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| ♗ the s t e a d f a s t tin soldier; Active | Closed | Mature | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 28 2012, 12:36 AM (527 Views) | |
| Gipity | Dec 4 2012, 11:42 AM Post #16 |
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[align=center] [/align][dohtml]<center><div style="width: 375px; text-align:justify;"> <BR>'Good night, Eli' are words that stay with me as I drift off into a sleep weighed down by the day's utter exhaustion. Somehow, that sweet voice follows me into my dreams, protecting them. Usually, and fortunately, I'm dreamless, or I feel as if I'm dreamless, for I wake up and recall nothing but the dark calm of sleep. Sometimes, I get those that haunt, causing me to sit up with a sweat breaking on my forehead. They are dreams which are filled with blurred vision and muffled hearing, of running towards everything and yet getting nowhere, of all I've been working towards, of getting out of here, getting farther and father away from me. Tonight, for the first time in awhile, I dream, and they are sweet. I dream of meadow, frosted with a winter's fog, and there I am, running through the wet grass, laughing as I attempt not to slip. I do however, lose my footing, as if my leg gives in, but I don't fall, because a girl with hair of warm hazelnut and eyes that shine despite their dark shade, grabs me and holds me up, and she laughs, and she's beautiful. <br><br>It's not until I wake up that I realize it's the nowhere girl laying beside me. <br><br>Maybe in her mind she's nowhere, but she is truly here, beside me. She's a touch of color, of difference, in my monotone and routine life. She's brought a new step to the dance. I sigh as I sit up to watch her a moment, enjoying the soft line of her jaw as she rests, smirking as I watch her eyes flicker side to side, telling me she's dreaming fiercely. I wonder about what, when she can recall no memories. Maybe her subconscious will help her, though if I may selfishly say, hopefully not too soon. <br><br>I can't admire her for long. It's early, the sun not even close to being up yet, but we have much to do, and I have to do it before I'm called away for more dire matters. I get up around her, strapping on my uniform as if it's as common as brushing my teeth, and as soon as I lace up my boots, I give her a strict wake up call, though honestly I break my serious visage as soon as she looks at me with the slightest hint of bewilderment. I have her borrow one of my jackets and grab the proper weaponry before I lead her out. I steal grub (Nearly literally 'grub') from the closed kitchens to feed us with before we head out into the fields, heading straight for the beach I discovered her at. Once there, I warn her I will go none too lightly on her, but she's up for that. Good. She has to learn for her safety, so she wants to learn. That's exactly what I like to see, but not what I require. <br><br>With a firm but gentle hand, I work with Ace on drills, commands, following orders, fighting, and shooting, moving her into a little bit of everything for now, to see what she has a knack for and what she doesn't. To my surprise, or maybe I should have expected this, she's doing wonderfully. Slip ups are rare. She hardly seems confused. She knows these things. A gun is not an issue for her. On a whim, I have her shoot a seagull flying away out of fear of the deafening gunshots, only for her to shoot him down right into the ocean. She's not just some average girl I found on the shore. She was a soldier. A volunteer, because neither Salterbergh or Osterly have grown desperate enough to draft women. That narrows it down slightly, but now there's the bigger question. Is she a soldier of the west, Salterbergh, or of my side, Osterly, the east? She could easily be both. Either part of a regimen coming near our land we attacked, or part of one of our own, though not my division, who got herself caught by the enemy's gunfire. The crash rendered her clothing patchless, making it impossible to identify her party. <br><br>Once the sun is on it's way up, kissing the skies, we head back towards the camp, as she needs to get to the kitchens to help make breakfast. As I sit with my men in the cafeteria, I fill them in on my relative through marriage. Knowing that she's unrelated to me, the men's eyebrows jump and they snicker, pressing me to go after such a fine tail. Such talk about women is commonplace, and I suppose I never minded it before, until it was about Ace. She's more than just a 'piece of fine tail'. She's a beautiful little tragedy. I don't allow more talk of her like that, especially when they want their own hands on her. I hardly think so. I make it clear that if they lay a hand on her that's anything but a helpful one, and they will know what it's feel like to be run over by a train. They don't argue with that. My father trained me in hand to hand combat more than these men could ever dream to be, as a precaution after what happened to his face by the deranged soldier of his past. <br><br>Me and my so called cousin met afterward as planned, me asking how her first day of work went, but she doesn't get much chance for an answer, as I am called away. It turns out we captured three men from Salterbergh, trying to spy on our territory, and it was up to me to interrogate them. I give a nod to Ace before I gesture for her to follow me, mainly because I don't want her out of my sight unless I know she's working. I still don't trust my men. We head to a nearby tent put up to basically hold any prisoners that we have to, and there they are, all on their knees, hands tied behind them with their heads covered in burlap sacks. It's easy to see the whimsical Salterbergh patch on their arm, and I wonder if Astrid will recognize it compared to Osterly's more threatening crest. <br><br>Three of my own men stand behind them, one other off to the side, all of them no doubt the ones who had captured them. "Fine job, soldiers." I nod to them, but there is no hint of a smile. These are all serious matters. I do not get some sick pleasure out of doing this. It's what has to be done. "Expose them." I order strictly, and in a matter of seconds my men rip off the burlap sacks, only to show the frightened visage of each man, or should I say boy? Each of them could only be in their teen years, one of them a brand new recruit, only a meek fourteen year old. I'm ashamed to say Osterly was the first to change the minimum age of the draft to fourteen, and Salterbergh naturally followed in order to match us. It has been like this for awhile, but it's sickening, because I know none of these boys were trained and prepared for this as I was. They were simply snatched from their homes, torn from their families, and shoved into war. They may be young, but what they've seen have already aged them considerably, and it's all in the eyes. <br><br>I start with the first, a teen of about sixteen, who I realize is looking at Ace sort of strangely, and I don't hesitate to grab his chin roughly and force him to look at me. "Good morning, Private Truance." I read from the embroidered patches upon his chest and arm. "Did you think it was a lovely morning to see what we were up to?" I don't allow him to answer, as my hand lifts and smacks across his face. "I'll answer that for you. It's never a lovely morning to cross my borders, Private. Never." I scowl at him as I take hold of his throat, taking on the identity my father always wished I would. His. "We don't take well to weak men like you thinking you can make your General proud by reporting our base. Each one of you are foolish to think you'd make it back so simply." I squeeze at his neck, watching as his eyes water and grow red, "And now you can be a disappointment by telling me where your base is located, Private. Nearly seems fair, doesn't it?" The man lets out a garbled and strained set of words I can't quite understand. I let go of his throat, my azure eyes narrow as I lean in slightly. "What was that, boy?" His voice comes out in a faint whisper only I can hear. <br><br>"She doesn't belong with you." <br><br>A sense of panic fills me, but I snuff it out swiftly. He's wrong. I let out a low growl as my hand smacks him across his temple before I grab at his hair, holding on tight. "Silence him, now." The closest soldier of mine hands me a rag, allowing me to gag him, going far enough to cause him to choke before my hand covers his face and I push him back to the ground. "Conceal him." It is done, and I move on, meanwhile taking my knife out of my belt. <br><br>Next, it's the fourteen year old. He nearly seems younger than fourteen, eyes wide like a doe's and mouth trembling, confused and lost. I have a personal rule. I don't bother with any soldiers younger fifteen, and it's clear this one isn't close to a birthday. So, I raise my empty hand, causing him to flinch, but my touch simply finds his hair, getting it out of his face before I precede, giving no orders to my men. I leave well enough alone. <br><br>Finally, I am to the other teenager, this one seeming closer to Ace's age, and considering his patches, he's a Sergeant, and naturally the leader of this group. He's staring me down, attempting to be defiant, but I can break him. I take a gander at Ace to see how she's doing, only to be slightly unhinged by the perturbed look on her face. I figure she's recalling something familiar, but I'm hoping not too familiar. I can't have her remembering she's from this side, if that's what that boy was getting at. "Sergeant Camden." I state as I turn back to the boy, "Maybe you can make things easy on all of us, and tell me where your base is." With his hesitation, the handle of my knife doesn't hesitate to attempt to crack his cheekbone. "Tell me, maggot. Your base, or your life." I say coolly and calmly, a voice so different than the one who tenderly assured Ace that everything would be okay. <br><br>"I won't tell. Never. You're better off getting it out of junior over here." The boy gets out, gesturing to the tyke beside him, and this causes an anger to boil in me that wasn't nearly as present before. <br><br> "What a man you are, Private, throwing a youth into the fire like a piece of trash." My knee finds his abdomen, causing him to double over onto the floor, and I follow, onto my knees, grabbing his collar and pulling him up into a seated position. "Don't think if you hold out that your men will rescue you, because you won't be seeing them for ages, possibly never again." I hit him right in the face, while my knife rests against the thick fabric of his jacket, always ready to puncture. "All men who try to save their own end up just like them, or worse. We always win, Private. We've been better than your side for decades!" Not entirely true, as that would mean that we had claimed their territory ages ago, but no, they put up a fair fight, and it's constantly an unstoppable force attempting to move an immovable object. They are stubborn, but so are we. "Tell me your camp!" He shakes his head, gritting his teeth, and for good reason, because I ram my knife into thigh, twisting the blade once it's inserted. "Tell me where your camp is, boy, or I will make you wish you never started breathing." It takes about one straight minute of beating to get the boy to reveal his camp's whereabouts, crying, no, weeping, as he does. <br><br> "Thank you, soldier." I say breathlessly as I stand up, wiping my knife clean on my pants before I stick it back into it's place on my belt. "Restrain them. We don't want any of them getting away while we ambush their fellow soldiers now, do we?" My men nod and move forward, tying up each of our new prisoners to the skeleton of the tent. I make sure they don't cover up the youngest boy's head, before I head out of the tent, feeling a mixture of accomplishment and disappointment in myself, forgetting about Ace momentarily until I feel a harsh set of eyes on me and hear that outspoken voice, turning myself around to face her. </div></center></BR>[/dohtml] |
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