Fina rechecked her equipment and fixations for the ninth time. First battle of her life. She drew breath quite deeply, and kept rechecking all the things she was carrying. Her hands did deft movements as she spoke, like if her backpack was the store of her father and her weapons and food were the goods. She had always helped managing things, and after a few times, inventary was a automatic skill to her. She shuffled her feet while gripping her rifle tightly, eyeing the floor in a rather flighty manner. Her gait was trembling and full of fear, and her weapon even ocassionally rattled, but her hand was firmly clenching it and not letting it go.

The talk with the sergeant had been soothing to a degree and she could sleep the night without the usual recurring nightmares, but the harsh truth called her back. Darcsen weren't liked at all, and she was just a teenager girl with a gun, the last member of a family with nowhere to go. Her only hope was now to obey orders, and kill people. 

Well, she had already done that, had she not? Dead people had awful faces. Fear and pain. Who could've thought that a gun would make her even in the slightlest threatening before? She didn't like it in the slightlest. But it was neccessary. If she had to choose to kill Imperials to save her family and brethen, she would do it again. A thousand times.

Fina yelped slightly when she managed to reach the other soldiers in absolute silence, if it wasn't by the nervous rattling of her gun against her hands. Someone was trying to flirt with others, apparently. She had just intruded. She felt like shuffling back to the background, but for some reason she had to keep up with them.

[b]"Aaaa...mormormorning."[/b] She let in a weak wail, full of awkwardness.