the end is taken more seriously than it was likely meant to be. "It's different for you, Zoyuschka."

Gregor nods to Elise. "The load, okay, that has something to do with.." He thinks. "Electricity." He shrugs. "Guess this is why I'm not working on the thing."

Owch. Cousin burn. Novikova winces. "Oh. Right." She's trying. There's a soft sigh. "Cousin, I am sure- he's not mad at you. Probably just tired. This whole thing is a mess and I bet the generator just got overloaded." She shrugs. "Might've been worked too hard or damaged. But either way, I do not think you should fret. You're one of the least offensive people I know."

Now Elise feels guilty on top of everything, seeing that wince from her cousin. "I'm sorry, Zoyuschka. I know you meant it well." Elise certainly never intended to burn her beloved cousin. Still, she sulks and frets, despite the reassurances, but now she says no more about it, taking one more drink of her canteen in silence before screwing the cap back on awkwardly with her good left hand.

Family uncomfortable silences. in peacetime, Gregor would quietly vanish while the girls talked out their feelings and shit like that. But he's stuck breathing in the awkward.

"Oh no, it's alright, it takes more than that," She smiles at Elise and gently will rub her cousin's shoulder. Novikova bounces back fast, which is why probably she gets punished nigh constantly and retains her impish nature. "Or I'd have - again - jumped into the Volga and gotten spitten back out ages ago. It's always a bit awkward to make someoen you know and like dour with you, so I understand."

Elise is not as bouncy as her cousin, nor does she realize the Awkward inflicted on poor bystander Gregor. She glances over appreciatively at the touch on her shoulder, the guilt easing. "It is different for you, Zoyuschka." Same comment, less snark. It comes off more sad, resigned. "You've known most of them all your life." She sighs, shaking her head slightly. "I'm just so tired."

Gregor slings his rifle and moves to the furnace, leeching off some heat and looking out into the darkness through a hole in the building. Stay quiet, move as little as possible, their vision is based on movement.

"I know," Novikova replies, "And that's why I don't think anyone would stay mad at you long either. They know I'm a doof," She smiles weakly. "Then rest. I'm on watch tonight anyway," Novikova notes. "So you can sleep." Smile. "No one is mad at you Elise," She promises. "Comrade Sokolof is kind of - well, he's a good man, clever and kind - but he can be kind of dour." A shrug. "That's how he is. Just as I am how I am." She looks to Gregor. "And … Gregor is how he is."

"I hope you're right," Elise says softly, though she still sounds unconvinced. She curls up on her side on the bedroll, settling her arms very carefully in the position they hurt the least. "Goodnight."

Gregor smiles, but doesn't respond as Elise is going to sleep and quiet is good for that. Still he smirks at Novi.

"I know so," She promises. Novikova nods. "I am here if you need anything," She smiles at Elise. She believes the folks here like her. She looks to Gregor and smiles at the smirk. That's a Gregor! She goes quiet too, to keep watch and let those who are sleeping rest.

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