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[sub][color=Silver][i]Garnian Salient: Rear Line, August 25th[/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=Silver]	For a moment, he was undisturbed with a tranquil sound of nothingness. At least that would have been what he'd have thought if it weren't for the distant bombardments from other frontlines, the shouts of medics and cavalrymen walking around for their rations and the chattering of the new platoon's soldiers. It was quite a nice feeling to have that orchestration behind his own numb mind. Luckily for him, the pitter-patter of the rain above him was no longer trickling against his steel helmet anymore as the loose cloth above him acted as a temporary shelter whilst he tended to his poetry. It was difficult to think about what to write in that moment, seeing as he'd been in this mud-pit for only a day or two longer than everyone else. It was nothing much to compare to considering the front seemed eerily silent. Soon enough, the bountiful splutters of puddles kicking up beneath people's boots kept him in a sort of distasteful discomfort that he loathed in that moment, but he continued sitting in his posture and writing away as if the world no longer existed. But obviously, that silence was short lived, and soon enough the man stood next to him only moments ago in the not-so-welcoming party approached him to strike up conversation.

	It wasn't that Jean didn't love conversation, nor was he, in that moment, regretting the feeling of having an individual hopefully of the same mindset approach him and talk both professionally and informally to get his attention. It was a good feeling of camaraderie and satisfactory friendship amongst those he did not know. He explained why he was there, slightly dismissing his own rank which went alongside his reasoning for being within the Atlantic Army.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Take pride in your rank, Isaac. I'm not one for formalities but it seems like it'll help for your reasoning for being here."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean gave one of his signature friendly smiles that he used to show back in his home towards his family. Olivia was the one who first noted that his smile was quite innocent and blessing towards her worries, saying it could cure a thousand ill-minded fools if they were on a terminal path towards sickness. The man seemed to be rather rash-and-bone from the first imagery, his uniform not doing him major justice to his appearance, but nevertheless Jean was still able to withhold any negativity.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Well, I'm here on my own personal accord. You could say it is to help others, or to simply be around those who also came. I can't quite tell you...But I do know one thing. I am here the same reason everyone else is here...It's simply because we are here."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Before he could continue, another voice picked up from nearby as a second, a formal private, boy approached them with perky intensity. He was strangely polite in his wording and prepared to give his undying loyalty towards them. It actually forged quite a small chuckle in Jean's first response as he failed miserably in hiding it. He didn't want to come off as rude and imprudent but the laugh was more directed in friendly banter and kind realisations. The two who'd approached him so far were such a lovely bunch, at least from their first glances and words.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Welcome, Private Katz. Don't need to be so formal. I'm sure Isaac here would be more than happy to lend you a hand in settling down. After all, we are all in the same boat, so we can try to ease ourselves up with a bit of laughter, joy and maybe a drink or two. Usually before a big [i]show[/i] I heard they hand out some hot tea or rum. Maybe you could snag some early if you're quick enough."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He laughed and went back to scribbling away in his service book, writing down more and more to the poetry about the happiness he was feeling in that moment. He'd completely forgotten the minor harassment Lieutenant Middleton had shown towards him, clearly for being a Darcsen, but these two seemed very find and capable of respecting him no matter who he was. It was a refreshing feeling that he'd not felt in a while.

	In that moment, Jean took the time to look over what he'd just written down so far. It was still a massive work in progress and required much attention towards it still, which he would not have the time to conclude considering the apparent [i]big show[/i] approaching in less than two hours. That made him slightly nervous on the inside, but the jovial and all-round happiness of the majority kept him well and truly satisfied with the moment in question. His mind was torn between whether or not it was a good piece of literature in its two singular stanzas so far, but that was not for him to decide:[/color]

[centre][i]Cold, goes the numbness of my gloved fingers.
The rain continues its downpour upon my clean steel pot.
Here by duty, here by pressure.
I sit still, on the frontline, around many with this muddy trench as their cot.
We wait for the Show to start.

Whistling has now ceased as the shells from above stop.
I presume that the Imps, those dastardly bunch, had given up on the hill before us.
We rest for an hour, letting time tick by at every interval.
The wind joins the artillery in a silent hush.
We wait for the Show to start.[/i]
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[color=Silver]	Another voice suddenly broke free of the sudden quietness of his mind. A girl, who was barely older than he was, looked over him with a pale and dazzling gaze. Her ash-grey hair dangled forward as she leaned in, looking down at the paper he was writing upon. Her friendly and relaxed tone made him feel slightly at ease with the thoughts of the upcoming show, knowing that someone like her had the ability to calm nerves in the blink of a weary eye. At first he was reluctant to answer, feeling slightly nervous with being on the spot, but he continued anyway. Someone like her deserved an answer, especially with such a friendly introduction. Britta, as her name was, wasn't exactly intruding anything. He could write through the end of the world, it seemed, if he so wanted to, but this time he chose to put down the pencil, turning the book somewhat nervously towards her with a blemished smile of embarrassment.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Oh...This? I was just doing some more poetry; it's kind of what I do. Helps me keep track of my mind and reminds me of what is important."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]With slight hesitation, he handed her the small book, giving her the option to flick through and see the three other complete poems on previous pages if she so wanted. None of them were the patriotic anthems of the rising hopes that many had written at the start of the war, and more of an account, and a narrative, of the experiences he'd had coming towards the frontline. After she took a hold of the book, he reached out a hand, offering her a handshake in a kind gesture with his signature smile once more.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"It's very nice to meet you, Britta. You don't have to call me by my rank if you wish. I'll easily settle for Jean."[/b][/color]

[centre][sub][@FalloutJack][@Rigmarole][@Symphoni][/sub][/centre]