[color=fff79a][center][h2]Edmund Silvaine[/h2][hr][/center][/color]

[hider=A Melodramatic Dream]
[i]Edmund slams blood-soaked hands against the aged wooden doors of a well-worn church, just big enough to house a community of a couple hundred farmers. The creaking of their hinges echoes in the wooden structure, though they are dampened by the masses gathered in their pews. Standing at the altar, elevated above all else, is Maya. The altar is empty, except for a single familiar hunting knife. The church-goers just watch, enraptured by the ritual they are watching. Salome beckons Edmund to come closer, but he refuses. He does not feel pain. He looks down, and he recognized the tears in his squire's uniform. His mouth tastes like iron, his limbs feel heavy. Armored men, dressed as the soldiers from the ball, surround him. They hoist him up by his arms, and drag him down the center aisle. Edmund catches a glimpse of those watching. He sees the father who never loved him, the mother who hated him, and the brother who couldn't help. Katarina and Sir Ivanov seem upset. Irina is disappointed. The Scions and Templars seem relieved. He knows they are pleased it isn't them. He is hoisted onto the altar, and Maya stands before him. She looks him in the eyes. He wakes before the knife touches him.[/i]
[/hider]

Edmund was subdued when he groggily opened his eyes, naturally waking before the sun had even crested the horizon. The dreams were getting more vivid. It wasn't until twenty minutes into his morning run through the gardens of the castle that he pieced together his dream was more of a nightmare. It took him another ten minutes to reconcile it was just like all the other nightmares since the new year. By the time he was in the bath, he had moved on to more important things. He reviewed the travel itinerary carefully, alongside a map of the region. He had annotated it to hell, making note of ideal ambush locations. As he dressed himself, he dared to look at his reflection in the steamed mirror. His beard had gotten longer, and more unruly. His hair was a matted mess, his bangs just barely dipping into his field of vision. He stalked through his bedroom, grabbed his hunting knife, and cut off the offending strands of hair. It was choppy and uneven, but he was never one for appearance. He popped three caffeine pills in his mouth and dry-swallowed as he put on his crisp uniform. He took a moment to look at the small programs from the funerals, reciting a prayer under his breath. He was practically dressed for war by the time he stepped out into the hallway at the sound of Maya's stirring that morning. He had enough bullets on his belt, and lining a bandolier strapped across his chest, to invade a large village.

Edmund was even more quiet than usual that day. He barely seemed to even look at Maya, but was never more than five steps away from her the second they left Veradis Castle. He kept his revolver in his lap the entire ride, his hand gripped on the hilt. When he holstered it on their approach to the castle, an imprint of the grip left red marks on his hand. He hardly noticed as he followed Maya up. He stood by with bated breath as Maya tried to gain entrance for the security detail, but there were some miracles even the queen of duplicity couldn't perform. Their denial of entry confirmed to Edmund what he already assumed: Lucas knew something, and the last thing anyone needed were prying ears. So Edmund followed a seething Maya, preparing to intervene when she decided to let that rage boil over in another's direction.

Upon entry to the dining room, he was less than enthused to find the conversation already escalate into discussions of war. Salome's mocking tone rang in his ears, and he could only watch in disgust while hovering over Maya's shoulder. Sir Ivanov had taught him chess at a young age to explain his experience in his limited engagement in war. But now, as Edmund watched the pieces move across the room, he couldn't help but feel like they were all just pawns. At least some of the pawns were offering protein and carbs, but he didn't have much of a stomach for either. His eyes caught Tyler as he spoke against war, and Edmund simply gave a small nod of respectful agreement.

[color=7041A5]“Our [i]casus belli[/i] was an open attack on the Goddess’ Chosen, and bloodshed has always been a perfectly acceptable price for defending Her honour. Preferably less of ours, and more of theirs.”[/color]

[sup][color=fff79a]"Going to fight the war on Instagram?"[/color][/sup] Edmund's comment was soft yet biting, barely audible if not for his close proximity at Maya's side. It oozed with a disdain that had been built up over years in her service. It took him half a second to realize he had muttered it out loud. His gaze turned towards Tyler, then Lucas, and then Belle. He refused to look at Maya, even out of the corner of his eye. He quickly spoke louder to fill the pause, choosing to pretend he hadn't made the insult. [color=fff79a]"We still do not quite know the enemy who attacked us. I am only confident in their wish for the Federation to go to war with Kaudus... and I am not partial to fulfilling the wishes of heretics for an illusion of safety and justice."[/color]
[hr][right][@Obscene Symphony][@Scribe of Thoth][@Hero][/right]