Drabbles of a Screaming Eagle

They say that the strongest sense you can remember is smell. Soldier wondered if that were true. Whenever Pyro or Engie baked apple pie, the heavenly scent of sweet apples mixed with cinnamon would bring him back to his childhood. At least, the bits he could remember. He knew there was a kitchen with cracked tiles and sunlight dancing through the broken windows. Yet that was all he knew. He wished he could remember more. Headaches discouraged him from deeper recounting. In the rare moments when his teammates talked about their childhood stories, he was one of the few who would opt out. While fighting in the Gravel Wars, familiar scents welcomed him like a cloak. It was like the first time he stepped on to the European battlefields. Where the metallic smells of blood were so sharp, he could taste it. The intensity of gunpowder. The smell of death. Aside from those details, he was uncertain of what happened in Europe. Not that he would admit it. He was unsure if he wanted to remember. It was best to forget what happened. During nights, when he and Spy allowed themselves a moment of vulnerability, Soldier would try. He would try to remember the overwhelming stench of French cologne that Spy wore off the battlefield. Although Soldier would claim to hate it, he really couldn’t. Not that he could let the crouton know. In the moments when they’d do nothing but smoke on the rooftop, the familiar scent of Spy’s Galoises cigarettes was strong. They say that the strongest sense you can remember is smell. Soldier wondered if that were true.