Hidden 5 yrs ago 4 yrs ago Post by Conscripts
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Conscripts An Atom Trying to Understand Itself

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"Now you see..." The Imperial soldier continued the session. The clock had ticked onto its second hour, yet to both soldiers, it felt like time was just a stranger passing by the train, as the room was filled with discussions. The history of Europa, the history of the Federation, Gallia, Edinburgh, the Imperial Alliance. Politics of the century, and especially the race for resources. A rare ingenuity of two minds from opposite sides of the war, one if history had recorded could be a memorable tale of friendship transcending animosity and emnity of human races.

"We aren't exactly new to the history of the continent, really. We definitely come after everyone had already assembled, but we were a strong, united and most importantly industrious world power. People march to work everyday in chants for a greater future, for themselves, for their family and for their nations. It was a happy time I was told."

"But we denied you that happiness, didn't we?" Michael tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible. He knew his place here.

"Just like you said." He replied. "Ragnite was our lifeline basically, from the factory assembly lines the heaters in our house. And yet, these simple commodities we were actively denied. The imports were just a waste of our brother's sweats and tears to serve a bunch of lofty arses. That's why you can ask any Imps you want, you get the same answer. We don't like the Feds at all. This is not a matter where we can agree to disagree."

"It is most often the case for this world sadly." Michael said, and the Imperial simply shook his head in dejection. "But that's our government though. It's not the same light as us. You were pretty cold to me when we first met."

"Well, most often I don't have the luxury of time to get to know a soldier who I am supposed to shoot at." He replied. "And the rare moments I do often ends up in frustrations, so I abandoned that long ago."

And settle for universal hatred? That's just hypocritical. Michael's circulation of thought existed the voice that he was desperate to suppress. He wasn't nearly as different as most Imperials that Michael had the luxury to discover their life story, just add on a couple of intellectual brain cells into his head and in front of his eyes it materialized. But he had gone so far. He had said he had no place to judge. He was a listener, a note-taker. He couldn't change his mind. He couldn't change anyone's mind. Not with a condescending tone of voice, and certainly not in two hours of chatting.

"I couldn't agree with the sentiment, but it wasn't that uncommon for it to happen. Wartime breeds more intolerance...But what about me though?" Michael said. "We've talked for two hours when I thought it would be cold tense silence. Surely you'd have a different opinion than what you think."

"Hmmm..." The Imperial soldier hummed for long. "Ideologically, it's not in my liking to show approval...But perhaps you're a different light."

Michael turned his head in confusion.

"At least you seem to be self-aware. Of yourself and the things surrounding you. That, I can respect."

He gave a light smile just as he stood up and offered the sapper his hand. A goodbye it seemed, and an acknowledgement of his words. Michael eagerly took it with graces.

"Thank you for listening though. It's a rare thing to find in this hellhole." The Imperial said. "Maybe I'll add another respect to the list."

"You can feel free. Humanity in ourselves isn't dead yet." Michael shook his hand.

"We have to leave soon. Hope I won't meet you in my gunsight, but if you do, I won't hesitate." He said. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Michael Daunte."

"Oh, the Viscount's son. That's fascinating." He nodded before releasing his hand. "I'm Heinz. Heinz Noel."

"It's a pleasure. Wish you well."

The Imperial nodded as he exited the room. Michael knew not that saying this in front of some of his squadmate would probably end up alienating himself out of the group. If it was Middleton, then chances are he'd suck his blood dry. But what else could he say? The man Heinz wasn't agreeable, but he was a different man. Despite disagreements, it did not end with bitter remorse in the two hours spent. Michael learnt something from Heinz, and Heinz learnt something from Michael too. It was a rare first time he had tried something that did not involve pointing a gun at someone else's head, but with dialogues. And it felt...oddly good. Perhaps it was a radical alternative to guns and bloodshed. Ones that are desperately needed...
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Jacky
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Jacky

Member Seen 3 yrs ago

Luke Godfrey


“T-that all ya got, Imp?” Luke slurred before knocking back his head to gulped down another mouthful of his next drink, tying him and his opponent at their eights mug. The Imp named Tiny slammed his mug onto the table and scoffed as the two reached for their next round.

“Y-you think this all I got? I’m j-*hic*-just getting started!” he declared with a confident grin that matched Luke’s own. The crowds cheers only grew by the second, a few more soldiers and civilians joining the audience and watching in amazement as the two men battled in a test of will. As Luke gulped down his drinks he could hear his fellow squadmate Diana shout out her demands to win no matter what, even though she was ripping on him not to long ago. As the two chugged down their ninth round and slammed their mugs onto the table before gasping for air, Luke clicked his tongue in annoyance before slamming his hand onto the table.

“Damn it, this is getting us nowhere!” he complained, his cheeks beginning to get a bit flustered as the alcohol did its job. Tiny sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement.

“I hate to say it, but I agree. We need something stronger,” he suggested before looking to Hendricks who only nodded in understanding. The skinny Imp looked towards the bartender with two fingers pointing down to the table. The old bartender rolled his eyes before going under the bar and taking out a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. The crowd cleared a path for the old man, all sporting the same eager smiles to see the two change up the pace. As the old man approached and placed the shot glasses in front of them he shook his head and looked between the two.

“I swear you two are gonna run me dry,” he grumbled before pouring their drinks and leaving the bottle in the middle of the table. Luke laughed and held up his glass towards the old man as he walked back to the bar.

“This one’s for you grandpa! Down the hatch!” he cheered before knocking back his drink along with his opponent. Luke cringed as the satisfying, yet burning taste of the whiskey traveled down his throat and laughed in between coughs. “Man it’s been awhile since I had something this strong!” he laughed before looking to Tiny who was already pouring his next shot. Luke could only chuckle in amusement as he passed the bottle. “Not bad Imp, thought you’d be down for the count by now,” he chuckled as he poured the dark liquor into his glass. The Imp gave a deep chuckle, a hiccup in between his amused chuckle.

“And let some puny Fed like you win? Ha! Keep dreamin!” he slurred slightly, Luke just noticing him sway side to side just a bit as he spoke. He held his tongue and aloud the Imp to continue blathering on before the two of them down their next shot with eagerness. They were tied between two, then three then finally before they knew it gulped down their sixth shot. Luke wouldn’t admit it but his head was beginning to swim a bit, the whiskey definitely working its magic as the two were now leaning upon the table, both staring at one another with defiance. Both glasses remained empty for a few seconds, the two of them waiting the other to make their move. Finally, with a deep breath Luke gripped the bottle and slide it his way with a grin.

“Tha mattar Imp!? Not givin up yet are ya!?” Luke questioned in a slurred voice as he poured his next drink. Tiny sneered at Luke before holding out his hand, silently demanding for the bottle. The Imps cheered for their comrade to keep going while Luke’s fellow Feds roared in encouragement. As the two poured their glasses they let out a heavy sigh, glared towards one another and knocked back their drinks. Luke gritted his teeth and hissed slightly before letting a small sigh of relief as he managed to get over his hazy mind. “Thank god alcoholism runs in the family, I can keep going for the whole-” Luke was cut off as a loud thud reached his ears and looked up towards an empty seat that was once filled in with his opponent. A moment of silence filled the Inn for a few good seconds before a thunderous roar erupted from Luke’s fellow Feds. He leaned to the right to see the massive, unconscious form of Tiny, the fallen Imperial. The rest of the Imps let out groans and sighs of disappointment as Hendricks helped his friend up off the ground before letting a few others take him off his hands. The skinny Imp stood tall upon a chair and pointed to Luke with a small smirk of bitter defeat.

“It is a sad day for the Empire, but the winner of this drinking duel is none other than… I don’t know his name, but the Federation wins!” he declares with a few good claps before being drowned out by the whooping and cheering of the winning side. Luke grinned from ear to ear before snatching the almost empty bottle of whisky and climbed up onto the table, just barely keeping himself from falling face first onto the hard wooden floor. After balancing himself out on the table Luke held up the bottle and looked to his fellow soldiers who awaited his words.

“Today is not just a victory for the Federation, but for all of the generations of alcoholics, past, present and future! Let it be known that I, Luke Godfrey, am the drunkest bastard in the country and will take on any bastard that dares challenge me!” he shouted before knocking his head back and downing the rest of the whisky. As the last drop left the bottle he tore himself away, gritting his teeth and holding the empty bottle even higher. “For the Federation!” he boomed with a hardy laugh before the rest of the surrounding Feds lifted up their mugs and glasses.

“For the Federation”

Luke’s smile grew even large before he arched his head back and raised his fist in the air. “Whooo- oh shit!” he yelped before falling off the table and slamming onto the hardwood floor. The cheering and laughter fell silent once more as the drunken champion fell and awaited for any signs of life. After a few quiet seconds Luke jumped up with a silly smile while brushing himself off. “I’m good, I’m good, just wanted to lay down for a sec,” he lied as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. The crowd only laughed in amusement before returning to the celebration of their recent victory. With his pride slightly wounded, but his morale soaring Luke stumbled to the bartender who only shook his head as he already knew why he was coming since he already had a freshly poured mug waiting for him. Luke gave the old man a wink and nod of gratefulness before turning around and scanning the Inn. His smile only grew as both sides continued on with their fun. Honestly he thought the Imps would look a bit more sour about their loss, but they continued to laugh and enjoy themselves, some even mingling with some Feds without any problems. He spotted Tiny as he recovered from his defeat and saw him nod, a good sign of sportsmanship. Luke chuckled and nodded back before taking a quick sip of his drink and smacking his lips.

Soon his eyes drifted upon the table that Diana was sitting at, noticing a rather large stranger with her. He arched his brow for a moment in curiosity, but soon a cocky grin spread across his face. Luke ordered another drink before he began to walk towards the table, stumbling a few times and almost spilling his drinks. Finally he reached the table and plopped down into an empty chair with a heavy sigh, slamming two mugs onto the table. With a joyful chuckle and his cocky grin only growing by the second he looked to Diana. “Whatcha got to say now my dear Diana? I think I’m more than ready to take on your mother, don’t ya think?” he asked in a slightly slurred voice. He laughed a bit more before clearing his throat and glancing over to the rather large nameless woman, arching a brow and inspecting her before slinging his arm around the back of the chair and leaning back in his seat. He noticed her fresh wounds and cracked a smile as he gave her quick nod.

“Good to see I’m not the only one getting my pretty face abused out there,” he joked as he pointed to the right side of his face that was currently covered in bandages, hiding his wounds that traveled from his lower jaw to his whole cheek. “Names Luke, but beside that I see a crime unfolding right here,” he said before pointing her with narrowed eyes and letting his grin widen. “You’re missing a damn drink!” he laughed before sliding her the extra mug of beer before snapping his attention back to Diana with a finger. “And you, stop pussy footing around and down that damn drink already! Nothing matters outside this Inn right now! Today we drink our worries and fears away!” he declared before holding up his mug over the table in a toast. “Besides, being the only one drunk off my ass is no fun!” he laughed as his mug stayed over the table, awaiting for the other two to hopefully join in on his toast.

@Landaus Five-One @Smike
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Jeep Wrangler
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Jeep Wrangler VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

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The Siege of Amone, September 10th - The Drop of Shame


Upon arrival at the White Hart, Lucia didn't know what to think. Michael had made himself useful by ending up in a seemingly endless debate, or rather a discussion, over ideologies, mechanical beasts and other strange topics she couldn't properly fathom. It all went over her sweet little head, having on idea what the big words were. It reminded her of her first few days spent with Middleton, back when he seemed to be unexpectedly protective and compassionate about her own safety. He always threw around terms that the isolated angel had never heard before. Conduction of military strategy, and all that sort of random nonsense that never truly resonated well with the Asseni girl. Those were the times of building their empirical trust, which obviously led into the brutal reality that was their connection. She was still blissfully unaware of the extent she'd been brutalised, but her radicalised mind said otherwise, stating that what Middleton had done for her was in the best interests of science, the Federation, the army and the progress of the war. She'd lost her parents to the early days and now she was alone, with no one else to turn to. If Middleton wouldn't have provided her hospice or a sense of purpose, no matter how cruel and abusive it was, where would she be? Laid face first in the bottom of a ditch, most likely. To her, as wrong as it was, she believed that Middleton had saved her. He'd helped her ascend out of the ditches of her very suffering and lifted her into a salvation unlike any other: purpose. A meaning was enticing, nearly as enticing as a burning passion she seemed to have grown since her time within Squad 1. Potentially striking against the very crisis that had subverted all her expectations of a happy future, each slam of Middleton's fist that launched against her face was often perceived as a reminder of how lucky she was. She'd faced death twice, and nearly felt starvation come to her. In her mind, Middleton loved her as a daughter, as a subordinate and as a friend, where the truth was very much the complete opposite. She'd received several beatings when it came to talking to Michael more and more, but the pay-off was far greater, as she suddenly felt more compelled to talk to the enigma of a boy.

Her mind wandered in many directions as she lost some interest in the depths of Michael's conversation, forcing her legs to almost straggle around in strange and sporadic fashion. From table to table, she would watch from afar and study what people were doing. It was strange, all of this. Never before had the girl ever come across a bright and cheerful environment, one that even blew all expectations of recreational activity out of her imagination. People were laughing around, playing strange games with cards unheard of in her mind, and drinking their livers into oblivion. Lucia's mind was fixated on the smells and sounds of liquids washing around gently in their mugs and flasks. All the scents seemed to clash, creating one vile scoundrel of a foul breath tickling her senses. Her face began to crease into multiple forms of disgust, intrigue and appreciation. Some of the alcoholic incenses seemed to trigger many memories inside her fragile mind, mimicking the same sensations she'd felt when in the company of her superior Captain. Part of her smiled, and the other part of her was broken at the thought of those tough, barbaric nights. She'd always seemed to have a mild curiosity, however, and Lucia was very much aware that it was beginning to brood once more.

What...did this alcohol taste like? Were there many forms of it? Was it a really refreshing drink? Many people and soldiers seemed to chug them down in large quantities and made for their ever-lasting evenings to be more enjoyable. It seemed quite mystic, didn't it? A small potion of sorts that could calm the nerves of one and bring out the best, most bubbly and giggly individual that was tucked beneath layers of sadness, boredom, sorrow and many other emotions. Plentiful options of exasperated potential seemed to be tucked within the spiralling flavours of these beverages so widely distributed around the world. Europa was apparently a fine place for these drinks, and many men and women alike enjoyed them as much as anyone else. It caught her attention without much effort. Her body was trailed onto its vapours and suddenly brought from table to table, sniffing away at the many different flavours on offer. Some had a hint of apple, which was cider most likely. Others held strange tastes that were either comparable to a wet fish or some other sort of deprived-of-dryness creature. Hydration was a key part to her life cycle. She imagined that Michael would be upset if she wasn't properly fuelled up with such necessities for the human body, and so she struck herself a big-girl post and began to march towards the bar counter. One boot stamp at a time, she eventually drew close enough to sit on one of the stools, leaning against it in a predominant, yet clearly false, representation of prowess and importance. It took a few seconds for the barmaid to catch her attention, but in a few seconds, and after a rather patronising clearing of her throat, Lucia looked up to the fair lady with an unintentionally hilarious attitude about her.


"Yeah I would li-" With a short stammer, she quickly cleared her throat once more before starting again. The second attempt, however, was built upon this small and pathetic squeak, attempting to make her voice deeper to sound far more important than she really was. Her heart slightly sank when she saw the barmaid trying not to laugh, stifling a quick smirk to herself as Lucia continued down her poor facade. "I was coming through Amone, you know, petty fighting...Was looking for a sort of, sweetened beverage. I heard this place was the finest in town, and I wanted to know if-"

With a quick giggle, the woman patted Lucia's head suddenly, catching her off guard and causing her to blush wildly as she had been caught out immediately from the poor man's attempt at being masculine or prominently powerful as a small Asseni girl could be.

"Aww, want a drink, Hun?" Lucia's face growled the most pathetic growl ever witnessed on the face of Europa. She had tried desperately to preserve her tough-girl attitude and remove all suspicions of her youthful existence, but she'd been caught onto within a few seconds flat. Her small pout brought a big grin to the barmaid's face, who seemed to be getting some enjoyment out of her deductive initiative.

"O-oooh yes pl-" Once again, she stopped her bright chirp of excitement and replaced it with her now staple deepened voice, one that made her sound like she'd only heard of someone who'd been through puberty fully and not yet heard what they sound like. The demanding tone of her voice was enough to finally catch her attention and keep it at least on a mutual understanding, but the grin of the barmaid never dropped away. "I-I mean...Yeah I was waiting for you to offer me one."

A few more minutes of embarrassment came out, and Lucia eventually got her drink. The glass was far larger than she though, pushing the boundaries of a safe level of drinking. For a second, she looked over to where Michael was, and there was still a detailed conversation in place. Lucia jokingly rolled her eyes and watched from the sides, feeling rather proud of the fact she managed to independently get one of these popular beverages. But, what should she do now? She got the thrill out of at least acquiring the drink, but now she was stood around lazily with the watery container locked tightly in her grasp. Michael still seemed to be busy, so perhaps it wasn't going to be a bad way to pass the time? A few sips wouldn't hurt here would they? After all, Jean was seemingly encouraging a more relaxed behaviour amongst the Squad, giving them the benefits of relief and release of stress to ultimately preserve what little morale the squad had left. The lively environment began to persuade her more. She took one last look at Michael, figuring out that they were definitely going to be a long while in their detailed conversation. And so, Lucia snuck away to a corner of her own, and with a strange and hesitant few minutes of staring at the glass, Lucia took her first drink.

Time seemed to fly by effortlessly. Or was it slowly now? She couldn't tell. Her eyes and her ears were all drowsy. Minutes and a few hours began to pass, Imperials seemingly becoming less of a demographic than the Federation soldiers posted here. Most of the Federation troops were probably from Squad 1, and her blurry vision didn't really help her ability to identify them all. It had been two, no three, long and painful hours spent hanging her head in strange nausea. A thump came about her head, and even without anyone talking to her, Lucia could be seen giggling to herself as she had strange thoughts of many different situations planned out in her mind. Many of these situations were rather over the top, but some felt a bit more achievable. Getting a secret letter or stealing Jean's poems again? She could do that. The thought of it brought her into an uncontrollable drunken giggle. Her tolerance ability was so low that the single large glass of alcohol was enough to put her into this strange state of incomprehensible tipsiness. Slowly, she rose to her feet, staggering as she did so, once she saw a familiar companion lose his company. Michael's conversation seemingly had ended for the first time in...forever. Lucia cursed to herself with a strange giggle before walking over, doing her very best not to stumble over. With a sly and mischievous grin on her slurred face, she went to surprise Michael by approaching him from behind his seat. In a strange fashion, she pushed herself against his back, creating a tight friction between the two as her head went beside his. Knowing that at the very least his serious muse was being interrupted by her strangely forward return, she began to drunkenly stroke Michael's face with her very fingertips, smiling with one eye closed and unable to open from pure laziness.


"M-Miiiiickeeeeeeeey!" She smiled with more sly intent as she pressed herself tightly against him once more with a strong hug. For once, a strange strength had seemingly come out of nowhere since she'd had her drink. Before he could answer, she began to circle around his chair until she was in front of him, quickly placing herself down on top of him as if he were the chair itself. Her back was now to him, but she still sat upon his lap and seemingly coughed a few times, showing her true drunken self once more. Only from one drink... "I...acshidentally had a driiiiiink. Proteeeeect me p-pleeeeeeeeease." With a strong giggle, she suddenly let her eyes close and sprawled her arms to her side, her head leaning against Michael's shoulder instinctively as she drifted into a state of half-consciousness, still able to respond and listen, but unable to fully move the rest of her body away. How...strange of her?




The Siege of Amone, September 10th - The Vision and the Empty Cartridge


The water was hot, very hot to say the least. His hairs upon his arms stood on their seams as he lowered himself into the eerily relaxing bathtub, allowing the warmth to engulf him entirely within seconds. It was blissful and almost surreal to say the least. There was never something so refreshing as sitting within the lovely confinement of this reservoir. Every slow second to creep by gave him more time to adjust to its indulgence and succulency, until Jean finally let out a large exhalation of air and calmed his nerves. Finally, he'd managed to find a piece of mind once his body had fully adapted to the sudden change of heat. Upon a request from one of the staff, his clothing was already being washed and was soon to be done, giving him enough time to really uncover the true potential of the watery bedding he now resided within. His eyes closed and his head rested against the back rim of the casket of water, letting his muscles finally find some ease in tension. Everything around him was silent. The sounds of the great parties downstairs had been notably quieter now that the Imperials had left without as much of a trace left, leaving most of the Federation soldiers alone. A few Imperial stragglers were sitll lolling about without much consideration, but for the Atlantic natives it seemed to only be Squad 1 left, at least with a booked place of slumber here in the White Hart. With that silence in mind, his breaths became nothing more than vaporous echoes that reverberated around the room at immense speed. Slicing into that previous anguish that intoxicated his body with lactic acid amongst other things, the relief was a payoff he'd been needing for months now.

But, was it really relief as such? On the table across the bathroom was the crooked door, which seemed to whistle in the winds outside. Perhaps a window in his bedroom had been left open, but the shuddering of the door suddenly put his ease of mind out of the way. His eyes darted to one side and he suddenly felt himself drifting away, his gazing, beady eyes patrolling every known corner of the room around him. Every tile on the wall and floor was explored whilst the sound of nearby footprints gave way for his nerves. Someone had stopped by his room to clearly drop something off, but it was most likely the cleaner returning his uniform. Jean, however, didn't feel like that was true. Something felt off about the atmosphere. Why was he this way? Earlier he was enjoying himself all around, even with the embarrassment of his poem being read out, but he couldn't help but shudder in the silence he was left within.

His head suddenly snapped into a risen position as he seemed to hear a feminine whisper chilling through the air. Jean's face felt pale as he turned around, silently making sure if he had heard such trivial hallucinations properly, and indeed the incoherent whisper happened again. Shock surged down his ankles, and the warmth of the bath felt almost like the coldness of an icecap's peak. Moving his eyes from side to side, rolling them in their strained sockets, his breath grew short. He mustered a short inhales and a few nerved exhalations but still felt like nothing was right. What was this demonic presence suddenly lurking around him, trapping him below the surface of relaxation for all that he was unsure of? Jean's mouth trembled in confusion, his mind growing weary of such strange noises. They didn't sound like the familiar and friendly tones of the staff who worked at the inn, nor did it sound like anyone of any human origin. It felt...other-worldly? Was that a real sort of imagination? Was he losing his mind over nothing? Jean slowly rose himself out of the bath. Without realising it, his body and face was mostly clean, since he'd seemed to have drifted away into a short nap before having heard these strange ethereal chants. Once he was fully out of the bath, Jean quickly dried himself off, his face locked onto the door, where the source of the noise seemed to lead towards. Now dry, he put on the fresh pair of trousers and a shirt, nothing of any major military issue, and slowly began to walk towards the door in his bare feet, quietly hearing the whispers get louder and louder.

He hesitated. His hands locked around the door-knob to the bathroom connecting to his own bedroom, but he couldn't bring himself to turn the handle. What was holding him back? Was it fear? Was it shame? Was it anxiety? All of them sounded plausible, but he felt a strange empowerment take within his fractured body and the handle began to turn, eventually leading out to bedroom. Jean's face, sure enough, went pale, broken and violently turned into a deathly whitened tone once he saw what was upon his bed. Was it...what was going on?

Olivia?! Was...what was this machination? It was an illusion, seeing her, waltzing about the room with a gentle hum going about her. She twirled in some sort of fancy flowery dress, patched with small drops of mud and worrying blood stains. Jean's face grew stone cold, out of the pure shock of the apparition before him. This wasn't real, was it? Jean slowly began to walk forward, as carefully as he'd left the bath a second ago, and tried to place his hand upon her shoulder. The room suddenly was plunged into darkness, the only light seemingly illuminating off of her coarse body. As soon as his fingers scraped by her ghostly appearance, her body became overwhelmed with a strange watery substance, breaking off into patches of mud. Her casual clothing instantly shifted into the brash military uniform she'd worn at the start of the war, and spurts opened up in her body, revealing bullet wound after bullet wound. Her eyes became bloodshot and soaked in the tears of her own suffering, a scream coming out at the highest pitch. No one else could hear her delusional scream, being only a fragment of Jean's mind playing him over, but he clutched his ears as the ringing began to persist. Jean himself began to speak, finally uttering words of sheer confusion and panic.


"O-Olivia?! D-Don't cry, please. Don't leave me! Stay with me, please sister! Sta-" His words were thrown onto deaf ears as the face of Olivia began to crumble, shattering like dried sandstone in the midst of a violent storm. Parts of her flesh seemingly decayed before him, dropping onto the floor as the mind-dependent scene continued to reach its climax. Her scream grew louder, words like join me or save me being repeated, over and over again. The trauma of his suffering was finally toying with his mind and Jean tried to reach out. The darkness in his room grew thicker and thicker, his vision more blurred and more muffled as his hearing drew to a final closure. The squeals became nothing more than pain striking through his head, causing him to tremble and clutch his ears, despite there being no real presence of a noise in the real world. Eventually, he collapsed onto one knee, and closed his eyes, before crying out a final phrase to the apparition. "I...I'm sorry, don't leave me alone, Olivia!"

And just like that...silence. Jean continued to mutter for a second, unsure of whether or not to open his eyes to whatever sights he'd just experienced. His breath was unending in its pacing, speeding up and croaking slightly as his throat became dry and bruised from his cries. Feeble fingers sat upon the now clean skin of his hands were trembling with every given second that passed. His loneliness settled in and began to sweep him from his feet, making him fall completely onto the other knee and crouch down. Eventually, his eyelids began to flicker open slowly. The light of the room had returned. The silence was now back to its regular self. Had he dreamt a terrible nightmare, or had he actually seen these illusions caused by the trauma lodging deeper into his mind. Jean's body was in shock, once more. Not from the dangers of the bullets, but from the realisation finally sinking in. All this time, all the time he'd spent wandering the streets of Amone, the carriages of trains, the trenches and hills of Garnia, and the training fields of the army, he'd never fully pondered the fact that he was alone, alone in the world and in the face of immense devastation. All around him, the world had crumbled by every gun sight. Every artillery barrage was enough to wipe him clean, as a mimic of tabula rasa. Jean looked around the room, seeing it as the normal self it was. His bedsheets were messy and some ornaments must've fallen over in his blind panic. Things that were out of place that hadn't been during the apparition were clear, tumbled onto the floor in barely dense fixations. Jean heard the whisper once more.

"Don't leave me..." He leaned his back against the wall, letting his eyes and hands fumble around aimlessly in his fatigued return to sanity. The traumatised disorder settling in within his mind had suddenly began to whisper its final words, mimicking the soothing tone that was Olivia's past voice. Jean's mind went blank. He instinctively started to move his hard across the room, over to the table just beside the bed. Once he wrapped his hands around the surface and pulled himself to his feet, the whispering continued, begging for him not to leave her. Jean's mind went blank again. He saw the rifle he'd brought with him to Amone, sat on the desk. Quickly, though with much anxiety, he grabbed it in his hands, and began to stare down the barrel. There was nothing but darkness within the muzzle, nothing he could make out. And without thinking, Jean's hands went for the trigger. They closed in on it, getting closer and closer, his breath suddenly growing shorter and shorter until...

CLICK.

No round came out. Jean's face suddenly dropped once more as the rifle fell from his hands. What the fuck did he just try and do? Had he gone insane? Why...what toll had this war had on him for his instinct to turn to...to that? Jean's face reeked of horror and fear, his body stumbling back onto the bed desperately as he sat, contemplating what on earth he'd just tried to do. There were no tears this time, for the first time in a while, as he simply stared, condemning himself in his own head. Was this trauma? Was this the effect of a coward? Was this what everyone would look down on him for? Could anyone find out about this sudden reaction he had no control over? Jean's hands trembled, his voice speaking to himself in a quiet whisper.


"N-No! No no no! No, Jean...D-Don't...don't you...fucking...dare. They...they want me to live. I...I want to live, I want to survive. I want...to find someone and give them what I couldn't have. D-Don't you...fucking...dare." His mind rested at ease as he realised the rounds were far from his grasp, having been taken in by the inn-keepers upon arrival to ensure no gun violence truly broke out. Jean's face melted into another state of pale whiteness, him now sitting in silence. His door was slightly ajar open, and he wasn't sure if anyone had listened, but Jean suddenly looked at the mirror across from his bed, staring at the mess he had become. "Y-You...don't do it. Ever. They...no...I want to be alive for them. I want to...I just...I want to."

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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by FalloutJack
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FalloutJack The Long Dark Nuka-Break of the Soul

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So, when you're a Gunner and your job is to make sure that people in your charge are adequately covered in all operations and don't get picked off by sniper fire, you get plenty of oppurtunities to just start people-watching. You watch as old friends talk and laugh, how new friends forge new bonds, and you also see - most regrettably - all the pains and grievances cutting across their faces.

This was what Britta Hagen had been doing with her time in the 15th Atlantic Rifles.

From the first day to the current one, she had gotten first and lasting impressions of those around her. She watched as Jean went from cautiously optimistic to nervous and under pressure to slowly disintegrating. She watched Michael grow more grimly determined and taller in spirit than he was in physical form. She watched Lucia's emotional state bounce from despair to horror to manically joyous, dependent on the situation. She felt she knew these people, just by glancing at them. Even Franz, for all his inwardness, couldn't help but show to even those that didn't know him that he was under alot of stress. However, out of them all, there was perhaps one person who defied normal description, because he didn't fit the normal venue: Isaac Black.

At first, he looked like some sort of veteran Gunner, but he was about as green as she was. Even his general anger towards the people that recruited him by force didn't account for that look in his eye. It wasn't always there, but there was something about it that offset every other read of who and what he was about. He did what her drill sergeant called 'soldiering on', dealing with situations with a sort of general disapproval, but willingness to approach the situation because he had to. He hated this war, but he fought with the same focus, every time. He never wanted to be here, but he didn't get on anybody's case when they were revealed to have volunteered for various reasons. He worked his ass off to support them, to keep them alive, even though he literally had better things to do.

Learning about him hadn't been a difficult task, though, once she started talking to him. Plenty of chances to do it too, being the company Gunners and having to coordinate alot. He was good in a situation and candid enough when just talking. The way Isaac cared about others was the best part. You could trust him with anything, if it was reasonable enough. He was responsible and protective of those around him, and when she learned of why... Well, let's just say that the whole 'raising of wolves' thing caught her by surprise...both by it having happened at all...and how it explained so much. As much as Isaac had raised his wolves, they had taught him things, as well. That was why he was so hard to place. Isaac didn't act like other people. Isaac was being Isaac, and you could really appreciate that.

So anyway, back to the people-watching.

She had seen how the squad was when wound-up tight. Now, she could see what they were like when there wasn't so much holding them back. Britta felt that it was maybe a bit early for some of them to get drunk. Ines, Luke, Franz, and the Oceanic lot were probably okay for it, but you wouldn't say that it was exactly wise for Jean to have a few in his condition, and you would definitely not want Lucia bouncing off the walls, but...too late there. Sitting at the bar, Britta had watched Luke's antics and the read-aloud of Jean's poetry, then heard cries for 'Mickey'...and knew that it was too late to save Lucia from this place. Hopefully, Michael would be able to help. Britta had been keeping a very careful eye on those two. Everyone worried about how well the Asseni girl was coping with her life in the army, and while she was everyone's friend, it seemed as though Isaac cared a fair deal about her and Michael was growing especially close. It made her think...

Well, really, it made her go to several places, as she had a couple of drinks. She'd been watching Isaac, as well. You could tell that he harbored no ill-will towards the average Imperial, because he had ended up talking to them as he got a few drinks into his system as much as he had Federation soldiers. He made his feelings known on the war, he said not to take it personally that he had to shoot them, and then there was that 'toast' to Captain Middleton, under his assumed name of Captain Grumpus, calling him the ultimate asshole. Honestly, she couldn't hold in her laughter as she raised her glass with a dozen people who didn't even know who he was talking about, plus any that did. It was then that she asked for that bottle of scotch, paid with whatever she had in her pocket to make the ends meet, and got Isaac to follow her to an unoccupied room. They'd already had their armor and normal fatigues off after starting to relax in the White Heart. It was just a matter of hauling them in there so nobody did anything with them OR their weaponry.

"You know, if people could just see places like this, they'd cancel the war and go home."

"You think so?"

"Well, mostly. I dunno. I got into an argument with the one guy with the moustache. He said the way we live is against his way of life. I told him I was a farmer and I raise food. I asked him what he had against food, and he said 'Nothing'. So then I ended up shouting at him about what he was even fighting for, and we got in a shouting match until he blurted out 'Your prices are too high!' and laughed like a loon."

They stepped into the room in question, finding a bed, dresser, chairs, small table, etc. Isaac immediately flopped onto the bed with a relaxing sound and a stretch as Britta opened the bottle with...some effort. She let out a triumphant "Hah-hah!" when she got it. Isaac turned over, curious.

"Oh, you brought something."

"Yeah, I thought you'd want something a little more special than the beer."

"My dad drinks whiskey. I tried that once. Didn't work out, though."

The silver-haired blinked.

"How old were you?"

"...five."

"Five?! Why were you drinking at that age?"

"Oh, my dad just handed me a shot and said 'Here, try this.', and watched the results as I stumbled around and made a mess on the floor. I apologized, then he apologized, then he sent me to bed to sleep off the after-effects. Mom wasn't pleased."

"I can imagine. The way you talk about him, he sounds like a good man, but that's just a bit weird..."

"Nobody's perfect. Gimme a glass."

She poured the two glasses, and they drank from them. Yeah...alot difference from the beer, more of a subtle impact and flavor, and definitely not as strong as whiskey. Also, neither one of them appeared to be getting sick, so Isaac pronounced them as having grown up a little, which made Britta chuckle at him as she sat down on the bed with him. After a moment of silence and reflecting on the loosening of their brains and how the room felt wobbly, Britta spoke up.

"So, there was something bothering you before, something you wanted to ask me?"

"Yeah... D'you...remember the charge? How it felt? Everything?"

"Vividly."

"Well, I almost got shot, and that freaked me out on the short-term, and then I didn't think about it, but...then at the cavalry charge, and the armored car..."

Oh yes, she remembered those quite well. Knowing the consequences of what happens when you foolishly charge those who shared the same training as you did made such actions all the more frightening. She waited for Isaac to continue, not interrupting him.

"Are you starting to see us at the end of your barrel? You, me, the rest of the squad?"

Britta looked down silently for a moment, then admitted that she had had a moment like that, just briefly.

"It was just me, just for an instant. I'd already fired and the soldier was already dead, but...directly after, it made me think a little."

They were finishing their glasses and Isaac got up to refill them now.

"We're here because we have to fight, but if we didn't have to, I don't think we would."

"But we don't have a choice, do we?"

"No, but...these people are just like us, so...let's not think of them any other way."

"Agreed."

They clinked their glasses, drank spirits in the name of the spirits manifesting at the ends of their guns, and settled into the warm buzz of alcohol even further.

"All that said, I'm glad that you're with us, Britta. I remember how that Sergeant, the one that got shot, gave you hell while we were waiting in the trenches. I'm glad he got it instead of you. I don't like the thought of anyone dying in general, but some people really have it coming."

"What, you mean like Captain Grumpus?"

"Him and that recruitment officer. 'I'll show you my natural combat ability!' I kinda' hope they both live so I can punch 'em in the face."

"Thank you for that. I know you watch over everyone in the squad, but I definitely feel more confident knowing that you do."

Britta got up to refill the glasses again and noticed...someone kept moving the room around, especially when she tried to go anywhere. It was like back in the train to Amone, but if it were doing nothing but making right and left turns. She just about managed to pour the drinks again and turned back toward the bed, where Isaac had gotten up to steady her, but things went wrong as he bumped into her, she tipped back, Isaac reached out to pull her in again, and the two of them tripped and fell onto the bed, glasses and drinks toppling onto the covers. Britta was almost on top of the wolf-training farm boy when he suddenly broke out snickering.

"We made a mess on the bed. Mom's gonna be pissed."

She couldn't help it. The two of them busted out laughing, both going red in the face as they lay on the bed, holding onto each other to keep their sides from splitting. When Britta finally realized their proximity, she didn't recoil nervously or anything. It just seemed natural to her. They'd been working closely together, sleeping next to each other... This was normal. Then, she remembered what it was that she wanted to talk about and pulled herself up so that she was effectively eye-level with Isaac, looking down at him in about as serious an expression as she could manage, given the circumstances.

"Isaac, can I ask you something?"

"Mmm?"

"I need you to pay attention for a moment, because It's important to me, okay?"

He blinked up at her, obviously having settled into an alcohol-engaged sort of mirth from the joke he just told, but he seemed to be aware enough to focus on her. He informed her in what sounded like a serious enough voice that he was listening, which was what she hoped for.

"You know that I joined the army willingly for my parent's sake, and that I'm not exactly against fighting in this war. We have to protect our own and stuff. But even still...there is one thing that I'm afraid of, and that's being alone and isolated and waiting to die."

This statement had a noticeable effect on Isaac, who had gone from passably focused to what Britta might have termed as 'Isaac letting the wolf out'. She continued, as he was clearly waiting for her to say her peace.

"I've had nightmares of this, being isolated from the group, wounded and bleeding out, and no one being there to help me or at least stay with me towards the end. There's nothing more frightening to me than dying alone. I don't want to die at all, but that's what worries me the most, being left to die without anybody there for me."

She leaned in closer now to say this last part.

"I want you to promise me, Isaac, because I know that I can trust you to do this: Don't ever leave me behind. If something happens, if I get separated from the group, please come looking for me...and don't give up until I'm found. I know it's selfish of me, but I..."

Britta trailed off as she felt Isaac pulling her in close, so there was nothing separating them at all, that in her moment of vulnerability while confessing her greatest fear, he thought of nothing but comforting her and making her feel safe. It reminded her of the moment he kept Lucia from watching all the caveliers die, that simple gesture to help people remain calm. And then, she heard...

"I absolutely promise. No matter what, I will come for you."

Relief flooded through her, as did the familiar warmth of the two of them being drunk. Or was that just their bodies so close together? It didn't matter, though, because whatever the reason was, they were already starting to react with it, without even thinking about it. Perhaps it was out of graditude or because he was so forthcoming, or just that age-old warning about alcoholic inhibitions, but suddenly Britta felt the need to get even closer to Isaac, even though that wasn't physically possible. Well, not traditionally... Already feeling intoxicated in at least a couple of ways, the two Gunners held each other even tighter as their lips met, their eyes shut, and they were lost to the world outside as far as anybody else was concerned. Whether it was a fit of passion or the start of a beautiful relationship, for now...it was good.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Landaus Five-One
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Landaus Five-One The Sadist Insaneous One

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Diana’s Brutal Reality – Getting Drunk – Amone City’s Walls (Sept. 10th)




Diana was nursing her drink because of the fact, which her mind was elsewhere since she really dislikes fog. In the back of her mind was mostly about the fact her older sisters were unjustly cruel to her. She still remembers exactly what Astra said to her before, the conscription to the war. It caused her to look back on that day for awhile. ”I hate my memory being so focused on what Astra said to me.” Diana thought to herself, with a definite body language of not enjoying something. There is a reason to why she was being mean to Luke, it was an underlying hate that was bellowing deep within her towards her own older sister Astra. In terms, Luke was an easy target for her frustrations. It was a bit easy for her to outright throw Luke under a bus by something her older sister had said to her, which was eating her from inside. However, what he said about Darscens didn’t help, his situation in getting bashed by her in the feels.

It was a bit much for her to remember, however, this is the first time she was able to get something to lessen her bitterness towards her older sister Astra. The only thing that was kinda of nice was her older sister’s Susan’s outright apology to what she said when she was 11. In that case, she started to daydream of exactly that before the day, which she left to conscription train for EW1. It didn’t help she was completely unprepared for everything. ”Astra… why did you have to say that?” Diana thought to herself, with a look of utter loss in what’s going on. However, she was still drinking slowly and nursing it.








Diana snapped out of her daydream, when none other than Luke boomed with For the Federation, in terms of him winning the drinking contest. However, she had tears going down her cheek, which was a bit normal for her to do. She constantly did cry all throughout her life. ”For the Federation.” Diana said with a bit of a smile on her face. She saw him fall on the floor and laughed at him. ”Have a nice fall?” Diana asked, curiously. She couldn’t help but jab at Luke since he’s always needed to have a laugh at his expense. She was still nursing her drink though, which was basically full like she was mainly holding it and looking at it.

It took her awhile and noticed Luke sitting at a table after his fall, which was a bit funny and blinked a bit at his question. ”I have a feeling, she’ll still drink you under the table… But you’ll probably give her a good run for her money. Like a 51% chance of beating her… before this drinking competition you had I gave you a 90% chance of losing against my mother.” Diana said with a slight smile on her face. Covering up the fact she was outright not enjoying the fact, she wants to tell her older sister Astra she hates her. For what she specifically said, about the entire belief structure of the Vastergoth Family and wanted to marry into money to get out of the middle class. She sat down at the table, which Luke sat down at and sighed a bit.

”I am sorry for what I said, but what you said, compounded me to say those mean things to you. But if you ever get out of line, I will smack that face of yours. Because of what you specifically said, reminded of my Elder Sister Astra, which grinds my gears. Having your entire belief structure destroyed by one of your own family members hurts a bit.” Diana said, sighing at getting this off her chest. In terms she was at a cross roads of so badly wanting to tell her older sister Astra she hates her for every single thing she had done to the Vastergoth’s name by shooting it in the face and laughing at it. It was definitely a hard pill for her to swallow, since because of the whole thing.

Diana saw Luke point at her and she sighs again. ”Yeah, I think that’s the best thing to do right now… is to drink my worries away and stop being so frustrated about what my sisters have done to me in the past and look into the future.” Diana said with an annoyed twinge at Luke in terms of what he said. It was obvious she was nursing her drink, however, she decided to stop doing the opposite of what her mother Rebecca would do. She moved her drink to Luke’s mug and toasted. ”Cheers, I guess? I hope we don’t run into anymore fog or my mood is going to be ruined...” Diana said, with a look of depressed feelings. She had a somewhat of a kinda happiness that drinking helped her unlock her feelings. It was a bit strange but her mother Rebecca is a bit more scarier sober than drunk. However, it’s only because she saw her mother drunk at home once, and that was on her sixteen birthday. It was pretty much a shocking thing to see. She had a gleeful smile on her face. ”Hey Ines, what’cha doing?” Diana asked, curiously a bit loudly in the general direction of Ines. She did notice Ines and Franz talking, but she couldn’t really tell what was being said, however. She looks around, however, she did remember that Jean went to his own room. It made her a bit worried for him since he was pretty fucked up, after all. She hoped he was alright because its a time to be a bit jovial than depressed. However, she wasn’t really taking her own advice since, she was depressed about what her older sister had said to her, in terms of her wish.

In terms of everything, she starts to cry a bit because she still deeply believes in the Vastergoth Family’s belief system. Remembering what her elder sister Astra specifically said about the entire family as they are a lost caused hurt her deeply in her soul. However, she remembered one thing, she was still wearing her blasted helmet. She sat down her drink and took off her helmet, which uncovered her beautiful blonde hair. Therefore, she got it out of the tight chignon hairstyle and put it into her favorite hairstyle, which is straight. ”This is like the 2nd time I forgot to take off my helmet… the first was when I was literally sleeping on the floor and now. I hate forgetting things.” Diana said, with a slight annoyed tone in her voice. She couldn’t help but enjoy the fact she’s back to how she enjoy wearing her hairstyle, even though it’ll have to go back to how it was when the fighting starts again. In the back of her head, she wanted to know what the masks were used for but that can be known for a later time. The fact of she wanted to get drunk was a bit more important to her to get rid of the feeling of hopelessness she felt in front of her sister Astra all those months ago.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Smike
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Smike

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When Jean adressed her she dutifully turned her attention back to him, now checking him out as he spoke. The corporal was a Darcsen, she could tell that much from the hair, and a handsome one too, in a boy next door kind of way. He was shorter than she was, although wasn't uncommon, and lacking any obvious muscle. Victoria got the feel that if she wanted to she could lift him up and carry him off, something she was sure to keep in mind for later. She had been worried that he was going to be a stuffy cunt but was glad to see that wouldn't be the case, her lopsided grin widening in response to his polite smile.

Sounds bonza to me, ranks are for fucking tossers." she agreed lazily, switching the knife to her left hand to clean under the nails of her right as she stretched out her legs into an empty seat and leaned back in her chair, tracking mud onto her makeshift footrest. She would likely remember his full name but there was not a chance in hell she would actually ever use it. She shrugged noncommittally at the offer of condolences, grunting a thanks for being allowed to stay for the time. She was clearly relaxed and somewhat bored, only to lose the carefree attitude at the mention of Marathon.

"Are you being funny right now, mate? THE Marathon? Here, with the rest of us worthless cunts?" She wanted to run off and find him, beg for an autograph or maybe even to share a bed but thought better of it. He sounded like he had gotten pretty beat up, better to let him sleep off his six puncture wounds.

Almost before the corporal could even properly finish responding to her query they were interrupted by a fit blonde girl with the name Vastergoth etched onto her uniform pocket, presumably a member of the unit she was trying to tie herself to to. G'day, digger girl! Glad to finally be able ta yabber wit some Fed cunts, been up to my fucking tits in Imperials recently. Victoria caught the look of terror in the riflewoman's eyes as she explained what happened to her previous unit. It was a fair reaction, she herself had been and still was fucking terrified of the seemingly unstoppable menace, not that she was ever going to let anyone know that. Anyone in their right mind would be scared of the armored car and likely struggling with the sudden loss of so many friends.

Which made it all the more confusing when Diana told her how much watching young men and women die like lambs in a slaughterhouse "sucked." Is this cunt fuckin soft in the head? Private White wondered to herself with a sort of wonder. Or is this chick just emotionally stunted? Of course she didn't say any of this out loud, choosing instead to try and get a scared reaction out of her.

"Yeah I know it fucking sucks, I was there cobber. One of my buddies got smashed under the monster's wheels, the rest of the poor bastards were cut in half by a torrent of lead. Heaps of blood and guts, true blue killing machine it was and not a damn thing we could do stop the fucking cunt. Our bullets bounced off it's hide 'n' did nothing. we might as well have been waving our dicks in its direction 'n' pissing on the fucking thing! Everyone but me got fucking mulched to pulp. Hopefully that doesn't happen to us, right?"

Victoria idly cleaned under her nails with her bayonet as she spoke, sounding so unconcerned she may as well have been talking about the weather. She didn't need to overshare like she was but she was curious to see how Diana reacted. She was becoming more and more awed by the way the silly bimbo's obliviousness, had she really just moved on to complaining about her sisters? Of course Slasher could have brought up the fact that the girl had barged in on a conversation herself but she decided against it, deciding instead to let her eyes leer over the soldier hungrily. (No reason to not look over all the merchandise, after all.) The girl was definitely fit with an hourglass figure that Victoria found very appealing, and she didn't want to shoot herself in the foot with another possible hook-up. After all, she didn't exactly look for intelligence in her partners and the blonde wouldn't be able to say anymore daft shit with her mouth full.

She stopped idly daydreaming about banging her new squadmates when the drinking match in the background ended, joining in the cheers with a loud holler of congratulations only to let rip a snort of laughter as the drunken idiot fell off the bar like a complete lout. Victoria always liked to see people who couldn't hold their drinks, snickering as they stumbled and tripped. She didn't lose coordination when drinking, or at least not much of it. She just got really pissed off. Or incredibly horny. Or embroiled in a state of complete depression. Sometimes it ended up being being a combination of all three, those nights were really exciting!

Victoria gave the champion the once over as well and was less than thrilled. He was thoroughly average in looks with the exception of the bandages on his face as far as she could tell, and being so wasted you were unable to walk was a major turn-off. Although, she could see that he had noticed her and he was making his way over with two drinks in hand. If he was smart he could rise a few points on the attractiveness scale. Nice to meet you too, cobber. I earned this when an ugly cunt back home cracked a bottle over my skull. Stabbed her right through the throat, which is why they call me Slasher." She snatched up the mug with a feral smile, glad to see that Luke made the right choice. "I can't turn down a free bevie now, can i?" she asked rhetorically, raising the mug to join the toast. "Here's to grotty beds 'n' shitty liquid-gold!"

The mug was drained in an instant, Victoria cocking her head at the mention of Diana's mother. "Your mom's a tough cunt in a drinking match? I bet I could handle her, easy. S'matter of fact, I can take both of you two, right now!" she boasted, willing to put money on the line that she could drink more than current champion and the girl fixing her hair.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Jeep Wrangler
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Jeep Wrangler VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

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The Siege of Amone, September 11th - Impatience


Stood on the verge of the encampment, with his arms folded tightly behind his back, he stared vigorously at the plumes of smoke towering from within the city. Still, even after two years of siege, there was still more for the fateful city to be destroyed. Seeing its barbaric treatment from both the Imperials and some Federation artillery teams alike made him frustrated, angered and disappointed with the unholy treatment of the sacred towering walls. Amongst the peaks of fire and occasional flares spotted from within the city's depths was the indestructible bell tower of the Cathedral of Light, the standalone foundation of the Cruxist faith. Not being a man of religion himself, he still found beauty in its huge stone structure, admiring all of its significance that it had to Assen. This battle was deeply important to him, as it must've been for Lucia without her fully realising it yet. Breaking the deadlock and stalemate that had plagued this city for years on end would finally open a straight pathway into his homeland. He promised everyone in the days of the golden past that he would return home, with an army behind him, to liberate the homes he had once lost. Those were some of the few promises he meant, truly. There was no initial malice to its meaning, but Alexander wanted the best for Assen. This war had brutalised his people, his homeland and the Federation weren't fast enough to act. Why else had he become the strategic genius he was regarded by today by his superiors? To him, every death counted and every use of manpower was vital to his sacred movement back into the lands he missed greatly. It wasn't that he admired the people behind him, only those who shared the same incentive as him. Plenty of members of the 15th Atlantic Rifles showed too much nerve and not enough prowess for his liking. Their personalities meant human emotion. Human emotion meant hesitation. Hesitation meant death without the effort to break their enemy.

A thunderous sound of artillery fire seemed to be coming from the left flank of the city walls, just on its outskirts. For once, they weren't being launched directly into the urban area, as it was incredibly easy to catch their own comrades in the bombardment as much as it was the enemy. Damaging the infrastructure to brutalise an enemy was one thing, but Amone held a key significance for the rail systems of the Europan front. Breaking its roadworks and buildings too much could break the supply chain for both factions. Unlike the ransacked fields of no-man's land spread all across the frontier, this was something that both sides needed to keep in at least some form of functional status. The bombardment wasn't of a heavy classification, mostly medium style Howitzers tearing Federation dugouts, scouting bases and patrols to pieces. Brutal as it was, there was at least a sense of admiration towards their ability to remain on the defensive so effectively after a long campaign of aggression.

The chill in the air caused him to adjust his trench-coat and tighten it up. Blast the cold weather, it had been a bane for the logistical team for months now, and here it seemed to be at its worst. Whilst observing the siege unfolding before him, much like he did every day since his Platoon had ventured in without him, the sound of nearing boots came from his rearward direction. As he heard them reach critical distance, they stopped, and the shadow of a man saluting allowed him to finally detract his attention away from the ruins of Amone. Awaiting his attention was none other than Staff Sergeant Baker, a resident NCO who'd stuck in the regiment ever since Alexander himself had taken command as a Lieutenant. For a second, the Captain gave a long stare at him, looking at his dreadful state. Even with his seniority and rank, there weren't any decent sanitary facilities nearby for him to clean, and so he looked like he'd been in the deep end of one of Amone's muddy puddles for months. Truth be told, Baker had been there since the war started. At the very least, Middleton seemed to respect his ability to continue on, despite how much he'd been through at the Maren River's crossing, the establishment of Garnia's bombardment, the Imperial Cavalry charge at Beumont and the close-quarter's engagements in the Francian chateaus, to name a few.


"At ease, Staff Sergeant." Slowly, Baker lowered his hand from the salute, showing many signs of muscular pain up and down his body. He'd been up all night again, potentially, going through filing off the letters mostly written back home to the parents of the deceased. It was a tough job, but with three years of the Europan war taking its toll on him, Baker was quite good at being honest about the true fates of those who'd fallen. Censorship required for him to spare a few details, but at the very least he never wrongly stated that they died a heroic death if they didn't. Not many did these days. "You look and smell like horse-shit. You better get yourself cleaned up soon."

"Very good, Sir." Baker answered with the regular formality the Captain expected from his subordinates. However, despite the leverage he gave Baker, it was still a necessity for him to set the example of the hierarchy towards the lower soldiers of his company, regiment and platoons altogether.

There was a brief silence, with Middleton raising his eyebrow before giving a strangely out of character chuckle. Baker was slightly taken back by the rising mood of the Captain, which was never a common thing for anyone. He only seemed to have acted that way during his first year or two of service, before...well...before he turned into the man he was today. Baker at least knew there was some reasoning behind his unjustified actions, and as his Staff Sergeant he wasn't one to idly sit by and watch as the situation devolved into further chaos. Baker was, indeed, slightly older than his Captain counterpart. It didn't mean anything by rank, but many soldiers, even ones who'd never spoken to him before, saw Baker as a figure of communal hope, finding wisdom in his words that cared for even the common man and woman. So much so that he'd gained a nickname that even the Captain himself referred Baker by.


"You know, whatever you came to tell me, Uncle, you won't get very far without actually opening your mouth." The two shared a meagre chuckle to themselves, breaking the silence once more. Baker did it more out of courtesy, but he still found a level of sympathy for the Captain's downfall. Being called Uncle though further solidified why he went out of his way to try and fix the Captain, returning him to his older self before the war had taken its aggressive toll on his mind. Eventually, Baker nodded and let his standing stance relax and ease itself once more.

"My apologies, Sir. 'Was just thinking of how to start my query." Alexander gave him a look, as if to telepathically question him on what he meant, or to pressure him into continuing. Through reading that facial expression, Baker nodded and let out a quick puff of air, clearing his lungs once more. "It was within my best interests, as one of your senior NCOs, to take my time to ensure you're well-being. These last two days have had you isolated from the remainder of the staff and brought a bit of curiosity towards your muse, Sir."

Alexander thought for a while. It was true, everything that the Staff Sergeant had inferred. He kept his distance away from the other Officers mainly because he did not resonate well with them. They all had different interests. Most were pursuing the advances in their careers, looking towards themselves over the Federation as a whole, whilst others were too spineless to even orchestrate a plan that had less than 1% fatality risks towards it. It was a well known fact now that Alexander was far different. No one knew the exact reasoning as to why he did the things he did, especially considering his brutal treatment of his own troops, but everything he did was in the interests of the war's completion. His studies and cryptic notes that were sometimes left lying around his tent spoke of a pursuit he'd been following, one that was able to turn the war in his favour. He wrote of home, of Assen, and the fact that he had taken a girl under his wing from the same city he grew up in. Private Farris; the name had been coined around and became something of a strange insignia for someone close to the Captain. Nothing was really known about her. From the outsider's perspective, she was a innocent 16 year old girl, with her mind out of the gutter of reality and floating in her dreamy palace of the romanticised mind. However, it was individuals like Baker that seemed to know the capabilities she was now full of. Through submissive and dominant treatment, toying with her fragile emotions, Alexander had managed to implant a sense of loyalty into her that was undeniably unbreakable from first glance. In training, Baker had seen her pull of aggressive killing moves that seemed unnatural and unsafe for someone of her age. Movement and rapid pace, mixed with the skills of the small service blades often given to her by the Captain made for a lethal predator in the face of her own safety. She was yet to actually kill an Imperial, but everyone knew she'd already shot a retreating, traumatised girl during the Garnian Salient's breakthrough, her first official battle.

Eventually, the Captain finally found the appropriate answer, pointing his finger towards the destroyed city with his gloved hands. Baker looked on longingly and sighed himself, finding a strange nervousness from its corrupt sight. There was never the chance to get used to all the destruction, even from a veteran who'd been there since day 1. But unlike the usual expectations of simply dreading over the backdrop scenery, Middleton seemed to have something more focused on his mind.


"Two days ago, I sent Lucia in there. She's not with me, and this is the first time she's been without me since we first were united. There's also another boy out there who seems to have taken some peaked interest in her well-being, unaware and ignorant at how much interference that might cause for my programme, my experiment." Even with the true darkness of his undertone, Middleton was left with a quick chuckle from Baker, who seemed to capture the Captain's curiosity without any anger being bestowed upon him. Alexander was genuinely curious as to why he had reacted in such an unexpected way.

"S-Sorry Sir, it's just that you reminded me of my wife's father, the first time he found out about me being a suitor for his daughter. Just brought back a few happy memories that I regularly don't get to dawn upon." If it were anyone else, Baker would've been thrown under a bus, drowned in mud or shot on the spot, but this was Baker, and so nothing came about of it. Alexander, strangely enough, managed to find a broken smile of his own and nodded towards his remark, finding an emotion that had been locked away since the day Yuri was killed by the blasted marksman in Amone. To Baker, this unlocked emotion was a success, part of his potential rehabilitation that the Captain didn't even realise was going on. Changing him back to the human he was, in reality, was Baker's goal all along. It was hard, but caring for his soldiers, superiors and fellow NCOs was part of his true brilliance and kindness.

"I remember you talking about your wife once. Showed me that picture of her. I must say, Staff Sergeant, you are a very lucky man, luckier than most. The men look up to you, but not in the fearful way they do to me. That's something I cannot control, however. I'm...dead-set on my goals, driven by...by Private Farris' success that it just..." Alexander suddenly growled to himself, snapping back into his harsh reality as he turned away for a brief second. "Nevermind that, Baker. I'm just a bit anxious about Lucia. They say the Imperials deployed some sort of armoured vehicle, a mechanical beast with automatic guns riddled atop of it."

"Is that so, Sir? I'd say, then it might seem like Project: Land-Creeper might need a bit of speeding up if we want to regain that dominance. But if the Imperials are that far ahead of us already, then I presume they might have something along the same lines in the near future." Baker was one of the few lucky enough to know about the Project, the scientific breakthrough to try and create something that could dominate the battle with movement, armour and complete firepower on his side. If it was true, that these armoured vehicles were being deployed into Amone's ideal territory, then perhaps a new age of mechanical warfare was just around the corner, by a few months or even weeks. The world was demanding more and more capable weapons to keep up with the developing strategies, ideologies and doctrines. The world was a strange place, and Europa was the centre of it all. "Reminds me, Sir, you heard the news?"

"The United States of Vinland, declaring their final justification of war against the Empire and to side with the Atlantic Federation. Inevitable, but we could really not use their Generals. All incompetent and cocky bastards, I'll tell you. Did I ever tell you about Brigadier Roger Wallis, or whatever it was? Absolute arsehole. Doesn't think we know how to fight the war and thinks just charging them without artillery fire will be a good strategy."

"We've always had our differences, Sir...But at least we have the manpower we need to win the war. Imperials have been baking on them not joining the war for three years, and now we're in with the big league. Only a question of time, I'd say sir." He looked to the sky, seeing the doves gently drift above in florescent white shades. Baker smiled, dismissing himself from the Captain with a sharp salute, before muttering to himself. "I might be home in time to see you, my love."
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Luke Godfrey


Luke couldn’t help but arch a brow in confusion as Diana apologized to him. ‘I-is this real, or am I just drunk as hell?’ he thought to himself as she finished her apology. He couldn’t remember the last time someone other than his little sisters actually apologized to him. Not knowing how to react Luke rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. “It’s all good, probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say on the first day anyways,” Luke muttered before feeling his mind explode in realization. ‘DID I JUST FUCKING APOLOGIZE!?’ he barked within his mind in utter shock before clearing his throat, deciding to silently blame the booze before he actually acted like a nice person. Hell, thanks to her mentioning her sister made Luke remember his. He kept the joyful smile as few quick memories of the two twins gave him a brief moment of soberness. Normally Luke wouldn’t worry about them to much since he knew they were with good people and a good community, but he couldn’t help but wonder how they were. How were they doing in school? Were they getting along alright without him? Did they even miss him? He fought the urge to shake his head and simply pushed the thoughts from his mind. ‘Damn it, this isn’t the time to worry,’ he thought to himself as he moved on from the topic.

As the new face shared the story of her scar and gave a rather fitting name Luke silently thanked the change of direction and laughed in amusement. “Slasher eh? Better not piss you off then! Or at least keep anything sharp away from ya!” he laughed before feeling his grin grow even larger as his two new drinking partners joined in his toast. Before he went to down his drink he noticed Victoria down her drink with ease and felt his bad, competitive habit return to life before taking a quick breath and chugging his beverage down. He slammed his mug onto the table before shooting a quick glance her way with a cocky smile, letting her silently know he wasn’t about to slow down if she wasn’t. Luke heard Diana complain about her helmet and looked her way as she fixed her hair. Luke arched a brow since this was the first time he’s seen her without it on and smirked in amusement. “Huh, would you look at that, there really is woman under that helmet. A small one, but a woman nonetheless!” he laughed as he took his own light hearted jab towards her.

Luke’s laughter was cut off though as Victoria bragged on about being able to out drink the two of them without much trouble. A snicker escaped Luke before he turned to her and leaned in closer onto the table with a spark of confidence in his eyes. “Oh yeah? You think you could beat me? Her?” he jabbed a quick thumb towards Diana with a nod. “I can see that, but I’m no light weight,” he declared before smacking the table with a bark of laughter. “Bring it on then, let’s see if that big mouth of yours can keep up with that shit coming out of it!” he stated before stopping a young waitress that just passed by. “We need a bunch of rounds coming this way, the champion has another challenger,” the young waitress looked around the table and let a small smile of amusement come to her face as she shook her head.

“You’re really an odd one you know that? Fine, I’ll let my grandpa know,” she said with a light chuckle of amusement before making her way back to the bar. Luke watched on as she talked to the old bartender and snickered as he looked mildly annoyed before sighing in defeat and allowed her to take a tray of freshly poured mugs back to their table. As she delivered the drinks Luke grinned and nodded in gratitude as he took a mug.

“The old man is a godsend ya know that? Thanks, uh…” the girl smiled before holding the tray under her arm and clearing the long blonde hair from her face to let him get a good look at her bright emerald eyes.

“Emily Pavol and don’t mention it. My grandfather may have a bit of hard personality, but he’s a real softy,” she said before her smile grew a bit more sober as a small glint of happiness shined in her bright eyes while her small innocent smile widened just a bit. “Even when we’re surrounded by so much sadness he’ll offer whatever he can to whoever needs it. I think he’d even give up his own bed if it meant helping someone on their last leg,” Luke felt himself freeze for a brief moment, finding it difficult to look away from the young waitresses almost breathtaking eyes and feeling a strange feeling in his chest. Soon she caught herself and waved a hand. “Anyway don’t worry about that, just enjoy yourselves and drink up,” she chuckled before looking to the other two with a smile. “If you need anything then don’t hesitate to ask, things are quieting down a bit anyways,” she said before leaving the table to return to her work. Luke felt his eyes following her for a few seconds before he accidentally spilled a bit of his drink into his lap. He jumped slightly, but quickly got his head together and cleared his throat, unaware that is cheeks were a bit more red than before talking to the waitress.

“A-anyway, where were we?” he asked before looking to the other two while wiping away the spilled beer on his pants. He glanced to the beers and let his usual grin return to his face before leaning forward with a excited chuckle. “That’s right, I was about to drink ya’ll under the table!” he laughed before holding up his mug and gave a final glance between the two. “Down that hatch then ladies, let a man show ya how it’s done!” he declared before knocking back his head and beginning to gulp down the beverage with ease. As he finished his first mug he let out a gasp of satisfaction and held up his mug in joy. “Thanks old man for the drinks!” he shouted in true gratitude while not noticing Emily smile and giggle in amusement in the drunken soldiers cheering. The old man shook his head as he cleaned a few glasses, a small smirk of amusement spreading onto his face.

"Damn light weights."

@Smike@Landaus Five-One
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Landaus Five-One
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Diana’s Brutal Reality – The Drinking Duel – Amone City’s Walls (Sept. 10th)




Diana had a dreadful look on her face, when Victoria spoke in detail about what she faced in terms of that armored car. It made her specifically shiver in fear and was looking down from what Victoria had said. ”I-I am sorry… Should’ve been more responsible in what I do… That’s terrifying. You are probably right…” Diana said, with a slight fearful tone in her voice. She shakes her head a bit and couldn’t really give a feeling that she outright done it again alike on the Hill 58. Just in a more severe way of putting her foot in her mouth.

Afterwards, she heard Luke apologize and all she could do was giggle at it. This was the first time she got caught someone off guard, which was funny to her. ”I have to agree there, Luke.” Diana said, with a smirk on her face. Hearing what Luke said made her a bit more less afraid of what Victoria said previously. It was pretty easy in her body language she was definitely afraid of that mechanical monster, which the Imperials use. She started to relax a bit and was still messing with her hair a bit since she outright dislikes her hair in that situation.

Diana couldn’t help but feel like Luke was starring at her and looked at him for a second. What came out of his mouth, however, pissed her off much. It was definitely something you shouldn’t say to her since it triggers her a bit. Her entire body language changed from fear to outright anger, her fists were shaking, it was a definite good thing she sat down her drink. ”Small!? Don’t call me Small you asshole… The nerve of you after you apologized too. What the hell.” Diana said with a definite movement in her body of wanting to hit Luke in the face pretty hard. However, she remembered the rules of no violence in this Inn. She sighed a bit and couldn’t help the lack of tack of a fool. ”I guess I should beat you in a different way. But mark my words Sir Godfrey, I will fucking hurt you for calling me small.” Diana said, threatening Luke in a way that she’ll definitely beat him in this drinking competition. She wanted to hurt him via hitting him in his wound, however. It was pretty much obvious with how she was shaking in anger. She was pretty much happy that the Inn Keeper took her ammo or it’ll be a pain in the ass to hit anything with her rifle. It took awhile for her to calm down a bit.

She laughed a bit when she heard Victoria declaration of beating them in a drinking competition. Her mind, however, made note of Victoria’s declaration of beating her own mother in a drinking competition. However, it was mostly to cover up the fact she’s a bit fearful of what Victoria had said earlier. Since that graphic detail was a bit dreadful and made her a bit fearful. She’s still a bit afraid of whom Victoria is but at least she’s now apart of the squad at least. It was definitely a nice thing in that. However, she heard Luke say that in response to what she spoke to him. ”My mother Rebecca gets kinder the more drunk she gets. It’s a bit terrifying, she is incredibly mean as fuck when she’s sober. Since I saw that first hand when I was 12 years old. My older sisters got beaten by mother really hard since they were being mean to me.” Diana responded to Luke. It was a long drawn out response but she doesn’t like seeing her mother Rebecca sober anymore because she’s a pretty overprotective mother when sober.

Diana couldn’t help to laugh for a bit with what she saw Luke as after Emily Pavol, gave them the drinks to keep on drinking. She was laughing at it. ”Aww, so cute Luke, you are blushing.” Diana said. It was obvious she was lightheartedly jabbing him back for calling her small by noticing him blushing. She laughed more when he spilled beer on his pants, it was hilarious. ”Methinks you are a bit too drunk to continue, Luke.” Diana said with a smirk on her face. It was pretty much obvious she was taking joy at Luke’s expense since she needed it after waking up during Fog, her older sister Astra’s favorite type of weather. She rolled her eyes at the fact he’s going to drink them under the table, however, she doesn’t know how much her Vastergoth Blood could handle drinking alcohol one after another. ”You are on Luke!” Diana exclaimed, with a hint of nervousness in her voice.

She drank her mug down, with a bit more enthusiasm than before since she was in a drinking competition with two of her squad mates. It’s always better to be a winner than a loser in something like this. It was pretty much interesting to finally drink the sweet relief of something you wanted to try for so long, it took you to be in a war situation to do it. She’s gained much confidence while drinking that is. ”Yeah same goes for me, you are definitely a great guy, Old man.” Diana said, with a smile on her face. She never really asked how many drinks her mother could handle before she passes out, however. There’s probably adrenaline mixed in there since her mother does get into tons of bar fights and is constantly on the Newspaper. In the back of her mind, she remembers seeing a newspaper title with ‘Rebecca had too much to drink and beat twenty guys in a bar fight.’ This caused her a bit of worry for her mother but she had to focus on what is in front of her, which was Victoria and Luke’s defeat. However, she doesn’t really know how much Victoria can handle. She remembered that Luke beat an Imperial and drank him under the table, however, she hoped that this competition will finally get him under the table. ”I think the only people in our squad that doesn’t drink is Jean for personal reasons and Michael for religious reasons… I wonder what’s going on with Michael right now.” Diana thought to herself, in the back of her head. She hoped nothing weird was going on since she enjoyed the coupling of Lucia and Michael after all.

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The Oceanic watched the pair exchange apologies over something spat they had that she neither knew or cared about, pale blue eyes flicking between Luke and Diana as she adjusted the bandages wrapped around her wrists. She noticed the man's raised eyebrow, was Diana known for being rude or something? Or maybe he was expecting more of an apology for whatever happened. It didn't matter to Victoria, she just wanted to see the positively tiny female slap the taller male. She laughed at Luke's reaction to her nickname, jokingly making stabbing motions with her bayonet.

Victoria managed to suppress her amusement at Diana's reaction, sizing the tiny girl up as she shivered in fear and looked away. "Exactly how much combat has this girl seen?" she thought to herself. She would have expected a veteran to hide their fright better than the cute little blonde was. It was unbecoming of a soldier, they were supposed to be fearless! Although to be fair the armored car was pretty damn terrifying, Victoria could personally attest to that. It was something no one had ever seen before in battle and so far they had no reliable way of defeating it. All they could was pray.

Maybe a showing a bit of emotion was acceptable, under the circumstances.

Slasher snickered as Luke bragged about his drinking prowess, wiping away a bit of stray foam from her mouth. "I didn't say you're a lightweight but compared to me you may as well be a tiny rugrat, you wanker! What should the stakes be? It's no beaut if I can't take things from you cowards when you lose. Her ostensibly offensive words were offset by that crooked grin, her tone making it clear that it was all in good fun. She was dead serious about the bet however, she had picked up Charles' love of gambling before the useless bastard ran out on her. "Tell you what: When I beat you two idiots you're both gonna strip down past your undies 'n' run around this bar naked, clear?"

She waved a hand for them to spit out their counteroffers, it wouldn't be fun if there wasn't any risk for her! Hopefully the pair would each spit out a challenge, that way the two losers would have to embarrass themselves three times in a row. Victoria gave a grateful wave to the old bartender and a cheeky grin to the waitress, noticing how Luke stared at her like a witless idiot. She was definitely cute and was Victoria's type (really, who wasn't?) but White was really interested because Luke was. She was going to make this drunken doofus pass out in his seat and then cockblock him in a single night. "Listen, maybe after I trounce these two morons you 'n' I can go somewhere private? i'd love to yarn with such a beaut chick as yourself. the lecherous soldier asked the young waitress in her trademark accent.

As Luke drank down his first glass he she shrugged dismissively, reaching for another mug and draining it with practiced ease. "You should give up now, dipsticks! I've been drinking backwoods turpentine 'n' bogan made moonshine for years! I'm up one above Luke 'n' got two on the little ankle-biter."

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Landaus Five-One
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Diana’s Brutal Reality – The Gamble – Amone City’s Walls (Sept. 10th)




Diana was a bit distracted with a single thought in her head about what to do during a so called competition, it was racking her brain a bit. It caused her to remember, what her mother had said about gambling during a competition of any kind. ”I have a feeling there’s going to be some high stakes here… I wonder what that’ll be. Even though I have never put anything up before...” Diana thought to herself, with a slight smirk on her face. However, the one thing she would love to do was smack Luke really hard. She couldn’t help but feel like she was being sized up by Victoria for a reason or two, however, it didn’t really brother her much. It was something she had to deal with all her life mostly because of the fact her sister’s were a bit of a cunt to her.

However, she looks towards Victoria when she spoke about a ‘bet’ and she gulped at that a bit. Because that was racking her brain. It caused her to sigh and finally figured out something to say, even though it’ll be a gamble nonetheless. Her mother Rebecca said, nothing ventured is nothing gained or something to that affect. ”Oh wonderful, a bet. I got something in store for you two, especially you Sir Godfrey.” Diana said, with a slight grin. She mostly looked directly at Luke for what she wants to do with him because she’s still a bit pissed off at what he said. However, she was blushing big time at what exactly Victoria had said. She couldn’t help but blink a bit and outright couldn’t help but give a counter challenge out of the blue. It was mostly because she couldn’t help to blush at what Victoria had said. ”The losers have to kiss each other on the lips and say ‘please’ don’t smack me Miss Diana.” Diana said. She couldn’t really help if this was a good counter challenge or not since this is the first time she ever ‘bet’ anything in her life.

Diana couldn’t help to sigh a bit because she more or less, agreed to what Victoria had gave as her challenge by giving hers. It was a definitely a risky maneuver mostly because its a whole new concept to her to try. She looked blankly at Luke with a bit of a worried look on her face, since she felt like she was a bit out of her league in terms of gambling. However, it only took her to forget her worry and chugged her mug of alcohol since it was better to see if your risk would come out on top. ”I’m going to win no matter what since I so want to smack Luke on the face for that insult to my height.” Diana thought to herself, deeply in the back of her head. It was pretty much obvious in her entire body language she was still seething at what Luke had said about her height.

She was pretty much oblivious to the plans of Victoria in terms of doing these bets. It didn’t help she wasn’t really truly prepared for this thing at all but she always wanted to drink alcohol since she saw how kind her mother was compared to the usual attitude of Rebecca. She was always impressed in how alcohol affects her mother, in a sense, it feels like Vastergoth blood mixed with Alcohol make them nicer. ”That’s an interesting thing that Victoria said to the waitress. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long day.” Diana thought to herself. It was pretty much obvious she was definitely enjoying the taste of alcohol and couldn’t help but feel great, even though this is her second mug of alcohol. Additionally, her thoughts were a bit more on the drinking competition over the stuff going on outside. However, in the back of her mind she thought of some of her other squad mates. ”I wonder how, Gwyn is doing? I always wonder why he looks away from me when I try to talk to him…” Diana thought to herself. She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the reaction of Gwyn towards her mostly. However, she tried to look around the bar to see if she could see Gwyn, however, she puts her eyes back on what’s in front of her. All she wanted to do was more or less wave to him but he’s probably busy with things.

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The Siege of Amone, - Healing from new wounds, looking over old ones


"There's a place I know,
Down the River Éntro,
Where the fair missus waits for me.
With her hair in amber clad,
Her eyes show her glad
As I am ready to come home from war."

With his had fixated on the photo tightly clutched between his fingers, he smiled to himself as his Oceanic accent slowly splintered out beneath a coarse and roughened voice. The harmonics weren't necessarily as Ines' had earlier, but the more traditional and folk-style of his solitary performance to himself made him rather happy. It helped pass the indefinite time. Unlike Freya, Thomas was a bit more patient and was used to being left in unsanitary conditions. With a bed beneath his back, it was rather nice knowing that he could just relax. The previous time he'd been shot was back at the Southern Frontier, where he spent nearly two days in a dugout, waiting for the more experienced medical practitioners to figure something out about his health. It wasn't nearly as serious back then, and was more of a blunt shot just above the hip, but the pain was more-or-less the same as it was now. He remembered the nights were he thought he was going to die, knowing that perhaps one of the many Imperial nightly trench raiding parties would come across his dugout on their way across No-Man's land and would silence him once and for all. It wasn't like that though. Eventually, he made the decision to physically crawl back to the trench line by his own accord, favouring the prone position to minimise his silhouette. A charge that had gone wrong became a wonderful story of breaking the tradition of being left out to bleed and die. Freya was so happy that day, having thought she lost her wise tutor as the two Oceanics had with many of their other friends. The numbers of the original group who'd signed up with them were mostly gonners, sitting either in a makeshift grave behind the frontline trenches, lost and never found after an assault or yet to be located amidst the seas travelling to Europa.

God, what a journey this had all been. Thomas was more than happy that he lived a life full of what many considered horror, but what he found as an educational adventure. Sure, there were many treacherous things that even made him question his own confidence, but the brunt of it all was that Thomas had grown as an individual. Where his family couldn't cope nor sustain a full appreciation for the hard work he'd put in, the frontlines was seemingly where he belonged. Natural charisma, natural leadership. All of these characteristics that had been passed on through generations of the Carter family name were finally applicable where they were meant to be. Thomas was the first and definitely not the last in this batch of soldiers, ready to do what they thought was right. For Thomas, he didn't know the Empire as the brutal enemy that the Federation seemed to perceive them as. He respected them quite a bit for their tactics and superiority in technological advancements, but having them as an enemy was something he simply had to expect. No questions could be asked from him anymore because no one would listen. So, he got on with his job. And he was bloody good at his job. All the payments went home to his family, those who were not yet wanting to join him in the fight. Thomas was truly here on the frontlines so they didn't have to. It was part of his code of brotherhood and familial respect.

A knock came at the door, stopping him from singing. Still slumped in his bed, barely dressed except from some scruffy nightwear below the torso, he grumbled a few words before announcing their permission to enter. Slowly the door came to, and to his relief it was only Freya stood in the doorway, dressed down far more casually than she usually did, which was saying a lot in all fairness. The two stared at one another for a brief moment before Freya sluggishly came inside, closing the door behind her with a slightly off-note chuckle. Her voice seemed to be less like her chirpy persona indicated and more like the day it all happened, back in 1913EC. Eventually she walked to the side of his bed and slumped onto it, avoiding Thomas' legs in case he'd miraculously been shot there a second time.


"How's it going, Frey'? You don't seem like you are up to your usual self." At first, she didn't answer, and so Thomas gave a heavy sigh, attempting to sit himself up. Without a shirt on, his rather weathered body was seem peppered with recent patches of field dressing and first aid assistance kindly given by the trained inn staff, all who were rather well versed in the art of treating all sorts of wartime wounds. It was quite clear that by his build, Thomas had done a fine job in keeping his physique up to the same level, if not better, than he'd boast of when they first met in the training camps back home. He waited until Freya finally turned her gaze towards his before he cracked a smile, one that instinctively made Freya smile out of her own pure inability to remain unhappy. The two randomly chuckled to one another after the strange silence before he asked a different question, nodding sympathetically. "Come on Frey'...I know you're still thinking about...well...her."

This time, Freya couldn't maintain her silence any longer, and instead let out another grand sigh. Letting her hair spread out across the sheets of the duvet was rather relaxing and made her feel somewhat free, but there was truly never any freedom for the two subjects to someone else's war. They couldn't complain though, they did volunteer, though under many false promises. With her top button finally unbuckled, allowing her inner skin to breathe more fluently, she eventually began to nod and speak, having a melancholic smile to her face as she did so.

"Thomas, if you could stop reading my mind for one minute, that'd be nice, cunt." Another short pause briefly filled in with a few patches of laughter ensued, however this time Freya didn't let it hold and instead continued to answer the question he had put forward gently. "Yeah, I'm still thinking of Naomi. There were a few girls downstairs who reminded me of her in every way. That...beautifully carefree nature, filled with unending smiles, the banter-filled flirting and occasional desire to just put everything that was serious to one side. Some even look like her, but I imagine that's my mind playing on me, Thom. I still miss her, every day and every night. Naomi, I'd say in my sleep. Pretty sure Jean heard me spill the name out once or twice in a rather lucid dream of us reuniting."

"You two reuniting in a dream? Knowing you that's probably filled with a rather lewd endeavour, am I wrong, lass?" Again the two chuckled, Freya even trying her hardest not to blush at the fact she'd been proven guilty by their empirical experiences of one another. Freya was the kind to sort of think in those certain lustrous ways, especially after all that she and Naomi had been through together. It was most likely what drove her flings, single or double chances at exciting or giving other soldiers around her a chance to relief the stress they had built inside with her expert intimacy. Thomas had questioned it in the past, but she simply shrugged and told him even female soldiers need relief from duty, casually winking at him when saying it. "I...I think it's good y'still think about her, Frey'. She was the best thing to ever happen to us, even as a friend to me, and we can't change the fact she's now gone. I know part of you still blames yourself for putting her on that boat, but just remember that promise we made together."

"What, the plaque?" Thomas sat up, getting close enough to flick her hair with his injured arm just to piss her off. It worked enough for her to swipe it away, but she still couldn't help but smile before getting back to the topic at hand. "Y'know, as much as I appreciate it, everyone back home calls you the Pride of Oceania, not Naomi."

"Pride of Oceania, my arse. I'm just a guy who runs, get shot a few times, brings important messages and orchestrates a few good tactics that kinda saves a few or more lives. Nothing too special, ey?" Again, both of them laughed together, knowing full well that Thomas was indeed the more prospective soldier of the entire Oceanic Expeditionary Forces. For a moment, they fell silent a final time, looking into one another's eyes with a sort of paternal and sibling-esc gaze. Well, Freya's could've been seen as something more, but nothing ever came of the two's extremely close compassionate camaraderie for one another. After all, Freya did still love Naomi. Who could argue with that? "Now, do me a favour, you cheeky cunt, and get me the local nurse will y'ah? I think my bandages need replacing again, and my leg feels fucking shit. Won't be able to do much running for another week or two, or a month, but I'll get by in combat."
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Jacky
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Jacky

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Luke Godfrey


Luke mumbled under his breath as Diana caught him staring at the waitress and began to make fun of him for it. With a small sigh he cleared his throat and reached for his next mug, bitterly embarrassed in being caught. As he wiped any remaining beer from his lap he scoffed in amusement as Diana suggested he was a bit to drunk and shook his head. “My little, little Diana, so naïve. You can never be to drunk, only not drunk enough!” he declared with a wide grin, slightly hoping calling her little would get her gears going. He was still a bit amused as she threatened him for calling her small, finding it hard in his drunken state to take her seriously. He even held back a snicker as she stated she’d beat him in this contest. Luke’s eyes shifted between the two, his confidence in beating them solid and unwavering. A cocky smirk rested on his face even when Victoria proposed a bet to liven things up a bit. He chuckled in amusement as she declared the losers fates and nodded in agreement to the terms.

Once he began to think on their own forms of punishment if he won he noticed the waitress walk by their table and arched a brow as Victoria caught her attention, catching the look on her face as she suggested spending a bit of private time together after she beat them. Luke flashed the waitress a quick look, smiling a bit as she seemed a bit taken back by the sudden offer and shook his head with a chuckle. The waitress took a second before letting a small smile roll onto her face and chuckled, both finding Victoria’s sudden approach and Luke getting a laugh out of it funny. "Sounds tempting, but I have a lot of work to do tonight so I’ll have to pass on that,” she said in an amused tone before giving a quick nod. “Thanks for the offer though,” she finished before departing the table with a quick wave.

As she walked off Luke rolled his eyes as Victoria bragged on about her advantage in this match, suggesting they should give up now. His cocky smirk only grew as he heard Diana throw out her own challenge in the competition. Snickering a bit while shaking his head as he was called a ‘sir’ by Diana. Luke chugged down his drink and rolled his shoulders before glancing between the two. “Alright, how bout this? Losers have to be the winners slaves for the rest of the night! Complete obedience. You even have to address the winners as 'Master' the whole time,” he declared before leaning back in his seat with a new mug in hand, gulping down a few good mouthfuls before letting his usual grin spread onto his face. “You ladies better not underestimate me, Lady Luck has always been kind to me!” he said with a hearty laugh. It was true luck usually shined in his favor when it came to gambling, but there were always the off chances he’d slip up and lose.

A flash of his old memories drifted through his head as he recalled the many times him and his friends would get into trouble. He remembered the many times when him and Jack would gamble away any spare cash they had and how Sarah would have to help clean up their mistakes. A small smile came to his face as his thoughts lingered upon the two and as he reached for another mug he began to think of Jack and where he was deployed at. Could he possibly be in Amone with him? Has he seen any action yet? How was he getting on? Was he still even alive? The last question sent a small chill up his spine, growing a tad worried in his friends current wellbeing. He shook off the topic, trusting in his friends ability to take care of himself. Besides, they both made a promise to survive and not once have they gone back on their words.

Luke let his smile widen a bit before raising his mug to the two again, the alcohol definitely doing its work and making it look bad for the young soldier. “So with the terms and conditions official, let us begin with your defeats!” he declared before knocking back his next round, his body wobbling just a bit as he swallowed the beverage. Once finished he slammed the mug onto the table and felt his eyes suddenly grow heavy. With a small grown he rubbed his eyes and clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I should have gone to sleep last night, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes closed. Now it’s coming back to bite me in the ass,” he muttered as the exhaustion in his eyes began to show itself a lot clearer to those around him. He refused to admit it aloud, but a small part of him felt slightly annoyed at his paranoia that kept him awake all night. “I definitely can’t wait to give those beds a try, it’ll be like pure heaven,” he chuckled in a bit of excitement towards the end of the night. For now though, he had two ladies to out drink.

@Landaus Five-One@Smike
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by FalloutJack
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FalloutJack The Long Dark Nuka-Break of the Soul

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Isaac was good, Isaac was fine, Isaac was aaalright...

Some of you might be saying 'Yeah, we'd expect Isaac to go drinking because he seems the type, but WHY did he, though? And why did Britta?', and these might be fair questions to ask, but the answers are very simple. The first is that the two of them are farmers, and even with a drinking law in place, farmers tend to figure 'Ah, one or two isn't bad', and they're usually right. Occasionally, they're not, and Isaac's father mostly did that to him at an early age as a sort of joke than anything else. Even still, the two of them would not be unfamiliar with alcohol, just not given reason to indulge on a regular basis. That said, the second reason is that the White Heart just isn't picky about selling to teenagers. If Lucia can get a drink, anyone can get a drink. Finally, there was the most obvious reason: The war. It was hell, it was fury, and it was terrifying. Britta had nightmares and the sheer death toll Isaac was inflicting was starting to bother him. Neither of them were as bad as Jean was, and a familiar face in the act of unwinding is always welcome. So, Isaac would take a beer, loosen up, and start talking up a storm. Britta took the post of the observing social-drinker. And then, there was the scotch. That was just out of an appreciation for different tastes. It wasn't the sole-contributor to the things that happened later. It was just a polite nudge.

Their talk had been an opening to one another, settling what hadn't been in the field, addressing what didn't want to be said out loud. It was liberating, it was hopeful, and it was something to be thankful for. His promise reverberated in her mind as they'd kissed and even hung in there as they followed through. Britta hadn't made plans in that direction, Isaac hadn't done anything more than endearing conversation prior to that moment. It just seemed that they had bonded well, that they had things in common, and that Britta knew that Isaac's word was iron-clad. Neither one of them would have anything against it, and with that promise in their hearts and a polite nudge from the Scotch, they decided to say yes. It was a strange thing, being drunk in the arms of someone you love. Whether it just happened or that it had been mounting beforehand, the effect is the same. The world is all wobbly and you feel like you're holdiing onto one another for some kind of stability, even as you go at it. We're not gonna go into details, but let's just say that it wasn't just a drunken euphoria that followed.

Time passed, and...Isaac honestly wasn't sure when or how they got under the sheets. He wasn't even sure if he was properly awake, or if Britta was, either. He also wasn't sure if he ever looked at her the way he was now, with so much affection, or if he'd been just too caught up in Jean stealing up the attention of all the girls, somehow. What Britta Hagen was...was caring, reliable, and quickly becoming one of his main confidents, since they were working together. Her willingness to bring to head the thing that worried her most not only took courage, but indicated real trust in him to say thus and ask for his help. She didn't want to worry the squad. She wanted him to do it, to help her without risking them all, because while she wanted rescue...she also had no desire to endanger everyone else's lives. Britta needed someone who would be willing to go, and no more, and that was him. And with him promising to run into the field of fire for her, it just seemed natural for them to push the relationship they had further. He moved his hand to push a few errant silver hairs on her face aside and she unexpectedly grabbed his hand.

"Agh!"

"You're up, I see."

Britta's eyes opened as a warm smile filled her expression.

"So were you, it seems. How long?"

"Not sure. It was hard to tell for a while that I was, so I just lay here, listening to the sounds of a good time, outside. At least, I hope it's a good time."

"Want me to find out?"

"Reconnaissance? All alone? Isaac, you shouldn't."

They weren't exactly as inebriated as before, but the two of them started to laugh, anyway.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"I suggest a two-pronged maneuver where you scout the perimeter and I get us something to eat. They'll never stop us, there."

"You did well in basic training, didn't you?"

"Well enough. Go on. I'll be right behind you."

Since getting upright was less of a problem now, finding and getting back on his clothes wasn't much of a difficulty either, thankfully. Isaac casually eyed the unfinished bottle of Scotch and decided to give it a miss. Food was more important now, also satisfying his curiosity. He heard Britta getting up as well, then stopped as she just said "Isaac.", and turned around.

"I don't know if this was love or just a good time, but...I won't regret it."

"Neither will I."

With that, he left the room and...what the hell was going on out here? Isaac arrived in the White Heart bar proper in time to hear the stakes for a no-holds-barred-with-lots-of-consequences drinking contest! Now, it's a fair statement that our Lance-Corporal has never really been to a bar. He was just sort of a decent guy who'd managed to mesh well with the territory. Thus, he was also not really ever a host to the events, such as a drinking contest...and certainly not one that was seemingly organized by Diana, which Luke was whole-heartedly diving into. Let's see... He noticed that the two Oceanics - Freya and Marathon - talking with each other. That made sense. There was a new girl in the bar that he hadn't seen before, but then a neutral place such as this could bring in just about anybody. Looked at least Federation, though, so there was that. The main focus was on the drinking contest, so Isaac moved in to see if Luke was gonna get smashed-drunk or smashed-defeated. Either way, it was worth a watch. Good god, if any Darcsens were playing... Well, the result of Diana winning would certainly be interesting. Speaking of Darcsens, where was Jean? He should either be a part of this or unwinding, somehow.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Landaus Five-One
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Landaus Five-One The Sadist Insaneous One

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Diana’s Brutal Reality – Gauntlet – Amone City’s Walls (Sept. 10th)




Diana couldn’t help but laugh at Luke’s embarrassment since it was definitely hilarious to her. It took a few minutes for her to be highly annoyed, however. She was entirely frustrated at what he said twice in a row, which was little. It pissed her off extremely and made her entire body shake with utter hate towards Luke for right now. ”Freaking asshole. You will pay big time Luke. There’s going to be hell to pay double for this insult.” Diana said, seething in rage. However, because of her hands shaking pretty badly about being called little definitely caused her to spill what was left of her drink all over the table. She looked a bit embarrassed at spilling her alcoholic beverage on the table and glared directly at Luke with a definite if looks could kill type of stare. It was pretty much obvious she was alike her mother Rebecca, just only when it came to her small stature. However, her mother was around 7 to 8 inches taller than her. She calmed down with a long drawn out sigh at what she had done. ”Damn it… I spilled my alcohol, thanks Luke. I suppose?” Diana questioned only to laugh a bit because it makes her a bit easier to ’win’ said competition.

It was pretty much obvious, she was trying her damnest to win this competition, which helped Luke is pushing her buttons a bit too much. She heard the Waitress decline Victoria’s offer, but being busy is better than nothing. She noticed she had a third drink in front of her, which definitely helped her mood a bit better since Luke unjustly spilled her drink. It definitely was nice sitting down and doing something else besides worrying about the outside world specifically about her family right now. She started to drink her third mug of beer, since Luke ruined her second, which is all over the table right now. In terms of everything, she was happy even though her smile was a bit devious in what she wanted to do to Luke right now, smack the living shit out of him for calling her little twice and small earlier. ”I wonder what your face would look like after I get done with it.” Diana said, with a giggle.

Diana heard Luke’s challenge and it made her eyes go wide and realize a bit too late what’s going to happen. Luke was right on one thing, she was definitely naive and was a bit irked at his challenge. ”Uhhh… I’ve completely underestimated this drinking competition a bit… but alright I suppose. Nothing Ventured is nothing gained is what my mother Rebecca told me.” Diana said, with a blushed look on her face. She was completely embarrassed since whoever loses out of the three will have to do all three challenges. It took her only now to realize that, however, it seems like Victoria and Luke knew from the onset. She couldn’t help but laugh at what Luke had said about him having Lady Luck on his side. ”More like the Luck is really Lukey, more like it. Since it wouldn’t surprise me if you lose after being at a disadvantage of already being drunk.” Diana said. She looked over to Victoria and back to Luke, who’s been bothering her.

It was pretty much obvious she noticed Luke’s wobbliness and wondered if he hadn’t got much sleep before doing this round of drinking. ”Terms and conditions of you losing that is..” Diana said, happily. She continued to hammer down her third mug of alcohol since she needed to stop thinking about her elder sisters primarily. They piss her off much more than Luke has so far even though triggering her two times is a pain in the ass. It took Luke to more or less give her assumption, he didn’t get any sleep last night. ”You should have Luke, you are a dumbass you know that?” Diana asked, with a bit of a tone to her voice. However, she did cry throughout her entire sleep though mostly by remembering her older sisters and other things. She laughed when she heard him outright say he’s going to win than pass out on a bed like it would be heaven. ”Don’t count your eggs before they hatched...” Diana remarked towards what he said.

She looked around the room and noticed Isaac Black, and waved at him. In the sense, he looked a bit different from the last time she saw him as if something happened, which was good. ”Hey NCO, how are you doing?” Diana questioned towards Isaac. She kinda did wonder what he was doing down here besides probably getting something to eat. It was pretty much obvious the booze wasn’t affecting her that much, but it would sooner rather than later. She wore a smile on her face while staring at her competition at the table. ”Isaac, who do you think will win? Oh yeah, this is Victoria White our new compatriot in the Squad.” Diana asked, a second question. She always like hearing praise over the short comments about her height. She finished her third mug of beer, and started on her fourth since she was hammering them down a bit faster than she had been. It was pretty much obvious she wanted to feel what her mother feels all the time minus the adrenaline rush her mother gets.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Bushman501
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Bushman501 The Saber of Hungry

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September 10, 1914




It was a very foggy encounter for Reyna when she met Jean that night. The only thought that she had when she looked at Jean was that he was doing more or less ok. When he asked the question if she couldn't sleep? The answer was a shake of her head. Was she ok? A nod. She even barely registered the fingers wrapped around her left hand, but concluded their purpose was to guide her to a place to sit. That was, of course, the chair. She was tired of the floor that night and a chair was a lot more comfortable than a floor. At the very least, she woke up a little more than she was earlier.

Then a question was asked. Why did she join the Edinburgh military? Reyna thought for a moment as she registered Jean finally letting go of her hand. She noted about the fact that Jean's parents were killed in some incident in Liege City. A refuge? She still had one at home where the mansion was. Her parents were alive and well, as well as her nation. It was not under direct threat as far as she knew, but it was still under threat. Finally, Reyna gave Jean her answer. "My reason to fight? It's a very simple one: I wanted to choose my own path and to make sure the Imperials don't ever threaten my homeland. If they ever got through Europa, Vinland would be next." She paused before speaking further, listening to the news. That was....bad and good at the same time. On the one hand, many innocent people died even if they were military assets. On the other hand.... it could bring a swift end to the war that was already upon them. Either way, Vinland was likely to join after an event like that and that would mean its military forces would be here."It's...not necessarily the best news but at least home is likely to get involved. It'd be stupid not to at that point. But, Jean, your reasons to keep going should be the squad. We all want to help each other get through this. It may feel like it, but...you don't have to bear burdens alone."

That was rather silly, coming from an introvert like herself, but it was true. People in war, she knew, fought for those beside them. It was all in the stories and she believed them. Everyone counted on her just like they counted on Jean. A team effort, war is. Now that she thought about it, that sounded silly even in her head. Just when she thought of that, however, Jean seemed to be...about to lean towards her direction? Quickly, she adjusted the chair so that his head would land on her thigh, which would be much more comfortable than the chair itself or or side. Apparently, Jean was more tired than she thought: he was fast asleep. Hehe, had this happen before. Who was it...oh yeah both Scott and Eleanor did this too! Oh how many times did those goofs do that to me? I can't quite count now. Reyna couldn't help but have a quiet giggle as she looked at Jean's head. It was her opinion that everyone looked adorable when they were like this, and Jean was no exception. Whether it was because it was comfortable or for some other unknown reason, Reyna didn't dare wake him up. Instead, she took the rest of the night watch over for Jean, unable to move her leg. As well as keeping watch, she wrote in her journal a little about the events that transpired, of her current feelings.



There was only one word that stuck out when they reached the White Hart Inn. Baths. Reyna was just as surprised as the rest of them when the Imperials didn't shoot and this was apparently neutral territory? However, that word was the only thing she could think of as she called for the baths first. She didn't care where she had to walk through to get to this point, she was there. Soaking in a nice bath and finally getting rid of that dirt and grime she so hated. The small injuries she had hurt a little, but she didn't care. There was only a few things missing: maids and butlers to bring her anything she wanted and the bath tub being luxuriously large. But, compared to everything else that happened this was the ultimate luxury she could have. Something so small but much appreciated made her feel really good and almost forget about the events yesterday. She didn't care if someone walked in on her, only that they contributed to her pleasurable bath experience if they did for seeing her in a vulnerable state like this.

However, this unfortunately had to come to an end. Others needed to use the baths too and it would be rude of her to not let them enjoy this pleasure just like herself. She already laid out her spare uniform and clothing earlier, just now getting out of the bath and putting them on herself after looking in the mirror and smiling to herself. She took her time, of course, as there was no rush. She made sure everything was proper before exiting the bath, moving into the main area of the inn. It looked like everyone was having a good time, though a few of the members were off doing other things. However, Reyna had a specific goal in mind now.

Getting permission to use the kitchen, she set about this goal and borrowed a pitcher, followed by the making of what would be the product of Vinland-made tea. Better still, there was an availability of sugar here in this inn. After purchasing some of the sugar for use formerly,having plenty of money, she put in three cups of sugar in the pitcher that was now filled with warm tea and stirred it. It was this making of sweet tea that her mother, Melissa, taught her claiming "Every Vinlander woman should know how to make sweet tea, even if you are wealthy!" Reyna wholeheartedly agreed with this. But...these people were not Vinlanders. They didn't know what was so great about sweet tea made by a Vinlander did they? She had to fix this. She made a second pitcher of sweet tea and went out, offering tea to everyone in the squad that was still downstairs first.

Following this, however, Reyna went upstairs, eventually heading near where she found Isaac and Britta were thanks to the owner. That was when Reyna heard it. Sounds that were....something. She didn't even knock on the door yet she barely heard them. It was also vaguely similar to the sounds she heard right before she had the birds and bees talk with a couple of embarrassed maids and a butler, one of the maids even being her personal maid who did most of the talking. While she was not completely familiar with the sounds, she knew enough that it'd be best to not open the door. Instead, she walked away and decided they could have tea later. Though, she felt a little flushed after such sounds and her thoughts were slightly in the gutter.

After that...news of a pleasurable experience going on Reyna went to the final target for the enjoyment of tea: Jean. She didn't know what was going on, but she still wore the pendant Jean gave her since it seemed to both comfort him and was significant to him. This time, she listened before she opened the door, and after deducting nothing was going on in there she knocked on the door, with a tray with a pitcher and a few cups in her hands.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Yam I Am
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Yam I Am Indefinitely Retired

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Ines Levesque




"Excuse me, what?"

When baths were mentioned, usually they were under the pretext that these baths were intended for one person at a time only, with variable degrees of privacy available, depending on how much you valued the ability to cleanse yourself without pry. Franz came by, and with naught but a simple phrase, shattered that contemplation with the most brazen proposal short of asking her to bed him.

Mind you, it was not that Ines was opposed to the idea of bathing around others; That was a luxury not afforded to tenement occupants. In an Ostend tenement apartment, if one were wealthy enough to procure their own private bathtub - which Ines would have been had her mother's habits not burdened them so greatly - it was typically in the kitchen, the bedroom, or in most cases, simply, "The room"; The common factor between the trio being they were unconventional, out-of-place locales in most households. Even the concept of a private bathroom estranged itself from tenement living. Any business was taken care of in the outhouse array in the rear alleyway, just next to the street outlet beyond. Public restrooms also meant public bathing. Now, the unspoken rule that you should always cease sight to the opposite sex always applied, even in such squalid conditions. Clotheslines with whites and sheets could form impromptu shades and dividers, but it was far more typical to simply become very familiar with the human body's many shapes and forms.

Ines' face dropped with the query, exasperated. Clearly taken aback by Franz, the Darcsen closed her eyes, nuzzled her nose down, and placed a few extended fingers upon her forehead. Exhaustion got the best of even so seasoned a veteran as her, and that this came out of what she thought was, in fact, not from nowhere, but instead a feint to inspire a specific emotion. If said emotion Franz wished to inspire within her intended to be that of expectation-shattering confoundment, Franz succeeded in a tale for the century. Her eyes reopened, gazing upon the five-finger splay in front of her; beyond that, a floor where she traced the wood lines along, hoping they'd give her some sort of comfort in how they curtailed about like rising steam patters. Right, the little patterns. The little things. Things to calm yourself. "Calm down, Ines. Just-"

"Hey Ines, what’cha doing?"

"Deciding if I should slap Franz."

The slapping would have to wait, if it ever came. The thought was enticing at the moment, sure, yet all in all, what Ines wanted was a bath and time to think things over. But, she promised she'd talk to Franz, and she tired herself thinking it over, and one by one, the reasons not to eclipsed any notion of ill-conceived privacy eroded under the simple desire to get herself clean. She shook her head, raising her eyes, and responded simply.

"You know, just...okay. Just...don't stare at me." Ines declared, the unsteady pulsation in which she carried her words carrying with them a weary resignation. "I'll talk to you in a bit, Diana."

Almost a shame. Franz was far from bad-looking, but she was more hopeful to share a bath with Freya.


Franz Blau

Franz didn't take much of her reactions at the time. His demeanor had been of a stone wall and even the acceptance of his offering did little to actually change his facial expressions. For all intents and purposes it appeared on the surface that he had no particular interest but there was a slight change in his expression as if to confirm her words.

Truth was that Franz couldn't properly think at this time and while that was to be expected from someone who was currently struggling with his own thoughts and potential insanity one could also argue that he wouldn't be so far from being grounded in social norms. But whatever the argument was, it did not match to what his mind processed. The very concept wasn't very far gone from his own mind as well as Franz had not been one to sexualize too often or, at least, has gotten so used to similar situations that he was unwilling to be subject to tripping all over himself in this moment.

He gave her a nod and opened the door to the bathing room, pulling off his backpack and placing it to the side against the wall.

"It's nice to be in the company of another Darcsen. Few and far between it seems at times." He was almost monotone in ways, seeming to hold that endless stare as though watching the world overhead as he shamelessly stripped off his clothes and folded them neatly piece by piece. He had stopped for the moment to wash his hands and arms off after he had taken off all of his upper body wear. He seemed methodical at least, not a single step done without purpose and certainty in a more calculative mood as he adjusted the water with a couple of turns of the valves.

"Feel free."


What on earth was she doing? Well, that was a redundant question, of course. Ines knew precisely what she was getting into; That would be a bath in the company of one of Squad 1's finest. Perhaps, then the better question was how. Yet, she knew the answer to that as well; He had asked her, and she had agreed. When put into greater context, however, the sheer...circumstance of her appearance and choice seemed less than elucidating to her strange dance of fate, instead only complicating it beyond fathomable circumstance. Just an hour ago, they awoke between pillars of rubble, clinging to their lives with no certainty they would see tomorrow, and just as soon, almost at the drop of a hat, they found food, shelter, tranquility, like the oasis in the desert.

And at the end of it, Franz opened the door. And at the end of that...Ines was excited. Perhaps that was not the most appropriate word? It wasn't a particularly new experience, and yet, it was. She had seen other men and even bathed in their presence, before, yet that was of necessity, not of choice; Where Ines found herself now, there was that choice of bathing alone in blissful solitude, and yet, the - and her head still spun from the oxymoronic conglomeration in which she could describe Franz - Imperial Darcsen, had offered himself in company of the much-desired bath. Truth be told, it was a difficult proposition to believe, and yet, there underlay concern for the man. In his monotone, blank, faceless demeanor that carried so much expression as a rock in the fields.

His comment on the company of another Darcsen had registered, although such a riposte needed time for Ines to comprehend, for her mind still riddled itself with the wonders of her now-companion's thoughts. He opened the door for her, in true chauvanist style, and Ines thanked him for his gratitude. She could find the room herself, assured, and yet, Ines could not help but blush in the sight of him. No doubt, Franz's intentions were difficult to discern, even at the best of times. She appreciated his virtue, yet...

He began to throw his clothes off in the room in audacious fashion, without couth for decorum in the face of clearly better opportunities. Yet, Ines thought of it not - not in the face of moral virtue, no, for whatever prudish dictation may lay in the face of this clearly had not experienced the realities of life, of love, of emotion - no, Ines found it strange, that is all. Strange that he so simply would disrobe himself before what may as well have been a complete stranger, for that is what Ines was. Ines knew not his station or his history, nor demeanor nor ambition. Yet, war brought out the truest forms of us, as did all hardship, and in that calamity Ines knew Franz to be a quick thinker, unwavering in the face of adversity.

And that, perhaps, was why he so simply stripped down, thinking of it as one might the day's sunlight.

She did the same, in a way, yet past the discarding of Franz's shirt, Ines turned her back, yet whether that came from courtesy or shyness, she herself could not say. It was reflex, at best, and while that intuitive sense acted upon her, so did that rational actor when it came to terms that she was still here to bathe, and thus it came to that Ines would begin to strip in much a similar fashion to Franz. The Darcsen faced toward the wall, removing her outmost bandolier first, then her jacket, pants, and smallclothes until she stood with nothing separating the pair but eye contact.

"So, Franz...what did you do before the war?" A socialite of the Francian aristocracy Ines was certainly not. The silence grew thick, and Ines saw it fit to thin the brush, no matter the cost. Admittedly, she was curious about him, and as she reasoned, the pair should at least learn about one another if they were to partake in so intimate an experience.


Franz continued to move, his motions still being sorted by the architect within. The artist of motion spun another gear. A thought proded his mind. What more was there? What could they need more? Logically speaking, the squad would have been worn and looking to relieve their burdened shoulders than a healthy dose of artifical happiness?

It was at the time that she asked that question of his past that he swooped down as the graceful beast of the lake dipping for water upon its beak. What was more was the consideration of the soldier. The question didn't seem to be so simple. It begged attention that he wasn't currently giving it proper. In the face of a soul asking to step into his shadow he began with a slow rise. He thought of it long and well as he adopted the posture of ancient statues. Stripped down to the whole of a man he examined the bottle and considered it well.

The bottle was aged. Its person held within to be enjoyed by those who found themselves upon it. Yet for as old as it was, was it mere coincidence to have found a substance so strong and mature? Was it reflective of the man held within? Building up in strength and looking to burst upon being undone from its prison to leave its shell a empty husk incapable of hosting another such as the one before. What all did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? These were but the thoughts of the man caught in the spotlight.

He turned his head to the side to better view the bottle in the light as he brought the bottle down to be held at waist level. A quiet breath. Then, life came from the lips of his person.

"A man of my being? Uninteresting as it may be, I served as a body guard to a friend. My service was proud... even if some things never healed. I found catharsis in stencils and canvases of which I often took part in using while within the borders of an 'enlightened' city with nothing to prove but its own hubris. Yet still, there were generous patrons who commissioned my work when I could afford to upkeep my suit properly and secure a vehicle for travel."

He put the bottle down gently upon a counter.

"It really didn't matter what it was. The ground which we walked, the rule of man, the flight of the butterfly, and the waves of the sea. There were individual commissions of great value to single households and even took part in creating memories for groups of higher standing. It was a baffling experience to be invited to privately paint for the wealthy, not because I was special, but because I was a Darcsen who impressed them. And as we know, because we do not matter in the eyes of society, I was given my time to work, but only within clearly stated rules. I joined the military to pursue honest pay for my friends who I considered family."

He then leaned over to feel the water, judging it quietly before standing straight and considering his actions. Continue with conversation. That was the sound choice. "What about you, Ines? What of your past?"


Ines couldn't help but smirk as Franz explained himself. He spoke almost as though he were in soliloquy, and yet, in such a thought-out eloquence as if he was required to impress her. Truth be told, Ines knew only roughly of what he was saying. What Franz spoke of echoed the words more a distant philosopher high in the hills rather than a normal person. Alas, Franz was a queer sort, but there wasn't anything wrong with being a bit strange, was there?

At the end of it, Ines pondered why he refrained from much simpler a syntax than the sermon Franz chose to gave, in spite of the satisfactory nature in his little proclamation. Mind you, things still resounded to Ines; That notion that the Darcsen, in Franz's words, "did not matter" rung true, if perturbing. It was an experience she knew well, but, strangely, in a way also knew did not matter. If what Ines had known through her many years on this earth had resounded with any veracity, it was that people were born, then they were proven. For what Ines had of her meager birthright, she had made the best of what she had, as paltry as that may be, and for whatever pittance that may be, Ines found a certain pride in overcoming the odds.

Her head raised slightly, more in a natural pose, thinking her words over as her own query rebounded to her. Candid she would be, yet, Ines harbored anxieties towards the release of her past. Ladylike was not an adjective often suited towards Ines, and even the idea of your typical Francwoman needn't apply to Ines, even in many of the most basic cases.

"Before the war...I was a streetfighter. A professional, too; I fought in scenes, in front of a crowd, and that's how I made our money. Since I was 13, that's what I did. That's what I had to do; either that or be a gangster or some other menial job. My mom has a job, but..."

Her voice audibly hushed, and even while her back is turned, Franz could sense her cusped frown form from the the acrimonious thought. The disappointment was almost palpable, like it hung with the mist from the filling bath.

"My mom is a mess." She started, chagrin watering her voice, "She crawls home in the mornings after spending all of her money gambling or drinking or trying to impress someone. If we lived off of her income, we couldn't eat. We couldn't pay the rent. We couldn't do anything except squat in an old factory."

"I have a brother, but he's not any better. My mother sent him to Vinland when he was a little boy, and now he's a big and mighty ledger manager in New Belfast. He doesn't talk to us anymore. Won't even return our letters or send money home aside to boast and brag."

A sigh escapes, Ines taking a deep breath from the reflection. Her family was a mess, as was so painfully clear, and even the mention of it drove her to discomfort mentioning them, the embarrassments they were. Perking up, she turned her head slightly, noting the slight splash of Franz's movement in the bath. Peeking over, the edge of her eye looked back to Franz, barely noting his back turned to him, as it should be. She slowly headed to the bath, covering her important bits with her hands as she approached the bath. Ines didn't look down at Franz - though the thought crossed her mind, no doubt, from that natural curiosity that pervaded everyone in the presence of others so exposed - and instead quickly moved around to her end of the bath. Faced forward the entire time, she quickly lifted one leg over the tub, then the other, taking residence in that half of the water so clearly designated as hers.

In the bath, Ines deeply sighed in relief, the rushing warm water coming over her body as it came over, like she could feel every bead of the foamy bath unwind every tight and clenched muscle in her, from her sore, ripping calves, up her thighs and unto her clenching, aching back, still rather red from the wear of a combat load. Hand cupped, she threw water over the rest of her body, taking time to start cleaning herself off.

Ines chuckled. If she was already here, she figured, she may as well tell Franz a little something to pass the time.

"You know...when I was a little girl, do you know what I wanted to be when I was a grown woman?"


She was a fighter. It seemed that she was not just a fighter as in the metaphorical sense that so often resonated with so many others but an actual streetfighter as well. To be a professional for-gold-and-glory fighter was something that seemed like it would have paid well, but even that didn't seem to be enough. Probably something of screwing her over for her hair no doubt, but he had no idea what she needed to sustain. Medical care would have likely have been much harder to get without money and it was something he remembered Markus becoming angry about on several occasions and eventually got to the point where he hired on a doctor who had lost his medical license for medical expenses in a not so fortunate and arguably abandoned makeshift hospital. If they couldn't fix the wounds there then it was off to a major hospital which meant actually shelling out cash that the gang couldn't honestly pay as they happened to live in such a place where Darcsen had to slide over more money. Typical.

The answer to his inquiry came immediately after, listening to her begin to crumble as she explained what a regretful mother she had. Franz couldn't relate. His mother was taken from him and he felt as though his birth was a tragedy more than anything. Not that he wallowed in self pity all day over his mother being a rape victim and being a child of such matters, but he did know that his father did not even attempt to make the situation better. As it was the only reason he allowed Franz to have the freedom to study books in his time was because then his father, seemingly smart enough to think so, could use him for financial gain. However, Franz refused this and were it not for that he wouldn't have been here to listen to Ines drip with welled up emotion.

Then there was the brother. Not much to note about him other than wanting to grab him by the neck and strangle him to death with a piano wire. He was a nobody living life with money but no substance. Bastard.

So there she went. He heard her move and felt the tension melting somewhat as she took her spot. He stayed in place for a moment, wondering how he could help. Yes, although he felt quite detached from his world and perhaps a bit empty... he began to feel sympathy. Nobody deserved a life so unfit. Nobody needed to live such a horrid existence without some kind of help.

So there he went.

1844. Crimson Swan.

He wasn't much of a wine drinker himself, but one dated that far back? Well he had thought about the detail before, but he wondered what the significance of those old old drinks were again. A wine enthusiast, who often found himself laying in the back of an alleyway, once spoke of old wines as though they were treasures to behold. A certain prestige about them held in his eyes as it send him into a blackened slumber with a grin from sea to sea.

So... using the cork screw that he almost forgot to grab... Pop.

"Not poor, certainly." He responded, attempting to provide some humor to the conversation.

A trickling poured into glass as he filled it mostly and moved to Ines's side. From this angle, Franz had perhaps exposed himself to her, but she was a woman in need of something and that something came in the form of a universally used creation which served the purpose of bringing joy through borderline poisoning. With the glass in his hand, he presented it roughly in front of her. She had asked him not to look and so he did not.

Once it was in hand he moved to the door to ensure it was secure. The lock being in place gave them the privacy they had earned and as he took his place in the water he settled quietly after a long, drawn out, satisfied, steam released sound of a train taking its place in station.


His hand extended to her, and that was what Ines could note while she saw a hand extend from her back. It threw her for a curve, certainly, for what came with the distinct pop of a wine bottle's cork did leave her with many a question. Yet, what she saw was a wine glass specifically for her, and for what she had now...that's what she needed. A drink, good company, and a good bath. The war could wait. She had better things to do.

Ines snickered with Franz's approach to humor, taking the glass gently from his palm. She took a brief sip, admiring the smoothness of the rich red wine. It didn't burn at all on the way down; whatever Franz had must have been at least 10 years old. Where on earth did he find this little treasure?

"I wanted to be an opera singer." Ines revealed, smiling as she sighed, "But being a Darcsen in entertainment never works out as well as you hope."


Franz smiled at the thought. A singer? She must have had some passion for it. There was much he wanted to do and he knew what she meant, or at least thought he did, when she mentioned how hard it was to be a dark hair in the industry. Even if they accepted you there was no way they were putting you where the public could see you. There was even the dirty move of people stealing your art without any protections. It truly was a dark world for Darcsen but...

It was strange. Simply staying in the bath and taking a sip of his own glass made him feel... no. It wasn't the bath or even the alcohol that he was now trying to get used to... No what he was feeling... It was Ines. It was the raw feeling of having someone who resonated with you. It was the Darcsen- no- person by your side. This moment was special and...

A smile. From his marble hard face did there finally come from the chiseled mouth a cracked smile with a twitch from how wide it was. His face wasn't used to it and it borderline hurt, but... It was a smile. And there was... happiness? He had to continue.

"I believe I understand what you mean. It may be a bit rude of me to ask, but can you show me? I'd love to hear the Valkyrie within."


In the midst of his request, Ines happened to be taking a sip from her wine, and from his request, she nearly expunged the drink she had in her mouth with a near-audible gasp. Nobody had really ever asked her to sing, before. Nevermind within a bath, of course, but Ines could seldom believe what she had heard escape from the man's lips. Almost double-checking, she instead, in an attempt to calm herself, sipped and sipped from her glass, until naught was left of the smooth, rich liquid, And while she partook in the pleasures of a fine drink, she, then could partake in the joy of a job well done, it seemed; The joy to perform.

She reached back, handing the empty glass back to Franz, naturally asking for a gracious refill of her drink. It was hidden from his view, of course, yet Ines bore a blush from Franz's request in sheer flattery of the notion, instead masking it with a more cold demeanor from which she could begin to prepare a song.

"Give a refill, will you?" Ines asked, just after clearing her throat for her performance. As soon as her glass was gone, she slowly cleared her throat, the tapping of her finger along the bath's rim keeping in tempo with her signature.

"Love me as though there were no tomorrow~"
"Take me out of this world tonight~!"
"Take me~!"
"Make me forget my sorrow,"
"So when I wake tomorrow, I'll know our love was right."
"Kiss me as though it were now of never~"
"Teach me all that a heart should know~"
"Love me... as though there were no tomorrow~"
"Oh my darling~, love me; don't ever let me go~."


Dear lord...Ines' voice was...it was simply a harmonic joy to behold. Like the Valkyrie Franz proclaimed her to be, Ines took to full song, in perfect pitch and harmonious song, like each word which rolled from her was a rolling red wine, sweet and aged to perfection. No doubt it resounded throughout the room, and beyond that room perhaps, but alas, this incantation was special, angelic, and reserved for Franz alone.

"Kiss me as though it were now or never~"
"Teach me all that a heart should know~"
"Love me as though there were no tomorrow;"
"Oh, my darling, love me~"
"Don't ever let~...me go~"



Franz gently took the glass as it was presented to him, placing down his own of that refined taste to give her a fresh batch. The tapping on the bath was distracting for the moment. It made him question just what she was doing before he heard it begin.

The very moment he heard her voice he stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't know what it was at first. It certainly didn't sound like what he expected- It eclipsed it. He- He had no words. He had nothing but a loose grip that he had to correct before he spilled the glass and bottle everywhere. Was she a siren? Was she an angelic figure from beyond in those tales those pious men and women told? What was this but- but some kind of mythological tale come sprung to life?

Whatever numbness there was... it was gone. It was as though she had cured him. It was as though her voice climbed into his soul and pulled it out from the cold desolate coffin it rested in and brought it into a world of unspoken light. There was... nothing like this. It had even registered just now that she chose to sing- and for him. She heeded his request and what he got from muttering but mere words was a crusade of the blades to collect the fallen. My god... Franz had never been one to believe but surely a god must have existed to create such perfection and his body agreed with shivers he had never thought of feeling and a burning desire to face the exalted one.

When she stopped the pouring, albeit slowly, began again. It took a while for him to even hand her the drink as he still gawked at what was still flowing in his mind with a warmth he couldn't imagine but moments prior. Gently he returned her the glass she desired. His breathing was different and his heart rate had increased. He had to adjust to not trip over himself, but an impressed voice came out all the same.

"I... What words could describe such a performance? Is this what it was like to be tied to the mast of a ship while agonizingly listening to the siren's call? Ines- I... I don't know what to say- it's beautiful."


His words would be flattering to anyone, nevermind the woman sharing his presence in a bath. Ines couldn't help but blush, and this time, her distinctive Francian laughter - however muffled it was as she rose a hand to her mouth - couldn't have been muted in any shape or form. Franz could not see it from his angle, but he could sense Ines was clearly a bit embarrassed by his applause at her performance. Not in the sense that it was a dismissal, mind you; That it was something Ines herself knew she worked hard, and to receive recognition from it, no matter whoever from...that was what mattered in this moment. While the two were together, Ines smiled. She found the circumstance strange - that she bathed with a man she had barely known and began to undertake in their deepest secrets together with the magical alluding of one glass of wine - but questioned it little. Strange, it was, but what was life without a bit of curiosity to it?

Taking a sip from her newfound glass, she almost peeks back at Franz, suddenly remembering her own imposed rule. It almost felt rude not to reciprocate his notion with eye contact, yet Ines felt it best to resignate to what she had suggested to begin with. Instead, she continued her laughter, smiling all the way.

"It is nothing special." She insisted, "What about you? Franz, what did you want to do with yourself?"


Franz couldn't answer immediately. He found it impossible to as he mostly fought himself in looking and wanting to touch from her call. Deepest desires of his heart ripped out from the darkness. Funny that. He remembered her rule and being able to adhere to an imposed rule, self or not, was important to Franz. So he took time to finally respond and after a bout of silence he spoke.

"I... I found passion in art. I loved stories of mythology. More than anything I... just wanted to make people happy. I wanted to see the people I loved smile. I wanted people to feel something from anything I shared with them especially if I was the one who made it. I don't think there is anything greater than that. But what I have done is truly nothing special. Your modesty is a suit bursting from the seams."


Ines couldn't help but laugh at his attempts at modesty. She took yet another sip, then asked:

"What do you like to draw?"


"Anything, really. I used to paint for others. Dogs, the hillside of a village, even a naked noble who wanted to remember what she looked like in her youth. I was constantly under pressure on that one. Not allowed to look but also not allowed to fail a stroke otherwise they would have paddled me. A damned situation. Yet, with what glances I managed I satisfied that patron as well. If I'm allowed to paint - I will."


Ines couldn't help but be charmed by it. She never figured Franz to be a painter, not one bit. Yet, it was almost...poetic? The exact word was a bit difficult to come by, yet she simultaneously was surprised by Franz's revelation that he was a painter, and as soon as he mentioned it, it all came into view and make perfect sense. Perhaps...well, maybe not now.

She took another gulp from her glass. She already had a glass from downstairs, mind. Another one wasn't anything, and even so, the intricacies that were her exact process were getting a bit blurry. To Ines, she was in a little blissful warm paradise with another person, enjoying the company. It was nice, truth be told. Like nothing really mattered. Like she could almost take a break from it all. And...well, who was she kidding? Just now, Ines was taking a breath from the bloodshed and drudgery that was the life of the soldier. Now was the time to let her hair down and relax.

"What did you paint?" she asked.


His mind stuttered for a moment at the question, thinking he had answered it. Maybe she was looking for another answer.

"For myself? Or?"


Fuck it, Ines was already thinking sort of in a blurry sense. Before she knew it, her glass was gone, and she just needed another little kick of that sweet goodness...whatever it was Franz was giving her.

"Yeah, for yourself." she responded. For the first time, Franz noted her sounding upbeat. Joyous. Happy, even.


After idly drinking more of his own glass and refilling them both he thought on the question happily.

"Truthfully? I always loved the mythology I read years ago. I made plenty of portraits depicting their histories. But I also enjoy making pictures of others. I haven't even mentioned it to the squad yet, but, I've made one of everyone in my spare time. I've even made one of you. It's a simple portrait, but you've made my day so bright already I thought it would be fair enough to let you in on that secret early."

He wanted to look at her badly, especially with how jovial she was, and as he continued to drink that desire became stronger. The taste of the wine also seemed unusually pleasant. 70 years of time gone by for this exact moment. It was waiting for them and Franz was just happy to be a part of this date. Ehehe- a date. It was certainly like one. Everything was just too perfect.


Now, those exact words were pretty alarming, truth be told. "I've made one of you", he says, so nonchalant as if it may as well be no innocuous an event as the turning of the day. It was a sort of naive statement, and in any other condition, Ines may have smacked him for his insubordinate action, but in her current state, she was a bit flattered by his bravery. Hell, truth be told, she may have always been impressed by his honesty in the face of everything else. She did, if anything else, enjoy his talks, and in a way, eagerly awaited his response to every one of her queries.

"'Made one of me'?" she questioned - mind, not in a threatening way - but rather, one of genuine intrigue; Whether that was assisted by her wine intake or not...that was the vague factor. Yet, judging by her tone, that factor itself was inconsequential to what was to happen next.

"May I see?" she asked.


Franz chuckled at the question and responded shortly after thinking for a moment.

"Absolutely, but only on one condition. Since we're both wet and would obviously have to step out for it - I think it's only proper that the artist hold up his prize. And I think it would only be fair if he got to see the living, breathing, reaction of his audience. But - if you can't do that then I guess we'll have to wait until after the bath." There was a small smirk to the end of his statement as though he felt he placed her in his own made up game of chess. What would her king do now?


In spite of his question, Ines still wondered how Franz found himself the time to draw her. Was he, with no doubt, some sort of stalker? Ines doubted it; Even for a Darcsen, Ines herself she believed not to be a figure to behold. Her figure was much too...powerful. Masculine, in a sense. Ines' body was honed from a life of attempting to survive from fight after fight until she gave in, and the result was a woman honed in muscle in definition that was a far cry from the petite standards of Francian beauty. Ines herself did not believe anyone would want an Amazon, as did the old adage go. Yet still did she attempt her way through life, convinced that her luck was bound to happen sooner or later.

Still, it was impossible to truly hide that she remained unflattered by Franz's attempts at depicting her. That corporeal curiosity to her got the best of any sense of decency, so she had to ask:

"...can I see?"


She failed to be dissuaded, it seemed. The Imperial-Gallian was surprised. However, the show must go on.

It was upon thinking of how he talked that he realized just how often he snuck into theatres for cultural enlightenment. It was a pleasure that he could experience, but one he seldom talked to about for he was the only one in the gang interested in the fine arts aside from the old men who were now dead. Shame.

Franz only bothered to dry himself and as soon as he did he placed the towel to the side and dug through his backpack until he found the rolled up portrait that had been handled with care using a metal container within. Each portrait has been layered on top of one another but he found hers quite fine as his memory allowed him to know exactly where it was.

After standing in front of her, keeping his distance in case of a spray of water, he placed his hands upon the scroll that he divided through shifting how it was rolled to split from the center.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Herr Blau presents 'Ines Levesque'"

Then there it was. He held it to his side as though he was presenting an award winning painting to an audience standing at the grandest of theatres. And as she laid witness upon it he locked his eyes onto her face with a hopeful expectation.

As for the drawing itself... It was... rather perfect. Down to strands of hair and the exact curvature of her nose he collected each detail and recreated a stern, bold, portrait of a woman in uniform. It was a little more than a bust portrait really and one that only covered her from head to the mid range of her torso where it faded into the color of the white canvas. She looked directly at the observer, an illusion created from practice and study. Her form was somewhat relaxed, but there was that hint of readiness in her body in case she had to spring into action. It seems he even took the liberty of placing a copy of the smoking stick she gave him in her hand that was cocked back holding it like a cigarette holder. Her arm was brought back to match a more iconic fashion pose and her sleeve upon that arm was folded back to expose some of her muscle.

"My mind can remember a fair amount of details of others. I don't know how to describe it, but it is an ability I've been able to use when I think to draw. It doesn't last forever, so I try to work fresh."


That moment...Ines herself had not the words to describe it.

"Flattery" was but the tip of the iceberg. Franz had, in such detail, painstakingly inscribed every detail of her being into his portrait, no matter her observation nor protest, and instead created an iconic figure of which Ines was almost perfectly represented in canvas. She knew not how Franz so delicately copied her mechanisms, nor her demeanor or actions, yet still found herself inscribed - entranced, dazzled, bewildered - by the figure of which Franz had put on display. It was truly beautifying, really; As if Ines herself knew what she could stand to represent, that figure of strength and testimony when she herself preached lessons she had yet to truly decipher.

She instead looked upon it with certain gaze, miring its slight curvature as she looked the inscription up and down. Why...it was as if Ines felt herself met away under what Franz perceived her as. For what may as well have been the last time, Ines felt not fear. She felt certainty, confidence. Acceptance in a world which wanted her death warrant.

And rather than accept his attempt at another pouring of her glass, Ines instead boldly took a sip straight from the bottle, reaching across in deadpan fashion as she knew exactly what it was she had to face.

"Did...wow." Ines saluted, "...did you...hehe."

Ines smirked, almost raising herself from the tub as she looked over it, bottle in hand. She was getting herself tipsy, as she imagined her mother to, but Ines could have cared less. This was naught but proper resignation from her work.

"...Need to draw me like one of your Imperial girls?" she offered.

Ines was tipsy to the brim, of course, but she could have given a damn. She was with someone important - someone who understood - that was what mattered now.


Her reactions were everything he hoped to hear and more. He expected a bit of satisfaction but her entranced feelings towards the project had been the result he had been looking for. He tried to capture the details as best as he could remember and that was far more than others. He was thankful for that ability for it gave him an advantage others didn't seem to have. Then she... offered?

She... wanted to be painted? She would pose? For him? Really? Even with her own sensitivity toward the situation she wanted to give that up? For him? He blushed at the notion, finding her lack of reluctance was- he didn't know how to describe it but it wasn't a regular feeling of joy it was... something else. He pressed his lips together as he thought for a brief moment and nodded thereafter.

"I'd be happy to."


She supposed she was doing this, now. It was a strange experience, for certain, and nothing Ines had any familiarity with aside from some pompous image crafted in her head of a woman laying upon a bed as if it were some sort of romance scene. Not like Ines wasn't used to people watching her - those with stage freight didn't fare well in the ring while fighting - but this was with even less clothing on than she already thought was bare-bones during that time. Hell, the number of people she had been with could be counted on one hand, and Ines knew she conformed to few traditional standards of beauty. Yet, there were first times for everything, and even now, she thought the stance over in a strange sense; posing for art was unthinkable, but fighting in a war? No problem.

Emerging from the tub, any definition she had laid out before was, if now more than ever before, shattered completely. The alcohol was to thank in no small part; even so, Ines wasn't averse to new experiences. Ines herself knew she was no leaflet girl for newspaper advertisements. Far too toned, Ines instead had the build of a true Amazon, chiseled from her own experiences since the age of 13, in her own words. Not to say Ines had not feminine features, mind you, yet what was before Franz was clearly a brimming display of health. It was almost inspiring, truly, that her nude form inspired sensations other than the erotic.

And in that moment, Ines broke her stone-faced demeanor, flush red with color as she smiled from the embarrassment. It took confidence to so boldly rise from the bath and strike a pose, hand behind the head and arm on hip, in some sort of attempt to appear attractive, true, but that crumbled before long as she laughed from the exposure. In a sense it was exciting, like Ines wasn't supposed to be doing it. If her mom knew what she was doing, for as loose as she was, Ines didn't know if she would throw a fit or congratulate her on finding a man. Likely both.

"W-what do I do?" Ines asked through iterative chuckles, barely able to hide her red-flushed face from the awkwardly amusing experience before her.


Every moment was precious. The way she stood up and accepted the moment, the way she stopped after a brief moment of remembering what she was doing, and just asking him what to do. He dug through his supplies shortly after, pulling out what he needed piece by piece.

"I want you to take a pose that you want to remember. Something that says something of who you are. Bring life to the canvas. I will need you to be still, so if you want to lay down or stand up make sure it is in a position you can hold."


Ines giggled at the response, putting her head down as she shook for just a moment.

"Shit, i'm going to need some more wine for this..." Alcohol confidence really did help her simply be, all things considered, but she knew it wasn't likely the best thing for sitting still. But in a situation like this, being completely still was the last thing on her mind. But hell, if she did this right, she might be moving around a lot more.

Taking a deep swig from the bottle, Ines sighed with laughter as she resumed a position directly across from Franz. Heeding his words, she attempted to stand in the same pose she had originally - one hand on her head, the other on her hip, slightly turned while she looked upon him.

("GOOD GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD DON'T STARE DON'T STARE DON'T YOU FUCKING STARE INES LEVESQUE I SWEAR TO GOD")

As her thoughts raced while catching the odd glance down at Franz, well...it was commendable she possessed the basic will to hold her pose for as long as she had. If that did nothing to stop her incessant chuckling and beat-red face.


Franz had taken a moment to shift his feet as he looked for another piece. Hmm... Now that wasn't where it was. It would be easier if he just put his feet parallel. So he did. Going from his lower position he spread feet and spread the backpack wide, squatting slightly on his toes as he saw what he was looking for and dipped into a controlled position where he pulled out the utensils he was looking for.

As he pulled away from the backpack he- he felt that energetic boy from years ago! He turned to her with a bounce, taking the moment to stretch out his body in various poses. "Alright- so- I'm jus-t stretching out to get a better- grip as I'll be doing this for a while. Al-right!"

With that small exercise out of the way and a tin cup placed half filled with water and a rag set off to the side he was ready. He was giddy, really! This had turned out to be such a special moment and- and- he was happy! Unreasonably so! As he set up the canvas and put together piece by piece of the stand. That thin frame was all that stood between Franz and his object of study. The sounds of a march melted into his ears and suddenly his feet began to move to the sounds he heard before.

He looked at Ines and closed an eye for a brief moment to make sure he had the perfect idea what she looked like as he took this snippet of information to start at her head. Chin into the rest of the jawline while stopping to make room for her hair. he kept to one singular color with thin strokes but he felt like there just wasn't- there just wasn't enough movement!

His legs followed after his feet and not long after that his hips began to make their own bounces. He even synchronized a minor thrust to the sound of a loud drum in his head. Now this! This felt better! Despite his more drunken state now weighing in on him he found his ability to render unhindered. He finished the line art of her face and hair without too much time gone by and soon after he lowered himself slightly instead of choosing to adjust the stand. Neck! Shoulders! Collar bone! Stomach! Chest! Chest! Chest. Uh-ches-um...

He slowed down as something seemed to snap in his head. His bouncing became a bit less wild and the red upon his cheeks rivaled that of a tomato as blood left his brain and blinking became more rapid. He continued to work but- his eyes were a bit more open as he tried to remember himself! Franz! Get a grip!


("GOD. FUCKING. DAMMIT. FRANZ. STOP. BOUNCING. THAT. THING. AROUND. FUCK. DAMN. FUCK. OH FUCKING FUCK THAT THING'S BIGGER THAN A BAYONET HOW DOES HE FIT A SNAKE INTO HIS PANTS.")

Was Ines dead? Was any of this real? Was some guy really just flopping around in front of her while she just couldn't keep in how frankly ridiculous the whole situation just *was?* Ines certainly couldn't keep a straight face if she tried. A dead-set smile filled her face, giggling, cackling, barely able to keep anything together. The cold, stoic, cold beauty Franz knew not an hour ago had melted away entirely, and beneath lay a woman wondering much the same as her sober contemporary, yet with a more jovial expression - Just how the fuck did she get here?

...not like she was complaining. The view was nice.

Ines knew right where Franz eyes were. They darted back, sure, but it was painfully obvious where they were darting back to. His face turning red hid him nothing, as much as dressing up in a jester's gaudy uniform might assist a soldier in camouflage. She grinned ear to ear, threatening to erupt into a roar of hilarity.

"So you like my tits, huh." She clearly slurred, trying her absolute best not to rupture the roof with laughter.


Franz couldn't take it. After all that had happened he burst out into laughter at her question! Knees buckled for a moment as he put his wrists on the outside of his thighs. He drank his cup of wine like water before coming back to the canvas and giving an audible grunt into his response. "Agh! They just look perfect! Sorry!"

He couldn't help it and the strain he was feeling lower down wasn't helping anything. He pressed his lips together as he grinned wide at her. "I just have to look for this art piece, shame that's all I can do with them." He clearly wasn't thinking about what potential repercussions there were to saying such things and at this point he really didn't care. He readjusted himself and, yes, continued doing some bouncing as he hummed and slashed across the white canvas which was slowly but surely coming to life.


"You asshole."

Ines broke out into a roar of laughter, nearly crumbling down to the floor as she keeled over from his response. This was just precious. Priceless. Just priceless.

"...it's okay, I like them too."


Franz had to stop as she fell to the floor. He put his utensils down and moved to press his back against the tub as he felt more of the alcohol slamming into him. He laughed a bit more as he listened to her break down.

"Thank you. I'm just- I'm just happy you're here An- Wait a minute weren't you looking?" Franz asked, thinking about how she was blushing and laughing more at the situation as he fell to his side.


Oh boy. Ines was guilty. Guilty as sin, and boy was she sinning. She would have preferred to go out by smoking wads of opium off a woman's chest while she was at it, but alas, this little drunken escapade would have to do. And certainly, was it *doing.* Ines barely contained her laughter, no longer in any artistic pose originally presented toward Franz, and instead now simply honed in on his one simple query:

"Well, since we're already doing this, yes. I looked at your dick. It's a very nice one, too."


Franz resigned to laying on his side like he was some kind of model as she explained herself to him. He loved this. He loved all of this. Caught up in the moment and the only thing that mattered was having someone who didn't even take the responses he gave with such offense that she left him alone... It was- amazing. All of it.

"Thank you. When I see something so beautiful I can't stop it from waking up. This is... I'm glad you're here." He was still bubbly, that much was clear, but he didn't want to drive her away and so briefly he looked away. "Are we going back to the no looking rule?"


"I don't know...I like this new 'Looking Rule'."

She smiled slightly, and asked;

"Franz...are you thinking what i'm thinking?"


"I like it too."

Franz crawled toward her, smiling as well before misplacing his hand along the way and smacking his face into the floor like a klutz. He gave an audible sign of pain and rolled onto his back. He rubbed his face for a moment and looked up at her with a short chuckle.

"Well - aside from how much that hurt - I'm looking at what I'm thinking of and I think you know it too."


Ines met Franz down on that floor, and climbed on top of him.

"Then let's stop wasting time, boy." She announced.

... ...
...
...
... ...


"YES! YEESS! OOHHH FFUUCCK YESS FRANZ! OOHHH FFUUUUCCK! OOH!"

Clearly, the two were having the time of their life in that dainty little inn floor, in the middle of a combat zone, in an island of neutrality where a stray artillery shell could land at any moment, and in spite of that, the two found comfort in each other's company. Truly, it was like magic.


Nothing was quite like this. He knew for sure it wasn't the alcohol and the motions left him absolutely stunned with every moment. It was as if they had managed to create their own little world in the privacy of a bathroom near an active war zone. Despite all that was known sub consciously there he couldn't even care! He could barely think as it was anyway! Ines was right here with him and together they shared this moment with no strings attached.

After some time there was nothing left. The dance had been concluded and the curtains closed on the show before the audience after a lengthy performance. As they came to a close and with the performers now laying upon the floor, Franz took it upon himself to come closer to her once again and, without warning, began to cuddle up to her, finding her warmth so cozy and soft.

"Oh Ines, you were perfect." He stated, a slur escaping his mouth as he closed his eyes while pressed against her.


By the time they were done, Ines was more than a bit out of breath. She panted on that floor, half a tub and half a drawing around her, splayed out while her companion nudged close to her. She took him into his arms, wrapping herself around in turn, their gentle warmth reciprocated. That feeling of being close to another...held. Known. Like you matched together. It wasn't anything Ines had experienced, not for some time. In a brutal, irrational world of violence and hate, there was just this little moment they could share together. Just one moment was all she needed, and...everything was a bit more clear. For the fuzz that permeated her head, it almost blocked it all out, and in thankful blurriness of that surrounding, Ines appreciated just who was with her.

She barely knew the man. He was naught but a curiosity, just a little thing to keep the time going. And yet...they had their little moment together.

Ines nuzzled up to his neck, planting a kiss on his neck.

"I had fun, hon'." she reciprocated, "You're...quite something, Franz."

Of course, alcohol still had its hold in spite of the adrenaline rush of their activity. And if Ines had a little bit to keep the edge off, then hell, for whatever she had of it, she was getting it all while it lasted. Just one second it came, and as she knew by now, it was warm one second, then suddenly gone. She looked back at Franz, still with that tipsy little grin of hers, and smiled.

"You wanna get another girl in on this? I've never had half-and-half before...I think i'd be fun." she suggested.


Franz was so happy. The hold that she willingly had to him left a memory that ingrained itself like the roots of a tree to the soil of the world. He listened to her heart beat and felt comfort in listening to every single beat. He loved it... maybe even her. It wasn't much time at all and yet they went from being strangers to feeling so unreasonably close in under a day. Her kiss.. oh he wouldn't forget that feeling. He felt safe with that kiss. He felt like a gap had been closed. Her compliment, her comments, and her continued support... He felt like the happiest man alive. The real world didn't exist anymore. It was just them. Well, until she mentioned bringing yet another into their fold. But Franz was so happy with spending time with her that he didn't mind it at all. He welcomed it entirely because it would have been more time spent with her.

"Anything you want, Ines. I'll be right here."


("Whoa...I think...I like this guy.")

She couldn't really believe it herself. Then again, she was proposing that Franz have what would be the best experience in his entire life just now, of her own volition. Damn. There needs to be a medal for something like this. The "Madeline Morale Medal", or something like that. At that rate, Ines rose from him, throwing on only her superficial garments - pants and jacket. Anything else was just more to take off later, in her eyes.

"Be riiiigght back~." she promised him, off on her search to find the fabled third.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Conscripts
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Conscripts An Atom Trying to Understand Itself

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After the departure of Heinz, Michael's personal space and time was slowing down like water building up in a well. For once, the yellings, smashings, coughing, and screamings outside the study had began to drift away from his hearing. True quietness and aloneness had never been so good. The type of aloneness that he always loved and spent hours on end. Recent days, the ropes had gone untied, so his hours without the company of anyone was unbearable. Like a bird travelling south through a vast ocean, longing for home, unbeknownst that the ocean was too large for his insignificance, and that he would either fall into the water and drown of exhaustion, or that a hawk, or hawks, would pick him into pieces, as he was helpless in the struggle. He desired a companion. Even if they weren't gonna do anything, just sitting right beside him as he did his stuff was alright. And he had got it. A squad. His squad. And now he wanted some time alone. What irony.

But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy their companies. In fact, they were the ones who gave him the reason to be alone this time. They gave him safety, nurture and care. They made his time alone at ease. And perhaps more importantly, they were the reason why he was growing. It wasn't the training done by the vigilant and austere superiors of the Federations. It wasn't even the propaganda or the beliefs that he carried with him into the hellfire. It was compassion. It was care and nurture of everyone in this squad that gave him the strength to rise from his own misery. It was compassion that brought him up when the rest of the world wanted to shut him down and dissolve him into tiny particles for Mother Earth. And he would do anything, anything to pay them back, to protect them from harm caused by bickering politicians and kings and queens. But he had to start with himself first.

Time continued to pass, as Michael continued to go through the book he was given to by Heinz. Slowly, page by page, word by word, as he indulge in the true beauty of knowledge and science. The Imperials, whilst having a lot of ideological crap, did have a lot of technical stuff right. Like how they managed to design a car with engines so optimized the car's top speed in practice was out of an expert at the time's prediction. Or how they managed to reduce mortality rate and driving comfort so significantly with merely the introduction of a power steering wheel in their car. They had a lot that the Feds or other countries could learn from. A shame that this book was probably limited to this inn only. He probably should finish this, so he could continue to delve more in them. Just like old times in his father's study, but perhaps this time he would take it with more courage.

His concentration on the book was so significant that his sense also began to drift away in the air as well, as he failed to notice the girl coming from behind him. When he realized it, his response was a quick gasp and a short inhale. Then he realized it was Lucia. His muscles began to soften. He thought someone was about to murder him or something, that this was an Imperial conspiracy to eliminate the squad silently. But the softening was fairly short-lived. The Imps weren't gonna murder him, but she could murder him by suffocation if she continued to be hug so tight.

"Oh Lord, you too?"

As her soft as pillow flesh met his, the alcohol in the breathe and on her body was getting thick. Lucia didn't seem to care all that much about Michael's remark as she continued to climb all over him again, but this time like she was glued onto him. All of that, it wouldn't be surprising if Michael's cheek began to glow. But thankfully nobody was there to see. Just like how his heart was beating like a war drum. Again, like a mold in the ribcages, it felt strange. Every time with her in recent days, his chest felt like he was being eaten, by his own breathe. Only her. Did he really...

"Ok ok, I will." Michael instinctively followed her request, as he had her hands around her waist and belly. "There, I'll be with you for now. You feel safe yet?"

If he could perhaps let her sleep for a while, it would serve to calm her down. She would probably not gonna have a good sleep, but how in the world was she gonna cut it until night comes. God...how much did she drink for this? Judging by her reaction, like ten glasses?

His hugs did not cease up until he could feel her arms that were held up sideway began to fall down. Every pat of his palm assured her that he would never let her go. If that could ease her mind of the alcohol for a while, or of her painful trauma that she was still dealing with, he'd gladly hold her tight. But eventually, he was getting uncomfortable on his seat, now that he had doubled his weight with a girl on his lap.

"I'll be right nearby. I'm gonna put this back." He whispered to her. The lack of an audible response from her made it look like she was really sleeping. It was probably safe to shift, as Michael gently move her to sit right beside him on the same armchair, as it was pretty big for the two of them. He then quickly placed the book on the table, and then proceeded to push the other chair closer to Lucia where she's sitting. Placing the chair a little diagonal from her chair, he gently lifted her feet onto that chair. Then he let her head lay a little back. It wasn't the comfiest bed out there, but he couldn't really bring her to his room now. He could easily carry Lucia on Hill 58, but here his arm was torn, so he'd have to make do.

He watched her petite body loose, defenseless and motionless on the armchair. It made him really wondered what had Middleton do to this young girl. He saw it. He may have been under trauma, but he could see it. The look that could easily become a weapon of destruction from her eyes the moment he was hurt, and then the moment he was changing in that room from that ruin. It wasn't just as simple as a short order to kill a friendly. What kind of a man, no a human, was he to stoop so low to that point? But then again, he was born one of him. He was capable of sinning. And he did that without a care. Michael hated that snake, but he wasn't a long thin piece of organism. He probably had a lot of reasons to sin. But whatever his reasons are, he did do it with a choice. He did have the choice whether or not to sin or not, the latter would probably end up a lot worse for him, but nevertheless he had chosen it. No matter what life put you through, losing your own morality is perhaps the most catastrophic, and the most cowardly.

But the irony was, even though she seemed like the girl who needed protection the most, she was the one who protected him. The one who gave him a reason to continue when he was shot on that particular street. It occurred to Michael that she wasn't as weak as he initially think. In fact, she was perhaps stronger than anyone here was. And for that, he was grateful.

"Thank you...for back then..." He inadvertently muttered. The mold continued to eat his chest once more. It felt...not uncomfortable, somewhat pleasant as well, yet he felt like he was going to suffocate.

"I don't know what I'm feeling right now, it feels strange." He continued. It was also his night of firsts. He definitely hadn't developed this behavior of talking to someone sleeping, but now for some reason... "But I may have feelings for you."

He wasn't certain, but when everything seemed to revolve around her, he could always deduce. She was probably it. And he wondered if she actually knew it too, or even what is it to begin with?
@LetMeDoStuff
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Jeep Wrangler
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Jeep Wrangler VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

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The Siege of Amone, September 10th - The Thought and the Beauty



Everything was dark. Nothing was light nor was it filled with any colour. Saturated emotions infected his system as his eyes were left staring at the ceiling, empty and devoid of all life. Without any sensation, his irises seemed to drain themselves of their acute glimmer and seemed to fall into a state of grey decay. Monotone, covered in senseless ounces of shame and undying indignity, Jean was alone in his thoughts once more. The voices kept ringing out, begging for him to try and return to a state of composure. Nothing of meaning had taken its place within his heart for that moment. The bed beneath his back didn't feel soft anymore and instead was like the splintering fragments of glass and wood chippings back during that fateful incursion between himself and the married Imperial couple. These last few days in Amone had been a nightmare, one that showered him with endless regrets to haunt him forever more. Life was no longer going to be the same, was it? He'd descended down the depths of the Europan's war of corruption and violence. Nowhere was that glorious promise that all the recruitment offices gave when he first put his name forward for Olivia's sake. With everything he once held close to his heart now gone forever, the world was a different place. Reality had hit the previously isolated child harder than ever before. Pain was common. Suffering was the normality of the world. Courage was a fleeting excuse for hiding fear. Manifestations of anger were hiding around every corner and preparing to gnaw at Jean's neck, tearing him until he was nothing left but tissue and bone, not that he was far from it already. His breath was now far more long-winded and drawn out, having really taken in the reality of the situation. Only an hour or two ago, Jean had held a gun to his throat, to his chin perhaps, bolted back the chamber and pulled the trigger with the intent on blowing his brains all across the walls of this bedroom. They were due to scatter, dripping from the walls until some unfortunate soul were to enter and find the aftermath of his situation. There would be no need to rescue him, for he was already due to be gone. But fate had other ideas, not allowing him to load a round in preparation for his own demise. And now, he laid silent and crippled against the sheets of his bedding, still somehow intact without trying again to claim his own life.

All around him, he heard muffled laughter and seemingly strange muffles of pleasure coming from down the hallways, upstairs or in the bar below. Everyone was blissfully unaware. Jean seemed to find some comfort in knowing that there was no one who would ever care or know that he'd forced the barrel of his weapon to its breaking point. In reality, there was a great deal of sadness, knowing that everyone had already established a close ally and friend to depend on. As the moans indicated, Ines had clearly found a place within Franz's company whilst Britta and Isaac were carefully embracing one another in a seemingly more passionate fashion further down the corridor through the course of Jean's silent breakdown. Michael and Lucia had been well known to find comfort in one another, and it was perhaps only a matter of time before their potential love for another would eventually shed light on the dimness of the battlefield. Freya was already flirting around with many others, Diana and Ines included, as she tended to her best friend Thomas in his own trying times. Reyna had been somewhat solitary and Kalisa sometimes kept to her own, but he...still cared about them. From what he knew, the night before with Reyna, his head resting against her pillowed thigh. Oh, what a beautiful moment that was for him. She even pledged that he didn't have to face his burdens alone, but who would truly accept and understand the attempt at suicide that Jean had forced upon himself recently. Who would sit down beside him and actually comfort his uneasy mind, making sure he wouldn't pull the trigger again, this time with a loaded round. Jean, himself, couldn't imagine trying it again, but neither did he expect to have nearly attempted it the first time. Burdens were something that were always locked up, no matter the reciprocate. Everyone had their own fair share of demons to hide, and Jean's were seemingly more well hidden than everyone else's. Well, everyone knew he had his unhealthy wave of sorrow, but no one knew what specifically it was and how badly it was getting to him, or so Jean imagined.

There was never a worse feeling than being alone in a time of need. Wishing you had a shoulder to lean against, a hand to hold or a heart to share, Jean was in that moment himself. Never had he felt low down. Whatever cruel devils had intoxicated his food, his water and his air were sure to get a promotion from the barons of hell themselves, having done a fine job in ruining the will of a single man's ability to maintain happiness.

However, something new came through. A knock at the door suddenly came, to which Jean slowly tilted his head towards the door, having heard it slowly begin to open. There wasn't much evidence to find, minus the odd positioning of his rifle slumped down in an untidy fashion against the hard wooden floor, so in reality he was not rather concerned about what they'd think. Everyone already looked down at Jean, and no one ever showed him the appreciation that a stable NCO required in order to understand if they were good at their job. He waited for the door to slowly open further and further, taking its longest amount of time for whoever was to stand on the other side. The best guest was some unnamed barmaid or cleaner just ready to take a plate or two out from his room, ignoring the actual presence of the Corporal by all means. Or was it someone who wanted to just say hi, then leave before engaging in more loving acts with a partner of their choice, one that Jean felt rather out of place being surrounded by. For someone who wanted it so dearly, he was definitely crippled by the unending love that came from all around his squad, throughout the past few days, whilst they all began to grow closer as individuals. But as his thought was about to turn blank once more, the door opened to a rather familiar light, one that began to brighten up the room completely. Clearly without him opening it, the door was easy enough to open up just from her knock, which made Jean question its integrity, but he didn't seem to care once Reyna's eyes became far more visible from his downed position. Jean slowly sat up on his bed, almost immediately after noticing her with the pitcher and tray in hand. There was a silence, one of hesitation and simply being taken back by the sight of her. He couldn't of imagined what sort of mess he might've looked like, his hair being left all over the place and still rather moist from the inability to dry it after his hallucination, but he didn't care. For a moment, he sat waiting, before standing up and hesitantly walking towards her with a small tremble in his wrist.

His shirt was barely buttoned up to say the least, only reaching just above his chest, the neck-height ones being left to gvie him some breathing room within his compiled clothing. Eventually, the cleaner uniform, now devoid of the blood that no longer stained it, gave him a somewhat fresher appearance. With him now drawing closer, he suddenly let out a somewhat hesitant stare into her eyes, locking onto her pupils with a strange magnetic attraction that wouldn't let go. He nodded slowly and eventually gave her some room to move inside,a t least to put the tray down and to pour whatever she had on offer.

It smelled sweet, whatever she had gifted him in that moment. Not one of them had uttered a word just yet, but Jean could feel himself begging to speak. It was a nervous state of disarray and miscommunication. Did Jean make her uncomfortable or was this a case of simple politeness? It was a painful experience for Jean. Unknown as to why, he wanted to hear her sweet and soothing voice once more. The previous night had given him delight, happiness and a sense of calmness for once. She was there, by Jean's side, and encouraging him to continue the fight in the name of the Squad. And with that, she was right. There was no one else to fight for but the comrades around him, the ones who foolishly followed him into the breach of every unknown danger surrounding their location. There was no one else to turn to, except for the sense of fighting. But, something didn't feel quite right with how she said it. Jean didn't know what came after the war, if the war were to ever end. If he survived the entire bloody siege and exchange of bullets over the course of how many days, months and years, who would he have left to live for? There was a difference between leaning on those you care about in the field of combat and the aftermath of rebuilding that comes next. Jean was for certain doomed to roam the streets, alone and cold, without a home or without a friend he could simply embrace within his arms, tightly and closely. As much as he wanted someone for that, his hopes for achieving such a powerful ally were thin, especially for something that came after the war. Everyone wanted to go back to their lives, becoming singers, writers, politicians, shop-keepers, street thugs, businessmen, lawyers and more, or perhaps going back to finally live the lives they missed with friends and family. Jean was...Jean wasn't going to get that luxury.

The tea began to trickle softly into the mug she'd brought with her. A small smile began to flicker on Jean's broken face as the smells began to sweetly tender his nerves, having an almost medicinal touch to it. Part of it seemed fitting for the beautiful girl stood within his room, as both of them held similar attributes. They weren't products of feeling better or nourishment, but they were instead companions or things that could be seen as perfect. Rich in taste, or personality, they didn't share a lot with the horrors that consistently thrived in the outer world. It was as if they'd held their own bubble. And to be honest, Jean wanted to be a permanent part of that bubble. Once she was done pouring, he raised the mug to his mouth, embracing the sensual smells of the tea leaves previously used to create it. Suddenly, he felt himself going into an uncontrollable grin, one that reminded him of a home that he once lived within. The smells and the first taste given when he took a sip was enough to bring a tear to his eye, one that was strangely noticeable. He didn't comment on the sudden flourishing of emotions, but his bright smile spoke plenty of words. This warmth was a great refreshment since the previous act of self-hatred, but it had a special sort of love catered into its mixing. Jean liked that. He liked it a lot.

And in that beautiful bliss of the tea's succulent and enriched warmth, he placed the cup down for a second and suddenly began to speak up, finally breaking the silence as he gave her his complete happiness. Jean thought she perhaps deserved to see him at his best, without the seemingly annoying temperament of his spiralling depression and trauma.


"R-Reyna? Did...did you make this? It's fantastic. It's...it's just perfectly sweet and exhilarating at every single gulp. I've...I've never taken a drink that reminded me so warmly of...of home. Of a home I still wish to go back to. It's...it's really nice and amazing." He instinctively took the tray out of her hands and placed it down on the same chest of drawers that his mug was laid on. At first, his motives seemed to be rather unknown and mysterious, but he soon revealed what he at least intended to show as a notion of his gratitude. Slowly, and rather elegantly, he drew himself close to Reyna and wrapped his arms around her smaller height, giving her a rather gentle hug. It was an embrace that suddenly Jean felt enthralled by, one that gave him a sense of accomplishment and comfort. He held it for quite a few seconds, letting his grip not engulf Reyna but rather embrace her sweetened manner. A strange surge shot through his heart as he did so, before he whispered gently to himself, though enough for her to hear. "Thank you for a lot of the things you've done, Reyna. I...I was worried that after the war fighting for the Squad is no longer applicable. I can't live for the squad and...instead I want to live and fight for-"

Quickly, Jean drew himself slightly away from her, just to not engulf her with the hug as he realised how much she could've hated his straight-forward influence on her simply delivering tea. He let out an embarrassed sigh and sat back down on the bed, reaching for his mug again before quickly apologising.

"U-Uhh...nevermind. I'm...sorry I kinda leapt in there, I was just...I've...had an emotional day, I guess. This tea does really help though, thank you." His face was bright red, redder and thicker than the blood he'd been spilling in Amone throughout the past few days. There was a clear sense of embarrassment over his action, one that seemed to make him more nervous than he previously was. Still, his eyes darted away from hers and he seemed to be grinning slightly to himself, before he finally changed the subject to try and make light of the situation. "Let me guess, you've...uhm...heard the activity down the corridor? I guessed because of the spare cups and all. It's been a bit of a nightmare having to...well...be an audible audience, I guess is one way to put it."

He tried hard not to chuckle too loud, hoping to at least give Reyna some form of giggle to divert her attention away from his awkward blushing, but even then, he continued to make a few more jokes about the situation, it being recent and Reyna clearly having experience of hearing it, per se.

"Let's just hope we don't get a new recruit in nine months. Don't think we have space after the new girl joined..." He finished his tea finally, placing the mug by his bedside before he looked back up at Reyna with an endearing glisten in his own gaze. Slowly, the brightest and warmest smile he'd ever produced slowly came out, making sure to give all its wholesome effects that came with it. And with a confident and really delicate tone, he finally uttered out another quick quip for her actions. "Thank you, Reyna...You're a blessing to the Squad, and...well...to someone in particular."

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Jacky
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Jacky

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Luke Godfrey


A bark of laughter escaped Luke as Diana spilled her drink in a trembling fit of rage after his relentless jabs towards her height. Luke was forced to hold his sides once he caught her embarrassed expression before shaking his head as she began to glare daggers towards him. She was a fierce little thing alright, but thanks to years of pissing people off and making enemies her death glare only helped amuse him even more. Compared to all of the people he’s pissed off in the past she only reminded him of an adorably miffed off blonde puppy. He only shrugged as she blamed him for the spill and took a quick swig of his drink with a smirk. “Oh come on, it’s not my fault the mugs to big for ya,” he chuckled, resisting the urge to bite his lip in amusement as his small jokes just kept coming. He may regret it when he’s sober, but screw it! It was just to tempting and easy to get her going.

Luke gulped down another wave of booze before letting out a heavy, tired sigh. He chuckled as he heard Diana make her cringe worthy joke on his name, but he found himself unable to call her out on it. She may have been right when she said things weren’t looking good for him and honestly as he looked into his half empty mug, she may be right. Sober Luke would shame him at the very moment drunk Luke began to doubt his ability to win. Silently he began to remember when he worked in his hometowns tavern, nicking drinks whenever he could, listening to the rugged adults bark out curse after curse while telling stories that would have Luke enthralled with every word and how amazing the world outside of his home sounded.

His thoughts were brought back as he heard Diana call him a dumbass and chuckled lightly as he leaned back in his seat. He forgot why he was called a dumbass really, but in his drunken state and his home on the mind Luke began to silently ponder her insult. Was it a mistake to leave? Luke’s mind began to slowly drift as he gazed into his mug, his smile shrinking slightly as he continued to think on his choices. He loved his home and everyone there, even the town drunks. Hell, this was the first time he’s even left the damn place. The farthest he’s gone was when he went hunting with his father in the woods. All of the stories he’s heard from the adults of the outside world were so amazing, so exciting that he thought if he went out to see it for himself that things would be so incredibly different. Well, things are surly different now, but not in the way he was hoping for. He missed his home, his friends, his sisters. Why did he have to leave?

As the question lingered in his mind an image flashed in his head that made his body tense slightly. Luke could feel his heartbeat increase slightly as he continued to see the image of a distraught woman through a keyhole, rocking back and forth as she spoke to thin air while her eyes remained covered by her long messy black hair, stray lines of pure white hair becoming more and more visible with the aid of a nearby fire place. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before images after images from his memory continued run through his head. He remembered a kitchen knife, a raging storm, his infant sisters dark room and a trembling door. A chilling wave of emotions washed over Luke as he tightened his grip around his mug without realizing his white knuckles. It all just kept repeating in his head, the horrible memories refusing to just die off, refusing to allow Luke to forget it all and enjoy the present. It was like a damn parasite eating away at his soul and mind, rotting away anything he held dear and devouring it with twisted glee. When can he get rid of this? Never, he could never rid of this since this curse would forever run through his damn BLOOD, never showing any signs of going away and mocking him with these damn memories! Finally the images began to dull slightly, before he could opened his eyes to bring an end these god-awful flashes a final image came to mind that gripped his stomach with such a horrible, gut retching feeling. What caused his heart to skip a beat was the final image of a crazed and wild bloodshot eye peering back at him through a keyhole, a animal like thirst for blood clear as it glared back.

Luke opened his eyes, his smile replaced with a small frown and a shiver running up his spine. He must have spaced out for a sec since he caught Diana asking Isaac who he thought was gonna win. ‘Oh, that’s right… drinking contest,’ he thought to himself as he looked to his half empty mug, his eyes looking much heavier thanks to the uncharastic frown that rested on his face. A moment ago he question why he would come here, why he would leave his loving home which he loved to the very core. Now, as reality hit him, Luke had his questions answered. It all felt so frustrating as he knew exactly what those images were and how only he’s the only one who knows about that night. Not wanting to linger on it anymore he rubbed his face with a groan before downing the rest of his mug and slamming it on the table, the alcohol aiding slightly.

Luke was a bit surprised actually as he began to feel his body finally grow heavier and heavier by the second, the exhaustion from yesterday finally taking hold. He looked to the messy table with scattered mugs, empty or filled, and felt his hand become wet with the spilled booze from Diana. He simply wiped his hand clean on his pants and sighed as he vaguely remembered the bets of the contest. It might be because of the booze, or simply because he could give a damn at this point, but Luke took a deep breath and forced a smile as he looked to the two. “Fuck it,” he stated simply before snatching up two full mugs and holding them high. “Might as well go down with a big bang!” he laughed before knocking back his head and chugging the two mugs at the same time. Streams of beer ran down his chin and neck as he only gulped down wave after wave of booze with maybe a bit too much eagerness, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. He just needed to drown everything away. He was tired and this was the best way to get a nap around here.

Finally with one last gulp Luke slammed the mugs onto the table with a gasp of both satisfaction and need for air. After a second or two he began to feel his last leg finally begin to give out, letting a small smile of relief come to his face. With a heavy sigh Luke looked to his drinking partners, both a bit blurry as he began to sway side to side, and chuckled. “I’m tired,” he simply muttered with his usual grin, though his eyes betrayed his expression as they looked heavy and worn out. With nothing else to say the mighty Luke fell out of his chair and onto the floor, silently finding comfort in the cold surface of the hardwood and smirking slightly as it briefly reminded him of his hometown tavern. A grunt escaped him as he rolled onto his back before giving one last chuckle and closed his eyes, relief washing over him as the weight of his eyelids were finally growing to heavy for him. A small smile came over Luke’s face as he drifted off to slumber without a single care in the world.

@Landaus Five-One@Smike
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