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 - A sense of authority


Slowly, his eyes fluttered open as the knocking of a fist against his door ruined the perfect night he was having. It was blissful, right up until that moment. The warmth of the bed and the comfort of the pillows and duvet: everything around him was just glorious. The only way it could've been better was if Reyna or Diana had been curled up with him, but Jean knew that the latter of the two was occupied the previous night with her own strange enigmas, ones that slightly saddened Jean whilst he tried to block it from his mind. After the wholesome conversation they'd had, it felt a little odd hearing Diana go off with what seemed to sound like Victoria, the new girl. Just another way to rub it in the face, he supposed. Can't have anything nice without fourteen negatives accompanying it like some enriched prison guardsmen. Damn, the world really liked to kick him down whilst he was at it. It was this sort of time that Jean would probably get out of the bed, try and find Reyna and just have a nice wholesome experience with her over a cup of tea, which in his mind sounded like the most splendid idea for someone as respectful as herself. A deep conversation was needed between the two, one that could at least let Jean learn more about her, and vice versa. The inn did seem like the perfect place to do such, but in reality Jean was too worried that he might be invading her free time and ruining the only experience at rest and relaxation she may ever get before one of them bites the bullet. The harsh reality was that the chances of both Reyna and Jean making it out alive at the same time were incredibly low. Human life was sometimes measured in not only months but days or hours here on the Europan Front. There were individuals who were killed the second their head and body became exposed from the outside of a trench, not even having the opportunity to meet face-to-face with the opposing Imperial soldiers who were responsible for their slaughter. The harsh reality was that, just that. People were not expected to survive.

The quote went 'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori', 'It is sweet and proper to die for one's country." Jean had heard that ring out many times during his studies of creative writing and poetry, far too often it had seemed. The names of men and women who were lucky enough to dodge the drafts or conscription by acting as some poncy propaganda writers, they disgusted Jean. Many of them used it as a way to earn hundreds, if not thousands, of undeserved piles of cash, where they would sit comfortably in their new mansions or manors all over the Federation's cleanest landscapes. For a reason yet unknown, Jean felt like his involvement in the war had given him some purpose: to be the honest writer who tells everyone back home what the war had become and why it seemed all but futile. The other writers back home spoke of honour, glory and duty, as if any of that really mattered out here. They were shepherds to the slaughtering pits, where they narrowed hundreds of thousands of young men and women into joining the army. The practice was...it was frightening. To know that one of the real villains of this episodic war was the pen which made contact with the paper.

The knock came again, flipping his mind out of the philosophical gutter it had just dipped itself within. Jean rubbed his eyes with the tips of his now-clean fingers, still noticing the fresh bandages around his hand. It was nice that the inn staff had actually replenished the wound and disinfected it, despite how painful it really was to do so. The bandage was now a crystal white, and more spares were regularly given out to ensure it didn't become anything less than the purest colour. Jean called out for the individual knocking to open the door and to come inside, to which he was met with a familiar female who worked for the White Hart. With a golden flow of hair crawling down her back, she was the embodiment of beauty for most of the soldiers here. Apparently, for the older soldiers of the Imperial Army, she was a very popular attraction for them, having many suitors who'd challenge one another for her love, which she clearly didn't reciprocate. Catherine, of course, was her name. She'd been assigned to Jean's room and gave a lot of guidance in terms of medical awareness, making sure he was fully understanding on how to treat any similar wounds should the situation come around again. As she walked inside, Catherine bowed extensively to show her true politeness, before walking around and beginning to tidy a few things up. At first, Jean sat there in silence, scrambling to put his own undershirt on out of common courtesy, but she seemed to engrossed in her duties to really make a fuss out of the whole situation.


"Had a good sleep, Mr Charpentier?" With her manner of speech and elegance in movement, Jean almost pictured her as a slightly older version of Reyna. That wasn't a thought he wanted to develop too much, perhaps out of courtesy for Reyna herself, but either way it wouldn't exactly be an insult to the Vinlander. Jean nodded slowly, rubbing his eyes again before slipping his legs out from under the duvet covers to drape over the side of the bed-frame. Luckily for both of the two, he was at least clothed with his trousers still. "One of the waitresses passed some concerns about you, so we wanted to make sure you were at least comfortable for last night. Glad to see it worked well, our beds."

"Yes, thank you very much. But, uhh..." Jean looked over, concern of his own flushing his eyes completely, devoid of all confidence for just a moment. "You can tell the staff not to give me any special consideration. My friends deserve every bit of comfort ahead of me, no matter the situation. I appreciate the concern, at the very least, but do put my friends before me, if that is okay with you?"

Catherine let out a rather elegant giggle of her own, even bringing the tips of her fingers right up to her own lips to almost conceal the laughter she had built inside. It seemed really odd for someone of her excellence to be surrounded by such common soldiers, all flushing down their drinks and fucking like rabbits, if Jean could have made a comment on the amount of activity last night. Once Jean stood up, she instinctively began to start dressing his bed once more, replacing its sheets and eventually flattening it out across the mattress to make it seem like it'd been preserved for years and years in such a pristine manner. Jean was impressed by her finesse and ability to add near perfection to every action she did, and so he listened further to her response.

"Oh, don't ask if it's okay with me, Mr Charpentier. Without sounding too profession, even for my own standards, your comfort is paramount." What she said next resonated well with Jean, as he too had felt rather similar to what she had to say. It took him by surprise when she managed to keep an utterly straight face of joyful smiles, as if she had learnt to never let the horrors of the world engulf her. "I've seen what this war does to people, and there's no feeling worse than one of loneliness. I was here when Amone first got invaded, and occupied, and have been here ever since, refusing to leave these walls until either the fat lady sings or I can smell freedom. Until that time comes around, though, I'm going to wait here and give you soldiers, no matter of what allegiance, the comfort you need to stay strong."

Jean nodded with his own friendly smile. She seemed to have her heart dead-set in the right direction, not even faltering to fall akin to the corruption. Her home city had been invaded and yet she still sat here with open arms, even to the soldiers who were responsible for bringing the war to her doorstep. It must've taken a lot of courage to really put forward that kind of obligation, but she was more than happy to oblige by it. Jean gave her a courteous nod and excused himself, giving her one last thank for her consideration and kindness. The descent down the stairs was rather rotten, not because of the conditions of the stairs but rather the loud tempo of the early-morning consumers. Luke and Ines were the first two notable ones to really be taking a stance in the morning meal, already having a large plate full of food before them. The full Edinburgh Breakfast, if he wasn't mistaken. There used to be several small cafes and restaurants in Liege that sold those, and Olivia used to take some home for Jean to eat, considering his rather isolated upbringing. Those were the days to live and die for, it seemed, though Jean didn't really feel like dying again. Eventually, Jean reached the bottom step and took a deep breath. Outside there was still a lot of rain showering down upon the pavement. If it weren't for Amone's drainage system the entire road would've likely been knee-high in precipitation by now, which in and of itself was a really unsettling thought for the anxious Corporal.

As he walked down, the first stop he made was to the bar table. Jean knew that there was no upfront costs, or any costs at all, for the living space provided, but Jean felt that it was necessary for his own spending. Unlike Freya or Thomas, there was no one back home for him to send the money towards, and so what little the army gave him in response to his enlistment would just pile up until it collected dust. Jean placed down a handful of Francian money directly onto the counter, looking at the surprised barmaid behind it. Jean nodded, and before she could protest he simply shook his head to deny any form of questioning. It was a tip, one that would be distributed throughout the entire staff of the White Hart, at least. Eventually, he continued in silence, across the room, until someone seemed to beckon him over. Inès, it was. How peculiar.

Once he sat down, Inès pressed the jokingly awkward question about whether or not Jean spent the night with a special someone of his. At first, Jean looked as if he were about to fluster, as his reddening face indicated, but instead he tried to not make as much of a big deal as he could. The vagueness of who she was talking about made it unclear whether she was referring to Reyna, Kalisa or Diana, but the obvious presumption was the former. Reyna was indeed at the top of Jean's interests, mainly because of all the positives that came with her. Jean hadn't exactly striven to formally claim her, as some of the unadulterated suitors of the Atlantic Army may have stated. Jean wasn't the kind of individual bent on those sort of formal methods of love, either way, and so he simply waved his hand before his face as she assured she hadn't told anyone. If it was that obvious to her that she knew, it worried him about how everyone else perceived his staggering intrigue in the art of love. Jean let out a thin sigh before opening his small flask, still with its own hot tea inside of it. In reality, Jean had taken some of the tea Reyna had given him to his own hip-flask and insisted on the White Hart's staff to keep it heated until the morning. Whilst it didn't have the succulent freshness it had when Reyna first gave him the wholesome mug of purely made tea, it still had all the wondrous hints of beauty laced within every taste. Jean could be seen smiling with satisfaction and a sense of relief, as per his expression.


"No...no I didn't. She's a sweet girl, and it isn't my place to stride into her life if she didn't want me to. She gave me some tea, and it was beautifully tasteful. Couldn't get enough of it." He leaned back into his chair and took another large sip from the flask, smiling as he looked up to the ceiling. For once, Jean seemed to be balanced with some form of mutual relaxation, the night's sleep having clearly taken a good toll on his mood. There was still the odd hint of sadness, broken-hearts and anxiety with every word he uttered, but at that point Jean couldn't argue that it wasn't part of him. His confidence had a long way to go, indeed.

Inès kept the good mood going when she complimented his writing again. Part of Jean felt like the appraisal was superficial, but that was more because of how selective he'd been with who saw his writing works. He appreciated the comment nevertheless, finding it to be a genuine surge of happiness in his spine. Having never shown someone his work, only for them to catch him off guard and still find some sort of respectability within it was a very heart-warming thing to hear. He doubted that the same sort of appreciation may have come from the individuals whom the poem was directed towards, but at the end of the day, no writer was perfect. Jean wasn't perfect at anything, or would he ever be, but the talk of his scribbling endeavours were enough to help rest his mind furthermore. He clipped the carabiner to his belt again and leaned forward slightly, giving a silent nod at first to her comment. When Inès referred Reyna as a proper individual, Jean couldn't help but smirk humorously at the comment. Whilst Reyna, in comparison, was more like a princess than the street-wise person the Francian before Jean was, she wasn't completely proper. Something about some of the thought processing Jean saw her make within her facial expressions sometimes suggested that she was not always someone who had thoughts of crystal clear colouring, no matter how pure and wholesome she really was. Jean appreciated that sense of honesty about her, and it made her feel even more real as an individual, where previously Jean only saw her as an angel from above.

She began to talk about his confidence. It made him slightly uncomfortable when she was as straightforward as she had to be, but the truth was there. To Inès, Jean wasn't the bravest, by a long shot it seemed, but he had a sense of compassion still laced within his system. Even as self-deprecating as he was, the Corporal could not argue that he was without compassion. It was the only thing keeping him alive, or rather in such huge danger. With a prod to the chest, Jean looked down at her finger whilst she briefly mentioned a previous NCO or two, which caught his interest. He didn't want to push the story any further, not yet at least, for fear that it might've dampened the mood completely for him. Jean, only for a second, held Inès' wrist to move her finger down a centimetre or two, chuckling as he did so.


"If you were meant to point to my heart, you missed it by a centimetre. I mean, unless you're saying I have a lot of true ribs." He laughed to himself quietly, finding a slight bit of surprise at his own attempt at lightening the mood. Inès didn't really know Jean a lot, though she acted like she knew all that there was. She clearly wasn't there at the Garnian Salient when things took a turn for the worst, but Jean felt a small, though very small, sense of pride for how he orchestrated the soon-to-be squad during that charge. "Back at Hill 58, Kalisa said I had a lot of balls, which was awkward enough as it was. It was when I dragged a Sergeant's body out of the open line-of-sight of the Imp machine gunners, just to get a pair of binoculars. Y'know...the same ones I still carry with my uniform today. Took a shot to the head, but the bullet skimmed my helmet. Never been more afraid of death in my life, or as close as it seemed."

Just as his anecdote came to its short conclusion, Diana showed up with a glum look about her. Hangover, of course. It was a good thing Jean was still yet to announce his prohibition on alcoholic substances for the day, but he wanted more individuals to turn up downstairs before he made such an announcement clear. She asked the usual questions, of course, about how everyone was and their sleep, the usual, before looking at Jean in secrecy about what he mentioned to her. Diana was going to tell someone, of course. Why wouldn't she? Knowing Diana, you couldn't tell her to hide the secrets of where the cookie-jar was, and without torture she'd still tell the enemy regardless. As cheerful, lovable and funny as she was, Diana was far from tactful. It was probably one of the main reasons Jean hadn't shared any major secrets with her so far, out of fear that it'd essentially be signing a contract saying 'Diana is allowed to blurt this out, sorry'. Jean let out a thin and nervous sigh, letting his expressive actions speak for themselves rather than him actually raising his voice as his concern. Either way, he couldn't object to her. Jean did tell her to tell people if she wanted to, though more mistakenly than he anticipated. Perhaps this was for the better, or the worst, that she did go around and tell his romantic interests what he felt about them. God, that'd be embarrassing.

But it was in the next minute that the conversation and mood took a nose dive. Luke was nearby, clearly minding his own business, when Diana provoked him. It could've been a playful tease, but she seemingly did share a similar distrust and disliking to Luke, though Jean wasn't in a similar position to just insult him. It surprised the Corporal that Diana was prepared to provoke him so easily, as if something had already happened between the two he did not yet know of. And following that, before Jean could give a telling-off to Diana, Luke thrashed out with some harsh words. He ironically told Diana to shoot him, going into some graphic detail about how he wanted her to load a round and point it to his head, which suddenly set off a fuse within Jean's own head. He'd...it was almost as if he knew what Jean tried, but clearly he didn't. Luke wasn't that sort of person to blurt it out if he knew it, would he? No...only Isaac knew, at least explicitly. Britta didn't know the details yet but she likely knew that Jean's own mental state was still at a major threat. No, Luke didn't know, but there was some irony to what he yelled at. There was a thin silence in the room before Jean stood up, pulling his chair to face Luke directly from across his table. Jean took a seat, and for some reason, didn't feel any sense of aggression or anxiety towards him. A sort of confidence, but not a surge of it, had swarmed inside his muscles and mind, making him talk and think rationally, as if this had been planned out for ages. A sense of authority, one could say.


"Luke...I'm going to be honest here, you're one of the few people I know who somehow acts more of an arsehole sober than when they're drunk." Once again, Jean's uncharacteristic swearing was accompanied by another uncharacteristic collected tone, all calm and without too much bite to it. It was only the start of his small telling off, at least for now, which would find its way to Diana too for her provocation. "Now I don't want to make this a big deal, but I understand that Diana pissed you off, which she shouldn't have done in the first place, right Diana? Being an arsehole does not make any of you better than the other. But, Luke, what grinds my gears is what you think. Diana mentioning family might not have been the best move, and it wasn't by any means. She didn't know, clearly, but at the same time you didn't think about what you had to say. You're in a room full of soldiers, some older than us and suffering for longer. Don't talk about putting bullets to people's heads so explicitly. Diana didn't know what you may have gone through. And at the same time, you don't know what others have. Keep your mouth in check, and your head in the right place, and we can all just get along nice and well. I don't want to fall out, not like the last time you showed bigotry, but I want to remind both you and Diana not to make things harder...for everyone. Otherwise who knows, maybe you might regret what you painstakingly ask for."

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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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So...Last Night...

It wasn't hard to see where this squad had its problems. It had its share of people with personal problems, and even the two Gunners - who might've had some of the easier tasks, overall - were starting to feel like there was a darkness growing within them, but there was more to it than that. How much? Maybe alot. For starters, everyone could see that Luke Godfrey was a problem. His attitude sucked and he hated Darcsens for reasons that...probably didn't exist. Isaac wasn't exactly a betting man, but he had a feeling that Darcsen hate was overrated and pointless. There was no reason for it, and therefore no reason for him to hate on Ines and Jean. Even still, the squad didn't fully mesh, and they knew it. They were uhh...what was the term? Ah yes, a ragtag bunch of misfit soldiers caught in the middle of a full-scale war. They just slammed them all together and said 'Go fight'. Seriously, Middleton's command really was that bad! In fact, it was worse, since Lucia was ordered to also kill anybody that came back.

So, the squad sort of came together under fire because it was necessary, but they needed something more. First of all, they had to get Luke to come to terms with his surroundings and stop badmouthing anyone he felt like. Otherwise, Isaac was gonna have to get creative with him. Might have to get creative with ALOT of them. And if he did that, they might be crying his name in fury for a while. No, he wasn't gonna pull a Middleton, but like the way he surprised Lucia with her unwarranted letter-reading, they might find themselves in...surprising circumstances. He must've been smiling as he thought of that, because Britta tossed a peanut shell at him.

"Were you daydreaming?"

"I think my dad would call it plotting."

"You talk about your dad alot. What about your mother? Or the rest of your family?"

"She'd call it scheming."

"Alright, what's on your mind, then?"

"I'm just thinking of stuff I could do to make things interesting, but...for now, I had a different thought, something for tomorrow."

During the actions around the bar, Isaac headed on over to one of the barmaids and asked for something. He palmed it, and headed back over to the table that he and Britta had been sitting at, revealing it to be a deck of playing cards.

"Something to keep people amused as we go?"

"Not gonna recommend it for when we're on the go, but it'll do for times like this. I've had an idea..."

They decided to turn in for the night and talk it over before going to sleep. Britta smiled at the notion and thought it might work on some of them. Some of them. Either way, it might help, so they were gonna go for it...

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The Next Day...

It was a good thing they discussed it last night, because the hangover decided to have a word with him in the morning. Actually, it was more-or-less shouting at him, and he didn't want to get out of bed. He heard Britta feeling just about the same way, next to him.

"Urgh...this is a first..."

"Alot of those, last night..."

"They were alot nicer...back then."

"How's yours feeling...?"

"Like I'm being kicked in the head. You?"

"Feels like my heartbeat, up there."

"How badly...do we want to get out of this bed?"

"I think 'slowly' is the word you're looking for."

"Yeah...that makes sense."

They took their time, getting up and getting any sort of move-on in the making. Their trek to the bar for breakfast was slow and steady, limiting the amount of blood rushed their their heads, and thus reducing the potential for pain. Isaac imagined this was worse for the drinking contestants by a heavy degree. Britta ordered some basic breakfast food, and coffee, and then said Isaac was having the same as her. When the barmaid asked if he wanted coffee, Isaac said no, but Britta said yes.

"What the hell? I hate coffee."

"For the moment, you want coffee."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do, trust me. It's no guarantee, but it just might make you feel better."

So, Isaac relented and let them serve him some damn coffee. The two of them ate at the bar and stayed quiet, for now. Britta drank coffee with her meal. Isaac ate his meal, and then decided to glug his cuppa down, so he didn't have to put up with the taste...which he definitely did not like! He made a noise, declaring it so, and then his eyes bulged out.

"Oh no..."

"Too much, too quickly?"

"Yeah..."

It was about this time that Isaac became aware of the argument between Diana and Luke, and then heard Jean giving the Darcsen-hating private a dressing-down, from immediate superior to iinsubbordinate soldier. No better time was there to put his plan into action than now. At least he could use this ridiculous amount of caffiene he just downed to his advantage. Isaac stood up and headed on over towards the argument in question.

"Alright, alright... That's enough out of that. Jean's right, and you two should be more behaved. You're squadmates, and you're stuck with each other, no matter the nationality or temperment. We don't do summary executions. We're not frigging Middleton, got it?"

He glared them all over...then smiled.

"Now...I've been thinking about all our problems, and it seems like we've got what they told me in basic was a morale problem. Something my family would do to pass the time and certainly to get people comfortable talking is a game of cards. Could be any number of games, but I'm thinking everyone here knows Poker fairly-well, right? We should get a get a game going, and take all challengers, so long as they're willing to talk about themselves, open up a little. I think we're all a little bottled up around here, and the only way it's been coming out is in drips and drabs, or explosions. That needs to change."

He turned and shouted at the bar.

"SO! WHO'S GAME FOR A GAME OF CARDS, THEN?!"

Goddammit, Isaac! Indoor voice, next time!
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 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 – Revelation & Reprimanded – Amone City’s Walls (Sept. 11th)




Diana was sobbing slightly mostly because of the fact, her hangover really hurts. It didn’t help she wishes she didn’t drink but she did anyway. Her family as a whole is weird when it comes to alcohol, however, she heard Luke talk about his food. It definitely was good to hear since the army’s rations were a bit not that good to what she usually eats at home comparability. ”I have to say I can’t wait for the food I ordered then...” Diana said, with a bit of a respite. However, then his insult of her height came into the picture, which definitely didn’t help her already soured mood. It still got to her mostly because it was an insult or whatever advice he would probably call it. ”Ugh… I am too much having a raging hangover to not yell at you for calling me short, Luke…” Diana said, with one her left hand on her forehead.

It took her a bit by surprise, when Luke specifically looked at her with an annoyed glare and spoke towards her. She heard what he had said and that shocked her to the core of her being because no one in her life ever asked for death in a literal sense. However, she couldn’t help but shake and be highly nervous and feel her hangover hit her a bit harder than normal since Luke was yelling at her. ”Uhhhh… S-S-Scary...” Diana said, a bit speechless and with a fear response in how angry he was. It didn’t help that she did ‘start’ this by asking specifically this but didn’t think she would get a reaction like this. However, what he had said next shocked her because she didn’t know that his mother was dead. It was definitely a revelation to say the least, but he didn’t like how he said it specifically to her in terms of how much she enjoys to hear herself speak. ”I-I… d-didn’t k-know… y-you don’t have to be so m-mean L-Luke…” Diana said.

However, she couldn’t really say anything else since she heard Jean start reprimanding her and Luke and she looked a bit depressed. It wasn’t the fact he was right in what he was saying. ”Y-Yes Jean… I shouldn’t have started it…” Diana responded to Jean’s question. She was definitely crying now and it wasn’t because of her hangover but she couldn’t really focus on anything else since Luke was being a bit meaner to her than usual. It took most of her from utterly breaking down right there because she wasn’t in the right place right now. She looked at Jean when he mentioned not to make things harder for everyone. ”I-I understand… I won’t try to… be so… painstakingly annoying to Luke…” Diana said, with a bit of a depressed tone in her talking. However, then the other NCO came up to the plate and more or less agreed with what Jean had to say, in terms of Isaac. She put her head on the table, since she couldn’t help but continue to cry quietly since her head definitely hurt. ”You are right… as well. It wouldn’t be a good idea to degrade our humanity enough to become the splitting image of Captain Grumpus. I got you, Isaac.” Diana said, with a bit of tears going on the table since she had her head on the table.

It was a bit weird in what he said afterwards, specifically the game he suggested they play. She had never allowed to play poker, mostly because her mother Rebecca never allowed her to try. It was a curious thing to try, however. ”Increase our morale by playing a game I have never played? I’ve heard of Poker, but my mother Rebecca never allowed me to play it not even once. She was very strict on that type of game… I don’t know why she allowed me to play other games… or draw.” Diana responded to Isaac, however, her voice and tone was a bit curious in what it is. It helped her to move her head off the table even though she was crying a bit. The next thing he said, or more like yelled definitely didn’t help her hangover and she started crying even more because of the loud noise coming from Isaac’s voice. She glared at him, like, why did you do that are you stupid or something. ”I have a hangover, and why did you have to yell in specifically that? Can you lower your voice, please, Isaac? I am interested but no yelling give me your word you won’t be yelling...” Diana said, having one of the blinder of a headache right now since her hangover was throbbing even more so than it was. She had to put both of her hands on her head because of the headache/hangover increased in intensity and she hadn’t had something that was going to help her. It felt like she was going deaf with how loud Isaac was. ”I would love to be able to still hear… damn it.. first Luke saying his mother is dead… or seeing Jean be a bit more authority driven. I don’t know which one is more shocking… Probably both really… It’s not like I am a mind reader and can see into someone’s mind...” Diana thought to herself, and she wasn’t starring at anyone really.

Diana felt really bad for pissing off Luke but she did say she wouldn’t bug him unless he was going to join a Card game. ”I might as well ask, if you don’t mind. How do you play cards?” Or whatever we are going to play...” Diana said, with a bit of an oddity of curiosity to her voice. However, in the back of her mind, she was a bit hopeful it wouldn’t have any type of ‘bets.’ But she then remembers Isaac did say, ‘I’m not a betting man.’ She gave out a small sigh of relief in she hoped she remembered correctly about what had Isaac had said. It wouldn’t be a great idea to be wrong and have what happened last night would happen again. That wasn’t a good experience she didn’t want to have repeat again, which is for sure. ”Ugh, I still wonder what that mask is for…” Diana thought to herself, since that mask feels a bit eerie to be carrying it around everywhere. However, that was in the back of her thoughts, mostly because she had more important things to worry about, mostly the fact her head is pounding with a hangover.

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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 11th - A break from it all


Jean looked somewhat happy with his own response to Luke, taking in a sense of pride for the confidence required for such a small endeavour. It wasn't that the content of the authoritative drive was something of extreme intellect or even any brilliance, but more the fact Jean had to build up a lot of courage to say the words he did. According to the lovely Diana to his right, it seemed to have worked considering her tears now flushing out. Part of Jean's heartstrings were plucked with great tension, like that of a guitar or a plectrum against a viola, but part of Jean's motive was to stay strong and try to push past those emotions. Luke's response was still yet to be seen, but Jean was suddenly more taken aback by another interjection into his own final consideration of confidence. His own friend and NCO, Mr Black, turned up and began to summarise what Jean had said. For a moment, Jean froze in place, staring at Isaac with a small sense of disbelief. To the Francian, it felt like his attempt at encouraging his own confidence and sense of dignity was tossed aside by Isaac, who came in prancing around about morale and card games, repeating what Jean said towards Isaac in the most laid back manner conceivable. There was no major reason why, but Jean felt a strange annoyance to having himself interrupted and summarised in such a short and bland way. It wasn't that what Isaac was doing wasn't particularly done with malicious intent, but the way he'd came in once again made Jean look more incapable of delivering some form of authority on his own. Some could've referred to it as Jean's fragile insecurities and true lack of dignity, but Jean himself saw it as a small provocation of his own ability once more, making his face dim and darken with slight self-pity. How embarrassing...Luke was probably laughing on the inside about how small, soft Corporal Robin-Charpentier had to get help to gang up on him. Everyone had this goal to make Jean the better person, but it was at times like these when an indirect and accidental damage to what little pride Jean still had left that made him slightly down in place.

It didn't take much to shove a man already on the edge. Right now, in this very inn, Jean had felt like he'd been through so many emotions that it was unmatched by any theatre of war thus far. Even back home, his standards of emotions and shift in mood was spread over several days or weeks, and in three days within Amone's unholy walls he'd covered most of the positives and negatives for what to feel and when to feel it. Love, anger, hatred and sorrow. Trauma and memories were a large part of his time at the inn and they themselves were far too indivisible from the distinguished reality and false manifestations of his own mind. This war had done a number on him. Jean felt pent up inside with his emotional baggage. The world had fallen apart, crumbled before his very eyes. Anomalies only once thought within fiction were conceived right here, and right now, in the reality of the world. Outside, rainfall reminded him on an hourly basis that there was no true happiness within this inn. Everyone was distracting themselves. Everyone was hiding from the reality of the war. Jean had been doing that for seventeen years prior to his own enlistment, and now he was being shown the music. Fuck, fuck it all. Get out of gutter, Jean. He'd tell himself a lot that all he had to do was focus on the reality at hand. Jean was a failure. Jean was a traumatised failure. Everyone here had already established their place in the war, whether they were going to be the moral compass, or the supporting friend, or the lover, or the drinker, or the arsehole, or the sad one...Jean was nowhere to be seen. Jean had disappeared completely, vanished like the ashes of some Mediterranean volcanic plume.

What was worse than disappearing completely? Well, not existing in the first place was one thing. Jean still felt like there was no establishment. Maybe people only cared about him out of pity or sympathy? There was no real connection to him or his counterparts, except from the few good conversations he had with Isaac and Reyna. Michael and Franz were also good assets to have, as Jean yearned to converse with them more, and Lucia had been a recent well-induced addition to his Jean's own personal recovery, but still the Francian never felt like he truly belonged. Sent in by pressure of social class, thrown into a position of false power and rationalism, and Jean was nothing more than a shadow of someone else's greater story. He was the background to someone's origin tale, or an extra to their stage performance. Everyone had goals, aspirations and futures laid out ahead of them. Jean had nothing. Honestly, Jean felt like his only true purpose in life was to make the others feel better about themselves. He didn't have it the worst either, so sometimes he felt like his huge mental health issues were incomprehensible to everyone else's much more eventful lives. He was no protagonist to anyone's future history lesson. Jean was not anyone's future.

Jean stood up, turning away for a moment and mumbling something to himself. Part of him had suddenly vanished. His aura was now a void, and it was easily detectable to the keen-eye. It was as if he were a spectre, floating in-between everyone else's conversations and presence, haunting them with the stoic realisation of pain, agony and war. His face felt pale and devoid of all colour. His eyes were drawn into a greyish murk, blemished only by the bloodshot anguish of the Great Europan War, as it was no called. There was nothing great about this. Jean wanted to hold that gun to his head again, but this time there was at least the self-control to stay very well away from it, and to instead talk to the greatest medicine ever conceived by a human: Private Reyna Hall.


"Please...enjoy your card game, I don't think I'll sit this one through, but remember the prohibition on alcohol for today and tomorrow. I don't want any distractions for our mission, okay? We're here for a reason, and we can try to do it well. Now...just...uh...just stay happy, I guess?" As Jean moved away, he approached Reyna, who was sitting alone with a book in her hand. It was her journal of course, as Lucia had already tried to swipe it up as her usual nosy self did, but so far she'd failed in every way to get a hold of its small leathery body. Luckily for the beauty that was Reyna, she didn't have to worry about Jean being invasive. He could empathise. His poems had been swiped twice since his introduction to Squad 1, and nothing was more frustrating that having your secrets and thoughts leaked without any sort of personal approval. It was damaging to morale and to confidence. Whilst Inès did compliment his writing, there was a sense of deprecation towards how she took it beneath his own consent. Those were the sort of moves that didn't boost confidence for someone like Jean, but rather challenged them further.

As he walked over to Reyna, he hesitated for a moment. One of Jean's biggest fears was being the antagonist to her life. Was he being that? He was certain that she was on good terms with him still, but a huge part of Jean's issue was that he could never see the best side of reality. It was the fear of disappointment and embarrassment, but for him it was a case of just taking a deep breath and being himself, not actively acting out of his ordinary self. Jean pulled out a chair nearby her and sat down politely and carefully as to not disturb her elegant and almost formal aura. For some reason, Jean was immensely attracted to her elegance, as it showed a level of grace and virtue on the battlefield, no matter the situation. She was like a beacon out on the coastline of Francia, one that helped guide lost ships inwards. Jean thought that, to himself, that was what Reyna was to him. He smiled and nodded his head with respect as he took his own deep breath, taking out his flask and having another sip of the tea he saved from yesterday.


"Good morning, Reyna. I hope you had a comfortable night. You seemed to have raised some popularity amongst the squad with you tea yesterday. Diana was going on about it constantly, and I still have some in my flask here now." His chuckle responding to his own statement was met with a softness and tender care to his own form and tone. Jean was still quite nervous around her, but not in a similar way as everyone else. She made him feel somewhat bright on the inside. Something about the way they spoke made him happy. It just did. No one could ever explain that feeling. And for Jean, Reyna was the key to realising what was truly worthwhile in this god-forsaken world. "As sweet as you are, the tea is."

Jean looked down at the table, slightly red in the face himself, before he sighed heavily and decided to mention something that had been on his mind for quite some time in his dreams. Something dark was coming, something that Reyna was to be heavily involved within. Jean knew this because of what Lucia had said in her own worries, and they were now shared and reciprocated by her Corporal, himself. With a quiet nod, Jean lowered his voice and leaned closer to Reyna, looking at her with a serious gaze of care and compassion, as if he just needed to hear her response just to soothe his troubled mind.

"R-Reyna...I must ask you something, if you don't mind?" Jean's formality came out once more, as it usually did in their solo conversations. But this wasn't one with anything lovely or wonderful to go with it. This time, there was a hint of regret to what he had to ask. "Do...do you remember Hill 58, or Garnia? When...when we first met? That was a lovely moment, but I said something to you that I now realise burdens my promise. I said I wanted to make sure you made it through the war without witnessing the horrible things I did, without having to do the horrible deeds the commanders made me commit towards. But, when we go on to our objective, in the tunnel system, I have to send you into those depths, almost alone. I don't want to, Reyna, and I'm sure you might feel like it's necessary, but I want to know how...how do you feel about it? Is it something to be nervous about? And if it is, can I help in any way? I mean...you've got such a bright future and life ahead of you, I don't want to put that at risk, at least not any more at risk as it is simply being here on the frontline. And, please don't take this as some sort of overly zealous attempt to preserve someone. You are capable of many great things, but even the strongest sometimes cannot handle what we have to go through. I may not be the strongest in mind, but...in my heart I am, so I know what it might be like."

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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Jacky
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Luke Godfrey


A huff escaped Luke as he sunk deeper into his thoughts, a sour taste beginning to form in his mouth as he recalled his mother and the rest of his demons. Why the hell did it all have to happen to him? Did he somehow deserve all of the misfortunes that tore into his life and family? Maybe it was a series of cruel obstacles god cursed him with just for his twisted amusement. Who knows, maybe he was just destined for tragedy. He just wished he wasn’t going insane from it all. Before he could sink lower into his depressing thoughts he was pulled back into reality by a certain Darcsen Corporal pulling up a chair across from him. He huffed as he knew he was about to get chewed out because of his outburst on Diana. As he sat down Luke made sure to avoid eye contact as he kept his attention directed towards the table. He at least listened to the man’s words. He scoffed in bitter amusement as he called him a asshole and shrugged, not attempting to deny the fact. He knew the way he acted gets on peoples nerves a lot, but that was their problem, not his.

Once Jean continued his lecture Luke arched a brow in slight surprise at his tone, expecting it to be a bit more pissed off like last time, but it was oddly calm. Though what surprised him a bit more was when he didn’t completely place the blame on him and actually pointed out Diana provoking him in the first place. That was rare, usually people always blame him. He went on about what Luke already knew didn’t justify his outburst. How she didn’t know about his mother, how he wasn’t the only one with issues and his comment about putting a bullet through his head. Luke swirled his coffee around as Jean told him to keep himself in check. A light chuckle escaped him as Jean said he might get just what he asked for. He smirked in amusement before glancing up towards him with a tired gaze, holding up his hand and crossing his fingers. “One could only hope,” he chuckled before taking a sip of his coffee. Luke glanced up from his cup as he let his poor attempt at a joke linger, though there was a bit of honest hope in his voice. A bullet would definitely help solve is issues with the quick pull of a trigger. After he gave it a second he rolled his eyes. “I got it, I got it,” he muttered before lowering his drink and holding his gaze with Jeans. “Won’t happen again boss,” he stated with a simple nod, though a part of him figured it may not be true seeing as how he always seems to stir something up.

Honestly Luke knew he went a bit overboard, but the lecture did irritate him a bit. Mostly because of the fact that he was bit out of line and could have avoided telling them of his mother being dead. He really wanted to dropkick himself for letting that slip. A heavy sigh escaped him as his tired mind was filled with frustrated anger towards himself, though as he ruffled his hair he heard Diana speak, but the tone in her voice took him off guard. He glanced her way before feeling his body freeze in shock to see her… crying? Luke’s eyes widened slightly as she cried softly, her words shakey as if she was attempting to keep herself together. A great ball of guilt formed in his stomach and filled his chest as she continued to cry. He wanted to say something, to try and stop the water works. Deep down he wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t trust himself. He would probably make things worse. He always did.

Soon Isaac came over and began to throw in his two cents about the issue, slightly annoying Luke as he had someone else telling him the obvious, but he ignored him and watched as Diana laid her head onto the table, still crying. At this point he had to look away in guilt and stared down at his cup of coffee, a heavy frown resting on his face as he couldn’t keep looking at what he did. As Isaac began to rant on about moral and threw out the idea of a card game being able to lift their spirits or something. Luke gritted his teeth slightly as his annoyance began to grow even more before his NCO decided to shout out a invitation for a game of cards. With a loud scoff he laid his cup onto the table, rose from his seat and snatched his rifle from the side of the table. “What we really need is to get back to work and destroy those fucking tunnels. Not screw around here and play games,” he spat towards Isaac as he passed him with a frown, his frustrated anger slipping once more, and marched for the front door, the Inn completely losing any comfort it may have had before everyone showed up.

Once again Luke found himself outside of the Inn and was met with the same dark sky that floated over this god forsaken city. With a frustrated sigh he returned to his original spot from last night and sat down, leaning his rifle against the building and staring up towards the sky with a frown. After a few seconds he dug into his pockets and dug out his last cigarette and match box. He popped it into his mouth and began to attempt to light a match, but it refused to spark to life. As he continued to struggle with the match his mind began to drift back to Diana and her crying. Guilt began to sink into his mind again and began to strike the match with a bit more anger. After yet another failed attempt he let out an angry grunt and tossed the useless match to the ground. “Fuck!” he growled before lowering his head and rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance. He couldn’t get it out of his head, making someone else cry for something as stupid as that! Luke shook his head in disappointment, thinking just what his sisters would think of him, their so called ‘kind older brother’.

With one final sigh Luke pulled out another match and attempted again to make a flame. Luckily it finally lit and he felt a small bit of relief as he lit his cigarette. With a long drag Luke kept the fumes within his lungs for a few seconds before exhaling it from his nose, his frown growing heavier by the second. He looked out towards the city and listened to the sounds of distant battle, silently praying time would fly by and allow him to leave this place that has only brought him more and more issues.

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

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The room outside of him began to settle down, but the moans of drunken stupors began to daunt the Daunte from taking a step out of the room. And perhaps it was best that he did not, for there were already embarrassments that should be kept within the small circle of witnesses. But for another reason that Lucia was still asleep on the armchair right next to him that he couldn't really bring himself to break his own promise he made. Even though it was made out of impulse when the girl was barely even conscious, it was still something he said in broad daylight. Damn his shoulders that he could not really bring her to his room, otherwise he would have, so he had to makeshift his own bed to be this chair. But thanks to his gradual adaptation to the humanity-degrading quality of life that the military offered him to, Michael found the size of the chair fairly generous.

As the night grew, and silence sank in, so was Michael's appreciation of his books as the words continued to echo into his minds, even when their main purpose was to pass the time that he could have been using for resting. He had decided to use the study as his bedroom tonight. Michael slumped a little into the chair, making his small silhouette comfortable in the huge chair as he listened to the gentle breathe that the girl next to him murmured in her sleep, the girl he fell in love with. He wondered if she was having a goodnight sleep. If she was dreaming, then what was in it? Hopefully not Hill 58 again, or wherever she found herself in. He hoped it would be some place else. Somewhere that she wanted.

For Michael's part, the words in his book became his lullaby. His armchair was his bed. And the study he found in this one of a kind inn that humbly did their purpose in this universe well amongst those who failed miserably and didn't even realize it took him back to his own home back in Tyrella, back to his beloved childhood days. That old grand study where he would fall asleep on the carpet among the wonders of human knowledge. To fall into the warm, cozy darkness of his childhood, it really was an unexpected feast. But it was good when he could still feel it.

Michael barely knew how long he had been asleep. Fatigue combined with his injury and the lullaby of printed alphabetical letters pushed him deep down the depths of unconsciousness. The next thing he realized, his neck ached. He found his cheek resting on the back of his arm that was resting on his armchair, as his head was almost sideway with his body still glued to the armchair. The sun was pinching on his nose to signal a new day for him, a new day that would not perhaps be his last. A bright sunny day of optimism.

'Damn, I probably squandered the beds here.'

Who knows what Jean wanted to do with the squad's time here at the inn. Of course if he chose not to leave at all, that would be completely ok for Michael. But that would be desertion, and the Feds would take it very seriously. So sooner or later, Michael and the squad would have to leave this inn. He'd figure today would be, but who could say. He was still sleeping quite soundly when everybody was up, signified by the empty chair next to him. Lucia had already woken up and had left the room, perhaps to get her breakfast or something. Judging by the intensity of the sun, Michael was probably quite late. But the squad was letting him take his time, so perhaps they had no intention to leave yet.

"SO! WHO'S GAME FOR A GAME OF CARDS, THEN?!"

But they had all the intention to make him leave this room.

Louder than anything he had heard of the night before, Michael, with his eyes still trying to open the blinds, stood up and walked over to the door, finally taking a step out of the study for the first time in the day.

"You people never know how to get settled."

With a grumble and a roll of an eye, Michael trotted over to the bar and sat right on the stool, denying almost all the bartender's suggestion for a refresh of souls - her ignorance of his religion did not sit well for the devoted, for he accepted nothing but a cup of tea. Whatever tea they had sat well with Michael, but it would go sour either ways without a bit of milk poured in right after. And the bartender would probably not want this picky fellow to be unsatisfied after all he had been through, though she had to admit that he had some fancy taste.
@FalloutJack@Bushman501@LetMeDoStuff@Landaus Five-One
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Smike
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Victoria had smiled cutely at the sight of Diana's flustered little blush, the teeny tiny soldier somehow managing to make herself look even cuter than she already was. Victoria was enjoying her interactions with the loser of the bet immensely, loving how easily she was able to make her new squadmate and temporary slave squirm and wiggle. What she didn't love was hearing the poor girl break into tears and confess that the foul-mouthed Oceanic was the first person to ever tell her that. "Hey, don't cry. I might have been the first cunt to talk about how much of a beaut you are, but I promise you I won't be the last. the gentle giant whispered softly, a hand brushing away her lover's tears. Was her squadmate truly that deprived of kind words? Or was she just being dramatic thanks to all the alcohol? Either way Victoria was putting an end to it, an arm curled around the girl's back as she slid into bed with her. Now it was her turn to blush as the smaller soldier entrusted her to take the lead. This whole scenario wasn't exactly true love or anything sappy and romantic like that but the Oceanic would be damned before she violated that trust that was placed in her, even if it was only for a night.

"I'll give you a few choice words." Slasher purred before tugging the covers over them.

MORNING

After it was all said and done she hadn't gotten much sleep at all, perhaps or an hour or two in total. The rest of them she had spent quietly resting her with Diana's limb intertwined with hers, flicking open the clasp of the cold brass necklace hanging against her bare chest. With each flick of the metal lid she could catch just a glimpse of little Elizabeth, her pride and joy, the reason she had exchanged the tick infested beds of Prairie for a tick infested bed in some war torn city an ocean away. What time was it back home? Was her daughter getting dressed for bed by the woman who she had been named after? Did she even really know what her mother looked liked? Would Elizabeth grow up only knowing her as some mysterious woman who sent money through the mail but never came around to see her? If the war went on long enough, that's all their relationship would be.

If the war went on long enough, that's all there relationship would be. But it would be so much worse if Victoria died. While alive and stuck in muddy, rat infested trenches she could at least send envelopes with cash stuffed inside next to letters that Elizabeth could read when she was old enough. As soon as she died that tap would run dry and her baby would only know her as a perpetual drunk who had shipped herself off to die in service of a Federation that cared nothing for her since it was all she could do. And as much as it hurt to think that that's how Elizabeth would know her, it was the truth. At the end of the day, she was just a murderous drunk who's one chance for a normal life had left her.

The Oceanic was so absorbed in her own worries that she didn't notice Diana had woken up until she complained about hr hangover. ""G'morning, beautiful. " she purred, hiding her fears beneath a playful grin. "Don't mind the headache, you keep drinking like we did last nigh 'n' you'll get used to 'em right quick." She nodded absentmindedly at Diana's talk of getting dressed, sitting up on the edge of the bed and watching her cover herself back up. "You're a whip smart student when it comes to this. I almost don't believe this was your first time fucking a chick! Anytime you want come yarn to me 'n' I'll make you even louder." It was a genuine offer of course, but it served another purpose. Slipping back into her brash, "who gives a fuck" attitude was like wrapping herself in a protective blanket. No matter how scared she was Victoria wasn't going to let anyone see it. Showing weakness meant that you were vulnerable, that you could be taken advantage of.

Throwing back on her uniform she went downstairs just in time to see going off about his mom or some other bullshit on poor little Diana. Her eyes narrowed as the scene unfolded, hanging back as the Corporal got himself involved. And for the second time in a single day she had to see her favorite member of the unit (tied with Marathon) break down into tears again. All six feet and three inches of lean Oceanic muscle was tensing for a fight, fists clenching and unclenching as she waited for Jean to leave. Memories of Marathon asking her to keep an eye for her fellow soldiers mixed with those of the night she shared with Diana and how sweet the girl was.

She was going to kick Luke's ass for hurting her.

Potential Activated: Mother Bear

When Luke left the bar she was immediately tailing him, blinking in pain as her eyes adjusted to the light of the outdoors. "Oi, cunt!" she hissed, leaning against the wall next to him. "Just what is your fucking problem? You were starting shit with Diana all last night 'n' now you make her cry? Are you really so up your own ass you throw a fit like an ankle-biter that can't wipe his own ass yet?"

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Landaus Five-One
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Diana’s Brutal Reality – Something’s Bothering Her – Amone City’s Walls (Sept. 11th)




Diana’s mood lifted a little bit when she heard Jean say no more alcohol until their mission is completed. It went back down only because her hangover was thumping a bit hard and it caused her to cry some more because it hurts much. ”I dislike.. this… I will probably not drink as much as my mother drinks… in one day.” Diana thought to herself with tears going down her cheeks because of the fact her head hurts much. She had a slight frown on her face, since she’s mostly can’t really help not being happy right now. It was what Luke said at the end of when he was responding to Jean made her still not enjoy this.

She did notice Luke staring at her, which only caused her to cry more, it was only because of the fact her mood was pretty low already. It was because of how everything turned to shit in an instant, however, her thoughts were going a bit wild only to remember something ten times worse that was said to her by a whole different person. This specific person is literally the same person she met on the train heading to the Garnia Hill 58. It was no other than the bastard, Richard Averring Donster, one of the people who constantly gets into fights with her mother Rebecca constantly. However, what he said threw her for a loop, he told her things that she’ll find on the EW1 battlefield. ”Ugh… why am I remembering that bastard now? Luke is definitely not like Richard Averring Donster. If he was I would probably try to throw him under a bus if I was able to… I shouldn’t try to do anything to hurt Luke anymore...” Diana thought to herself, crying at the fact that Luke is just an asshole and not a bastard like Richard. This caused her specifically to go into a daydream right here, kinda wanting to get her mind off of what happened. Since she remembers every single thing that he said to her word for word.









She snapped back into reality from her daydream/flashback of when she first ever met the worst person in history. What he did specifically to her mentally and physically is nothing to what Luke did to her. Luke is a troubled individual whom she now knows that his mother is dead, which caused her a bit of mental trauma. She’ll leave him alone for a bit since he’ll probably needs to think over, however, this makes her question her inner thoughts in why he looked at her specifically. ”Did he never see a girl cry before? But I won’t bug him...” Diana thought to herself. She heard Luke be utterly annoyed at Isaac’s plan to play cards and marched out of the inn since he wanted to deal with the mission at hand of destroying the tunnels. It caused her to cry since she’s a bit frustrated in what she did, and couldn’t help but feel a bit worst for what transpired. She looked around the room and noticed Victoria, which caused her to remember what she said before they woke up.

Diana specifically was trying to hold her cute little giggles in what Victoria said. The good morning and what was after about getting used to the hangovers. The pain of the headache wasn’t something she would ever want to try again, however, she is definitely a lightweight in that specific thing. However, she remembered seeing that pendant necklace around Victoria’s neck. ”Victoria having a daughter… I hope she does get to see her daughter again.” Diana thought to herself, with a slighter happier mood on her face. However, she noticed that Victoria in question walked out of the inn to talk to Luke. ”Uuuhhh… I hope she doesn’t do anything to mean to Luke. He did make me be in shock and horror that I found out that his mother was dead. However, it could’ve been so much worse…” Diana thought to herself, with a look of a bit of worry with a bit of annoyance at her hangover not allowing her to move that much. Her head still hurts much from that ‘party’ you could say she had when unlocking her emotions towards her older sisters. They deserve the hate that they require from her. It took her a bit to notice that Jean was sitting by Reyna and chatting to her about things, however, all she could do was smile at them where she was sitting. Reyna’s cup of tea yesterday, was definitely a good thing to have to drink before her defeat at the hands of Victoria, whom was much more prepared to drink much. She sighed a bit that she was too much of a lightweight in drinking alcohol it took her six drinks in total to start slurring her words.

She, however, didn’t want to interrupt their conversation between the two specifically. It took her a bit to notice Micheal walking in the room, with a slight annoyed tone in his voice. She cutely giggles at what he said since it made sense because her mother Rebecca is quite loud too. The Vastergoth’s are a very unique family since they can’t really be settled in to quickly, it’s mostly because of the fact, her mother does tons of Bar Tours in Castleton. The only time her parents are settled is when they are at the dinner table having a nice quiet chat with their children. ”Hi Micheal, how are you doing today?” Diana asked curiously towards Michael. In her mind, Michael and Lucia is the cutest couple ever in the Squad 1. It is a cute thought that only passes her mind when she sees Michael or Lucia. She couldn’t help but notice he was ordering tea and being completely telling them he only wants tea this way. It caused her to be reminded that Jean told her that Michael is pretty much rich, but a nice guy. In terms of her only run in with a rich person, it made her be slightly reminded about her daydream about what happened to her when she bumped into Richard. He was the stereotypical Rich Asshole that wanted all Darscens to die in a fire. It didn’t help that he slammed her against a wall while holding her up, in terms of things, she was lucky her back was only bruised and no broken bones or that would have been a whole hell much worse.

Diana reminding herself about Richard and the Donster Family as a whole made her cry and it definitely feel like something else was bothering her. It was much more serious than what Luke did, and this crying had a bigger fear response. ”I… don’t… want… to... feel… helpless again.” Diana said, with something clearly bothering her. She spoke a bit quietly but her body language showed that something else was bothering her than what Luke had said to her earlier it was like she had remembered something awful. It took her a moment for the waitress to give Diana her food and coffee, which she was waiting for awhile now. She thanked the waitress for the food and coffee and smiled gently towards the waitress, even though she was still crying. In terms of things, she started to drink her coffee and the caffeine definitely helped her mood a bit. She used her fork to eat the sausage on the plate, the Breakfast food definitely looked great. Ironic enough this is how she usually eats her breakfast at home, she’s a bit particular about how she eats her food in the morning hours. Even though her mother usually yells at her to eat the eggs first. It took her to feel a bit better but the hangover was still there, her mood was picked up a bit. She was still in tears for what she had said, before she started to eat her breakfast. You could tell something was bothering her, it was clear as day.

Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Jeep Wrangler
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The Siege of Amone, September 11th - A time where the birds still sang their lullabies


The rainfall continued to pepper the fields surrounding Amone, and the trees that were once used to bring life to Amone's surrounding forestry were drowned in the one thing they were fruitful in. There was a bitter spite in the striking precipitation that fell unto the world. Most of the other officers had already gone inside, enjoying their funny little expensive meals from within their more prestigious dugouts than those found in the common soldier's hands. Even though he'd been brought up by aristocracy and wealth, there was nothing more sickly than its presence on the working man's battlefield, being an exclusive commodity for those brought into positions of power, most of which were yet to directly kill a man or woman themselves. It was a lot better than when the war first started, and that almost every officer within the Federation was from a position of wealth and power. Now it was a meritocracy, and that was where Alexander himself shone best. Achievements meant promotions, not notoriety. If it was that way, the lack of truth around Middleton's name back home would've been enough to propel him to a higher status by now, but he rejected it. Now, he was a Captain, one that had fallen from grace. The worst part of it all was the fact that part of him was still self-aware of the monster he'd become, seeing that his mind was brought to its knees and forced to lick the dirt off of corruption's steel-toe capped boots, doused in a sludge commonly found at the bottom of the regular Europan trench. It must be nice, having the ability to shove a stuffed lamb or recently carved chicken put down onto a grand plate before you, smiling as the men outside freeze or starve on just their small rations. Whilst the common eye saw the insane Captain as distrusting of his own men, it was far from the truth. The Captain loved them all. He would never admit it. His future self would always deny such feelings, but the past Alexander that once roamed the world would look upon the men and women who served under his command with a beaming smile and raise a glass to them, yelling a great Cheero as they too shared a similar glee. Those giddy days were gone, weren't they though. Those days were nothing more than a fragile void waiting to be recovered by the blissful embrace of death itself. How unfair life had become...

Alexander didn't write home anymore. There was little care left. Viscount Oscar Middleton would've received letters regularly from William, the older and more respected brother of Alexander's tarnished consensus. Even with the name of a false hero that spread throughout the civie-streets of the Federation, both the Viscount and Lady that called themselves his parents would never give him the pat on the back, or the hug of appreciation. Love was not a word his family used often to describe how much Alexander actually meant to them. An after thought. A waste of resources. A failed prospect that didn't meet the expectations of their enriched ideologies. Two of the Viscount's other songs were killed in the earlier years of the conflict. The eldest, Henry, was murdered in 1913EC aboard the HRS Francis Drake, a royal dreadnought that was finally destroyed at Heligoland Peak. Down with the ship, they said. Bartholomew, on the other hand, was killed at the fateful Maren River crossing. Very early war, in that case. It pained Alexander to even consider writing to his own home, knowing his words would forever disappoint his father just for simply existing themselves. William occasionally sent letters to Alexander under strict circumstances, but responses were hard to give back to him due to the sporadic movement and schedules of the Captain's own career.

His mind had been stuck in one place for the last three days, since he'd arrived at Amone. This was the border to Assen, his homeland. Just under a year ago, he was here once more, fighting within his beloved 21st Edinburgh Fusiliers. It was a shame that the stench of the red-rainwater dew was still stuck thickly within his memory. It had given him the brash hatred towards the Vinlander generals and their glorification of the war. Sure, they were volunteers to prepare the United States themselves for a potential entry into the war, but it was far too dangerous to assign them to what was the last ditch effort at holding on to Assen. Alexander thought that every day was worse than the last after that early November morning. Storming the fortification lines that were now only 13 or so miles away from where he stood today, here just outside of Amone, thousands of men and women who followed and trusted him were cut down in violent waves without any sort of repent. The chain of command kept sending more and more into the fray, and it was close to even having Lucia sent out there. The world crumbled around Alexander when he climbed out of his trench, stumbling across the devastated land. Bodies were at every metre, and for once the Imperials seemed to take pity on him, crying his eyes out as he gathered one identity disk after another, watching the bodies of those who he called his friends before. Hundreds of thousands of them. All covered in blood, mucus, spit and decay. Half of the bodies weren't identifiable. Some thought it was the most tragic scene to withhold on the war. The Man who Waltzed the Graveyard, as the event became known as. One 1st Lieutenant, breaking down into endless streams of tears until his mind broke whilst he walked amongst all the dead who trusted him.

It wasn't just his mind that changed that day, nor his attitude towards how he would've contained his anger, but there was someone else who was badly inflicted. Lucia. She'd been under his protection for around a year by then, hiding amongst his sleeves and away from the frontline combat. Without much prejudice, the research and original reason of their meeting had become one of a fatherly complex. Lucia was the light to his world. She wasn't a lover, nor was she a fighter. She was Lucia. The days were silent, with him making sure officers didn't get their grubby hands onto her whenever they wanted extra hands on call. No rifle was placed into her hand with the intention of killing another human, not then or ever. The only time he let her strike anger out was when a rat or two scoffed at her meals and threatened to pass infection around the trenches, to which she happily saw the challenge to kill it. Other soldiers looked at her like she was a useless piece of baggage, but with what Alexander knew, she was more than that. And before that early November morning, she wasn't just a project to him. There was something about how they used to talk and smile that really made her special...




"Lieutenant, is it okay to eat the extra food? Wouldn't the old officer-man get angry at us again?" Her sweet little cheeks puffed out eagerly as ignored her hesitation to eat, placing the pieces of freshly sliced bread into her gaping mouth. A small giggle came about as she continued to load her painfully hungry stomach up with the bakery products recently donated to her by Corporal White, a familiar face in the NCO dugout. As Lucia blissfully brought out that honest question, slightly concerned about her own reputation amongst the 21st Edinburgh Fusilier's ranks with high command, Alexander smiled lovingly to himself, extending out his open palm to ruffle up her dainty, crystal white hair. With her helmet taken off, she was far more free to express her childhood. It was lucky that she was gifted these extra rations, especially seeing as she was the most popular icon within the regiment, almost as if she were a mascot of the sorts. Once Alexander's faint hand scruffed up her hair once more, she began to chuckle again, even with her mouth full. The two shared a joyful laugh together as she sat up onto her own bed, still trying to get used to the uncomfortable spring mattresses the army had provided them. Finally, Alexander spoke by continuing to button up her sleeves, adjusting her uniform to be more presentable for the outside world of their dugout.

"If it's okay with me, then it is okay for you. You deserve it. You're a big girl, remember." They shared another mutual smile together as she opened her mouth greatly, taking another bite out of her slices whilst making strange feline-like noises for her appreciation of its soft, fluffy texture. Whilst it wasn't warm, it was far better than anything she'd managed to eat in recent months, or even years, considering the conditions of the trenches. Time and time again, Alexander tried to sneak her food from the officer's mess halls back at the regimental headquarters, but was unable to every single time. Every day Lucia yearned to eat some form of hot roast, trying to imitate the noises of the animal she playfully chewed upon to make everyone around her laugh. "I can't believe you're fifteen now, Lucia. That's a big number, you know. That's 5475 days on Europan soil, alive and breathing. Call yourself a lucky girl, wouldn't you?"

Lucia beamed as she looked over to the bedside table. Well, it was more of an old ammunition box that was put beside her bed, imitating that of a chest of draws or something. Atop of it was usually a candle, but that had been moved aside for the makeshift cards and paper messages given to her on the special morning of her life's anniversary. From the aforementioned Corporal White's small snapshot roll-film that his camera had made, one of himself, Alexander and Lucia herself sat atop of an artillery gun, to the hundreds of messages written out by C and B company. She glimmered at the hopeful addresses given to her, and they were all there: Private Mason, who still was always given the chance to cook and brew tea for the officers, the Jefferson brothers, the 'Lads of the Emma-Gees' (a select collective of privates all from the machine gun squads, who always were known for their bright smiles), the beauty of the west 'Sergeant Amanda Brown' and all the other names could be seen signing piece by piece. Lucia, for the first time in a long time, truly felt loved and appreciated, completely under the care of her own regiment and compassionate Lieutenant before her.

For a moment, her mind went into a small drift, as it always did. Her understanding of the world was still majorly minuscule in comparison to the common soldier, but her friends and seemingly adopted family on the frontlines gave her all the appropriate information they could whenever she needed it. Alexander smirked and tried desperately to conceal his own chuckle when she pulled her thinking face, always seeing how innocently childish it was of her to do so. Either way, she eventually pouted before grinning herself, and Lucia finally managed to formulate the moment's next big question.


"Why don't the Officer's like to hang out with us? Mr Richards from the Em...uhh...Em...Emma..." She stumbled on her words, pulling another confused pout as she tried to remember the informal name for their collective friendship circle. Lucia's eyes darted towards for a helpful push in the right direction, before her own mind figured it out herself, treating it as if it were a brand now achievement to be proud of. "The Emma-Gees, that's it! Well, he said that the officers didn't think you were nice and kind, or that you should be a bit meaner like the Colonel."

"Bah, those old coots couldn't get any fun unless it were paid for in huge sums of cash. They seem to like to party, but not with those who didn't hold a candle to their rather formal upbringings." Lucia, once again, giggled at his almost mocking tone of their richness. It always struck her the right way when he disregarded the aristocracy that he'd been brought up with for the benefit of his own soldiers, finding comfort and a sense of belonging within their ranks, even as an officer of high regard and authority. Alexander placed a hand gently on her cheek as they both smiled into one another's faces, much like that of a father and daughter. "But you have us, the 21st. We're all here for you, and we hope we made you have the best birthday a girl could ask for. Looks like we'll have a lot to do for your 16th, won't we, little Lucia?"

"There's one way to make it better, without much effort..." Before Alexander could question what she meant, right after tilting his head, Lucia spread out her arms and wrapped the around her guardian, beaming brightly into his heart as she glistened on that birthday night. "Just let us continue to be happy together, Mr Middleton. Just let us be happy."

A tear came to Alexander's eye as he felt the surge of paternal love soar wildly through his mind. He couldn't control the emotions at hand. Nothing could ever bring such a beautiful moment ever to shame. There was no wrong in the world with her around. These two were going to be together forever, as a father and daughter figure in one another's own innocent eyes, just trying to get by and survive the war. With their minds put to rest, Middleton nodded, mouthing out the words that he promised to forever take care of her, and to never let harm come in her way. And with that, he thought to himself that whatever he did, it was for her own life, for her own brilliance. Even if there was still a different reason for why these two had met in the first place, and that his research would have to continue regardless, at least he could love her as the daughter he would never have. He would never lose her, and she would never lose him.

But she did.
She lost him forever.


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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Jacky
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Jacky

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Luke Godfrey


What was he thinking? Why did he act that way? Could he finally be cracking? Was this deployment the final straw? Question after question ran through Luke’s mind as he stared up towards the sky, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth as he flicked a few ashes from his cigarette to the side. His nerves had calmed a bit, the constant barrage of questions help keeping his mind off of the shitshow he started with Diana and her tears. “Damn it,” he muttered before taking another drag from his cigarette. Everything was coming undone, all of his demons were finally creeping out from his mind and exposing themselves for the world to see. Coming here and going to war was suppose to be an escape from it all, it was going to be a new start of who he was. A small huff escaped him as it seemed things wouldn’t be working out like that.

Smoke left his lungs once more as he silently dwelled in his own frustrated mind, trying his best to relax and get his mind straight. He just needed to be alone, to think things through and figure out how he could make up for what he had caused. Unfortunately his silence was brought to and end as he was called a cunt by a familiar angry voice. A small sigh left him before he glanced to his left to see a clearly upset Victoria glaring down at him. “Great,” he muttered before looking back towards the city and listening to her speak, not wanting to meet her eyes. Thankfully it wasn’t another lecture as she questioned his him about his malfunction with Diana. He visibly flinched as she brought up Diana crying and frowned even deeper as his guilt began to rise back up into his chest. As she called him a ankle-biter, a first for insults for Luke, he lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

Luke remained silent for a few seconds, his mind trying to come up with a answer to her questions. “I… I don’t…” he struggled to say anything at first before letting out another heavy sigh and speaking. “Look, I didn’t mean for things to go that far, alright? I snapped I guess,” he said with a tired voice before turning his head towards her, a bit of guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t try to make her cry on purpose, I would never do that. I mean I’ll start shit most of the time sure, but I wouldn’t try to bring someone to tears like that. I’m just... tired of being the reason people cry,” he stated, his mind slacking in keeping his emotions bottled up. Luke rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable in sharing his feelings like this. It’s been awhile since he’s actually been truthful about this sort of stuff. “I didn’t take and joy in seeing her cry. I felt terrible in fact, but I just couldn’t say anything. I froze,” he admitted before falling into a moment of silence, a bit of shame in his voice.

A heavy groan escaped Luke as he leaned his head back against the building and rubbed his face, exhausted in dealing with all of this crap. After taking another drag from his smoke he glanced her way and released the fumes from his nose before scoffing in bitter amusement. “What else do ya want me to say? I’m an ass? I’ve heard that one about a million times already, but if you’re here to lecture me on shit that I already know then don’t bother. You and the thousands of people before you have droned on about how much of a shithead I am and I honestly stopped caring,” he stated honestly as he flicked his cigarette away and stood up to face her, burying his hands into his pockets and hardening his gaze on her. “So if you have another lecture, hurry up and get it over with. If you wanna throw a punch, hurry up and throw it. If you have nothing else to say, then hurry up and fuck off back inside,” he finished before cracking his neck, preparing himself if she chose the second option. It’d cause more trouble with him and Jean sure, but he needed to blow off some steam anyways. Might as well take it out on someone able to handle it.

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

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Of course, the main reason Isaac started running at the mouth and shouting was COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE! He just wasn't prepared for the sudden surge of activity in his brain, overloading his impulses and deadening the headache in his brain. With that said, let's go over to our scorecard now to see how everyone was reacting to the super-caffienated card game invitation.

Diana was interested, but didn't know how to play and was basically pleading for Isaac and everybody else not to be so loud.

Jean was not interested, and as far as Isaac could tell, he was also miffed about something...which was not unusual. Poor guy.

Luke was also not interested and grumbling about wanting to get back on duty, but that may've been more about having made Diana cry.

Michael...hadn't been in the room, but he'd heard Isaac and walked into the room to register his lack of interest.

Victoria wasn't even paying attention, and seemed way more intent on having words - and possibly fists - with Luke.

Boy, morale here is shit, isn't it? He couldn't even teach Diana right now, since she was in a really bad mood. Isaac did, however, say to her "Alright, I won't shout anymore. Sorry about that. It just sort of came out.", and that ended the idea of them all having a friendly card game together, trying to bind them together in some cohesive manner. They just didn't have the emotional glue to keep that all together. Well, you couldn't blame him for trying, anyway. He wondered, though... Where was Lucia in all this? She would've been all over this idea, and probably hook in at least Michael. So, that much was a bust, but...there was one other thing, a loose end, if you will.

"So... No more drinking, then?"

"Looks like."

"What do we do about that bottle of Scotch in our room?"

There was still roughly half a bottle of that stuff in their possession.

"I guess we'd better save if for a rainy day."

"Will Jean be alright with that?"

"He won't ask me to toss it out when I'm just holding onto it. He knows I wouldn't abuse the stuff."

He was just getting into the spirit of it, after all. Jean's main problem with the drinking problem was entirely to do with the drinking contest - or contests - that occurred yesterday. That kind of thing made him and Britta seem almost responsible. Well, almost... Drunken behavior had led to the two of them becoming involved, suddenly, when the closest thing they had was him making a promise not to leave her behind if there was trouble. It just sort of happened, and while Isaac had no regrets and Britta felt it was even worth doing, he still had to wonder if those were true feelings or just the habitual practices of someone under the influence. They'd bonded, but they were going to have to bond further than that to make it seem like it was completely of their own volition.

Still, Isaac was heading off to store the bottle of scotch in with their things so Jean couldn't, say, confiscate it. And he was gonna make sure the other Oceanics and anyone else who hadn't heard Jean's proviso of not imbibing anymore was aware of the fact. It was their commander's order, after all, and he was going to make sure it was followed. Because...Jean was right. Getting plastered on the first day was one thing, but keeping it up to the point where it'd interfere with their mission was a bad idea. So, with Isaac off doing that, Britta decided to hang around and make sure that Diana was going to be okay. Victoria was already after Luke, so she just decided to take a seat near Diana and Michael.

...when Diana began to seriously break up, suddenly, she could tell that something big was wrong. Luke was offensive, but you had to remember that there were things up with that girl long before he showed up. Like with Franz, Britta could tell that something deeper and darker lay with in.

"Diana? What is it? What's really wrong?"
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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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A cup of tea, a sip of milk poured in afterward. A rather optional cube of sugar and a thorough spoonful stir. It would do much to keep the man at ease with the current predicament he was in. In a time of war, a cup of tea still reminded him of before all of this happened. The gentlemanliness, the civility of it all. And perhaps at the same time as a rewind of the past was the time machine to the future. If he could live to the end of this, he would still get to enjoy a tasty cup of quality herbal tea, more than he could afford at this moment.

Michael silently sipped on his small cup, one of his hands hovering the plate slightly below the cup. The flavor immediately melted his senses. It was a delightful taste. The mild sweetness of the sugar touched upon his feelings like a soft caress of a mother's hand on her child, the milk poured so delicately precise it was like a kiss, while the smoke from the cup reminded him that the world was not as cold as he had imagined and experienced. He wondered when he would be able to receive another treatment like this again. After the war, of course, but when would that come to pass? Humanity had normalized themselves too much for this horrid activity. What would be so much better than just stabbing and shooting other people? A cup of tea, shared with your adversaries sitting right in front of you, and a dialogue that does not involve threatening people for their beliefs and values, or for personal advancement. All of it sounded fantasy. An unachievable utopia for a naïve and foolish child. But hey, on the other hand, to call it impossible would be using a fool's dictionary. The doors weren't entirely closed...

His contemplation did not cease with Diana's morning, or rather afternoon, greetings. But even though he was still wandering in his own thoughts, he still found himself replying to her, not simply just for politeness.

"I'm good today. How about you? You look tired."

He didn't know what happened the day before, and probably he should not. Just let his mind wander into his own thoughts, speculation, reflection...and ambition. But he was snapped back to reality soon enough with Diana's mutter, perhaps unbeknownst to her that Michael was right there to hear her shaking words. And he wasn't the only one who got worried.

"Do you mind us accompanying you with your problems?"

He'd want to help, but she'd have to let him though.
@Landaus Five-One
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Yam I Am
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Yam I Am Indefinitely Retired

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"No."

("No?")

Inès shouldn't be the one judging, here. Be here as long as she may, and sharp she may be, Inès didn't know the entirety of Jean's picture. Perhaps she knew enough for insights into his surface thoughts - that may be true - even so, that left margins for digression all the same. How he commented on her, and...her tea. An odd tangent, certainly, yet that was what came to mind when Jean spoke of the brunette he so endeared. Inès narrowed her gaze slightly as Jean peered skywards as if he were being whisked away to a fantastic diversion, then widened those eyes as the picture came to view; Jean had quite the affinity toward her, certainly, but had not the words to describe how he truly felt. Second guesses got us all, certainly, but, as the adage went, "within every crisis lies opportunity, and those accomplishments are forever out of reach to those who constantly fear failure."

He might snicker, one time or two, with Inès' comments on the topic of his love interests, in any display that Jean did not have incentive to believe what she told him. Her words were true; not an ounce of fib escaped in any of her proposals or evaluations. Yet that seemed ingenuine for her compatriot, never minding once to nod in approval, but how could he? Inès knew Jean was busy, certainly, and the weight of managing the mission must have hung him like a hangman's noose. In spite of this, they were in the isle of tranquility none of them knew existed nor was even possible not one day ago. In that one day, that one night, plenty of merrymaking attracted the sights and gave delights to the members of Squad One. Maybe to Squad One...spare Jean.

Her hand motioned down, not guided, but rather, implored by the Corporal's guidance down naught a centimeter or two. Had Inès wished, she would have kept her position dead-set on her superior's heart, but for the first time...Inès saw him smile. Tenuous, nebulous, murky and melancholic, it seemed to be, but it was a smile, nevertheless, and that was a first from her superior. No matter the exam, no matter the trial; A woman defined by trial, tribulation, and testament to turbulence, Inès knew that there had to be time to smile, even if for naught but one moment, for naught but a snide, and for naught but a bleak bravado in spitting in the face of the innumerable odds.

She shared his smirk back, and exchanged a chuckle. It was good to see the officer smiling, truly. Even seeing Luke getting reprimanded almost changed Inès' opinion on the man. She heard him spoke of his time at Hill 58, charging across a war-pleated field just to re-obtain his prized binoculars, and now that modesty, before spoken so humbly, showed in true form. Inès chuckled. Whenever Luke was involved, Jean seemed to be there to show his spine, she noticed. Perhaps if he continued to push his buttons, Jean could become a fearless veteran of the battlefield in due time, charging across No Man's Land with as much thought as the day's rainfall.

...until Scarface came along, and so brutally executed Jean's confidence that even Middleton would have been declared a Saint by the Cruxian faith in comparison.

"Fils de pute..." Inès sighed, seeing Jean's confidence vaporize with one simple moment.

Whatever intrigue he could provide by a card game, that lost itself, clearly, to the emotional maelstrom Squad One's members entrapped themselves in. Diana - the blondie - was still getting over Luke's tantrum. Luke himself hung his head low, almost drooping his hair over his plate by now. But Jean...

...

Inès saw him head for her. She smirked. Maybe the talk was good for something, after all.


"What we really need to do here is get back to work and destroy those fucking tunnels."

"I will pretend I did not hear that!" The familiar voice chuckled, coming from Inès' leftmost side. She pivoted around, met by the familiarity of her used-to-be-Federal-technically-Imperial acquaintance. Not without his famed grin, Max took a seat beside her, in the position now vacated by a socializing Jean.

"I thought you left with the other Imperials." Inès asked, turning for a moment in surprise.

"And miss all of this glamour?" Max retorted, opening his arms as though he were a carnival host.

Inès sighed, turning back to what few scraps remained of her breakfast. Not smiling one wince, Inès displayed naught but disdain, even for a man as close as Max.

"I'm glad you still know how to laugh whenever it's not needed."

Max frowned, dropping his prosthetic arm to the table with its distinct *CREEURK*. He motioned slightly closer to Inès, leaning with his left arm upon his knee.

"Oh, n-...w-w-would you come on?!" He protested, checking around to make sure he hadn't caught too many ireful views. From how he frowned, looked down, and refocused back to Inès, he most certainly had. Inès smirked at him. Always the type to find trouble.

"Well...sigh, look. We still have business to do, eh?" Max reminded, hushing his voice this time, "I still have a good selection! And..."

The blondie paused for a moment, smiling. Inès turned with the silence, raising an eyebrow at first the silence, then at Max.

"...I have a little something for the birthday girl!"

"A little something." Just how little could it be? Even if he remembered her birthday - which, admittedly, Inès did find to be sweet of him - she knew it was on too short of notice to be anything too personal. By happenstance alone, the two caught one another here, and Max, while resourceful, Inès doubted he would send mail across a front line for the occasion. Still, whatever could it be such that Max would divert himself to not go back in safety with the other Imperials?

Inès breathed, smiling, shaking her head. She popped from her seat, gently sliding down from the barstool while she nodded her head.

"Okay." She accepted.


Max had his supply truck parked around a corner from the Inn, still well within the zone of neutrality, of course, but in an area plenty shaded so as to provide the well-deserved privacy for his clientele. The bed of his supply truck was covered in a canvas tarp, plenty drenched from the morning's precipitation, but situated in a secluded spot, free from prying eyes. Inès had seen photographs of the trucks before in newspaper snippets, catalogues, and the like, yet still was impressed by the size of the great automobile. It was certainly larger than any horse wagon she had seen, and dwarfed even any automobile she had acquainted herself with. Only could she imagine the Ragnite engine necessary to power a vehicle of this size, and with that thought wondered how Max was able to pathfind his truck into so small and specific a spot. Yet, therein lay the answer to a lot of questions...and likely why he was put into service of munitions and logistics.

Towards the very front of his cargo stash, amidst other countless crates and sacks, Inès had climbed around to Max's self-declared "special inventory", composed of a few nondescript chests and boxes. They were distinctly unlike the military crates around, and instead apropos a bedchest kept in houses far more furnished than what Inès was accustomed to. As the pair grunted and heaved, moving the chests into proper positioning, Max turned just away from Inès, grasping hold of an oil lantern with his right prosthetic.

"Open them up." Max asked, the sound of a match striking away just barely audible against the downpour of the morning. In almost perfect sync, Inès unbuckled the chest, flinging it open as light spilled forth into the truck.

Max hunched down, moving just to the side of Inès, smiling at the contents of the boxes. At first he leaned forward, putting his left arm across his stomach in the form of a deep bow.

"It is my honor to serve the legendary Mademoiselle Lévesque." Inès snickered at his faux pas. At the very least, even when he did attempt to emulate the fineness of Francian etiquette, Max still did manage wonders in humorous blunders. Specifically where working-class women were concerned.

Max had a full stock of varied weapons; some clearly in better condition than others. Blanketed in a thick cloth, several assortments of blades, maces, axes, knives, and even some tools repurposed into melee weapons lay in one crate. Just beneath, there was an assortment of other ranged weapons - old revolvers and pistols, all in varying states of repair, what she thought were grenades, and even a few clearly improvised fire bombs and powder bombs. In another large trunk, this one curiously coated in patches and other traveller's insignia - New Belfast, Buenos Vientos, Qi'an, Marseille, Weissendorf, among others - folded neatly among one another was a varied assortment of clothing, hats, and helmets, all in heterogenous form and origin. To her leftmost lay the final container, and within that were cans, tins, pots, and bottles of all manner of hard-to-acquire provisions. Fine cigars from Trinidad, ground coffee, chocolate, varied assortments of cigarettes, canned fruits and vegetables, whiskey, mead, beers and wines of all manner of brew and craft; the variety seemed endless from Inès view of what even was on the surface of this one container.

She looked through the weapons at first. If the squad were going to occupy themselves in what Inès could only imagine were the labyrinthine tunnels of this city, she would do herself well to equip with something far better suited for the tight confines of combat. Scanning over the contents, her hand rummaged slightly through the assortment of sidearms, finding at first many old-timey revolvers she swore would have to date back well into the 19th century. As was expected, they were in rough condition; the cylinders were often very chipped, perhaps even corroded in a few instances, and Inès could not find herself the interest to trust her life with an antique. One, however, did catch her attention; A semi-automatic model, fed from a grip magazine, in contrast to the pistol she was used to back home. It bore a sleek, minimal design, almost as though it were a revolver sans the cylinder. She picked it up, still encased in its' worn leather holster, and drew it slowly.

"A woman of class and taste, as always." Max applauded as she peered upon the handgun. With no doubt, he was earnest - and possibly correct - on account of her taste, yet class was another fib from him. However, while she venerated the sidearm, his hand slowly waved over hers. His face turned to awkwardness, a disappointed, strange smile on it.

"...we may be close, Inès, but...I can't sell that to you." Max frowned, "It's a risk, and i'm already not supposed to do this, nevermind acquiring ammunition, and what your superiors may say to you..."

Slowly, he wrapped his hand around the pistol grip, Inès relegating hold of the handgun. Max gently tugged it away, calmly smiling while he put it back into its' holster.

"Sorry, Inès, but...believe me on this. Erm- perhaps another time?"

"...another time." Inès relinquished. For now, there'd be no pistol, and at this rate, an unlikely endeavor unless she had the good fortune to scavenge one from a fallen Imperial - or Federal - officer. A shame, as she was far more familiar with handguns than she was rifles, yet she forsook the disappointment as she turned to her right, starting to look through the clothing bin.

"My last helmet got caved in." she announced, glancing briefly at Max, "What do you have?"

Quickstepping around to her side, Max snapped into life, beginning his dig into the contents of that trunk. Beneath a few lines of fatigues, coats, and hats, he pulled out a few assorted helmets, some wrapped in cloth, others simply stacked on top of one another. All of them were secondhand - they had to be, given their scratches and far from perfect condition - yet you could make out the general designs from which they came. Some Imperial, some Edinburgian, some Francian, and some of a design Inès had never encountered before. Every Federal helmet she dusted upon had clear scratches on them, some running so deep as to create indentations around the helmet's interior space. Feeling each crevice almost gave her a morbid curiosity, a morose wonderance as to just how this piece of headwear was obtained. Many of the Imperial helmets had similar scars, some even still carrying the musk of sweat of their previous owner, as Inès disgustedly noted. An Imperial helmet likely was not a great idea, given that tended to be the first note of identification, but neither did she trust the condition of any Federal helmet on offer. It was to the unknown helmets, then, where she rummaged through, finding similar circumstances to the contemporaries, at first. There was one last one, however, that caught her eye.

It bore only superficial scratches, yet bore similarities to both Edinburgh and Imperial designs. The bottoms of the helmet were winged, protruding slightly downward, especially around the backward neck in fashion not dissimilar to Edinburgh designs, while it also contoured itself around the user's ears and face, typical of Imperial patterns. Bearing a covering on the top, just above the face, the cover primarily protruded some sort of cloth on the front, which was wrapped around the helmet by leather bindings. If needed, the helmet could carry a small item or two, Inès justified.

"That one?" Max commented, "Kortrijk design, I think. That one came from when I did business with a performing troupe, actually. Said they found it while they were on the run in the South."

Inès glanced over at him. His eyebrows slightly raised, as if offended that she question his integrity so. She felt along the helmet, tilting her eyes back toward the new investment, then facing Max headfirst.

"How much?" She asked, raising the helmet slightly. He pondered over it, a slow smirk steadily sketching onto his expression.

"...for you?" Max declared, "...mmh. Thirty."

"Eighteen."

And like that, the game was on.

"Tsk. Ever the stiff one, Inès? Twenty-five."

"Twenty."

Max snickered, shaking his head. Streaks of his blonde hair obfuscated his hair, falling to a close underneath his eye as soon as his gesture ceased. His mouth formed a circle, then a whistle of a sharp exhale blew his hair from his view. His steady smile gave himself away; Correctly, he was under the impression their game was getting them nowhere.

"Tell you what:" He prompted, posturing his good hand forth, "Twenty-three, and I throw in that."

Finger extended, he gestured to a deep navy scarf of a sort, something between a scarf and a handkerchief, twined with a discernible light tan color. The pattern took form of two lines, repeating in a wavelike hexagonal sine, each one inlaid with another, solid-colored hexagon. Simple as it was elegant, Inès knew she would need something a bit warmer coming up. The winter months bore little to enjoy, and the Darcsen was no stranger to winters without proper equipment...and how little she cared to repeat those experiences.

Inès paused, then pulled out her coin purse.

"Deal." She agreed. Slipping out a few face bills, she exchanged the francs with the Imperial merchant, returning smiles and polite handshakes with one another.

"And what about your present?" Max halted, eyeing up Inès. Her face remained flat as her response. The Darcsen sighed for a bit, slowly turning into a smile, which earned Max's own grin as her reward. Snapping for but a bit, Max retreats to a crate just behind him, making a twirling motion with his finger.

"Turn around, close your eyes, and hold out your hands..."" He asked. More like suggested. Inès smirked, raising an eyebrow as her mouth so clearly hunched spoke the words "Are you kidding me?" without the need for her to waste her breath. Max sighed and shook his head, although her condemnation of his wish scantly deterred his own smile.

"Fine. Just wait then." He resigned, turning his back behind a small crate in the front. A fair bit of shuffling and ruffling ensured, Inès herself wondering just how much logistical maneuvering this man was doing to conceal such an important present to her. Moments later, he'd come back with a small, nondescript cloth bag, roughly the size of a football. He presented it to her with both hands extended, preceded by the *CREEEK* of his prosthetic.

"Ta-da!" he exclaimed, a grin only plausibly precedented by the eagerness of a gift waiting to be unwrapped. Inès took hold of it, quickly unraveling the binding of its' opening.

Her eyes widened at it. First, was a dark amber bottle, large and rounded near the bottom, more akin to a Pasteur flask than a traditional bottle of wine or liquor. Emblazoned with imprinted, raised letters, the title upon the bottle was clear:

Admiral Aufrey's Finest Centrolandic Rum
100 Proof
1.75 Litres


Inès typically wasn't much of a drinker. She'd have the occasional night to enjoy herself, certainly, but liquor never quite tickled her fancy. Even as destitute as they could be, Inès' mother seldom failed to stockpile on wine, and that would be her drink of choice on the rare days where she needed to let loose. Even the most dilettante purveyor of alcohol, however, knew the fame that was Admiral Aufrey's. She had seen it fetch handsome prices in windowsills while walking through many of the more exquisite parts of Francia, sometimes demanding a score well into the double digits. Edinburgh did occasionally issue rum rations, of course, but the stuff was typically poor, sometimes even so coarse that there would be thick strands of molasses still in the liquid, and the liquor would instead function apropos a hard candy instead of a drink to soothe the nerves. A bottle of this quality was certain to be something to enjoy...

...if Inès fancied rum. Still, it was something valuable to trade where niceties such as these were few and far between.

The others? They more than made up for the questionable gifts.

Encased well in a lacquered box, clear through a glass covering over its' hinged top, lay just what she needed - Khandar Rolls. Fresh, directly from Khandar, still sealed and stamped with the Gold Sultan's emblem on top. Even the aroma of the sweet leaves permeated well through their encasement, bringing delight to even the most stone-cold face. Inès couldn't restrain herself. She gave into it, smiling ear to ear.

"Are you trying to choke me?" Inès teased, poking fun at Max. He playfully shrugged back, feigning along with the joke. "...thanks."

"You're welcome!" For once, Max yielded to some actual manners. Even getting a simple "thank you" from the Imperial was a notoriously hellish task.

Just as their business was about to conclude, Inès caught sight of a mask just below her gaze. Not any mask, mind, but the exact same mask that had been issued to all of the Federal troops headed to Amone. Yet, she noticed that among the Imperials, not one had a similar one, nor any mask she could feasibly make out on their persons. She had a merchant of all manner of goods before her, dubious or not, and perhaps, then, she may have found some sort of use for it. Pointing directly at it, she turned her head to Max, her serious demeanor posturing her query.

"What are these masks?" she questioned.

The blonde headed man turned, approaching the mask with a puzzled look about him. Hand waved over, he seemed to almost feel it out, etching for some manner of distinction about it while he jogged his memory on the subject. Puzzled, frowning, he turned back to Inès.

"These? I only got this a few days ago." he explained, "Someone said they found it in the city, here. I think they're supposed to be antiques. Mining masks."

"Mining masks?" She wondered. A concerned, confused look came about her.

"Yeah. Back in old times, deep underground, there'd be buildups of sulfur or monoxide deep below, and what they'd do is keep a bird in a cage to see if the air was safe, since they'd be the little things to die first if there was poison in the air. But, over time, they just wanted miners to keep on digging without worrying about poison, so they made these so they wouldn't have to worry about it."

("What the Hell are we doing with mining masks?") Inès wondered to herself. Her face fell a bit down with the explanation, visibly sinking with every point Max lectured on about.

"Still, the masks didn't solve everything. Some of that gas was so volatile, just the oil lamps would make it all ignite." He kept on, "Any fire, even just a stray spark, would cause the whole mine to detonate."

"...huh..." Inès nodded back. She wasn't telling Max. If it was about the tunnels, Inès wasn't going to go talking too much about their mission. She trusted Max, but she knew he liked to talk. That mudhead had already gone and expunged their mission in front of the entire Inn, and Inès didn't trust Max not to tell stories about "The Darcsen Pro Fighter Who Went Into Explosive Tunnels" to his friends behind the lines. Rather late for that, she knew, but perhaps the less he knew, the better.

"Just curious." she finished off.

Max tilted his eyes, widened them, then shrugged. Inès met them back with a forced neutrality, coercing him into a sigh. She would need to tell someone about this. Just not him.

"Well, then." Max declared, putting his hands together, "That's my business here."

"...it was nice seeing you again." he said, putting out his left hand, open.

"Yeah...it was...good seeing you, too."

The shake was quick, concise. Nothing formal, no; little besides an awkward farewell, done out of necessity rather than savoir-faire. The encounter, however brief, still left the distance between the two reverberating, even whilst they stood directly across from one another. Inès knew, somewhere within her, this was, for all intents and purposes, likely her final goodbye to Max. Even if the two made it out of this war unscathed, there was no imagining anything good would come from either circumstance; Inès was a fighter of a race persecuted for centuries, such that even the foundations of history itself revolved around it. Max was a deported criminal, specializing in acquiring downright illicit goods. Even if he possessed a sense of kinship perhaps unparalleled, loyalty to others meant nothing in the long arms of the law. And those laws seemed to be the death of them both.

"I...guess i'll be heading off."

"...I'll...see you."

Inès took her time turning around, hopping off the back of that truck. The rainfall did nothing to slow her descent off. It was thinking that her friend may not make it that perturbed her. No doubt he thought the same, if not worse, considering how she fought on the lines themselves.

When she hopped off, she felt a cold, steady drizzle soak her feet, even through her boots. Just behind her, she heard him call out, one last time.

"Hey, wait! Before you go...could you...er...give these to that guy? The, um...your Corporal?" He asked. Inès turned back to him, meeting his arm outstretched, three texts stuffed inside his grasp. They seemed fairly new, judging by their hard backing and industrial paper binding. Their titles were engraved into the covers themselves, further etched in with some manner of gilded ink. Inès didn't look too closely at them, instead focusing on quickly putting them into her bag, as the morning's unyielding downpour threatened to ruin the books.

"I saw him writing a lot, so...I thought he'd like these. History, romance, epics...that sort of thing." Max commented, stepping down from his truck with the helping hand of Inès on his way down.

"Oh, and Inès..." He motioned back for the final time. Max chose a blank expression, meeting eye to eye with her.

"...try to keep your voice down in the future."

"Goodbye, Max." As angered as Inès was in her speech, Max smirked. He made Inès smile. And that was precisely what he wanted his last memory of her to be.


The march through the rain to the inn was a short one, if it thoroughly drenched the shocktrooper down to her smallclothes. The sturdy canvas construction of her bag retorted any measly attempt at rain to devour her purchases, but the weather would receive no such victory. Inside, the Inn fell oddly quiet. Most everyone was sill asleep, or, more likely, had moved on into their assignment for their time in Amone. Even the residents of Squad One were seldom around, save the few who remained awake and downstairs for their morning breakfast. Luke seemed to have vacated the area, Inès noted, yet Jean was finishing up conversation with his special someone.

Inès smiled at the thought. Jean had likely received enough brunt from himself for his attempts at romance, nevermind the rest of the squad at large. Turned courier for the moment, Inès still knew better than to interrupt his moment with her, instead opting to dry herself with whatever spare rags or towels she could scrounge around.

At the end of his most wholesome discussion - or failing that, some intermission between the two - Inès approached Jean for the second time that morning, putting the three tomes before him.

"Max wanted me to give these to you." Inès mentioned, "His way of saying goodbye."

Inès left as soon as she came, looking for the company of a few nearby. Franz was a likely bet, or failing him, likely could be found around Freya, but whatever be that case, she wasn't in any capacity to be holding deep-set conversations on the value of literature with Jean. Splayed in constituent order, Jean could make out the three titles pressed upon every book.

23 Years - The Autobiography of Hugo Zimmerman


"Hugo Zimmerman"? Wasn't he a criminal?

Red Sail, Golden Age


Red and Gold, was it? Judging by the printing, it had to do with something regarding the old Iberon colonies on the Vinlandic continents. The Age of Sail had their prized pieces of romance to them, of course liberally peppered with embellishments, but even the most aggrandized depictions had their seeds of truth strewn in them.

Anya Karenin
By: Lev Nikolayevich


The Lev Nikolayevich? Even while he shared his sense of controversy in his Ruzhian homeland, the late Nikolayevich truly was a master of his craft. Nobody really came close to matching the man's prose, not even among the brightest minds in either the Empire nor any domain of the Federation. The poor author departed just before the war, as well, yet to live to see 82 years was far from a tragedy.

At any pace, this would give Jean quite the amount to dive into. A shame he couldn't thank Max for his tastes.

@LetMeDoStuff
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 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 – Moving past her fear – Amone City’s Walls (Sept. 11th)




Diana couldn’t help but still feel a bit regretful at ruining her parents anniversary of not having a hangover. It didn’t really help many things weren’t going right for her, it could’ve gone better. She definitely likes every single person in her squad. In terms of certain things, in the back of her mind none of this happened if she wasn’t highly patriotic and naive. It wouldn’t be right to try to change what happened in the past and live with her decision of being apart of this war. She still didn’t like the fact it was under threat of imprisonment in terms of how she got here via conscription. ”I should be more careful in what I do in the future. Got to be more fair than anything I guess? Even though mother tried to stop me from joining this awful war in the first place but you cannot stop a Vastergoth when they choose their path.” Diana thought to herself. In terms of that specific thing she thought, which caused her smile to reappear on her face.

She came out of her thoughts when Isaac addressed her about not shouting anymore. This helped her mood somewhat more, even though later on it would be in the drain again. ”Thank you Isaac for saying that. Hangovers aren’t really a great thing to have...” Diana responded to Isaac. It took her but a few moments until she heard Micheal’s response to her question, and smiled a little bit. In terms of everything, she was definitely tried, which is why she ordered a coffee and is drinking it now to awake her up. ”Yeah… didn’t like waking up with this hangover I still have. It’s a bit of a problem.” Diana said, with an ounce of regret of messing up the Vastergoth’s anniversary of not having a hangover. It hurts to do that to her family even though the only three people in her family that truly loves her with all their heart is her brother, mother and father. Her two older sisters are complete and utterly mean and hateful to her, but at least Susan did apologize to her.

However, there’s a specific man in question in her hometown that she wished she never crossed in her life. It was Richard Averring Donster, which threatened her and even slammed her against a wall because he hated her family specifically. She tried to forget what he did to her when he reintroduced himself on that one train, when she arrived to join the battle of Garnia Hill 58. It was an utter shock to see him on that train and him joining the military as an enlisted soldier and not conscripted like her, however, the biggest shock was he was nicer to her on that train than in Castleton. ”Why did he join the military? Did he want to keep his word of his threat or something… But I have no idea what is going on in his head… However, he was the most popular, the smartest and utterly has too many agendas because of his family’s name. That is what my brother told me.” Diana thought to herself, a bit confused about that. She couldn’t really figure out what that specific man thought of himself even though every single person in Castleton praised him. However, it was probably because they were afraid of him and what his last name is Donster. It irked her mostly because of his attitude in Castleton & On that train were completely different.

Diana snaps back to reality, only because she heard two specific questions about what’s wrong with her. The first person, which asked the question was Britta about what’s really wrong with her and the second was Michael. She couldn’t help but start crying because there’s a whole much wrong with her, but the major problem with her is Richard and what he said to her before she was sent to the Conscription Bootcamp. ”Uhhh… It’s the daydream I had before what I said. Because I was utterly helpless to defend myself from the man that scared the living shit out of me. I couldn’t do anything but allow him to torment me and call me really mean names, which insult what my family does in terms of protecting the values of Darscens in my hometown of Castleton.” Diana said, she was crying alike she was. It shook her a bit too much, her hands were shaking in fear alike that day specifically in that daydream, when she ran into Richard Averring Donster.

She breathed in and out for a few seconds to try to calm down a bit to continue. ”He is an unfeeling bastard, which threatened to kill me himself… but when I met him on the train to Garnia Hill 58. He was a bit ‘nicer’ to me it was weird. I have no idea why he did that… Oh yeah you might want to know whom he is… He makes what Luke said about Darscens tame in comparison to his hate of them, which is Richard Averring Donster. The most praised but most feared of them you could say in my hometown. I have no idea why he joined the war, while I was forced by conscription. Richard even threatened me to never tell my mother Rebecca… But my mother would easily find that out but I was shipped off to the Bootcamp right after that incident.” Diana said. It was a trying time, which is why she should’ve wrote to her parents but didn’t at all while on the train to Amone. However, she decided to stop being afraid of that bastard even though that little daydream didn’t help how much she was afraid of Richard. It’s constantly in the back of her mind that Richard will make due on his threat but she can’t really be afraid of not telling her mother since she’ll find out anyway. She is an open book and easily able to be read like one.

Diana continues to eat her food, nonetheless since she needs it. The coffee is definitely helping her in terms she only got very few hours of sleep that is. It’s kinda obvious why if someone heard her loudly in bed with Victoria. She was happy that this reminded her of home since her parents were always the ones that chatted while eating breakfast, lunch or dinner at home. They were a definitely happy family besides her elder sisters being very mean to her and calling her short or what not. She smiled happily just thinking on those days talking to her mother and father at the dinner table, it was really sweet. ”I miss chatting with my parents at the kitchen table talking about random things. It is the happiest moment of my life… then Astra had to ruin it… by marrying Richard, who’s an utter bastard. However, I think their wedding is after this war… Why did Astra have to be even more of a bitch than Susan? Susan actually apologized to me. The one thing I know… Astra outright cut off all ties with our family. All for money and wealth. Why does greed drives some people?” Diana asked. She had a depressed tone throughout when she said that her elder sister Astra had to ruin the happy family. The question she specifically asked was to the not stereotypical rich person who’s name is Michael. She wanted to tell Astra every single little thing wrong with her outright stupid belief system of believing the Donsters in their lies. Why would a Donster of all people marry a Vastergoth unless its to ruin my family’s reputation?” Diana thought to herself. She is just thinking about that since she doesn’t know the real reason why Astra and Richard would get married but knew Astra's reason but not Richard's.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Smike
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For a moment Victoria had thought that Luke would have just simply tried and ignored her, something she was more than capable of dealing with with. The Oceanic's towering height and abrasive voice were well suited to getting a point across in combination with her abrasively accented swearing. Failing that, a liberal application of brute force directed at someone's skull was a good way to get them to listen. Something told her that Jean would be less than pleased with her if that's how she ended up handling the situation, but she couldn't give less of a fuck about what he thought. She would keep an eye on him sure, for Marathon, and follow his orders, but she was a firm believer in the policy of asking for forgiveness instead of permission.

God, he looked like such an asshole! Leaning against the side of the building seemingly without a care in the world, inhaling his fucking cigarette smoke like everything was perfectly alright. And the way he sighed and fixed her with that sidelong glance, it was taking all her self-control to not stub out his smoke in his eyes. At least he looked suitably cowed by her presence, rubbing his neck and avoiding her hateful gaze like a beaten dog. Bullies never did like it when they were cornered by someone bigger than them, and he was no different than the ones she had known back home. Victoria was going to whip him twice in one day, this time physically instead of in a competition.

Or at least she had planning to. The fiercely protective soldier was all set to deck the bastard in the mouth but then he just had to go and start speaking. He claimed that he had snapped, a weak excuse, but Victoria couldn't ignore the guilt in his expression. Had it really been done out of pure malice like she had thought? It would be so much simpler if it was, it had been some cartoonish expression of evil or foul-temper. Victoria had dealt with her fair share of people who were assholes for the sake of being assholes, she could handle them with no sweat. But when they expressed genuine remorse like Luke was solutions were messy and hard to work out.

She managed to keep a sneer on her face while she took in his explanation, well versed in acting she didn't give a shit about anyone or anything when she very much did. And what she heard worried her greatly. Luke's words about how he didn't care about other people's opinions of him, the way he was obviously spoiling for a fight, it reminded her of herself and the other transient thugs that had roamed the streets. Young, stupid, wasting their lives. She had seen firsthand where that road led, a bitter struggle with alcoholism and raising a kid for her, death or prison for many of them. Whether she made it out of the war or not, her life was over. She had no skills, no real friends, her family was scattered to the wind. She'd be stuck in the military until she was forced into retirement by old age or a bullet.

It was all she could do. She had fucked up and dug herself into a pit she couldn't climb out of, it didn't matter if she dug herself deeper. It was painful to admit, but that was the truth. But she didn't want anyone else to make the same mistakes that she had. There was hope for Luke still, if he survived he could still become a doctor or lawyer or teacher or anything that was more than a violent street kid who had been assigned a uniform and a rifle. She wanted him to succeed, to be someone that she could point at and show Elizabeth that she didn't have to grow up to be like her mother.

All at once Victoria unclenched her fists and relaxed her tensed shoulders, the fight leaving her body as she began to toy with the brass locket at her neck. "I'm not going to hit you, although you certainly deserve it." she said tiredly. "I just don't want you to end up going down a bad road. Luke, trust me, you don't want to end up alienating everyone around you. You can make something out of yourself, after all this shit blows over. You're not a fuck-up like I am." The young woman paused her spiel to retrieve her metal flask, the foul scent of cheap liquor pouring out as she opened it and took a swing. "You should really cut back on your drinking as well." she suggested, apparently immune to irony.

Her free hand removed her necklace and opened it, showing Luke the photo of little Elizabeth. "I was kicked out from home when I was fourteen and became a full time thug. I drink so much that I have trouble remembering any of my life before I was ten. I killed a person at fifteen and fell in love with a con artist that left me penniless and alone when I got pregnant. Now I'll wasting my life in the OEF because I don't know how to do anything but fight for my life. You can do much better than that."
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Conscripts
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Conscripts An Atom Trying to Understand Itself

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Michael couldn't help with a little pain circulating within him when Diana broke down crying in front of him and Britta. She did it so freely and so...immediate, it must have been something really serious. But then again, he wasn't the one to talk about such seriousness when he couldn't do such a thing himself when he wanted to. He wondered if he had turned cold-hearted now, or that the time wasn't ripe for his feelings to come out. Michael hoped that it was the latter. It couldn't be the former, right? He was always told of how nice he had been, and how caring he was to others. They couldn't have been wrong, right?

Right?

Perhaps now wasn't the time for that answer, as Diana continued on with her story. It was perhaps surprising to hear a girl so unreserved like Diana to be tormented in childhood. But the identity of the man wasn't much of a surprise though. Michael knew the man. Personally at that. Even though they did not clash, his display of beliefs fluttered the red flag that the Donsters should not be associated with. He is a rat, just like the rest of the family. His degeneracy was to the point that Michael's father almost abandoned his religious conviction to wish eradication upon these individuals, and to be honest Michael did not blame him. It was that bad. Castleton was probably having parties all day with that kind of people living there. He also knew that Diana's sister, Astra, was going to marry Richard, who was also participating in this war with Diana and the rest of them. Great, the Earth is so round. He couldn't help but feel bad for Diana's family, whom, to her words, sounded like some pretty decent individuals.

He was expecting to just sit quietly and listen with sympathy, or add encouraging words to Diana, but what he faced rather was a question. It was perhaps common sense to some people, especially the cynical, that people would act greedily to each other. That people would trample upon others to achieve their selfish goals. But how many people had asked themselves why people do so. Perhaps a lot, but it was easy to dismiss. It is a trend on many different levels of society, from personal to institutional to even government policy: to cater a reason for a negative action to be solely the result of individual's moral failing. So even though the question was thrown around a lot, there was no answer.

"I'm really no psychologist. But if you ask me..." Michael turned around to face his back against the bar, the cup of tea still on the plate on his hand. "Just think of this for a moment. Think of the time when you have to share something with your sisters, or your friends. Something both of you really love. Something both of you really enjoy. And now think of how many times you want it for yourself."

Michael waited a couple of seconds for her to come up with an answer on top of her head before continuing. "If you're thinking that you always share, that's not what I meant." He said. "Imagine yourself in the scenario where your sisters or friends do not want it as much as you do. It's still a shared item, but they just don't use it as often anymore. Do you prefer to keep it more to yourself, use it more, or you spend just as much time with it as when your friends also want it?"

His tea cup separated from the plate now that he took a quick break, the edge of it met his soft lips as he sipped the tea, wondering if she got the idea he was going for.

"Let's just say that we have the mindset of private ownership. We want to own things we love." He explained. "And those people you say, your sister Astra. It's just it but on a whole different level."

But after all the cold talk, he sighed a warm compassionate tone. "But that doesn't make it any less wrong."

Then he placed a hand on Diana's small wrist, just as small as he was. Really reminded him of Lucia, both of whom looked just as frail as the other. But he was certain that they weren't weak. To stand with all those burdens on their shoulders, he did have a lot to compliment such strength. To both bear it, and to share it.

"So I share your viewpoints. It is quite saddening with some clear examples. It should not have been at all." Michael said. "But at the end of the day, I still pray that your sister find the errors of her own ways."
@Landaus Five-One
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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Jacky
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Jacky

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Luke Godfrey


“Wait, really?” Luke questioned with an arched brow as Victoria declared not to hit him, definitely a first for Luke. Just a second ago she looked ready to tear him a new one and honestly he was prepared to take her on, but now here she is not throwing a single punch. It honestly felt a bit off, but what threw him off a bit more was when she continued speaking and not throwing out insults his way. Instead she seemed to be… concerned? Saying how she didn’t want him to go down the wrong path, how he could make something of himself when the fighting's done, hell she even mentioned his bad habit in not getting close with others and instead staying away from them. He started to feel a bit awkward now, his attempt to get under her skin to fight away his stress making him feel like a real dick, a rare feeling for the young soldier. Luke rubbed the back of his neck as she called herself a fuck up before taking out a metal flask. She didn’t seem that bad, but lots of people have their own demons. A light chuckle escaped him as she pointed out his drinking and shrugged. “It’s a bit of a tradition in my hometown to be a good drinker. Guess I didn’t show that last night though,” he said with a small sheepish smile.

Luke began to feel his nerves relax a bit after she paused to take a swig from her flask, but as she spoke he had noticed her toy with a locket around her neck and felt a bit curious in what was inside. Soon his curiosity would be satisfied as she removed the locket and opened it to reveal a young child, a small girl from what he saw. Instantly his mind drifted towards his sisters and found himself staring at the photo for a few good seconds before she began to speak again. To his surprise she began to share her past and Luke found himself listening, keeping eye contact and doing his best to be respectful, another first for him. Becoming a thug at a young age, killing at fifteen, having her heart broken by some scumbag that left her alone with a child. Luke couldn’t help but tense up as the thought of this prick doing something like that to her, his mind briefly falling back to a dark memory and feeling sympathy for both Victoria and her child. As she finished Luke kept his gaze with hers, his body now at ease and his eyes the softest they have been ever since he joined the military.

After a few seconds of silence he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed lightly. “Geez, really made me feel like an ass,” he chuckled bitterly, feeling a bit guilty in his attempts to get her riled up only a few moments ago. “Look, I… I’m sorry you had to go through shit like that, it must have been rough. I can only imagine how you felt through all of that,” he said before rubbing the back of his neck as his own troubled memories began to return, causing him to frown slightly and looking towards the ground as it all suddenly began to feel to heavy to hold in anymore. Hesitation rose into his chest as he briefly considered swallowing his troubles again and ending this conversation right here, but after hearing her story he just.... It didn’t feel right. If he decided to to keep it all bottle up again he would feel weak compared to Victoria who was able to tell him her past.

With a deep sigh Luke looked back up to meet her gaze, a brief flash of hesitation in his eyes before steeling himself and speaking. “I… I can relate a bit, in having my own troubles I mean. I have my own demons from my youth and it all still fucks with me today. It even had a bit to do with my outburst with Diana back there, something I should have dealt with better,” he paused with his frown growing deeper. “It was because of my… the woman who was supposed to be my mother. Mommy issues I guess,” he chuckled lightly, sadness in his bitter humor. After one last flash of hesitation washed over him Luke took in a deep breath and began to relive that night. “It happened when I was around ten…”








“After that we were basically made orphans. Luckily the family my father had helped out so much in the past, the Williams, took us in. They’re good people, did their best to make us feel welcomed and loved. It should have been a good sign, a new start,” he scoffed as he shook his head and leaned against the wall, looking away towards the city with a heavy frown. “But I just couldn’t get over it all. Instead of a new start I started to push most people away, get into trouble and even try to work myself to death with whatever kind of job I could find around my town. I even began to drift farther from my sisters, the only family I have left,” he said with a regretful tone in his voice. “I could have stayed home, not joined the military and tried my best to be a better brother, but I wanted this to be my new start. Ya know, rise in the ranks and become some legendary soldier,” he laughed in bitter amusement before giving a shrug and gently running a hand over the right side of his bandaged face. “Not as easy as I thought it was,” he chuckled and looked back to her with a small smile.

He kept his gaze with her for a moment, his mind feeling a bit lighter after sharing that horrible night. It honestly felt good, though the memory was sour it felt good to finally get it out there. It still a bit odd though with never being this honest with anyone before. His eyes drifted back to her locket with what he could only assume washer daughter. A thought crossed his mind as he recalled her saying she’d stay in the military because she didn’t know anything but fighting before he looked back up to her and pointed to the locket. “Hey listen, I don’t know how things are with you and your daughter now, but if you’re interested I may be able to set you two up in my hometown, Hamberg. It’s a small town in the country, but it has a good community that always has a hand to lend to others. I’m sure you’d be able to find a job easy and it could be a good place for your daughter to grow up. My sisters would definitely take a liking to her," he smiled as he knew they would play the two big sisters. “Besides, we’re famous for our great alcohol. Seeing how you drank last night you’d definitely fit in with everyone at the tavern,” he chuckled before giving a small shrug. “It’s a offer though, up to you if you wanna take it. It’d be a good new start, something I keep messing up,” he finished before awaiting her response.

@Smike
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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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Isaac was off checking stuff elsewhere, so let's focus on Britta, for now.

As stated before, there had always been something about the look in Diana's eyes that concerned the silver-gray Gunner, from a furrowed brow to a deep feeling of worry, dependent on the time of day or how she acting was at the time. The thing of it was that Diana seemed a rather sensitive sort for battle. Okay, who among them was really ready for this? The few that seemed that they were naturally-born for combat were equally scared by its dangers in some way or another. Isaac himself had said he was damn good at this, but he hated it thoroughly, and of course Britta had made her decision to go into battle willingly. Diana seemed like someone put-upon and cracking around the edges, sort of like with the pressures that Jean had to absorb, or like Lucia, but without specifically command or Middleton to reinforce that feeling. It just seemed like a genuine 'I wasn't meant for this sort of life'...at least until now, when Diana was breaking down over something that was definitely more than Luke shouting at her or the war in general This was why she asked Diana, point-blank, what was wrong.

What she found out answered a number of questions regarding Diana, in general, as well as the personal.

To begin with, her family were all sympathizers of the Darcsens, and therefore would pick up any sort of verbal abuse from others for having done such. People would likely drag the Vastergoth name through the mud for doing that if they hated Darcsens enough. This explained both the pride in her family name and even why - on top of the Corporal just having that effect on ladies as he did - Diana seemed fairly attracted to Jean, or even possibly obsessed. He had charm and her family was especially friendly towards them. Even still, her actual distress was in beign reminded of that Richard Donster. He joined while Diana was forced by conscription, and given his hatred of Darcsens in a sharper way than Luke, it sounded like they were big family rivals...but he seemed different when she saw him later.

Strange... Perhaps the harshness of the war got to him or he actually felt bad that someone of a big family name was being put through this. That first battle was a make-or-break for us all. Hell, I feel like Michael was probably alot more cheerful before it all started. At least, I hope so.

From there, she began to start talking of personal family business, indicating that things at home could be pleasant...right up until one of her siblings spoiled it for everyone else, up to and including an apparent intention to marry Richard. Definitely a family feud there, and perhaps a third reason as to why Richard would have to somewhat 'make polite' with Diana...being forced to think of her as a relative, no matter how much he probably didn't like it. Big family business wasn't something that Britta really had experience with. Isaac had a bigger family, and he was only somewhat different from her in lifestyle. 'Just a simple farmer, me', was his tag-line. Diana didn't belong here anymore than he did, and it was tearing at her almost as much as her family problems.

And then, there was the question of greed... That seemed to be a strong motivator in the family issue, as well. Michael worked on answering that one. Honestly, Britta just felt that greed was largely a dark temptation of the world held onto by those who just want too much, to the point where they deny it of others in an unhealthy and obsessive way, but Michael had a take on it that was surprisingly deep. She let him champion this end of things, and then the Gunner would do as Gunners did: Give plenty of support. As he said, sometimes it was all about finding something that is treasured dearly, and just wanting it more to oneself. That wasn't wrong, per se, but it could seem overtly selfish in the eyes of others. The only thing Britta objected to was that hope and prayer alone was all you needed. That was nice, but...let's be honest...it was what you did when you couldn't think of anything else, when all other ideas failed and you needed a miracle. Maybe Diana was at the end of a long chain, unable to grab a link higher, maybe not. What she wanted, at this point, was to make Diana feel like all hope was not lost because she might accomplish something if she set her mind to it.

"It sounds like what you want most is for your family to feel more like family and less of a competition, where your own family members would do anything to get some sort of an edge on you. If you really disapprove of Astra's actions, more than a mere sibling rivalry would incur, you should talk her out of it before she makes the mistake of forever associating your family with one that is so-greatly opposed to your personal values. And I mean that in more than just saving the family name, but because Richard sounds so hateful that he might end up harming your sister somehow just to get at the rest of you. He sounds petty enough."

She came closer to Diana, to make sure she had proper eye contact for this, because this was what was most important.

"If it hurts this much, then protect your family, Diana, and get them to see you as the caring person you are so that they won't be so spiteful."

She didn't know if that would really work, but it was a start, and from there...that's where you apply the hope.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Bushman501
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Bushman501 The Saber of Hungry

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September 11, 1914




September 10, 1914

Well, I can't say I saw this coming. We've arrived at an inn called the "White Hart Inn." And oh wow there was so much here. Baths, good food, and even good wine. All of it isn't as good as home, but compared to what we've been going through out there? It's a sanctuary. The first thing I did? Go straight for a bath. Ugh, I hate filth so much! Clean and healthy is the way to go! Some of the others talked to those Imperials that were here, who told us this was neutral territory: an unspoken rule of war. Reminds me of the unspoken rules in a meeting place honestly. We even met someone new: some Oceanic girl that I don't remember the name of.

Well, either way when we settled in everyone started drinking. That's when everything started to get crazy. And geez, didn't they get drunk! I'm not sure whether it is because they want a port in the storm to have fun or if they were always like that. Either way, there's going to be a lot of hangovers in the morning, not that I will be one of them.

However, with alcohol apparently comes sex. There were at least three times, if not more, that I heard the cries of pleasure in some room or another. Familiar voices too. I have to admit it made me flustered and made my thoughts improper for a lady. Must have affected Jean too, because when I asked him a question to test his response, he responded in a suspicious way. Not the bad way but still. He views me as something, but what I do not know. Maybe the consistent sounds of sex clouded his mind? Either way he's not telling anything to me directly. At least my tea served to make everyone but some of the horny happy and I got a few free things from the inn's generosity.

Before I went to my room to retire for the night, I went ahead and bought a couple of wine bottles. One was a 90 year old bottle and another was a 69 year old. Let's hope that I will someday be able to taste both.





Sitting in a chair in a corner table and reading a certain book she wrote herself, Reyna drank yet more tea she made for herself. A pitcher on the table and a cup with some ice was all she needed. It was a good thing she bought that wine last night, for Jean put in a prohibition on alcohol. She, however, did not think that the more resourceful members of the squad would have any problem with either bribing or smuggling a little alcohol on the side if only to have a drink. Sure, they may not drink to get drunk but they did not need to anyway. After all, they might have forgotten the night before but they were in a war zone. There was no such thing as a truly safe place.

Reyna could not exactly understand the situation developing beyond her corner, but it seemed that some of her squad mates were taking care of the issue. It involved Diana, and even she could sense the sadness when she looked over. Reyna noted to go to Diana later and ask if everything was ok, when there were not a "dozen" people crowded around her. However, it came to a surprise...or relatively so, when Jean approached her corner.

....Oh crap. Reyna quickly thought as she looked at the book that was open. It was....not the best book for someone to look at. Quickly putting the book on a nearby chair, although still open, Reyna looked at Jean and studied him for a few moments. "Morning." She said with a small smile, hoping that Jean will not lean too much toward her and see the contents of the book in the chair. That tea better be! Otherwise I wouldn't have any pride as a Vinlander woman. She thought to herself as her tea was mentioned. Her mother taught her how to make it, after all, and it seemed the tea met the expectations or went beyond them with everyone that took a drink of it.

Suddenly, things got serious. How she felt about risking her life in dark tunnels? Terrified. There was nothing in the world that Reyna would rather do than go into a dark tunnel to set some explosives up somewhere filled with guns that could kill her. However, this was also something she signed up for. She wasn't going to admit she was scared at all. Her father taught her she needed to be confident in everything she did, even if it was only on the outside. Jean may have promised that promise he made at Garnia, but Reyna knew in her heart that violence bred terrible things, and she signed up knowing this. It was impossible to keep her from seeing such things, the cavalry charge and her first close-up kill the day before proved that, but his concern was greatly appreciated all the same.

With a confident smile, at least on the outside, Reyna spoke "Jean, I can handle it. You don't have to worry about sending me in some tunnel. I'll come out on top, even if you do have to send me in completely alone. I'm a trained soldier, and I'll see it through to the end. It's what I signed up for, anyway. Besides, father wouldn't let me go if he didn't think I could handle it all." Well, if this continued this would be too serious of a subject. She didn't want to think about her potential doom or being shot by a machine-gun. Instead she wanted to worry about the book that Jean could potentially discover. Quickly, Reyna looked for an out of this and discovered it: a phonograph! There's no doubt a few songs for it. And....oh she knows how to dance a little. Combined with the feelings she suspects Jean has of her and.....

"Hey, come on, let's dance! I know a few of these songs!" Reyna said as she stood up, went over to the phonograph, got a good, fast paced song on there, then went over to Jean and grabbed his wrist, tugging him in an attempt to take the lead and distract him from her private possessions.

@LetMeDoStuff
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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 – Hopeful – Amone City’s Walls (Sept. 11th)




Diana couldn’t help but depressingly sigh from the whole situation at hand, it was great she did talk about her issues. It took a bit until she heard Micheal start speaking about not being a psychologist and turning to her to speak more. She gave out a small giggle specifically at that since it was something of an obvious thing since not everyone is professional in certain fields. She heard every single thing that Michael spoke about and took a bit to give an answer. ”Umm… the love for my family’s ideals is something I have always tried to share to everyone. Everyone is equal no matter if they are a Darscen or not.” Diana said, not really understanding what he is meaning. She showed a bit of her naivety here since she had no idea what Michael is saying since he’s saying it in a way that makes her not understand what it is. It was going a bit over her head, since she never really had to think about this much when she was growing up. Her parents cared for her much and had many things to teach her but she was dead set on her goals.

She heard what he had to say next and kinda made her feel a bit like, oh, in terms of the look on her face. It made a bit more sense, in what he was saying even though it was a bit over her head. She heard specifically what he said afterwards and it made her be a bit shocked. ”You are saying my sisters and friends were being choked by my naivety about what was going on around me? Or that I should try harder to keep my friends and family together. With the ideals of the Vastergoth Family… Since my mother told me specifically why my ancestors in the Vastergoth family gave up the wealth for a simpler lifestyle because they didn’t want to fight the Donsters anymore in a military-esque stance anymore.” Diana said, with a slight gasp in shock afterwards. This caused her to stop being so depressed in what he specifically said because it caused her to think a bit about it. She remembered Susan blurted out that the Vastergoth Family used to be highly rich and that’s when Astra’s change happened and that was when she was only eleven years old.

Diana heard what Michael said next after he took a bit of a break, drinking his tea. The private ownership made her a bit confused but it makes sense since that’s why she was protected much through her childhood by her mother Rebecca. However, her mother finally opened up and showed that she was a drinker to Diana, it was alike her mother was a bit ashamed of her habit or something. The look on her face was a bit terrified for Astra, even though she outright told her to die in EW1. It even felt like her elder sister was serious about it. ”Uhh… yeah my sister Astra is a bit obsessive with money… It didn’t help Susan blurted out that the Vastergoth Family, 500 years ago used to be even richer than the Donster Family. But decided to get rid of that burden of fake happiness with whatever money can buy to a more ‘family focused’ happiness of being middle class. That is what my mother Rebecca told me and my father Gavin reinforced with a bit more reinforced understanding since he is a Vastergoth.” Diana said, with a bit of an understanding on why her sister became only wanting money for money sake.

She specifically heard what Britta had to say and the end of what she said specifically hurt her much because she wouldn’t want her own sister to be hurt by that bastard. It made her specifically cry because of that. ”I… should’ve tried harder to talk her out of it… but she… did something unforgivable alike what Richard did to me. She wished me to die in EW1. And told me she was going to cut off all ties with our family because of the absurdity that Susan apologized to me. It felt like she was truthful but there was an underlying feeling of regret to her voice but I couldn’t hear it since I ran out before she could’ve said anything else.. then after that that’s when I ran into Richard before my shipping out to Conscription training.” Diana said. It caused her to choke up much more since no sibling should wish death on their family member, but Astra did specifically that. ”I shouldn’t have ran out… on my sister… but… the shock… of her… wishing me to die… was too much for me. The reason why I dislike Fog so much… she loves it for some odd reason.” Diana said, with a regretful tone in her voice while she was crying.

Diana felt Michael touch her wrist, it was specifically this that made her slowly try to stop crying but the fact she brought up the wish of what Astra wanted so badly. It was a bit painful to remember that specifically, even though she had a dream of that and why she was so bitter when yesterday morning rolled around and it was foggy. However, what he had said made her a bit happier. ”Thank you… Micheal I have to agree should have not happened in the first place...” Diana said still a bit depressed and teary eyed. He reassured her with his last words to her about he prays that her sister Astra finds the errors of her own ways. ”I believed her every single bit of what she said… but I have a feeling she regrets what she had said to me but the heat of the moment… was fresh in the air during that time.” Diana said. This specific thing made her want to protect her family and friends at home more and all the new friends she met during EW1.

She couldn’t help but look into Britta’s eyes since she was closer to her now and was making proper contact with her. ”I will protect my family… more than ever now and try not to make the same mistakes I have made in the past since I couldn’t see past the constant bullying by my elder sisters to see they cared about me… but didn’t want me to be spoiled… but I didn’t listen. I thank you Britta for helping me to see there is hope in my sisters and family and try to look past all the bad things they have said or done to me.” Diana said, with a genuine smile on her face. It was mostly because of the fact she wanted to stop being how she was a naive non-listener to her sister’s worries about her. She was spoiled by her mother Rebecca and her father Gavin by how much attention they gave to her. It caused her to move her free hand and get out her silver pendant necklace out and show Michael and Britta the pictures within in the necklace. On the right was her mother Rebecca, and on the left is her father Gavin. ”My mother Rebecca and my father Gavin, they protected me throughout my entire childhood. Guess that’s why I am a bit naive about things, and why I didn’t understand what my sisters were trying to tell me. Or why anything happened but before all this happened my elder sister Astra used to help me with homework that I was being stuck on and she was highly intelligent about everything. It was a bit amazing she was able to help me with my math homework without breaking a sweat it impressed me. But then something changed in her that caused her to hate me...” Diana said, with a gentle smile while looking at her silver pendant necklace that was opened to some of her squad mates. It isn’t like her parents aren’t going to die or anything since they are safe at home in Castleton.

However, she heard the music in the background and couldn’t help but be confused and noticed that Reyna and Jean dancing and couldn’t help but giggle at the situation. It was mostly because she has never heard this type of music before. ”Uhh.. Reyna what is this kind of music?” Diana questioned to Reyna. It was pretty obvious she never heard it before because it made her a bit happier hearing something new. She was happy to see Jean having fun though, because he never had a smile that big.

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