[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/YDmPoVX.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/QHrg7nB.png[/img][/center]

[color=#D98719][B][SUP]S O L D I E R  E N C A M P M E N T  -  Z A L E R A  T U N D R A[/SUP][/B][/color]
[hr]
[color=lightgray]
"The practice shows. Truly, I admire the dedication to your craft." Corr quipped back to Bruce as he rolled his shoulders, straightening his back

Corr [i]felt[/i] them. Not in the natural sense of touch of hand to flesh but on a more abstract sense. Attuned as he was to the calls of the Giant merged to his flesh, he sensed as it sensed, eternal and without restraint. It was to this degree that his role as 'protector' achieved its apex, being able to sense subtle shifts of presence. To this degree he could intercept and bring order where disorder brew. A deep and primal empathy towards pain and suffering. The Giant attuned to the natural procession of order and deterred by its disruption. In strife this was a tool, an asset harnessed to its fullest. In the day to day it was another burden, the struggles of a false omniscience. Fleeting flashes of Self passing by in ephemeral flashes. Reflected in the flicking sparks of energy within the iris of ember. To his credit he had learned partly to dull the sensation to a low thrum and yet even then some still cut through.

As the rest of the SOLDIERS began their procession he could feel the Giant's unrest. It was a curious thing its deliberate aversion to what Corr could only assume to be its own kind. An animalistic aversion towards the unknown and ethereal. These 'foreigners' were a disruption, their eldritch pulses interfering with life held dear. Yet the instinct to crush chaos with force was without form as these sparks of chaos were as trapped as it. To this level Giant and man stood at ideological embankments. Corr taught of redemption and harmony saw these approaching souls not as inherent evils but the very life that the Giant meant to flourish.

As the embers of association flared, Corr couldn't help but feel amused. Life in the Fort and its various satellite facilitates was one of isolation. Lonely rooms more devoid of life than the monastic cells of his childhood. Physical contact with others limited to brief fleeting touches. Most voices coming formless through hidden speakers, presence without a face to connect. The outside world always viewed through the lens of digital reconstruction. Yet here there was voices and the sounds of merriment and companionship. It would of been almost humbling if not for the context of their arrival. Somewhere across the strait black as the storms that had a habit of raging across them lay Death. Befitting Corr supposed for creatures bred for war to bond within its boundaries.

A smile broke across his face as he saw Corbyn approach him. Those brief moments of physical contact came in the form of similar ilk, Commanders. (Corr never liked that term. He never saw himself as a leader or commander of much of anything.) The general thinking of the higher ups being that a degree of familiarity would benefit organization and cooperation. As he drew in he clasped the other man's arm, gargantuan hands almost swallowing the forearm. From what he knew of the mission at hand Corbyn would be the one leading the infiltration team. Something that Corr was thankful for, for he and sneaking did not cohabitate.

Pointing with a look of mock sternness towards Samm. "Are those whispers of sedition I hear? Disagreement with the Govern's glorious food policies is punishable by death."

"But since blocks of chalk passing as food are not good enough for you socialites," Corr replied. "I've managed to gather enough material to make a meal worthy of your delicate palates. Hope you enjoy dead things....."

He could feel her before he saw her. Whatever bubbling sense of warmth that was building in his body shriveled and died. He pivoted his body stopping as heterochromia met desolate blue, impossibly cold. There was an old parable about a wayward traveler and her continued dalliances with a demon. A warning of the urges of temptation and compelling them to find courage in the face of evil. As of recently Corr had begun to find a newfound appreciation in the words of the story. Corr himself much like the traveler always had a habit of finding trouble. As a young child he was guilty of searching it out, never learning to let sleeping beasts lay. And what was Carmen but trouble animated by the breath of life. Akin to looking into the void at which all things were born from and destined to return. Intriguing in the all consuming fatalistic sense that made the great philosophers go mad.

"You are," His eyebrows furrowed as he pondered his word choice. Despite the shaking of his head, approval tinged the inflections of his speech. "[i]so[/i] unsettling sometimes you know that?"

"But yes the idea of satiation has its merits. We can't all go rush to our deaths on empty stomachs now can we?"  He turned away from her cupping his mouth in his hands and projecting his voice. It boomed over the surrounding area cutting through whatever discussion was commencing.

[b]"Oi! As much as I love standing in vomit stained snow, it's time to eat!"[/b] He turned back around as he gave a mock bow towards Carmen, arm outstretched allowing her to lead the way.[/color]