[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181108/62285f4ab6caabf9e7936d051c2d8c80.png[/img] [sub][color=Silver][i]Train to Amone, August 26th - [b]Calibrations[/b][/i][/color][/sub] [hr][/centre] [color=Silver] With a sheepish kindle to her posture, Lucia slowly trudged across the paving and into the rear cabin of the train. Her mind was spread across multiple pathways of pain, suffering and fluttery dreams that stuck with her overnight. A strong pain still lurked in the top of her forehead, tearing into her comfort and ripping it to pieces with every step. She kept her helmet tightly sat upon her head, however it wasn't without her own knowledge. She was so dazed by everything. The promotions, the request by Middleton once more to see him. Everything felt too off once more, and she simply needed a corner to cry in once more. However, after the day before, she had no tears left to cry anymore. There was nothing left in the empty shell of an adorable little mess. A splinter kept sticking itself into her thighs and digging beneath the fragments of her past self. No longer was she the innocent girl she'd been before. Flashes of imagery came before her, of the sights of the girl she shot. She was of a similar age, if not older, and the calibrations of Middleton had forced her to ultimately put an end to her heartbeat. Shivers down her spine reminded Lucia that she was starting to become afraid of herself and what she was to become. But then, a moment passed by her mind when she remembered a slight silver lining the battle had brought. Previously, she had spent the entire time training and worrying under the rule of a dictator she did not wish to follow. There was not a single day of conversastion that she enjoyed nor could she cherish. Officers would shout and scream at her for the weaknesses in her muscle and the fragility of her composition. Men and women of higher calibres would shoot insults towards her lack of perfection and would simply refer to her as an appealing look for the Regiment. She was considered a useless pawn that was to charge, die and be forgotten about within the first day. There was not a single friend for her. No one wanted to be her ally, even her own comrades. Lucia was deemed to be alone and brittle for the rest of her life, which through this war was sure to be a short-lived mess. Even when she'd travelled with the refugees before being conscripted into the Army, Lucia had not a single soul to rely on. No matter who it was or when it was, everyone saw her as a burden for them to carry. Like an elder about to pass their judgement, she was simply on a short timer to her own demise. People would just shake their heads and tut at the eventual dismay of her tragic life. The worst part, however, was that the poor Asseni girl knew this was to be the rest of her short-lived life. There was no happy ending. There was never a happy ending. Yet, the silver lining was there. August 25th. Not only did it become her baptism to fire and anguish, it had also been the birthplace of a feeling she hadn't felt since her very youth. Michael and Isaac, their names were. At least those were the two who were still alive and kicking. Mila had unfortunately died, and yet Lucia still held the hard-boiled sweet in her pocket and was yet to eat it. Part of her didn't want to, as it was the only living memory she had of the kind-hearted woman who took care of her. Equally, there was an Imperial, several Darcsens and more all around her, ones that were assuring her of her safety and kindness. However, Isaac, Jean and Michael stood out the most. Each of them had held her, tightly and considerately, to embrace a feeling of safety and integrity. She'd never been blessed with such human contact in years, possibly ever, since the passing of her family. Michael had supposedly carried her to safety after she'd fallen faint to the artillery bombardment on Hill 58, which in reality made her feel slightly woozy and giggly to hear. It was like a tiny knight in not-so-shiny armour, rather dirty rags if their uniforms were anything to go by. A blemished smile came about her face as the thought of all three who held her crossed Lucia's brittle mind. She liked to be held like that. It reminded her she was still human, and in fact made her almost feel light headed as such, making her simply move her eyes to aside and giggle to herself uncontrollably. Unsure of why she was like that, it seemed to be a [i]distraction[/i] however to her superior. She eventually came outside the door to his private cabin, one that only he resided in. It wasn't any different from the other cabins as such, the only key difference being that Middleton was the only one inside. Timidly, she knocked onto the door and whispered to herself that nothing was wrong and that she was going to be fine. Nerves and anxiety attacks like such were common for the small cuddly creature, but Lucia still couldn't get behind how used to them she'd became. After the knock echoed through the empty hallways, which would've been filled with countless smiling soldiers celebrating a victory had they not mostly been killed, the order to open up came through, and Lucia went inside and sat down.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"You...asked for me, S-Sir?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]She was directly opposite from the man, who was sipping from a small flask. It smelt slightly alcoholic with its strong and foul scent. He offered her a sip silently, to which she shook her head and reverted her eyes elsewhere in the room. Anywhere but his was better for her. There was yet another silence as his drank the flask fully, sipping away like there was no care in the world, before placing it calmly down on the table and beginning his conversation.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"Indeed I did, little Lucia. It's been a while since we've spoken about your...[i]progress[/i], shall we say? Tell me, your first battle was yesterday. Sure it was a bloody and ruthless engagement, but what I want to know is how you felt. So, inform me, would you dear?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]There was a sly manner to his speech, one that seemed to always stick around when the two were talking alone. In reality, it made Lucia very uncomfortable, even more so than she already was simply being within his presence. But, what did she have left? She had to comply. The man had calibrated her to always respond or to face more [i]punishment[/i]. She couldn't face having the beatings impact her once more, where a fist would strike her gut or face until she followed his orders throughout. It was the only reason she willingly shot that girl.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"It...It was..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]She paused for a moment before looking back up towards him, finally meeting his strict stare.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"It was scary. Terrifying. Everything around me was loud, horrifying to hear. I could...I could hear the sounds of men and women dying. I never saw them die, only what remained after, and that was what frightened me. But...The regiment is looking after me. Private Daunte was taking are of me and it was really-"[/b][/color] [color=0AB100][b]"Be careful who you choose as your allies, Little Lucia. We don't want you running off with another boy, perhaps ruining the plans we made for your further calibrations. You know I care [i]deeply[/i] for you, my little soldier. Why else did I pick you not to join the charge? It was the only way to guarantee your safety after all."[/b][/color] [color=Silver] Despite her morality telling her otherwise, she'd become so obsessed with making sure she pleased her superior, now a Captain, that her brainwashed mind simply agreed with what he had to say. To her, there was a slight chance that Alexander was doing something that was best for her in a situation where every choice was damaging. Perhaps she was simply being too pathetic to realise that the Captain intended on reviving her warrior's spirit that she apparently had locked away within her. Even so, she simply nodded along to what he had to say in silence. She wouldn't utter a word, and part of her mind once more started to think of Isaac and Michael again.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"Now listen closely. We have quite a journey ahead of us and I won't stop you from conversing with our fellow soldiers, but do take care of yourself, Little Lucia. I'll go over the plans for you once more, in this room now, just to make sure you haven't forgotten with that little head of yours..."[/b][/color] [centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181005/fc898f921f53203bc3bc9106717c7c88.png[/img] [sub][color=Silver][i]Train to Amone, August 26th - [b]The Two Damsels[/b][/i][/color][/sub] [hr][/centre] [color=Silver] Jean lifted his head from his buried hands and stared at Diana with a deadpan look of distress and pain. Bags had seemingly formed under his eyes, though not from fatigue but rather stress, as he looked down at his new Corporal chevrons and slides. When his eyes met that of the white arrows, pointing downwards, he couldn't help but wince in slight agony over their sight. He was promoted to fill the boots of the dead. He was promoted because there was no other option in question. Jean needed to shape himself up in order to keep his friends alive. It was a lot to ask for from a broken man, but Jean still sat there and fumbled with his sleeves in silence, before staring at Diana directly in her eyes. For a second, he simply sat there, trying to find a way to not downtred her mood, yet he failed in doing so. This time, she deserved a true understanding of his current mood, no more cryptic bullshit to go with it.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Thank you, D-Diana...But there's no pride in filling the boots of the fallen. I was promoted because those before me are gone. Now I have to take the mantle of responsibility and actually lead people into battle as a frontline NCO. I wish for only a deity or something to save me from the pressure, but I know that in this world I'll have to perform at my best or simply die trying. There's no middle ground anymore, not with this responsibility and call to duty given upon my wretched name."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He didn't sound spiteful, despite the words potentially being associated with such trivial emotions. Instead, he kept a calm and slightly fractured tone with the words he spoke, but soon enough he had to cut the words short as another knock at the door came through. It was the second damsel, the one who he felt more comfortable around. Now healed in the beautiful warmth of the train, for once sheltering them from the rain, Kalisa asked if she could enter, to which Jean gladly pointed to one of the many open seats she could sit within. Jean, for the first time that day, smiled towards Kalisa and, for just a second, held her wrist in order to remind her that everyone was glad she was okay. Unfortunately, Jean knew her head trauma was likely because of his sporadic tackle to save her, but the sad truth was it was a necessity for her to avoid the onslaught of fire and shrapnel at the time. Either way, he still felt guilty about it and refused to let his own mind rest easy until he had made amends to the situation.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"We're all glad you're okay, Kalisa. The world would be a darker place without you here. I'm...Sorry for causing you some headaches and stuff, I hope...I really hope you can forgive me for it."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]After he said what he had to say, he leaned back into his chair and took his hand off of her wrist, removing his helmet and finally placing it down onto the side of the floor. Now that his Darcsen hair was in complete view, still badly ruffled from the torturous night before, Jean finally looked to Kalisa and answered her fateful question. It was bound to come, and Jean struggled to hold back the tears he'd already drained before.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"I'd be lying if I said I was okay. I got no sleep because of the battle. The death got me. Worse still, a letter came through to announce inheritance of property back home. My parents were apparently...mauled to death. Feral protesters against Darcsens. Killed in the cross-conflict between military police and rioters alike. Kind of hit the nail in the coffin for me. Now I know I have nothing to go back home to. No family."[/b][/color] [color=Silver] He knew the room would temporarily go silent, until one of the two would speak up, but he kept his words thin and sighed heavily, wiping his nose's bridge with the tips of his dirty fingers. Jean had managed to restrain his emotions and tears, just once however, as he'd already expended such sadness and sorrow the night before. There was nothing left for him to weep over in that train, not yet. Yet suddenly, he felt compelled to talk once more.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"I know that Diana was conscripted into the army. Believe it or not...I am here by choice."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He whipped out the hip flask, standard issue, from his webbing and began to drink out of it. All that resided within its containment was water, so far, and thus he had no intent on getting intoxicated at a time like this, if ever.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Girl named Olivia. Private Olivia, Olivia Robin-Charpentier...Older sister. Best person in the world. Apparently she was killed during the First Crossing of the Maren River. I never saw her again after she left and decided to enlist a few months after she died. Must've been a mistake, as abandoning the folks back home seemed to cost them dearly. But...I'm just ready to give everything I have. Not for the Federation, who persists on oppressing us Darcsens...Not for the democracy we apparently hold dear to us. I did this for her, who seems nothing more than a faint memory now. The pressure on me isn't to just protect all of you, my Platoon and Regiment, as well as you two amazing ones...The pressure is also on me to revive the now-dead Robin-Charpentier bloodline."[/b][/color] [color=Silver] He somewhat brokenly chuckled at that final sentence, sort of stating it as a joke and with some seriousness. For all he knew, the bloodline was now dead and rested upon one broken human. There was little chance for revival at this stage, and all he had left was to simply ride the waves of the war, kill whoever he was told to and to obey whatever orders he had. What point was there in having a personality? However, the more he looked at Kalisa and Diana, and listened to the things they had to say, there was the reminder that he didn't want to lose that humanity anymore, simply to become a drone under orders. That in itself was a crime he'd never forgive himself for.[/color] [centre][@SMS][@Landaus Five-One][/centre]