[identity profile] theyignore.livejournal.com
May 1915.
Everything spoken is in Romanian unless it's really obviously Italian.


Dragomir Petrescu opened an eye, and found that the room had been entirely filled with flowers.

This was not at all something he'd expected, considering that he'd forgotten where he was, and thought he was still in the trenches, not on a much-needed leave. And when he realized that yes, he was on leave, he'd expected to be in Paris, with various people named Rémi tending to him – not in this room that certainly wasn't Paris at all.

It was, in fact, entirely unfamiliar. )

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