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[sub][color=steelblue]A R C H A D I A[/color] / / [color=steelblue]I N F I L T R A T I O N   -   T H E   F O R E S T S[/color][/sub][hr]
[i]“Do you think you’re ready for what must be done?”[/i]

[color=darkgray]The words were mystifyingly poignant. Trailing from the etchings in the dirt, his anomalous gaze curved in a slow, upward ascension to meet the toothy smile of Amentia's visage. Her lips were dressed with a smearing of crimson blood under shimmering, pallid oculi soaked in a fresh coating of overindulgent glee. Within the silence of a single moment, Corybn's blank expression scrunched and contorted into a brow raise punctuated by a crooked frown. It wasn't that he disapproved of his less known--and much less understood--comrade, but to say that she was aberrant was far beyond an understatement. He briefly glanced at the ink-like substance crawling around his silhouette, seemingly assessing his form, before his half-confused countenance returned to find equally curious eyes deadlocked mere inches away. He reciprocated the extended silence before those words broke the tension and Amentia's entire face snapped to the direction in which the duo would be moving. Corybn made no moves, no sounds, as he took a second to reflect on the question posed. Then he grunted and exhaled. 

"What must be done, eh?" The commander began, taking another brief pause, "It doesn't matter what [i]must[/i] be done. As a SOLDIER, I'm going to do what [i]needs[/i] to be done. That's a promise." Taking long, controlled strides, the crouched lancer began his forward movement down the path the team would need to navigate.[/color]

[color=905a90]Corbyn’s response drifted through the charged uneasy stillness that had enveloped them--  the tempest’s eye that narrowed it’s gaze upon the merciless children of man’s overindulgent pride. Oh yes, trouble brewed about them in the coaxing shadows, but at this moment, Amentia seemed to be lacking battle focus and instead meandered through a hazy definition of reality entirely her own. Amentia allowed his response the same consideration he had afforded her question. And she was left wanting. She’d always found the concept of [i]need[/i] to be tricky and it curled about her mind leaving in its wake a distrust of his answer. It seemed off, false in the way humanity often struck her. Not in the way she was wrong, no, he wasn’t like her in that regard. There was a gnawing that told her he was worse; he had secrets. It prickled her the way his emotions roiled in steady waves about him, yet not [b]from[/b] him. While she faltered in trusting his response, she didn’t feel the same about Corbyn. She shrugged off the inward ruminations.

It was a silly thing anyways, what was she comparing him too? Since her sheltered youth the only deficient knowledge of interaction and humanity stemmed from nurses, doctors and military supervisors. None involving something as frivolous as socialization. Maybe this was simply the way people should be. Corbyn was moving forward, away from her, and it struck her that she couldn’t quite remember being alone with anyone. [color=black][i] Other than me. I’m always here.[/i][/color] She offered the inner beast a smile in acknowledgment as she started ahead, quickly skipping barefoot between their distance so as not to be left behind. Corbyn obviously trusted her enough to show his back, so yes, she would traverse his convoluted path of [i]need[/i]. And there was something else too, something that wanted so badly to trust someone else, something that didn’t want to be left alone. She could almost swear it was something born of her own emotion.[/color]

[color=darkgray]And then, silence. 

Quiet courted the twosome once more, almost lackadaisical in the way it seemed to saunter into their bubble of reality. Yet the lack of immediate reply incited a feeling of intrigue from deep within the steadfast commander. The unforeseen tranquil had also served to devour the budding tension and a sensation of relative comfort began to ease itself around the duo, at least on Corbyn's end. Human beings were not without flaws and mistrust certainly kept a claw in his side, but Corbyn now considered his own dripping curiosity as it steadily formed into a pool of sheer wonder. Amentia was the sort of SOLDIER that invited shadowed rumors and allowed hushed whispers to float by without giving them a second thought or even a fleeting glance. Unsubstantiated information usually formed a web of half-truths and full lies, begging rumormongers and gossipers to travel the length of a single sticky strand with the hope of gleaning pieces of confirmation or settling for whiffs affirmation in truth's stead. The lancer never took the time to delve into the web surrounding his present company, but now that she was only a step or two behind, the inevitable humanity of simply being inquisitive suddenly struck the man. And before he knew it, his own familiar intonation echoed into the noiseless air. 

"Let me ask you a question," Corybn began, carefully pushing tall grass out of the way as he continued to step forward though his pace had notably slowed, "You asked me about being ready for whatever has to be done... What made you ask something like that?"[/color]

[color=905a90]As Corbyn’s gait lessened, her own settled her less than half a pace behind. Threads of black fringe fell across her shoulders, escaping from their confinement as her neck twisted toward him without forgoing their progressive journey. He received a head tilt as pale eyes, still mottled with wisps of twilight, assessed his features once more. He seemed to be refined in the areas where she lacked. His features, his stature, they were akin to what one would expect of a commander, focused and well maintained. Yet, he spoke to her without necessity. Her pleasure at the conversation danced across her gore stained lips, bringing out dimples beneath the hint of macabre. They continued to weave through the pitch stained route, uncovered pads gingerly picking her course on their own accord as he held her attention. The silence stretched out between them and it almost appeared she would fail to respond.

She let her focus be summoned upward, taking in the beauty of the sky. The stars cared little about the monstrous acts that would be /had been/ committed on this plane, forever the unfazed spectators. They seemed to twinkle brighter under scrutiny and for a moment she tried to remember if they had looked the same before all of this, before SOLDIER. Her features softened, appearing lost and wondering with the innocence of youth, consumed with awe over the immensity of it all. When she spoke it was with a childlike resolution that left little room for doubt on her own end.[/color] 

[color=white]“I think we often fail to ask ourselves.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]Corbyn stopped, his gaze swiveling to a side profile as he glanced over his shoulder.[/color] 

[color=slategray]"This one is of few words, but those that are spoken are prominent indeed, "[/color] [color=darkgray]Asteria echoed within her mental confine. 

"Shut the hell up," Corbyn's own mental voice snapped. He cleared his mind and refocused on the SOLDIER before him. 

"Maybe we do. But if a person has a clear goal in mind... " The commander trailed as his visage became forward facing once more. "... Should they really be questioning their own resolve?" 

The pangs of reminiscence stung and stabbed at the frozen commander. He had been duty-bound since joining the program, but it was also true that, like most others, a semblance of waver had overtaken his determination at various points in the early days. The specific methods of joining the body with the mysterious Aeon beings eluded the man, but he could remember the times after, the adjustment period that every SOLDIER underwent when bonding had been deemed successful. His own experiences were muddled in varying emotions covering the entire spectrum of feeling itself. Unbeknownst to his partner, her words had unintentionally dug up the graves of buried nightmares, repressed memories that played out as dark dreams within the mind's eye of Corbyn Vesper. A quivering foot solidified and took a reinvigorated step forward as the commander shook the false reality from his immediate purview and continued along the darkened route. This was not the time for [i]that[/i]. 

"That's the bigger failure, if you ask me." He said, finishing his thought.[/color]

[color=905a90]Her steps suspended for his pause and when her gaze lowered to meet his own the innocence had faded into something almost apologetic in its amused superiority. The words came despite herself, coated in honey and blood, and slipping from between her lips. [color=white]“Is SOLDIER all that you are? You speak of [i]needs[/i], [i]goals[/i], [i]failure[/i]....”[/color] She had begun to shake her head as she spoke tumbling the loose strands about her narrow shoulders, her tongue was tapping against her teeth in a tsking noise when she noticed a change in her companion. She grew quiet while the aeon within took up its own pleased tsk, tsk, tsk.

She had forgotten what she was saying. Her head canted and the splattering across her eyes twisted and devoured upon the ghostly pallor. The shadows that danced across their feet curled hungrily towards his nightmares, twisting about his ankles and crawling up his thighs. The aeon begun to purr, a sickly deranged rumble that threatened to eek from betwixt her lips. Within Corbyn's features she saw pieces of storm like those that executed across Hade's gates, ghouls flickering behind his eyes before they fell from his gaze and licked across her arms beneath the still damp coat, prickling the hairs that lay there. Their conversation had vanished, no longer toying with his words but rather consumed with his countenance. The coils of shadow had made it to his waist before she snapped them back again with a twitching sort of pull from arachnid digits. Her eyes blinked, returning a fraction of their pale hue as he began to turn away. The emotion stung as it clawed against her chest.

For a brief moment she actually thought about offering a soft touch-- something she remembered from childhood-- but her fingers clenched and remained at her side. Battle was their home, whoever's battle it may be, and there was no place for such inane gestures where they stood. Who was she to think she could provide comfort to anyone? She wasn’t so crazy that she didn’t know her place. She hadn’t touched another person outside of combat and “medical professionals” in sixteen years. She faltered at her own thoughts and fell a few paces behind. A frown twisted across her cheeks, one directed at herself. Who was she to put any judgment into matters such as this? She knew nothing of needs, nothing of resolve or goals and very little of failure. 

She brushed away the emotions and listened, her ears straining into the darkness as she suddenly remembered the company that weaved about them in the darkness. [color=white]“I’m sorry, sometimes I’m not…right.”[/color] She was talking about her mental state, not the function of correctness and accentuated the word to convey as much. With his back to her there was no way to know her smile had returned other than a lightness that crept into her voice, [color=white]“I do believe you are ready Corbyn; ready for what [i]needs[/i] to be done. And for now, my only path is yours.”[/color] Because where else would she go? Perhaps Corbyn was right. Better to focus now.[/color]

[color=darkgray]Corbyn found himself stopping once again as the patrols began to criss-cross the area in their search. The nearest few were still a few meters ahead of the hidden SOLDIERs. As half of his attention rested on navigating the labyrinth that was the Archadian forest, the commander found his other half being pulled into the quieted inflection of his partner. At first, her words came freshly sharpened, tinged with hints of venom and the sultry scent of condescension radiating from them. The mere implication they intended to insinuate pulled the corners of her lead's unseen lips and shifted his entire physiognomy into a contortion of amused expression against a dastardly smirk. Silent gratitude permeated his mentality at the fact that his back was Amentia's only visual in that moment. Had the lancer really allowed SOLDIER to dominate his entire being? The thought tingled on the tip of his tongue, but was ultimately swallowed without any real introspection. Corbyn had spoken of clear goals just a few minutes prior and he was no traitor--no hypocrite--to his own philosophy. The next surprise, however, came from the bloody woman's continuing dialogue. 

The apology was a bit far into the formal territory, but her reasoning just created even more intrigue. It was plainly obvious to see that Amentia did not behave in the way a typical individual might, but her admitted guilt was an interesting proposition. Maybe it was his paranoia claiming superiority once more, but Corbyn toyed with the idea that this woman might have been more than she was letting on. He could not say with certainty that her outward idiosyncrasy was a ruse of some sort, but she gave the cautious man the impression that her semi-erratic ways might have been some form of wall she kept up for appearances - or to [i]hide[/i] appearances, as it were. Either way, it provided a new and interesting layer to the volatile woman that did not seem to be there before. Wiping a hand over his face, Corbyn exhaled and checked his surroundings again. The patrols were still about, but they had moved far enough way to pass. With that, he began forward. 

"I probably should have told you this before. My title may be commander, but I [i]really[/i] don't care for it. You don't have to be formal with me... Just sayin'. I do want to ask you a kind of unrelated question though." Corbyn took a breath and glanced back for a single second before facing the front again. "Do you... Do you talk with... Well... The thing, inside you?"[/color]

[color=905a90]His back played witness as the shock of his question resulted in a flinch that would have been less severe had he physically struck her across the face. The [i]others[/i], the ones at the base, also liked to ask questions like that. Claws clenched white knuckled around the bo-shuriken and the thought of breathing consigned itself in a line of reactions that were darting to the forefront of her mind. She did very little to squelch the scowl that took residence in its twisted glory, finally manipulating her visage into the weapon of war she had been presumed to be. The streaks of umbra the eeked from her being took up a shuddering giddy dart with the impetuous swell of emotion dripping from their host. Doubtless it was the wrong reaction that won out, but she committed.

[color=white]“That [i][b]thing[/b][/i],”[/color] the word rolled off her tongue laced in as much disgust as could be accentuated upon a word and continued to roil about her tirade, [color=white]“has a name. And where would you be [i][b]commander[/b][/i] without that [i][b]thing[/b][/i]? Cozied up by a warm fire with family and friends? No such life was offered to me. Xcavairn saved what bit of self I had. All I had. And whether or not I talk to him is none of your, or any of the rest of the SOLDIER hierarchies, fucking business.”[/color] Her seriousness didn’t allow much time to consider the humor that the petite demon, still coated in the malicious remnants of feasting on a man, somehow sounded ridiculous cursing due to awkward lack of use.

[color=darkgray]In spite of her awkward profanity, however, the more important highlight was the fact that the facade was broken. Wrath laid behind false persona poured out into the open air and all the while, Corbyn smiled. Presumptuous cadence spilled alongside the unmitigated anger as words laden with audacious impudence attempted to mount a surprise offensive into the conversation - a nerve had been struck and was it [i]ever[/i] a sore one. In the same vein however, Amentia had also seemed to finally come from behind the wall that separated her true self from the rest. It was clear that she was offended by the commander's use of the word "thing" to describe the mysterious beings that inhabited their bodies, but more than that she felt gratitude towards the alien entity. That was where the lancer drew his line. He once more stopped in place, the smile widening at the tall blades of grass in front of him and the beating of his heart growing more frequent and just a little more intense. This woman had found a nerve of her own to strike. 

"Do you believe so little in your own abilities that you'd go as far to say that [i]thing[/i] saved you? That a being we know absolutely [i]nothing[/i] about deigned to come to a human's aid? Is that some kind of twisted joke?!" Corbyn chuckled, stifling an outright laugh as he reclaimed consciousness of the present situation. "Maybe you had a hard life. Who the hell knows. The only thing [i]I[/i] know is that these creatures aren't deserving of our trust, much less our gratitude. I told you once that I don't care about this title and that fact is still the truth. Think what you want about me. But don't ever try to convince me that these... [i]Things[/i] are something more than they are. Just don't even bother wasting your breath in that case."[/color]

The steam of her words seemed to simmer, her commitment faltering as she felt momentarily like a petulant child, but instead of choosing to fold she doubled down. Her steps emerged forcefully and terminated the distance the pair had momentarily shared. Her shoulder collided with his arm, her height failing what her fury expected, though still delivering a startling amount of stability for such a pixie thing. With the contact she paused, their silhouettes scarcely touching as her eyes-- still convoluted with the weeping fetor of pupil-- drilled into his own. A slithering solidification breached the corporeal realm from amongst the tenebrous well at their feet and pierced through Corbyn’s ankle, linking the two with the demented manacle. There was no physical pain, but rather a creeping cold until the link shattered his own reality and force fed her own; a quaint parade of mania. The once solid ground began to slither and crawl with eldritch ease and the sky broke open and birthed phantoms howling for death and everything became a juxtaposition of apathy and empathy. But there was no fear, not in this place.

Her gaze, steady and determined bore past him, through him, leeching out beyond the fleshy bags they inhabited and her words came out in a disbelieving hiss, [color=white]“I can't believe you let him talk to you like that.”[/color] And he knew she was not addressing him, there wasn't a doubt.[/color]

[color=darkgray]Corbyn felt the cold in her eyes and the chill of the ebon tentacles she commanded. In contrast to what one would think though, the commander simply bore his own gaze straight back into those of his temporary warden. The smile on his face had regressed into the smirk it once was only a short while earlier and though he could tell Amentia was looking past him, he hoped she would take note of his silent defiance. In spite of being placed within the same unit, Corbyn had little understanding of the other SOLDIER's abilities. Their files had only given basic information--probably a conscious decision made by top brass--and barely made mention of the weapons they were carrying. In this case however, the commander was more than prepared for his comrade's brand of mental assault. As was another. 

In the pitch black of her quiet realm, Asteria seemingly sat on air, legs-crossed and arms folded. Long, dark hair fell far past her back though part of it was styled in some sort of ornate up-do. She regularly took the form of a young woman at the request of her host and it was through this form that polychromatic oculi suddenly opened and her visage twisted into a furrowed brow and waiting grin. She felt the intrusion as soon as Amentia had linked the two. The bloody woman's voice manifested as an echo that came from everywhere at once within the realm though Asteria was sure she could be seen at that moment - all the better.[/color] 

[color=slategray]"Child,"[/color] [color=darkgray]a feminine, yet somehow aged timbre began,[/color] [color=slategray]"My pact with this boy is presently beyond your understanding. However, his mannerism towards me is more intriguing than hostile. You humans amuse me with your spectacularly varying personalities and characteristics. I will not say that it wouldn't be nice to be worshiped and adored as you so graciously allow one of my kind to feel."[/color] [color=darkgray]Asteria paused for a moment. Her teeth began to show as her grin widened.[/color] [color=slategray]"Your ability is very interesting, indeed. To be able to speak with me independent of my host is... Fascinating."[/color]

[color=905a90]Well, that would make two of them, Amentia hadn’t know she could speak to another’s aeon either, though that realization would have to come later. While Asteria abated some of the fury that coursed through Amentia's veins there seemed to be a current not yet ready to be dammed. She unintentionally had released a valve on years of collected tension. Her heart thrummed within her chest, echoing in the emptiness that should have been Xcavairn, who remained inexplicably withdrawn during the exchange.

Amentia, now fully connecting to the eyes of Asteria, continued on without ceasing for answers. She didn’t really want them anyways for fear that they would just confirm the tide of her thoughts. [color=white]"Intriguing? This “boy” speaks of the needs and goals of SOLDIER as if they were his own. Does he even have any beyond them? He trusts [i]them[/i], but yet he is incapable of trusting you.”[/color] She sighed and it was clear she was winding down. The fury in her gaze softened so that the pupils had almost completely collected their own pale gray, though a tinge of sorrow pooled within. Her rigid stature relaxed and while the world around them continued to portray the sinister retelling of Through the Looking Glass it seemed somehow less abrasive than before.

The rest of her words were a sad whisper, a chill slipping between the two that was almost taken with the night breeze, [color=white]“SOLDIER will fail him. They will not come to his aid. You [b]will[/b] do what needs to be done to keep him safe.”[/color] The last sentence was not uttered as a question. Yes, she adored her Aeon, but Corbyn was the first person to just talk to her, or at least try too. And she did not know Asteria so why not push her luck with demands on his protector? It likely wouldn’t count for anything anyways. [color=white]“I won’t claim that I was right when the day comes, nor will I experience joy. There is more at stake than my pride, and no matter what, this story will not have a happy ending. I just hope he doesn’t expect one.”[/color] 

And with that she released her hold and lowered her eyes to dissuade contact with the man, the shadows suddenly skittered away from him as if disconcerted by their previous connection. If Asteria had anything to add, she best say it to Corbyn. Amentia didn’t need Asteria, but Corbyn would. She watched for a brief moment the curling protection that seeped from her pale bare feet against the ground, the gifts of Xcavairn. She glanced in the direction of the patrols that had been weaving about up ahead. There was no emotion in her voice when she spoke now, resolve, isn’t that what he had said? Do what must be done. [color=white]“There’s men up ahead, but they didn’t hear us.”[/color] She turned her form further from his own and continued down their original path, the path of the damned. She was done talking for now. She was done smiling for now. And honestly? She wanted to kill something.[/color]