[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181005/fc898f921f53203bc3bc9106717c7c88.png[/img]

[sub][color=Silver][i]Train to Amone, September 2nd - [b]Sonnet for Her[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
[hr][/centre]
[color=Silver]	Jean had felt this day since the battle of Hill 58 had reached its conclusion. On the frontlines of this new war, one that had ripped almost every country from Europa into one gigantic mess, there was a strange normality to those who'd served for long enough. It was a concept that no man or woman at home could truly understand yet here on the ever-changing battlegrounds of Europa it was considered nothing more than a regular occurrence that all were to abide by. Replacements, they were called by Jean. Whilst the term [i]reinforcements[/i] was still technically correct in its formality, in reality all these new soldiers were simply replacements for those who'd already been killed in the brutish conflict that had engulfed the previous lives of the others. And yet, it was still an enigma as to how one man must adjust to such cruelties. Deep down Jean knew that everyone was dependent on him adjusting quicker than the others. It came with the promotional job description. Even with the support of Private Franz and Lance Corporal Isaac, Jean could almost tell that all of them might have thought of him as weak, less of a soldier and least responsible for the promotion itself. Whether or not that interpretation Jean held was true, he tried to bottle it up and continued the last few days with a smile on his face. The train was tiresome and filled with no activity other than the occasional stops for rations, food, equipment, pleasures and more. It was at times like these when Jean was thankful for his interest to write.

	For the first time in a while, Jean had been writing once more. There was no one at home, however, to write to anymore. No one was there to receive the letters and so he only wrote the poems and memoirs of certain days down into the smaller notepad he'd scavenged from the cargo carriage. When those like Diana had tried to snoop out what he was writing about, in terms of the poems, he'd generally hidden all he had and would hesitantly excuse himself for drawing battle plans for Amone. However, he'd actually scribbled down poetry about the war, about the horrors and the lights that shone throughout the grimness of the skies above. There was, however, one special poem that he'd tucked at the back and embarrassingly refused to let even himself re-read it from time to time; a sweet sonnet simply titled: [i]The Girl who holds thy Scarf.[/i] Of course, a poem about Kalisa would definitely be something he'd find embarrassing, so why wouldn't he hide it?

	The train had stopped in traditional fashion, however the majority of the train's occupants were somewhat excited about what there was to see. These were those new replacements, of course, who were to fill the empty spaces left by the previous battle. Freshened looks from the Federation's large accessibility. Darcsens like Jean, Edinburghers from across the channel. Word had it that even the Dominion of Oceania were also being assigned to the 15th Atlantic Rifles, having a reputation of incredible shock-and-awe tactics on foot. Honestly, Jean was perpetually glad of such trivial information about their new veterans as it would help ease him into a space of comfort. These were not all, though the majority still were, newborn soldiers awaiting to find their baptism by fire, if they were to survive the ceremony itself. Oceanic troops were generally very well spirited and focused heavily on raising the morale where the brass couldn't. These were things that the Platoon, and regiment entirely, needed to keep them going. Even so, some of the soldiers began to dwell upon the horrors of Hill 58 again now that they'd spent so much time waiting on a train. Jean had remained, himself, at the back of his carriage, staring out the opposite window to that of the platform. He dared not to look into the eyes of the bands of misfortune awaiting pickup. He heard their voices of course, as many of them flooded into the cabins and seats to thicken the numbers the train carried. And despite their new arrival, Jean remained alone in his little corner, staring out the window with his flask of water tightly clasped between his fingers.

	Fifteen minutes, however, after the train had set off, something caught his attention when he felt a quick tug on the back pocket of his uniformed trousers. Jean swiftly turned around and enclosed his hands tightly around the wrist of the person reaching into the pocket, clearly picking some form of information from what he had. Were they a simple scavenger trying to get by their misery by looting those who were not aware? No...instead, before him, looked a semi-surprised yet happy looking woman, with blonde hair tightly kept in a ruffled tail. Atop of her head sat a brimmed hat with one side tilted, as well as a feather or two sticking out of it. Across her coat were a large list of decorations, service accomplishments, a few ribbons and even a strange foreign cape draped around her shoulders. The drabs of her shading made it quite clear that she was simply one of the new replacements, though this time from Oceania, and she almost burst into laughter when Jean was quick to turn around and grab her wrist violently. Jean quickly reacted, taking his hand slowly off of her wrist and realising the harshness he may have proven to her skin.[/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"Calm down, love, you've got quite a lot of bite to that clutch, don't you?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Immediately, Jean felt his eyes almost stare in confusion towards the dialect she presented. Why was she speaking like that? Oceanic troops and natives didn't...have an accent did they? Jean was quite unfamiliar with what each accent of the Federation sounded like. Those from his area held a more florescent tone whereas those from Edinburgh were usually quite brisk and straightforward in their manner of speech. Then there were the Vinlanders, like Reyna, who'd held that iconic tone of voice, yet this was something new. It was almost quite hard to understand because of how strangely joyful it sounded.[/color] [color=FF0202][b]"Don't worry though, I only snatched this lil' bugger, right here."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean's eyes snapped open as she quickly revealed what she'd pickpocketed from his personnel, to which she presented the small writing book he'd been scribbling away within for the last few days. Before he could react, she turned his back to him, not running however, and began to flick through the pages quickly as she found a page to read out. Still caught in the confusion of the moment, Jean hesitated as she read out the first few words.[/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"[i]The Girl who holds thy Scarf. To think I were to see such glistening awe; before me stood such glory and beauty. She was of similar past and present-"[/i][/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"H-Hey! Give that back!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]With one swift motion, Jean used his slightly larger height and armspan to swipe it from her own clutches, but the realisation had already occurred when she'd begun to recite the sonnet he'd written the day before. Jean was almost sweating from his brow with embarrassment, a slight tone of red encompassing his face.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Since when was it normal to steal from-"[/b][/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"Is she preeeeeeetty?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Once again, she interrupted him and leaned slightly closer with a teasing glare and smirk. It was painful to see how obvious he'd already made the first lines, so obvious that this annoying stranger had already pieced together something.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"I-I'm sorry, what?"[/b][/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"Is she pretty? The girl who has your scarf. Is she on the train? Ooooh, can we meet her? Can I be the bridesmaid?!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean, almost instinctively, threw his hands forward and slapped the book, the small pocket book she'd previously taken, onto the top of her head. It wasn't enough to obviously hurt the annoying creature that had made its apparent appearance, yet it was enough for her to get the message as she stopped talking and instead chuckled to herself.[/color] [color=FF0202][b]"Oooooh, Corporal Charpentier has a lovely deaaaaaaaar!"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	If by some miracle a religion Jean hadn't followed existed, it was clear that their equivalent of the devil had bestowed an annoying audible torture before him. Her accent made it slightly patronising following any words she uttered out in a teasing manner, however she seemed to be using it to her advantage. One of the few things Jean was glad for was that he must've been out of the earshot of other soldiers and comrades he'd come to know. God forbid what would've happened if Michael had heard, who'd easily turn this into another comeback gag in revenge for Jean associating his liking for Lucia as [i]more than beyond legalities concerning romantic decency[/i]. It could've been even worse if Diana was within earshot, perhaps understanding that he had taken interest in another woman in the platoon and would make it her lifelong dream to go out and [i]gut the bitch[/i] who'd stolen the attention of Jean.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"What are you...No I don't. Also, how the fuck do you know my name?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean wasn't one to use explicit language in such light-hearted scenarios, however Jean was truly taken back by the rapidity of her interception of both his secrets and identity. It was quite scary. In fact, Jean soon regretted asking as she suddenly burst into a long explanation as to why she knew, seemingly not taking any breaths whilst recounting the events of before, somehow managing to even go off topic from the simple question.[/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"Well I arrived on the train with Corporal Thomas Carter. I'm sure you've heard of him. They call him Marathon, because he is a quick runner and did a lot of it back in the Southern Front. Some people think I love him but I really don't, but I might find more and more people in your little Platoon to mingle with, if you know what I mean. Anyway, as I was trying to say, I went to go see the Captain. He's a stingy bastard, isn't he? All bite and bark together. You don't get to see a lot of that nowadays. Most officers are just all bark, no bite, yet he holds both. Doesn't hold a candle to fun either. All he does is grumble about some girl and then whine about how his rations aren't yet prepared. Well I saw him, and had to hold back from giving him a piece of my mind, before talking to him about who I was. At first he seemed to hold a bit of interest but soon tried to get all formal. I must say, though, he does have quite a dreamy glare, doesn't he? It's like a real fire is within his eyes and I just wanna snap it out of the handsome chap. If it weren't for his personality I would've shown him the true potential of an Oceanic Shocktrooper, if you know what I mean? If you don't know what I mean, I mean I would've taken him to that cabin and-"[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Okay, what the fuck are you even on about?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean's face was wincing, unsure of how to make her almost explicitly unhinged words slip by unnoticed. He held a staggered pose, looking directly at her with a rather confused glance holding some slight disgust over the imagery she planted into his head. It wouldn't of been so bad if it hadn't been Middleton that was the topic of discussion. Quickly, Jean changed the subject as soon as he had the chance.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Can you just...answer the question I asked, instead of talking about...[i]that.[/i]"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He shivered just at the thought of what she was to say soon enough, making him crease his face up once more upon the thought's striking.[/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"Ooooh, okay. Well Middleton told me to fuck off and to talk to someone more tolerable instead. So he sent me here, gave me a name and I just walked around the train looking for you the past ten minutes."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean managed to hold back the urge of slapping his own face with his own palm, devastated by that being the simplest answer she had to give. How could she not have just said that in the first place and sparred him the mental torture of her and Middleton... Even the thought of the words she said would cause him to feel rather anxious on the inside, causing him to shiver again. What's more, she was already announcing that she'd gladly flirt and [i]mingle[/i] with everyone else in the platoon, which made him wonder if he was really safe. Was her idea of morale boosting simply to sleep with every known lady and gentlemen she came across? If Jean had known in that moment that she was the fabled [i]skinny-dipper of the Federation[/i] then he might've just leapt from the train right then to end the worries he had. What was worse was that now this strangely alluring female knew about his sonnet for...well...his fellow Darcsen. And no, it wasn't for Franz.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Obviously...obviously he'd send you to me."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor, before quickly recapping her monologue and returning the stare back at her, looking in curiosity.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Wait, did you say Thomas Carter? [i]The[/i] Thomas Carter? Marathon is on this train?!"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	She began to giggle, knowing that Jean was clearly a fan of the stories everyone had heard back home and in their training camps. The pride of Oceania, of course. With a hat brimmed to the sky and a spirit worth following into hell, no one who'd heard of his stories could argue that he was nothing short of a legend, and a justifiable one in comparison to the false tales of Middleton's kindness. Jean remembered hearing about him in his training camp as all the other soldiers around him spoke highly of the actions he'd made. Some told of the times he ran across the entirety of No-Man's Land to simply deliver a small picture of his friend's sweetheart back to its original owner, who'd been sat in a dugout on machine-gun duty. Others would always bring up his most famous tale of highhandedly securing an entire mortar pit of 20 on his own in the dead of night, using nothing but his bayonet, an officer's handgun he looted from an Imperial's corpse and the almost suicidal commitment of his thrilled entrepreneurship in combat. Even Jean, a man who was against the idea of war and suffering, couldn't help but see a spirit and guiding light in the stories told of him. He stood for a good cause in helping his comrades and ending the war quickly, rising through popularity as a simple farmer from Oceania. Middleton may have been falsely considered a war hero back home for the nation of Assen and its refugees, however Thomas was clearly a people's hero. He had no riches nor importance to him other than getting his job done as well as he could.

	The girl flicked Jean's uniform, around the chest, with an almost gimmicky grin to go with it. She seemed to be having a lot of fun out of seeing Jean's sporadic reactions, though she hadn't yet considered what Jean had been through at the Battle of Hill 58. Besides, it didn't seem to be her place to ask, which Jean was somewhat grateful for, as the situation itself took his mind from that horrible memory.[/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"Spotted another fanboy, ay? He truly loves that fame, sometimes, and I try to stop it from getting into his head. Anyway, how about instead of knowing him, you know me; I'm Freya...Private Freya Baines. And if it weren't for you interest in that girl with your scarf, you'd be hearing that name a lot more, if you catch my dr-"[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"I don't have much interest in that girl...I mean, I do but not in the sort of twisted ways you-...and yes she's pretty..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean finally answered her question, causing her to break into hysterical laughter. She slapped her hat and caused it to fall off of her head, before she picked it back up with a furious chuckle engulfing her. It seemed like it was her plan all along to get the answer out of her. Fucking crafty bitch, though to call her such would be totally sporadic and uncalled for.[/color]

[color=FF0202][b]"Bingo, ol' geezer. I knew that'd work. Anyway...I'll be going to see your other subordinates, [i]Corporal[/i]. I'll let you write more sonnets to your [i]lovely[/i] dear and eat some of the baguette rations eagerly. Who knows, I might go see this girl you like whilst I'm walking around."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Before he could object or go against her, she seemingly skipped away without a care in the world, darting into some other cabins to annoy, flirt or interrogate all the other veterans, new soldiers and unfamiliar faces she was yet to see. Jean smiled uneasily at her strange passion for flirtation, light-heartedness and bright aura, but it still made him uncomfortable knowing she now had a first impression of his poem for [i]her[/i]. Yet, now that she mentioned it...Jean really craved eating one of those baguette rations...[/color]