With a sheepish kindle to her posture, Lucia slowly trudged across the paving and into the rear cabin of the train. Her mind was spread across multiple pathways of pain, suffering and fluttery dreams that stuck with her overnight. A strong pain still lurked in the top of her forehead, tearing into her comfort and ripping it to pieces with every step. She kept her helmet tightly sat upon her head, however it wasn't without her own knowledge. She was so dazed by everything. The promotions, the request by Middleton once more to see him. Everything felt too off once more, and she simply needed a corner to cry in once more. However, after the day before, she had no tears left to cry anymore. There was nothing left in the empty shell of an adorable little mess. A splinter kept sticking itself into her thighs and digging beneath the fragments of her past self. No longer was she the innocent girl she'd been before. Flashes of imagery came before her, of the sights of the girl she shot. She was of a similar age, if not older, and the calibrations of Middleton had forced her to ultimately put an end to her heartbeat. Shivers down her spine reminded Lucia that she was starting to become afraid of herself and what she was to become.

But then, a moment passed by her mind when she remembered a slight silver lining the battle had brought. Previously, she had spent the entire time training and worrying under the rule of a dictator she did not wish to follow. There was not a single day of conversastion that she enjoyed nor could she cherish. Officers would shout and scream at her for the weaknesses in her muscle and the fragility of her composition. Men and women of higher calibres would shoot insults towards her lack of perfection and would simply refer to her as an appealing look for the Regiment. She was considered a useless pawn that was to charge, die and be forgotten about within the first day. There was not a single friend for her. No one wanted to be her ally, even her own comrades. Lucia was deemed to be alone and brittle for the rest of her life, which through this war was sure to be a short-lived mess. Even when she'd travelled with the refugees before being conscripted into the Army, Lucia had not a single soul to rely on. No matter who it was or when it was, everyone saw her as a burden for them to carry. Like an elder about to pass their judgement, she was simply on a short timer to her own demise. People would just shake their heads and tut at the eventual dismay of her tragic life. The worst part, however, was that the poor Asseni girl knew this was to be the rest of her short-lived life. There was no happy ending. There was never a happy ending.

Yet, the silver lining was there. August 25th. Not only did it become her baptism to fire and anguish, it had also been the birthplace of a feeling she hadn't felt since her very youth. Michael and Isaac, their names were. At least those were the two who were still alive and kicking. Mila had unfortunately died, and yet Lucia still held the hard-boiled sweet in her pocket and was yet to eat it. Part of her didn't want to, as it was the only living memory she had of the kind-hearted woman who took care of her. Equally, there was an Imperial, several Darcsens and more all around her, ones that were assuring her of her safety and kindness. However, Isaac, Jean and Michael stood out the most. Each of them had held her, tightly and considerately, to embrace a feeling of safety and integrity. She'd never been blessed with such human contact in years, possibly ever, since the passing of her family. Michael had supposedly carried her to safety after she'd fallen faint to the artillery bombardment on Hill 58, which in reality made her feel slightly woozy and giggly to hear. It was like a tiny knight in not-so-shiny armour, rather dirty rags if their uniforms were anything to go by. A blemished smile came about her face as the thought of all three who held her crossed Lucia's brittle mind. She liked to be held like that. It reminded her she was still human, and in fact made her almost feel light headed as such, making her simply move her eyes to aside and giggle to herself uncontrollably. Unsure of why she was like that, it seemed to be a distraction however to her superior.

She eventually came outside the door to his private cabin, one that only he resided in. It wasn't any different from the other cabins as such, the only key difference being that Middleton was the only one inside. Timidly, she knocked onto the door and whispered to herself that nothing was wrong and that she was going to be fine. Nerves and anxiety attacks like such were common for the small cuddly creature, but Lucia still couldn't get behind how used to them she'd became. After the knock echoed through the empty hallways, which would've been filled with countless smiling soldiers celebrating a victory had they not mostly been killed, the order to open up came through, and Lucia went inside and sat down.

"You...asked for me, S-Sir?" She was directly opposite from the man, who was sipping from a small flask. It smelt slightly alcoholic with its strong and foul scent. He offered her a sip silently, to which she shook her head and reverted her eyes elsewhere in the room. Anywhere but his was better for her. There was yet another silence as his drank the flask fully, sipping away like there was no care in the world, before placing it calmly down on the table and beginning his conversation.

"Indeed I did, little Lucia. It's been a while since we've spoken about your...progress, shall we say? Tell me, your first battle was yesterday. Sure it was a bloody and ruthless engagement, but what I want to know is how you felt. So, inform me, would you dear?" There was a sly manner to his speech, one that seemed to always stick around when the two were talking alone. In reality, it made Lucia very uncomfortable, even more so than she already was simply being within his presence. But, what did she have left? She had to comply. The man had calibrated her to always respond or to face more punishment. She couldn't face having the beatings impact her once more, where a fist would strike her gut or face until she followed his orders throughout. It was the only reason she willingly shot that girl.

"It...It was..." She paused for a moment before looking back up towards him, finally meeting his strict stare. "It was scary. Terrifying. Everything around me was loud, horrifying to hear. I could...I could hear the sounds of men and women dying. I never saw them die, only what remained after, and that was what frightened me. But...The regiment is looking after me. Private Daunte was taking are of me and it was really-"

"Be careful who you choose as your allies, Little Lucia. We don't want you running off with another boy, perhaps ruining the plans we made for your further calibrations. You know I care deeply for you, my little soldier. Why else did I pick you not to join the charge? It was the only way to guarantee your safety after all."

Despite her morality telling her otherwise, she'd become so obsessed with making sure she pleased her superior, now a Captain, that her brainwashed mind simply agreed with what he had to say. To her, there was a slight chance that Alexander was doing something that was best for her in a situation where every choice was damaging. Perhaps she was simply being too pathetic to realise that the Captain intended on reviving her warrior's spirit that she apparently had locked away within her. Even so, she simply nodded along to what he had to say in silence. She wouldn't utter a word, and part of her mind once more started to think of Isaac and Michael again.

"Now listen closely. We have quite a journey ahead of us and I won't stop you from conversing with our fellow soldiers, but do take care of yourself, Little Lucia. I'll go over the plans for you once more, in this room now, just to make sure you haven't forgotten with that little head of yours..."


Jean lifted his head from his buried hands and stared at Diana with a deadpan look of distress and pain. Bags had seemingly formed under his eyes, though not from fatigue but rather stress, as he looked down at his new Corporal chevrons and slides. When his eyes met that of the white arrows, pointing downwards, he couldn't help but wince in slight agony over their sight. He was promoted to fill the boots of the dead. He was promoted because there was no other option in question. Jean needed to shape himself up in order to keep his friends alive. It was a lot to ask for from a broken man, but Jean still sat there and fumbled with his sleeves in silence, before staring at Diana directly in her eyes. For a second, he simply sat there, trying to find a way to not downtred her mood, yet he failed in doing so. This time, she deserved a true understanding of his current mood, no more cryptic bullshit to go with it.

"Thank you, D-Diana...But there's no pride in filling the boots of the fallen. I was promoted because those before me are gone. Now I have to take the mantle of responsibility and actually lead people into battle as a frontline NCO. I wish for only a deity or something to save me from the pressure, but I know that in this world I'll have to perform at my best or simply die trying. There's no middle ground anymore, not with this responsibility and call to duty given upon my wretched name." He didn't sound spiteful, despite the words potentially being associated with such trivial emotions. Instead, he kept a calm and slightly fractured tone with the words he spoke, but soon enough he had to cut the words short as another knock at the door came through.

It was the second damsel, the one who he felt more comfortable around. Now healed in the beautiful warmth of the train, for once sheltering them from the rain, Kalisa asked if she could enter, to which Jean gladly pointed to one of the many open seats she could sit within. Jean, for the first time that day, smiled towards Kalisa and, for just a second, held her wrist in order to remind her that everyone was glad she was okay. Unfortunately, Jean knew her head trauma was likely because of his sporadic tackle to save her, but the sad truth was it was a necessity for her to avoid the onslaught of fire and shrapnel at the time. Either way, he still felt guilty about it and refused to let his own mind rest easy until he had made amends to the situation.

"We're all glad you're okay, Kalisa. The world would be a darker place without you here. I'm...Sorry for causing you some headaches and stuff, I hope...I really hope you can forgive me for it." After he said what he had to say, he leaned back into his chair and took his hand off of her wrist, removing his helmet and finally placing it down onto the side of the floor. Now that his Darcsen hair was in complete view, still badly ruffled from the torturous night before, Jean finally looked to Kalisa and answered her fateful question. It was bound to come, and Jean struggled to hold back the tears he'd already drained before. "I'd be lying if I said I was okay. I got no sleep because of the battle. The death got me. Worse still, a letter came through to announce inheritance of property back home. My parents were apparently...mauled to death. Feral protesters against Darcsens. Killed in the cross-conflict between military police and rioters alike. Kind of hit the nail in the coffin for me. Now I know I have nothing to go back home to. No family."

He knew the room would temporarily go silent, until one of the two would speak up, but he kept his words thin and sighed heavily, wiping his nose's bridge with the tips of his dirty fingers. Jean had managed to restrain his emotions and tears, just once however, as he'd already expended such sadness and sorrow the night before. There was nothing left for him to weep over in that train, not yet. Yet suddenly, he felt compelled to talk once more.

"I know that Diana was conscripted into the army. Believe it or not...I am here by choice." He whipped out the hip flask, standard issue, from his webbing and began to drink out of it. All that resided within its containment was water, so far, and thus he had no intent on getting intoxicated at a time like this, if ever. "Girl named Olivia. Private Olivia, Olivia Robin-Charpentier...Older sister. Best person in the world. Apparently she was killed during the First Crossing of the Maren River. I never saw her again after she left and decided to enlist a few months after she died. Must've been a mistake, as abandoning the folks back home seemed to cost them dearly. But...I'm just ready to give everything I have. Not for the Federation, who persists on oppressing us Darcsens...Not for the democracy we apparently hold dear to us. I did this for her, who seems nothing more than a faint memory now. The pressure on me isn't to just protect all of you, my Platoon and Regiment, as well as you two amazing ones...The pressure is also on me to revive the now-dead Robin-Charpentier bloodline."

He somewhat brokenly chuckled at that final sentence, sort of stating it as a joke and with some seriousness. For all he knew, the bloodline was now dead and rested upon one broken human. There was little chance for revival at this stage, and all he had left was to simply ride the waves of the war, kill whoever he was told to and to obey whatever orders he had. What point was there in having a personality? However, the more he looked at Kalisa and Diana, and listened to the things they had to say, there was the reminder that he didn't want to lose that humanity anymore, simply to become a drone under orders. That in itself was a crime he'd never forgive himself for.

"Eh?" Ah, it seems like Jean was the cause of how she hit her head yesterday. She a small idea of how it happened, but since everything after the tackle was a blur, there weren't many other options. "Ah... Don't worry about it. You only did it to protect me, right? Thanks." The Darcsen replied gently with a sincere smile.

As Jean opened up about what happened, Kalisa was a little thankful that he was comfortable around herself and Diana for him to talk about it. "I'm sorry for your loss." It's a difficult thing, losing one's family like that.

"Olivia, huh?" Beautiful name, must have been a wonderful sibling as well. "Revive the bloodline?" She looked over at Diana, and thought about how she and Jean would work out. Could be rocky at first, but she can see them working out if the girl would tone down her obsessiveness over the other Darcsen.

Kalisa leaned back on her seat. Something was compelling her to tell her own story, just as Jean had opened up about his own reasons for joining this war. "I lost my parents and sibling too. It's... been almost a year since then, I think. My brother came back in a coffin. He served as an infantryman, I think. He saved a lot of lives, but gave up his own to achieve that. Then a few months after, there was a skirmish between the Federation and the Imperials, and my hometown happened to be in the middle of it." The girl's painful memories slowly came back as she relived the events in her head. She didn't realize that she had been hugging herself with her arms as she told her story.

"My adoptive parents weren't Darcsen, but they treated us like we were their own. They were good people." Tears were beginning to well up and her voice was cracking. "The Federation lost that battle and retreated... while the Imperials started to execut Darcsen left and right. My parents defended them, begging them to stop. All they got were bullets to the head." A deep shaky breath. "I can barely remember how I didn't die that day."

Kalisa rested her head on the head rest, and she tilted her head upwards as she stared at the ceiling. "Sometimes I don't even know what I'm gonna do." Kalisa took a pause to collect her thoughts. "It's not much, but one thing I'm sure of is that I don't want other people to go through what I did." Her voice more firm as she continued.

"Ah-" The girl only now realized how much she had rambled for. "Sorry, I didn't mean to talk so much about myself." She began to wipe the tears off with one of her arms as she had turned red from embarrassment.

@LetMeDoStuff @Landaus Five-One

---

He wasn't sure if he could call it a goodnight sleep. The last thing he knew before he opened his eyes were hours ago when he closed it. He didn't have any bad dreams thankfully. But the next thing he knew, his throat was killing him. His lips was dry like a desert, while he could feel as if peels of flesh inside was dropping. He didn't drink a single drop of water ever since last night. But his mind disproved of him getting out of bed. His arms and legs were still screaming in pain. It was quite a day yesterday. Carrying equipment up the long hill, charging through the trenches, wrestling with an Imperial before having to run for his life in an artillery barrage. It was way more than any training could help him. But nevertheless, Michael still found himself crawling over to the door to the food tent for a drink. Even if it was just a sip of pure tasteless water, it still felt like he was ascending to a higher plane of existence. It was a good distraction to the war he was placed in.

He returned to his bunk after a few minutes. Franz was still asleep, but Lucia wasn't there anymore. Did she leave while Michael was still outside? But looking over to her bedside - the empty box of ration - Michael couldn't help but leak a smile. At least she was taking care of herself. Michael had been quite worried after all that trauma she had been through. Some people would be broken to the point that they had to be fed by the other soldiers. It was that harsh. But perhaps Lucia hadn't gone through that much. And hopefully that was the extent of it.

After gathering his tools and guns, he gave a quick reminder to Franz before heading out in a hurry. Initially, he thought that he would soon be chastised by the cocky officers or his fellow soldiers of higher ranks for his tired and exhausted look, but in fact, no one was different from him right now. The bags in their eyes, the dry and bruised lips, the bandaged arm or legs that still soaked with red hues. Instead, the feeling came from somewhere else instead. As he was about to arrive at the train station, the squad passed through a small town, or rather what remained of it. Some houses only had half of its mass remained, while the rest flooded the street in a huge mess that nobody even bothered to clean them up. The collateral damage had been moved over to the side of the town, with coffins lining up neatly where it should be. And those who were left...

Michael wasn't sure to have his sympathy given to these innocent civilians or similar shots return fired for their ignorance towards what happened to their loved ones. Nevertheless, he continued the march towards the station. He could feel the gazed stabbing into his back, but he did not care. He did not care about their hatred. He was trying to do this so that he could return home safely.

Soon, he arrived at the station, where he was supposed to be transferred away. But before he was allowed to board the train, someone shaped the entire squad into place, into proper line and formation. He knew this drill too well though, but wondered what did they have to say after all of that.

What turned out wasn't entirely unexpected. A bunch of propaganda rhetoric about how heroic they had fought up there. Yeah, tell it to the squad instead, those guys who were half dead already. What followed next was the promotion of the person Michael most dreaded in his entire life. So now he is capable of making certain promotion to other people in the squad. The lucky ones - not so sure if it was lucky or not - chosen was Daniel and Jean. He didn't understand the basis behind these choices anyway. It seemed random anyway. But he didn't care less.

After the whole ceremony, the formation was dissolved as everybody soon boarded the train. And following suit the course, Michael also made his way to one of the wagon. As he made his way, however, he saw again the girl he had spent a deal of time taking care of the day before. She was making her way up to the wagon two ones from his. She was the only one to board. Oh yeah, Middleton did call her to the cabin. His cabin. His heart sank just as the reminder crossed his mind. What the hell was he up to with her this time? He had called her just before the artillery hit, and what now? He shuddered to think what he was indoctrinating her all this time.

He simply shook his head once, before entering the wagon. He turned left into the room at the back of the wagon, two cabin from Jean and the entire group as he settled down onto his seat. Once he did, he began going through his guns again. The bolt had to be oiled, the muzzle had to be clean, the magazine was also clear of dust. They were all done already. He didn't need to check again. But he did. A few times before he finally stopped.

"I hope she could retain herself."

He didn't want another cold heart.
@CFProxy@LetMeDoStuff

Diana’s Brutal Reality – On the Train – Train to Amone (August 26th)

---

Diana looked at Jean with a smile as he thanked her, but felt a bit a bit saddened at it. ”N-No Problem, Jean.” Diana responded to Jean. In terms of the thanking her, which was nice to hear from him. However, she deeply sighed at what she heard Jean said after the thank you. It made her a bit more saddened at the entire thing. ”Jean that’s heartbreaking...” Diana said in response of what he had said. She couldn’t help but feel a bit saddened at that.

Diana noticed Kalisa sitting down, which she smiled and waved at her with a happy smile. The worried look on her face still showed about what happened to Kalisa and her concussion. However, she did notice Jean held Kalisa’s hand and just gently sighed at that. Because everyone is friends here and it wouldn’t be too good to blow up in front of Jean again. ”I’m in agreement with J-Jean.” Diana said towards Kalisa, with a happy smile. She noticed Jean take of his helmet, which made reminded her that she needs to take hers off. The hair was in a cute chignon bun, but she put it in her favorite hairstyle, which was straight hair. Her hair was much longer than it was while it was in the chignon bun. ”U-Ugh, so much better I should have taken off my helmet before I went to bed...” Diana said a bit happier.

However, what shocked her was mostly what Jean answered in terms of Kalisa’s question. She gasped at the awfulness at what happened to him and his family. The one thing, she never knew the cruelty of that but can empathizes a bit because her older sisters were cruel to her. But not where they wanted to kill her cruel but it felt like it in how mean they were being. ”I-I’m so sorry for your lost. T-That’s why you were avoiding eye contact earlier.” Diana said towards Jean. She remembered how hatefilled the Donster family is and sighed heavily at that specific family in her hometown of Castleton. The hate within certain people’s hearts are definitely heartbreaking.

Diana heard that Jean joined up by choice on his own free will, which was terrifying and terrible since this war so far to her has been a hellhole. ”O-Oh…” Diana responded to what he said. She sighed heavily for thinking otherwise, how else would Jean be a Lance-Corporal and now a Corporal, if he didn’t join by his choice. The thoughts in her head were going into her head, which she needs to stop assuming the worst and be happy with what was dealt. However, something got her attention from Jean’s lips and that made her blush a bit and feel like if she was drinking something, which she would spit it out. It was mostly at the mention of Olivia, which gave her a thought of wait. W-Wait… I wanted a daughter with that name didn’t I?” Diana thought to herself, trying to act a bit different but was blushing, however.

She continued to listen to Jean’s speech, however, it made her depressed in hearing the Federation was oppressing the Darcsens. ”O-Oh that absolutely sucks.” Diana spoke in response. She did smile when he heard her say he did this for his older sister joining the military and becoming her NCO. ”T-That’s good you did it for your older sister. I am glad you are here too protecting us.” Diana said with a smile on that. However, something made her completely blush as if she was a tomato, which was what was mentioned. The revival of the now-dead Robin-Charpentier Bloodline made her feel a bit faint from that acknowledgment of what he just said. ”O-Oh my…” Diana thought to herself.

However, what got her out of her thoughts was what Kalisa had said about losing her family to the Imperials. This made her slightly more depressed, which brought down her mood a bit much. ”T-That is awful Kalisa. I am grateful you are here with us.” Diana responded to her. She started to cry because of that since it was awful to hear Kalisa’s story. The truthfulness in her voice was true but she couldn’t help but look at Kalisa with saddened eyes because that story was awful. It brought her mood down to the same level as Kalisa is probably.

At no point did Isaac think of the war in terms of casualties. He found himself thinking in terms of those who survived.

It isn't that he did not feel bad for the ones who died, that he was cutting off his supply of sympathy. It was just that he had to focus on those who were alive for all their sakes. The dead were dead, and they'd done what they could in life to ensure more time for all those who lived. That was how things were, and that was how Isaac chose to see it. This was all in the light of how poor Jean was being so affected by war. He was all heart, really. All heart and not much anger. Because if he truly was angry, he wouldn't be in so much despair. It's not as though you could use that feeling ON someone. You could be pissed off at Middleton for...oh, I don't know, pick a subject...and he'd still be in charge. You could be irritated with the Federation military for dragging you into this, like Isaac. It didn't mean that you could, or that he did, plan to get back at them. Maybe that one recruiter... Most people would, naturally, blame the Imperials. They did start this war, and like Isaac, nobody really knew what it was all for.

Nobody really knew, and the war would grind human life to dust for it. What a waste.

What you REALLY had to wonder was whether Middleton knew any better, himself. The first time he woke him, Isaac was - thanks to his training - appropriately startled into nearly drawing his trench knife. When he noticed that it was the Lieutenant, he put it back, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Any looks from the man about that would just be met with the word 'Training' by way of explanation, which - given the fact that he almost expected to be attacked by an Imperial soldier - would satisfy him. On the flipside of that, however, what Middleton wanted the first time - yes, only the first time - was to make sure he was doing his job. In a way, it was actually understandable, since Middleton hadn't really seen him that much. However, that he kept coming back and waking him again for some reason was annoying.

Probably shouldn't have led with "I'm currently in charge to give Jean a break. I ordered him to bed.". Oh well...

It's not like Isaac had much interrupted sleep on his own, at that point. He'd managed to fall asleep while next to Lucia before, but that was fatigue. Let's be clear about something here. Those guns and bullets weighed, and Isaac had charged with the rest, at least as far as the church was concerned. He could keep up with others at the cost of his stamina or he could take longer to get around, and Isaac preferred to get around. The issue was that this was the first real combat test, so all of his training hadn't hit the trial run before then. He would be better at managing it now, having been in the heat of battle. It was still the first time someone had really tried to kill him, and he had been very close to getting shot. Only that slip in the mud had saved him, really.

These were the thoughts that bothered him in the night, whereas during the next day...

Well, the next day renewed Isaac's concerns about Jean, since he still looked like death. He might have to be his relief alot, since he might've looked worse now than he did before. Sergeant Baker called them to attension next and...let's be honest, Isaac wasn't sure he liked this man, either. Somehow, he didn't seem like 'one of them'. Middleton arrived next, looking very pleased with himself. If patterns followed, that meant that they would not enjoy this. And you know what? He was right. Middleton was a captain now, and he was empowered to promote others, which he did. Jean got a promotion, which he probably deserved, but...would he handle the pressure that came with moving on up? Isaac was starting to wonder if moving up in rank actually helped anything. A Sergeant died yesterday. It wasn't a special Sergeant bullet that killed him. Isaac had killed a number of people, already. He sincerely doubted that their ranks mattered.

The thing is, Isaac thought of alot of things in terms of what he was good at, which was raising and understanding animals, particularly wolves. Wolves have a heirarchy in which there is a definite leader and those below him. However, and this was important, it was all just social. It has nothing to do with who had who had the best skill in biting and clawing while killing another animal. It mmight determine who was on top if there was a fight over that, and it might determine how much of the kill you got, but in a fight, it's not like a bear is going to care who is Alpha or Omega, and it's not like being Omega means you're unable to fight. Pack Omegas have risen to the top before. His father had seen it. The point is that Isaac wasn't sure that all of this really mattered in war.

When Middleton decided to 'address' the elephant in the room, Isaac was thinking 'You ARE the elephant in the room.' with a small smile. Never lose your sense of humor. It will serve you well. However, it felt a bit sour as Middleton announced that they would be apparently assaulting Amone very soon and that he was not proud of their work yesterday, though others were. What an ass. Isaac was making it his special duty to be sure and make the new people understand that Middleton was nothing but a pain. That was the important lesson to take from him. He was a cold-hearted ass who- He was already pulling Lucia into some other task. Just what was his deal with her? Well, Isaac had no time to actually focus on that. As Middleton left and people started talking again, he heard Jean talking. Hearing him, his eyes widened. Good god, his family just... What was it that made people so against the Darcsens, huh? He didn't get it. He just didn't understand what all the fuss was about! It wasn't important, whatever it was! Everything on this guy, and now this... Isaac approached now.

"Jean, I'm sorry. I can't really imagine how you feel right now, though I guess I'd feel pretty broken inside if my family were gone, as well. I know it doesn't mean much, but you can rely on us. Use your newfound power to delegate some responsibility. We can take some of the pressure off, if you need it."

Then, Kalisa told them how her family had died and...god damn, but it was easy to forget that she was a Darcsen, as well. Maybe it was because of her appearance in contrast to Jean's. She didn't look like one, exactly. Kalisa apologized for sharing and Isaac shook his head.

"No no, it's completely alright, talking about it. Sometimes, you just have to get it out. I'll never understand why 'race' is an issue around here."

And they would only have so much time to do that on the train to Amone. They would all need their rest, and they had to get new people, and somehow psyche themselves into being able to step back into battle again. The battle would be in a city this time, and alot different from a hill-climb, that was for sure. The only real question now was...would they all come out of it alive? No, actually, there was something else: How was he gonna get this letter delivered? They weren't able to get any moved out at all. Maybe at one of the stops... Wait, what? He'd left the cabin and started walking back down the hall - informing the others before he went that he was gonna see about getting some food, maybe something to take with them in case nothing was waiting for them - when he stopped and he heard someone talking. It was Michael. He said 'I hope she can retain herself'. Isaac stepped into the doorway of the cabin.

"Lucia, I take it?"

---

Michael gave a quick sigh as he stared at his rifle. He already knew who was at the doorway.

"...You're right..."

Continued he looked at the gun carefully. The bolt of the gun had been polished far enough that it began to blink at him as the sun indirectly shot him a ray into the window to his soul. Why was he getting this worked up though? He wasn't gonna be able to stop the fact that Lucia was already in Middleton's cabin. What he only had to expect was her after this, which would probably take at least until the next stop to see the result. He should be more concerned of himself and the rest of the squad right now. He still hoped that Franz still kept his mood up. It wouldn't take that little to turn his mood and feelings back down, but he just did not know when it comes to human beings.

"I'll try to put that out of my mind for now."

How come it wasn't an easy task? Especially when his immediate consciousness was idle. His mind drifted to what he may say to Lucia. What sort of bullshit would he feed her this time. And how exactly would he do to counteract said bullshits. It would not be as simple as a 'Don't listen to what he says!' or 'What he's saying is wrong!'. Whatever he begged for, she still knew Middleton more than he do, and that he lives in this war longer than he does. If anything, she should trust his words more than Michael's, or anyone's. If anything, he had to tap into her own nature, morality and long taught beliefs. But still, now? When he didn't know a thing yet? What was he supposed to do otherwise?

"If you want to...I don't mind." He gestured at the seat right the opposite side of him. Perhaps the Lance Corporal that Michael wished was promoted instead would keep him distracted.
@FalloutJack

Jean looked towards Kalisa with a somewhat pained look. Hearing her story made him feel like weeping himself, but instead he found himself simply staring with an almost straightened face. Something about what she said began to anger him, something that he never really felt before. There was an agonising temptation to avenge those within her story, ones that made him feel tense in his arm muscles. Jean leaned forward, and with a singular thumb he also wiped off a tear she'd missed from her cheek. Having seen her, for the first time, go red in the face was almost heart-warming once more. He retracted his hand before sliding past Diana and taking to his feet. Underneath his arms he held the steel helmet that was issued to them by their government. Jean felt a strong disconnect from his previous emotions as he held a somewhat weak smile on his face. The train had only just began to move, and yet he wasn't sure if the rest of the troops within his platoon were just asleep or talking to the others they'd become close with. However, as he raised himself to his feet, the other Lance Corporal he'd come to know, Isaac, was there listening, and began to respond to such trivial revelations of Jean's familial tragedy.

With intrigue and perched interest, Jean looked towards him and took the advice to mind. Newfound power? Delegate responsibility? It was true that now Jean was expected more from those above and below. No longer was it just a case of having a single chevron and little to no respect, the Corporal position was often seen as the backbone of the entire non-commissioned officer lineup. This might not have been true in most cases, but hierarchies were always dependent on the lower classes to get the jobs done. Corporals were often seen as the frontline leaders who led squads and fireteams in battle when the Sergeants were not around. That thought itself made Jean somewhat timid, but he suppressed that feeling quickly with a sense of desperation.

His face looked as if he were being strangled tightly with an emotional strap yet he still kept a somewhat deadpan expression once more. Jean was still attempting to satisfy the masses now that he had a new role to fulfil, but Isaac's word gave him a sense of inspiration for the second.

"I see...Thank you very much, Isaac. Your offers are all too kind, same goes for both Diana and Kalisa too. Despite my difficulties, I do feel that this is the regiment and platoon I deserve to be a part of. I know my performance has been...unsatisfactory, to say the least, but I will compromise from here onwards, and will attempt to make amends to my wrong-doings as an NCO. Just as I will count on you all, you will finally have me to put your trust in too." He gently patted Isaac's back before turning back to Kalisa and Diana. From there, he kept his helmet underneath his right arm and lifted his left to wave to them in an almost strangely friendly manner, beaming a newly found smile across his face. Underneath, despite the hidden emotions of sadness and grief still striking his body, he knew that it was something no one needed in that moment. Not even he needed it. "I'm going to take a wander up the cabin, you two. I hope you don't mind me leaving you two here alone, though I don't suspect you'd have anything to spit at one another over anyway. Besides, you two seem to be the lights of the train anyhow. Try not to get all embarrassed either, though it suits you both."

Despite referring to their beauty collectively, Jean looked and smiled more at Kalisa with a grin, only just holding the urge to wink at her for fears of his own self-consciousness. After having complimented the two, though Kalisa more than Diana it seemed, he turned and left the cabin, turning the opposite direction as to where Isaac went with a light chuckle. For once he seemed to be oddly spirited considering his latest mood the previous night and morning so far.

Continuing down the cabins, opening the doors and shutting them accordingly to get through each carriage one by one, he simply watched the men and women from the Regiment as he wandered through. Some of them smiled at him with a nice silent nod, others gave the somewhat warming verbal greeting, others however were still glum from the battle before. Jean couldn't blame anyone who was, as he still was himself, and that the battle was fully beyond the level of human kindness. More and more distance was yet to be covered, however he soon found himself stopping dead in his tracks when before him came out Lucia, closely followed by a oddly-friendly looking Captain Middleton, who held a pipe in his mouth as he exited. Lucia suddenly had a somewhat difficult expression upon her face, one that read of strange rekindling within her. There were several marks onto her gun and a few bloodshot glistens in her eyes. Whether she'd been crying or simply broken from past memories was out of Jean's knowledge, but she nodded towards him with a smile. Lucia looked as if she were about to hug Jean, but hesitation and the watchful eye of Middleton forced her to withdraw the gesture and instead simply meant she would wander further up the cabin, followed keenly by her superior.

Jean tilted his head and sighed heavily, before turning around. Lucia was problematic. It wasn't an insult towards her, per se, and rather a jab at the conditions she was being put through. Jean's mind was at equals to those who'd so far come into contact with her: sympathetic and almost heartbroken at the sights and sounds she'd been forced to mingle amongst. She was only 16, only just most likely, and was quivering visually at the thought of another battle coming up. Jean had heard the information in more lengthened detail about the upcoming show at Amone. It sounded somewhat difficult to understand what specifically they were being asked to do. Apparently a strike force specialised in breakthrough tactics were to go before the 15th Atlantic Rifles before they would be inserted into the city's warzone. Word had it from other soldiers back in Garnia who'd known a guy, or two, who'd been in Amone that it wasn't as chaotic as the regular frontiers of the Europan War, however it was plagued by tension, a different kind of danger and an immense worry of turning the wrong corner. It had also been told by some of the Sergeants nearby, talking away to one another, that the new batches of troops were to be picked up by the 29th of the same month they were in. Three days away, it seemed, the replacements for the fallen at Hill 58 were to start arriving. It, however, was the specifications some of the talkative NCOs gave that surprised him.

Alongside the regular Federation soldiers, both men and women who were to simply fill the seemingly nameless blank spaces that needed to be filled, there was a new breed of soldier being called into the regiment. Jean had barely heard much about them as such, minus a few tales from within his training camp days, but it seemed that natives of the Dominion of Oceania were too joining the frontier. It gave hope to some soldiers knowing that, as the Sergeants boasted a strange sense of pride in their talent. A lot seemed to be in agreement that the Oceania homelands were home to some of the best shocktroopers the Federation had to offer in that day-in-age. Despite the good news, part of Jean still couldn't get behind the fact that many of them were likely to be killed in the upcoming months of the war to yet be explored.

Jean made his way back to the original carriage he started in, waltzing through that familiar cabin once more. As he passed the cabin he resided in before, where Diana and Kalisa were, Jean took off his Darcsen scarf completely and, whilst she wasn't paying attention, bowled it straight into Kalisa's face. It's soft texture couldn't have caused any pain whatsoever, he presumed, and as she was targeted for the rest of his Darcsen scarf, the one she had a piece from, he simply grinned and continued wandering off before she could think to throw it back at him, if she wanted to of course. Instead, Jean continued to walk with a moderate smile on his face, suddenly arriving at Isaac and Michael's cabin. Jean peered his head in, knocking before walking inside with a polite smile. He offered his hand out to Michael and Isaac once more, but stared more at Michael than his already acquainted companion.

"I hope you chaps don't mind me joining. Mainly came in to just say I'm grateful for what you two did last night. I just saw Lucia come out of hiding with Middleton, which she seems to be in a bad shape for, but it reminded me of how you two were instinctive to rush to her aid, even on my order, when I failed to provide that comfort beyond what I had. If I had a drink, I'd raise the glass to you two." He jokingly raised his empty flask from his hip and held it only centimetres above his chest before sitting down on a seat, making sure not to block the two from their position. "Sorry for the whole change in mood. Today's just been a rollercoaster of emotions, hasn't it? Anywho, if you guys want I can put a reference of appreciation and valour towards a commanding officer, obviously not that blasted devil of a Captain we have, for your efforts: both you, Isaac, for your machine gunner suppression with Britta and you, Michael, for the ability to cater for your allies...Even if you might come across as a romantic whilst doing so."

He jokingly laughed at the mentioning of how affectionate Michael could seem towards Lucia, not knowing whether or not the man was actually caring for her as a comrade, as a potential lover, or simply as someone who'd want to leach questionable photographs of the angel Lucia later in life. Either way, it was always fun to direct the more hopeless romantic trait and humorous prod at someone who wasn't him and Diana, who even Jean knew by now was still trying to flirt and claim the Corporal with furious intent. For once, Jean felt like he was talking to friend and allies, forgetting that, even if it was just for a split second, there was a war going on in the first place.

Of course he was thinking of Lucia. Of all the things that could be going wrong in this war, they were the ones who believed that Middleton - not any action of the enemy - was the one ruining her, as a person. It was one of those things that came upon their thoughts unbidden, but couldn't help but be there because of certain truths. Truths like 'Middleton is an ass' were irrefutable, therefore anyone near him was at risk of getting some of that behavior mixed in with their own. He just didn't act like a human being, too cold and discomforting... You couldn't let people like that ruin someone, certainly not a member of your squad and someone you cared about. That was Michael's dilemma, and frankly that was just about Isaac's, as well. The only difference was that they handled it differently. Michael seemed depressed about it. Isaac's mind was working on it. He couldn't think in terms of defeat. That defeated the purpose of thinking about it, at all. he'd shared this line of reasoning with Britta, and now it was time to expand on that.

Upon being offered a seat, he sat across from Michael and began to work on maintaining his own machine gun. After a moment, he began talking.

"I don't think she should be put out of mind, but rather we should all give her a helping hand. Maybe you're thinking the now-Captain is causing some mischief we don't want. Well, nothing says we can't undo all that. I consider her part of the squad, so it's our duty to look after her, like we do everyone else. I figure if we all agree to quietly thwart whatever she's having to go through somehow, it'll all work out. Pretty sure the whole squad'll be with me on that. Isn't even a rule-breaker. In fact, it's orders. Middleton's orders."

It really was. Lucia was a Private. That meant that she was an enlisted person, which made her the responsibility of NCOs. He just didn't need to know all that, and Isaac would smirk as he made sure his stuff was in good working order. This was when Jean appeared at the doorway and spoke about Lucia and their various acts, yesterday. Funny coincidence, that. Isaac nodded his head at an empty seat.

"By all means, join the club for men inspecting their guns. I dunno where Britta is right now, but I'll let her know. Incidentally, I'm figuring we should get the squad to support and keep an eye on Lucia so that she can get through the harshness of it all and keep her humanity. I was just talking about that with Michael. Much-appreciated about the recommendation, though I dunno if it's necessary. This war is, to me, what I can do for others. You did great with that charge yesterday. You really did, Jean. My only regret is that if I'd known it'd all hit you so hard, I would've asked to switch places, because I'm vicious at close-quarters and I can still handle a rifle. Even so, if this is you recovering, I'm all the better for hearing it."

Oh, and if anyone IS wondering where Britta was, she had found food for rationing like Isaac intended to before he got side-tracked. Someone's gotta be the responsible one, right?

Diana’s Brutal Reality – On the Train – Train to Amone (August 26th)

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Diana couldn’t help but notice what Jean with Kalisa by wiping a tear, which Kalisa missed. She wasn’t really upset or angry with what he did, which was mostly because he was sweet handsome man. ”Aww, t-that’s cute. Come on Diana pull yourself together. I wish mom gave me pointers on how to get a man… but she was too busy fighting people to tell me things.” Diana thought to herself, with a smile on her face while staring at Jean. The girl allowed Jean to get passed her so he could get out since it looked like he was about to go somewhere.

Diana was shocked to notice Isaac standing in the doorway, which she waved at him. She was grateful she was apart of this squad since she is happy to see everyone within the squad, especially Jean. However, she didn’t really knew how to respond to the other NCO since he was pretty much more confident than Jean. The whole thing was a bit more frustrating to think on. ”It’s so-somewhat annoying to deal with, I hope Jean gets suited into his new role as Corporal. Since everyone needs confidence about certain things, however, I-I wish mom and dad didn’t overprotect me so much.” Diana thought to herself, with a strained look on her face. It looked like she was overthinking something but it felt like it had to do with her nightmare, which she had.

She looked directly at Jean, when he talked to her and Kalisa. The entirety of what he said got to her, which helped her get out of her runt of overthinking things. She did what she wanted in terms of speaking her mind. ”No problem Jean in terms o-of everything. You are still sweet. My m-mother did always tell me that people d-do need to sort out their problems. You will be a great Corporal.” Diana responded to Jean, with a smile on her face. The overwhelming of emotions in what she said more or less what her mother would say if she actually stopped and looked at things. She sighed mostly at her mother’s odd advice or lack thereof advice.

There was one thing that came out of her, which was giggling mostly at Jean’s genuine happy smile. It helped her lift her spirits a bit because he’s still a sweet guy. However, it still had an underlying problem, which was her nightmare that she had before getting on the train. She looked directly at Jean with a smile across her face. ”That’s okay, I-I don’t mind being here with Kalisa since she’s nice and all. And it’ll probably be nice to chat to her about things.” Diana said, however she had a look of a bit of confusion on her face. It took her a bit to reallocate some of her mental capacity to figure out what Jean just said. However, after that double take, which causes her to get highly embarrassed at what he had said. In the case she blushed at the specific words of lights of the train.’ ”Uh, okay… I will try n-not to get embarrassed. Even though t-that’s quite hard right now.” Diana completed her response blushing really red.

Diana did realize that Jean did smile at Kalisa more than her but that caused her to have a little thought in her head. ”What the…? Wish he would be playful for me because I do want him.” Diana thought to herself, with a smile on her face. Her face was still highly red and couldn’t help but smile at the compliment anyway. It kinda made her forget the horribleness, which was that nightmare in question. She waited until Jean left the room to look at Kalisa with a smile on her face. The thoughts in her head, which was all over the place the one thing, however, was mostly because she did see Kalisa blush from embarrassment. It is nice to see everyone has their embarrassing moments. ”I am enjoying being apart of t-this platoon s-so far. I did like his smile, which he g-gave to us.” Diana spoke towards Kalisa, which had a smile on her face. The tone in her voice was kind and caring for the most part and was more or less trying to spark up girl talk since yeah.

She wasn’t really told how to clean her rifle, however, all she was taught during Conscription training was literally point and shoot. The look on Diana’s face was a bit annoyed, which was mostly about the elephant in the room. ”How d-do I clean my rifle?” Diana asked, curiously and confused towards Kalisa. In case it wasn’t obvious she didn’t really ask anyone at the boot camp on how to clean her weapon in the first place. She was pretty naive in that whole thing, which was a definite problem. ”I should ha-have asked someone about this but I was too busy with being yelled at by the Drill Sergeant.” Diana thought to herself, which was a bit annoyed at herself. She face palmed at her lack of wanting to ask anyone about anything, which is mostly because of how she was raised by her overly strict parents. That means the only new experiences is mostly in the field of battle since no one can really change a Vastergoth’s mind.

She saw a darcsen scarf softly bump Kalisa in the face, which it looked soft from here. However, she wondered who threw it, however, she looked towards the Cabin door and saw Jean. This caused her to remember her daydream, which happened on the hill 58. She did notice the smile on Jean’s face as he walked away from the door. The entirety of what transpired made her a bit giggle. ”Oh that’s a beau-beautiful scarf. It must be really soft to wear.” Diana said, curiously kind towards Kalisa. Her heart was racing mostly because from the fact she had to remember the daydream all that time ago. Her face was highly red in comparison to the scarf she sees. She had never really tried to wear a Darscen scarf before, which she was mostly interested in wanting to wear it.

---

An endless grey stretched out infinitely in all directions. A perpetual void of color. A world of nothingness save for single, cowering child. Confused. Scared. Where was the color? The warmth of red? The chill of blue? He could could see nothing but the forsaken grey. No matter how hard the child tried, he could not create a single color on the grey canvas around him. He dreamed and hope for a day when the color would find him. Eventually, he grew accustomed to the grey and his confusion and fear vanished along with his dreams and hope. The child wandered the endless grey aimlessly. He began to doubt that any of the fabled colors truly existed. That was until one day in the distance he saw it. Every color he ever imagined and more shining like a beacon. At first, he hesitated. The grey had become comfortable. Familiar. Why should he discard it now? However, he could not tear his gaze from this beacon of colors. He ran for it. The closer he got, the more engrossed he became in the colors. Every step brought him nearer and with it a renewable of the lost hope in him. He couldn't let it slip away, not when he had been waiting for so long. When he finally got close enough, he reached out and took the color into his hands shaped like a orb. Every color he could imagine was contained within. Without warning, the orb and all its precious color began to melt. The liquid seeping through the gaps in his fingers onto the grey floor underneath him. Frantically, he dropped to his knees and began to desperately scoop the liquid color off the ground. Every time he got some in his hands, it would again slip through his fingers. Each time there was less and less. All the color faded into the endless grey. The child pounded his fists against the ground. Dug his fingers into the grey until they were raw. Realizing he could not get the color back, he laid against the grey floor curled up over where the color had disappeared. Broken. Confusion and Fear once more made its way into his heart, but this time accompanied by sorrow and anger. A pain he had never felt before crippled him so there he stayed. Laying motionless on an endless sea of grey nothing with eyes' half open, becoming indecipherable from it.

---

Daniel was a lance corporal. No matter how many times it passed through his mind he still failed to fully comprehend. He never wanted such a position. He was half-tempted to throw the position back at Middleton's prick face if he didn't believe it would get him shot. How in the hell was he supposed to make sure he survived this mess when he had to look after others now? The position would force him to think from a entirely new perspective. His well-being was always placed several times higher than those around him. It had kept him alive so far. Now he had basically no choice but to look after a bunch of sentimental fools who froze up or cried every time something horrible happened, with a few rare exceptions. Daniel was a lone wolf. People skills were not his strong point and he didn't have any intention on improving them. People will always hurt you. One way or another. Now they would be looking towards him for leadership as well. He felt a brief coldness on his right shoulder as he entered the train. This weather was nearly as awful as the rest of the day.

He stood in front of one of the windows in the carriage just after the one in which Diana, Kalisa, and Jean had been talking. His eyes gazed at the scenery around the train station, still struggling with the reality of his promotion. What others might have considered a gift, he considered to be nothing more than a curse. Daniel would absolutely kill for just a single cigarette or a shot of gin. It didn't matter which, just something to take his mind off everything. He wanted to say that he would be just fine on his own. That he could take on anything this war threw at him, but that wasn't true. Looking out at the countless men and women in federation uniforms, he knew that this war was more than any one man could handle. It wasn't a back-ally fight or a bar brawl. This was a systematic killing of other human beings using terrible weapons.

The train had began to pull away from the station leaving one battle behind and heading straight for another. Daniel had enough time to think about where to start regarding his promotion. Daniel still held his own preservation above all others, but that didn't mean he didn't care about the lives of others. Their lives were now partially in his hands and he was determined to get as many through this war. He would be the biggest bastard in the world as long as it got them through this. Kindness doesn't win a fight. Innocence doesn't get you through tough times. Naivety will only get you killed. Humanity doesn't matter if you are dead. These were lessons he planned on instilling in each of his troops now under his command.

He heard the door to his cabin open and none other than the newly appointed Jean came through it. Daniel could only imagine the kind of reaction Jean had to his promotion. As of right now, he was sure they didn't care very much for each other. Daniel had seen what happens when two people in charge start up a feud. People get hurt or they die. He didn't want to see that happen. Daniel wasn't sure they could ever become friends, but at the very least they could have an understanding. That was his reasoning as he approached and stopped Jean as the corporal moved down the carriage "We need to have a talk, just you and me. Find me later when you have time alone." His tone was serious, but non-threatening. Daniel waited for Jean's response, before walking in the direction Jean came from. It was a hunch, but where Jean was that air-head of a girl must be as well.

Daniel came to the cabin where both Kalisa and Diana where, his heart was pounding strongly in his chest the entire time he walked. Every muscle in his body urged him to walk the other direction or pass them entirely. He forced himself to think of Elizabeth and the words she gave him on the battlefield. They gave him just enough strength to convince him to follow through with his foolish choice. Before he was able to enter their cabin, Jean came this way yet again and threw his scarf into the cabin with a wide grin on his face. Daniel watched him walk further away before making his move. While Jean did whatever he was doing, there was one other person to make amends with. He had no intentions of apologizing, but he could at least clear the air. Honestly, this entire idea was making him a tad sick. Nevertheless, he had to persevere.

It took every ounce of his control to stop from running away as he appeared in the doorframe, his eyes not meeting any of theirs instead hanging just above their heads "Can I...take a seat?" The last few words he strained to say. Half of him hoped that Diana would resent him and refuse his request and he could just continue on his way. This took more of his courage than charging up the hill. It felt as though a revolver was pressed against his chest with the trigger nearly depressed. As long as they didn't do any of that...girly crap to him he might just make it.

@Landaus Five-One@LetMeDoStuff@SMS

---

The surrounding seats near him began to be crowded by people in his squad. Isaac was the one he invited, followed by Franz, who seemed to be a lot brighter than the time Michael met him the day before. It was lifting to see to be honest. He even joked about him being so lady-magnet. It was valid actually. Jean, despite being a mess of a person due to the horrifying baptism of fire, was seen with at least a few ladies with him. How he did that was a mystery, but that was just impressive.

"Go ahead gentlemen." The contagiousness of the conversations were irresistible. He could spend his time by himself, but considering his emotional state right now, having a company or two would be really helpful, considering two of them were already someone he already knew and made impressions on. Three exactly, if saying things otherwise.

"Romantic? What do you suggest otherwise then sir?"

Carrying an unconscious person is best done in cradle style. To the great contrary of expectation, this five feet tall man was surprisingly fit and strong, at least to carry a girl like Lucia. She was a little light to be honest, but could not expect anything more or less from her softness of her body. But he couldn't deny that though. That was also what some newlyweds would show off sometimes. Or the story of medieval knights saving the damsel in distress. Well, he looked nothing like that knight in the human imagination of course. He was midget and he had no shining clad armor. And he acted nothing like a knight by the way.

But then again, it wasn't too unexpected with the news of Lucia. Bad shape? That seemed like an understatement. But assuming she was already out, probably Middleton was with her as well. He knew little of the Captain, but from the view of the observers, from brutally killing Imperials, forcing Federation soldiers forward and, without a trace of mercy, ordering an innocent teenage girl to shoot retreating soldiers, his appreciation for humanity obviously wasn't high. His recommendation for being a caring soldier to his fellow comrades would probably fall into deaf ears, and even if he went for Lucia, he'd probably be shooed away by that bastard, or even worse be the target for him to smite.

"I'm not so sure about that one statement though Isaac." He replied as he turned over to the Lance-Corporal. "There will be people who agreed. For the record, me and Jean do...but there are reasons why people would want to choose otherwise..."

People would argue that was for survival. That nothing in war was good or righteous, and that the only victory means surviving. That could be a valid point, but what was the point of surviving when you lost what made you human? If they ended up so, the only thing they could equate to would be beasts and animals in human's costume. He'd rather die than such a fate. Then at least he would be reunited with those he loved in the end.

"I don't think most will, but we'll gather as many as we can. I'll try to look after her whenever possible."

And whenever appropriate.
@LetMeDoStuff@FalloutJack@CFProxy

Diana’s Brutal Reality – Daniel’s Arrival – Train to Amone (August 26th)

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Diana couldn’t help but blink when she heard a person straining to speak towards her and Kalisa, which she looked up at the person. She was in a bit of a shock when she saw it was Daniel, which wanted to take a seat. It took her a bit to process with what she wanted to say, but she wanted to speak to him. ”Sure y-you can take a seat.” Diana responded to Daniel’s question. She was a bit curious why he wanted to take a seat, however. In her mind, she remembered she wanted to congratulate Daniel on his promotion to Lance Corporal.

She somewhat sighed a bit mostly at her reaction to what Daniel said to her. It took her a bit to recompose herself before looking at Daniel. ”Daniel, I con-congratulate y-you on your promotion to Lance Corporal. I hope you don’t mind me congratulating you for that.” Diana said, with a smile on her face. She couldn’t help but smile, which mostly because of the fact that Daniel is the same rank as Isaac now. ”Got to ask, why w-were you so a-angry at me?” Diana asked, curiously. In terms of everything she really wanted was the reason why mostly.

Diana couldn’t help but feel a bit hesitant in knowing why it was filling her with butterflies because she never knew someone who outburst like that. However, she was reminded on what her older sisters did to her all those years ago as a child. It was a something of a problem with her, which is the primary reason why she never really talked to her mother about a certain thing. ”I should have told my mother about my feelings towards both genders… B-But I need to keep focused.” Diana thought to herself, which she was reminded of her childhood friend Anna R. Mannerfield. She snapped out of her thoughts to look at her rifle, which needs clean but did ask Kalisa about it but she went to look at Daniel. ”I can’t understand, why n-no one t-told me how to clean my rifle. While I was going through Conscription Training that I barely passed.” Diana said, with a slight depressed tone. The patriotic speeches, which got her into trouble by some recruitment officers in her hometown. It frustrated her a bit but not enough to yell at the Federation for conscripting her into this hellhole.

Jean smiled and rubbed the back of his head with a slight chuckle before beginning to tamper with his helmet. On its side was the still-image of the bullet mark that was left from Hill 58's incursion. Jean seemed to take a liking to its more memorable close-call towards death and insisted on keeping the same helmet instead of finding another one. Whether it was for a grim reminder or a grateful ode to fate was another story, however. Back to his smiling, it was definitely caused by his appreciation for the words everyone said. Franz was adamant that as a Darcsen, the two would be bound by a racial bond that could never be severed, offering to follow him through to the end and back for the sake of brotherhood and camaraderie. Isaac also shed some light onto Jean's previously absent parade by remarking his actions in leadership atop of Hill 58, which he had easily forgotten about himself. A spark of amplitude came about his mind once he'd wrapped his head around the achievements the group had made on the first battle so far. It was quite strange to see that those who'd spent only a day around one another had come this great distance in such a minute amount of time. It was surreal, in fact.

With courage, Michael had promised to assist Lucia whenever it was possible. Jean couldn't help but chuckle to himself over the words of kindness he had for the frail and vulnerable Private amongst their ranks. She was indeed an angel to be preserved, and with the growing suspicions of Captain Middleton having something to do with her condition it was only responsible for the band of brothers and sisters here in the Platoon to do something about it. She was one of their own, after all. Jean, Isaac and Michael had all promised and reminded her that she was no longer alone and was part of the Platoon. Jean knew that in Amone, each platoon within the regiment was to be divided into Squads of a certain calibre and number, and Jean would be taking minor command over his own with whatever activity going down in the city. Whilst he knew of the briefing and was not yet inclined to share the information, there was no telling what exactly they were supposed to be doing in Amone. All the information that had been given was that the city was split into many pockets of Federation and Imperial controlled sectors and garrisons, making the interior a mess when considering who controlled the urban battlefield itself. Lucia was likely going to be joining them, which was something Jean had to bargain for with the Captain a while back. She technically knew the men and women of Jean's group the best seeing as they were the only ones willing to put themselves forward for her.

As the train continued onwards, chugging down the rails without much thought to the racket it made, Jean stared out the window, still fiddling with his rifle. Some of the mechanisms were a little stiff for a moment but the quickest spot of exterior cleaning managed to free up the clogs inside the Longfield. There was something quite peculiar about how the Longfield had been manufactured and that was how it was clearly a dominant service rifle compared to the Imperial's counterpart. Having a bolt mechanism that was angled, pointed down specifically, made it fairly easy for bolting and rapid motions to be followed up when cranking in repeating shots. Still, the Imperial current design was functioning off of a 90 degree cocking bolt that sometimes obscured the vision and fluidity of the operator. The Longfield had addressed these issues before the war had begun, which was surprising considering the Federation's reliance on the Vinlanders and their scientific progressions. Edinburgh were clearly to thank for the sturdiness of the rifle, of course.

When his eyes trailed out of the window, Jean saw a flock of birds sail by in the wind. The sky contrasted the desolation of the countryside below with starkness. Above, they seemed beautiful and free, able to glide liberally without a care in the world. The land below told a story of horror, previous battles and homelands that had been torn from their positions and scattered like bodies from an artillery explosion. Trenches were still visible and the horizon, where the frontline had apparently pushed towards a week ago just off to the side of the Garnian Salient, held a barrelling plume of smoke and ash caused by the fiery cauldrons of the modern war. Jean simply sighed and looked back down to his gun, before speaking up once more.

"It's a shame really, seeing the countryside so battered. I never pictured it to be this bad, but when Private Louis Vanhousen, y'know that more recent famous poet from Edinburgh, described the landscapes as lunar-apocalyptic, it was unbelievable. I guess there's a bittersweetness to its sight, knowing that this can act as a reminder for our future selves never to repeat this atrocity again. Whether that's from the death of a friend or the responsibility weighed down upon us, our shoulders, we all have something to remind us of why this is such a terrible outing." Quickly, he snapped back into reality, after having spoken (mainly to himself) in a soliloquy of curiosity. Jean turned to the men around him and smiled, standing up once more to create more room. He left his helmet on the table yet continued to carry his rifle. Jean knew, though hadn't dwelt upon the thought as much as he should've, on Daniel's request to talk to him once more. It was a worrisome request, but the man recently had his promotion and it was likely to remind Jean that he was now responsible for their lives and should control his emotions because of the dangers they held. Eagerly, however, he was stood not for that reason and instead looked back at the comrades he was temporarily leaving behind. "Us boys show promise, though. They say brotherhood and camaraderie goes a long way on the battlefield, so if we stay together as one, we'll surely see the end of this conflict, no matter who the victor is. We might not all be soldiers, but we are all defenders of something, whether nationalism, pride, honour, familial values or morality. I'll see you lads later, I've got to go ask Staff Sergeant Baker if he has a spare stripper magazine collection; I think I left mine back in the dugout in Garnia."


After two hours of the train's journey, something sparked up in Lucia's eyes. She'd been relieved from Captain Middleton's watchful eye and began to retreat further down the cabin, a strange smile upon her face. Some of the soldiers around her greeted her in a friendly way, some even complimenting her as an angel. She would fluster and giggle at their words, finding herself open to a life of strange consistency and happiness that she'd never encountered before and during Middleton's experimentation on her mentality. Part of her knew that going around in a go-lucky style was ill-advised and definitely something her superior would not fully embrace as complimentary to his work, yet it made it more exciting to know the factor. Some of the people around her showed a brash and almost rebellious side she'd never thought to explore, and so the darling of Assen wandered down from carriage to carriage, greeting, thanking and giving her grace towards every known soldier she could see.

It occurred to her, however, that when she reached the last carriage she had not yet seen the members of her Platoon, who were amongst the nicest she had encountered yet. With a fabulous smile, she continued onward and only hung on to a slight sense of worry that Michael and Isaac hadn't boarded the train by accident and were left behind. Contrary to this belief, however, she managed to spy them moments later in their own cabin, now with another soldier who she vaguely recognised. Lucia almost burst into the room with a timid but bright grin on her face, squealing a name or two of the ones who'd prominently helped her before.

"Isaac! Mickey!" Something must've felt strange, as suddenly a new light was being showered upon them. Now that she was outside of the battlefield, she had the chance to let her mind flow free of creativity and worry at the sights of her two guardians, to which she brightly walked towards with a slight skip to each step. Both of her hands were tightly held behind her back as she wandered inside, nodding with both eyes shut and a wide grin. She stood in the doorway and took off her helmet, placing it on the table alongside where Jean had left his and beamed towards the three still left in the room, Franz included. However, only having heard it from other people talking to one another about him, she gave a wrong but wild guess as she looked at him. "Hello Francis! I hope you're doing well now that we're away from that horrid place."

With striking euphemism, she deliberately refused to refer to the previous battlegrounds to anything less than a horrid place, almost nullifying how internally and externally damaging the Battle of Hill 58 had actually been. It was where she'd claimed her first life, and yet it wasn't even one of the Imperials. A conflicting mix of emotions always surrounded that minute, the one where she pulled the trigger on the retreating girl, and as she watched her corpse fall back into the trench once she'd finally succumb to the bullet wound to the neck.

Even so the thought was still lurking at the back of her head, one thing she had taken for granted from Captain Middleton's teachings was her new ability to suppress true emotions whenever she wanted. It was still a hard challenge to commit towards, but in that moment Lucia managed to force herself to forget about the brutality of Garnian's Salient and instead focus on the three youthful guys before her, to which Middleton had previously told her not to mingle with too much. Either way, she was not exactly going to lose anything around them, was she? And if she did, there wasn't much she could lose that was inherently bad, was there? With a strange giggle, she suddenly walked towards Michael and began to awkwardly clamber over him. It was rather innocent, but she simply crawled across the table, gently trying to push past Michael in order to get to the seat next to him, before sitting herself down without having been invited. She giggled again at the fact she'd just used her own comrade as a climbing frame before she began to speak again.

"Sorry Mickey. This seat looks more comfy. I saw a pillow here anyway." For some reason, it was quite obvious that the girl had come from a sheltered lifestyle that was simply taken away from her within an instant. If it hadn't been for Middleton, who still sheltered her from the necessities of a social mentality, she would have simply wandered aimlessly looking for a purpose in life like she had with the refugees. Using Michael as a climbing frame for a second just to snuggle up to the wall-and-pillow seat was still quite a strange act, even for her standards. Still, she continued to giggle politely to herself, before continuing once more. "Captain Middleton said he didn't need to talk to me until tomorrow, so he dismissed me. And so I wanted to sneak over here to talk to you guys. I wanna give a big thank you because you've all been very nice to me, even though our superiors say I shouldn't get friendly with others unless ordered to."

Before long, she quickly unflipped a small notepad from her breast pocket and a small graphite pencil before she began to look at Michael, Isaac and Franz to scribble some small pictures down. She suddenly held a strong face of concentration, one that seemed to sporadically change from her previous and outlandish presentation of giddiness. Continuously, Lucia maintained her pencil to her paper with striking motions as she scribbled away, talking to herself whilst doing it. In-between every few scribbles, she would look up to Michael, smile politely and then go back to her drawing, before shutting the book and refusing to show anyone.

"No looking. But I'll show you someday, if you're kind to me." Lucia continued to smile, closing her eyes once more as she did it. But before long, she already lifted her legs into a sort of fetal posture by curling against the wall and pillow. It seemed to be the first real comfort she'd had in a while, and every moment of it was to die for. "I saw Jean and I knew it was a good idea to thank you all for being so kind to me. I don't have many friends here in the Federation Army, and I don't have many people to go back to at home, but you've all made me feel like I belong somewhere and it's all I could ask for in this terrible world. Soooo...Thank you Francis, Isaac and Mickey!" And just like that, she stretched her arms out and gave a rapid hug to each and every one of them, one by one, before clambering back over Michael a second time to snuggle up in her pillowed position again. From here, she didn't say anything and just listened to everyone else. For once, she was caught in the moment of hearing stories of other people, and simply sat there for hours with a warming smile on her face. It was the best she could do to return them of their kindness.


"Bloody hell. You can trust the Federation to put up a good fight with the Imps but they can't hold a candle to their train schedules, ey?" A few laughs from the newer soldiers and familiar experienced Oceanic troops came from around him. He'd already become something of an icon towards those who were waiting around to their new assignments. Many of those all around him were new soldiers, fresh meat from the training camps who were awaiting to be tenderised by the brutality of the war ahead. Unlike them, however, the Oceanic soldiers who were being sent to join them were all made up of those who'd at least served six months at a minimum in the war itself. It seemed the boys and girls from the Dominion, like Thomas, were all eager to stop waiting around and just get back to work. None of them wanted to really be in the war, but to help with the morale of the greenhorns awaiting in the same train station as they were none of them showed any fear. It was the Oceanic way to present confidence and prestige. How else had they garnered such reputations as the best shocktroopers in all of the Europan War?

Thomas held some nationalistic pride in knowing that the war had completely shaped the view of Oceanic men and women across the Federation. Previously, their overlords in Edinburgh primarily were dismissive of giving praise to the Oceanic government and simply considered them as a colonial prospect for new life. Some even reduced their existence to evolutionary experiments to withstanding harsher climates. Bullshit, Thomas would always say. Oceania held the toughest outbacks the Federation had to offer, and the wildlife down there knew exactly why. They made infertile lands liveable and profitable for the farmers, like Thomas' family, down in his home-country. Life was hard but fun down there. Not a single Europan soul could adjust to such conditions so quickly as the Oceanic natives could.

Now, however, the war had allowed them to prove themselves as combat soldiers and troops of the frontier. The new war had been told to hold the most outrageous of conditions the world had ever seen. Cold trenches that were filled to the brim with water and mud. Seemed like a regular bath in the horse's trough, Thomas thought. Great bonanzas of firefights, men clambering on top of one another to beat the life out of each other. Hell, sounded just like how he used to play with his father as a child. None of the Oceanic soldiers wore helmets. They all wore the same hats, each with their own tiny variation to set them apart from one another, from brim tilts to feathers and more. Thomas felt a strong clamber to his right arm, clearly being his companion once more. Freya, of course, seemed to always be a bit touchy with the people she spoke to. It was an alluring experience most men and women fell for if they swung such ways, but Thomas was immune to her natural bereavement.

"Don't be rude, Tommy-boy. Don't want some stupid cunt threatening you with yet another demotion." She laughed before flickering her blonde fringe aside to see better, gently letting go of Thomas' arm again to eagerly peer down the train tracks. All around the greenhorns and Oceanic troops who were awaiting the pickup, soldiers and nurses who'd been sent to the very rear lines were bustling around in sporadic unison. The frontlines had managed to move quite far forward, at least another fifty miles away from where the train station currently was. Even though they were so far back, the land had still been ravished by the conflicts of the Imperials and Federation beforehand. At least two years before, towards the first and second year of the conflict, this land was once the Imperial frontline, getting ready to push onwards, but now it was a simply railway system for the Federation. It was a strange thought indeed.

"I'll do whatever the bloody 'ell I want, Frey. Now bugger off and flirt with some other geezer, right?" Freya and several other Oceanic troops began to laugh, before they started spreading out slightly. Thomas, specifically, wandered towards a soldier he'd only known the name of from others talking, one who was the many greenhorns around. For once, Thomas knew that the confident, or nervous, looking individual could use some of the veteran's talk. Truth behold, Thomas hated the war and the suffering that came with it, but what good was it to not approach it all with a cracking smile on his face and the need to punch the nearest man-sized bird back home? "Gwyn, right? Loosen yourself up, you look like a surgeon just pumped y'full of metal."

He jokingly patted the smaller boy on the back and grinned brightly. Everyone here must have known about what they were getting into. According to the officers around them, the regiment they were being assigned to had gained some notoriety in the recent weeks but were also struck extremely badly. The charge of Hill 58 was becoming a nicely known story as it spearheaded a major frontier on the northern end of the Europan Front. It was a step closer to Gallia, who'd also been caught in the crossfire after a rapid invasion for resources committed by the Imperials. It further fuelled his distrust towards their military standing, knowing that they were breaching the true rules of war. In fact, the act sickened him to a certain degree, but Thomas remained reluctant to let that anger show. Most of the newer soldiers, as well as the Oceanic troops, were clearly nervous from the fact they were being assigned to a regiment with such a high mortality rate in the previous battle it was within. With all of that aside, the newer soldiers were excited to see their hero, the recently promoted Captain Middleton, who was an icon throughout the civilian homes of the Federation.

"Don't take the jokes seriously, lad. Just an down-under tradition to keep the giddiness going, especially in rough times. Nervous about joining a regiment some could call cursed, or are you just excited to finally meet your Federation hero, or whatever, and get some Imperial arse?" Thomas chuckled as suddenly, the soldiers who were all waiting began to cheer in unison as their carriages began to come around the corner. It slowly drifted its way into the station and let off a boundless set of steam upon the awaiting soldiers, who began to slowly clamber aboard and fill all of the empty spaces there were to fill. Most of these soldiers were definitely newbies from within the training grounds, whereas only about 20% of the replacements were Oceanic, to say the least. Either way, Thomas patted the arms of Gwyn again and chuckled, giving his usual insight of encouragement. "Remember, fucking-lad, the reason this war ain't over is because we haven't yet had a chance to scare the imps off. One look at you and they'll be waving that good ol' white flag, am I right?"

If only he could share the harsh reality of the war with these confident sprites. Perhaps he could have saved their expectations. Clearly they were davids joining the Goliaths of the 15th Atlantic Rifles, new soldiers who'd already been through hell. Whether or not they'd welcome or shun their new replacements' confidence and adventurous sides was something that was yet to be discovered...

If there were people who'd be against helping out one of their own who clearly needs that support, then they were wrong. Isaac could understand why Michael said that, but he refused to be detered by it. There was no denying what they clearly had to do, and no placating those who did not want that to happen. It is...what it is.

"'The right thing to do is the right thing to do, no more, no less.' Words from my father. You can't let people stop you from what has to be done when you know it's right."

Michael was not confident, but it wasn't just a matter of that. You worked your hardest to produce results, and these steps would prove effective in easing the pace of the next steps, and those that follow said steps, and so on and so forth. You start small, if you have to, and then you push on outwards. Pretty soon, you have the respect of those who need to hear you and follow your lead. It didn't seem like all that hard a task. Michael was salt-of-the-earth honest, Isaac was respected and dependable, and Jean was... Well, he seemed to have the eyes of several others upon him, two cabins down or so. It was kind of funny. What was he up to now? Diana, Kalisa, Rayna, and Lucia? One could almost be jealous. I mean, was he here now in this men's club because he needed a break? Well, for now, Isaac was working meticulously with his own instrument. Machine guns were a bit more complex than ordinary rifles, after all. His attention perked up when he heard Jean musing about the state of the war and that poet.

"I have to admit, I'd been keeping a little ignorant of the war while I was on the farm. I didn't want to become focused on it, because it wasn't for me or any of my family. We were doing Edinburgh a much-needed service. That was our duty, and our livelyhood. You have to focus on what's important, and food on everybody's table is ours. That, and the wolves. Every generation of wolf-dog has to be nurtured to accept humans as their alpha, their leader. They have to understand that these weird hairless things are their friends, or they'll just be wilf animals to them. I imagine some of ours and any other breeders' went to the army to help out, not just guard property or herd livestock. Even still, I don't like what the war is doing to the land. It'll be a long time before any of these warzones are useable again. The bodies, the upheaval, the equipment lying around...mines..."

Especially, the mines. You think anybody really remembers where they put those things? Isaac was almost-certain he saw some blow up during the charge of Hill 58. That could've been any of them hit by one of those things, crippled for life or dead altogether. Not a pleasant thought. Another one was about what he'd said about the wolves. Knowing what he knew now, he wished he could guarantee that none of the ones he raised were put towards this. Rikes, Ellis, and the rest of the pack deserved better. He did like that Jean seemed to be rapidly improving. It was a good thing, since he was having a dark thought of his own. Jean headed off to go see Baker about...something. That left him, Michael, and Franz alone for an indeterminate while, when...they were pleasantly surprised!

"Lucia? Well, hey there! You're looking better."

Indeed, she was. She was all a'grins and clearly much more relaxed than she had been earlier. This was unexpected, since Isaac almost thought the Asseni girl was gonna be wound-up tighter than his own watch. Maybe she was going to pull through without Middleton turning her into an emotional wreck, after all. In fact, she was being quite friendly. I mean...'Mickey'? You don't get much more familiar than that. It actually made Isaac smirk and chuckle a bit, especially when as the silver-haired girl started climbing over to get an available comfee seat in the cabin.

"This is gonna turn out like one of those films they'd play in town. The funny ones where people trip up over each other."

Indeed, such comedy films by a particular actor/director had been in the biz for about half a year, so we know what we're talking about. It seemed that Lucia was acting in defiance of the higher-ups in reference to whether everyone else should be spoken to or not. Why would Middleton want something like that to occur? That seemed fishy. Or better yet, because Isaac was a farmer and not a fishmonger, that seemed like a load of bullshit. Captain Middleton was playing some sort of game between them and this girl, like she was some sort of uhh...what's the word? Experiment? Yeah, that was it. Even still, right now she was being really nice, even very affectionate. It brought a warmth to the heart and a genuine smile to Isaac's face when she hugged the three of them.

"Hey, we're just as glad that you're alright, Lucia. After all, we know our newly-christened Captain is working you hard, maybe more-so than us."

That said, there was...nah, it couldn't be. I mean, it was good to see the silver-haired girl in better spirits. It's just that... Alright, he didn't want to jinx it, but was this the way you'd normally expect a girl to be after yesterday? It made him wonder, just slightly. Just a little nagging doubt. What if both Lucia and Jean were sort of forcing it, for everyone's sake? He banished the thought, for now. Lucia seemed to be relax, and...possibly an artist. Maybe things would be alright, for now. Isaac hoped so, but he kinda' knew that combat was gonna take its toll on them all again, and silently renewed his pledge to look after them all, especially those that needed looking after the most.

And just when you think it's all over...Britta shows up!



It'd taken some doing, particularly alot of arguing with what basically boiled down to a quartermaster for the train's supplies. However, between dropping some logic about those that battle needing to be fed - with the 15th having been dumped onto the battleground without any rations apart from some candy from a Private who was now dead - and a bit of name-dropping about a potentially-angry Jean, Isaac, AND Middleton...she managed to not only managed to get proper ration supplies for the next mission in, but also to spare some food for everybody else. You have to keep the pressure on with some people, and that was how Britta came to be delivering some food to the car containing Diana, Kalisa, and others first...

"Here you are, everyone. Got a little something for everyone. Gotta spread it out a bit now, but I got our rations sorted out properly, at least."

And then, approaching the cabin, she heard the masterfully-transformed Lucia and entered that cabin next.

"Ah, I thought I heard someone else here. No Jean, though. Well, I'll get to him later, so he doesn't starve. Brought a few things for you all."

"Oh...shit, I forgot I was getting on that. Thank you, Britta."

"No problem, Isaac. I figured you'd be distracted."

She meant with gun maintenance, but the way she said it sounded like she was referring to Lucia's presence. Britta even turned to her now.

"Sorry we hadn't met properly before, Lucia. I'm Britta Hagen."

She reached over, past Michael, to offer Lucia her hand to shake after putting down the plate she'd been taking around. Isaac began to laugh again as everything was basically in Michael's face once more.

Jean leaned in and wiped off a tear that she missed, a gesture that took her by surprise. She tried to not show it, but she did flinch a little at his sudden gesture. "Thanks, Diana." She turned to the blonde girl after her remark. Kalisa gave her a weak smile.

Her fellow Darcsen had stood up, and without so much of another word, exited the cabin. "Jean?" Outside, she spots a familiar face waiting for Jean and they promptly exchanged words of encouragement, before addressing her once they were done. The guy's named was Isaac it seemed. "People can be petty for the weirdest of things." The girl never quite understood how people can be so harsh on the innocent descendants of the people who committed crimes many millenia ago. It's not like she wanted to be born as one, and the punishment just doesn't seem to be fair even if their crimes were that bad.

Kalisa then nodded at Jean's remark about wandering around the cabin for a while. After disappearing from her sights, she turned her attention to the other occupant present in their cabin. "I'm happy to be here as well." It was the first time that she was surrounded by people that didn't seem to mind that she was a Darcsen. It was an unfamiliar feeling, to be accepted like this so easily and she let a gentle smile creep onto her lips.

"Your rifle?" Ah, that's right. Yesterday was probably the first time that Diana had her rifle dirtied in actual combat. Kalisa took a look at her rifle, which she stood against the far wall when she entered. It was indeed rather dirty, especially the bayonet which she forgot to remove. They could probably wipe out the visible parts of the rifle, but they'd need some special cleaning tools for the insides of the barrel and such.

"I'll show you later how to clean the internal parts. But for now-" She was about to reach out for her rifle when her vision was suddenly covered by something. It took her a moment to recognize the pattern that was on the fabric that was covering her eyes. She gently pulled the fabric off and looked back towards the doorway and found nobody. "Cheeky." There was only one person whom she knew that had a scarf like this, and it seems he tossed it to her for some reason.

Seems like he doesn't know that Kalisa's used to the colder temperatures that the train was now emitting. But she was grateful for the pass. The scarf was still warm, so she quickly wrapped it around her neck to keep the warmth going. The fabric was soft and comfortable, so she understood why Jean might have made his using these materials. She turned to Diana after her comment. "You wanna try it on?" Although she meant it, she wanted to keep the scarf on for a little longer. It wouldn't do good to let go of such comfiness so quickly.

At the corner of her vision, she spotted another familiar face hovering around the doorframe and turned to address him. "Oh, hey Daniel." His face looked super tense, and it seems like he was deliberately avoiding meeting their gaze. Kalisa has an idea on why he's like this, and it might be because of his outburst yesterday.

Diana was quick to let him in, which took her by surprise. After what happened, she was sure that the blonde would just stay away from the guy. She even congratulated him over his promotion. "Congratulations as well. I was surprised to hear your name earlier when Middleton was announcing the people that were promoted. You must have kicked a lot of Imperial butt yesterday." Though, as quickly as she brought it up, Diana suddenly asked about why he was so mad back then. "Ah, so she really was worried about it."

@LetMeDoStuff@Landaus Five-One@FalloutJack@Ithradine

---

Amongst the Oceanics, Gwyn stuck out like a sore thumb. Even if his rosy cheeks and wheat-coloured hair didn't make him look more like a little boy playing at soldiers than an actual member of the Army, the ramrod in his spine surely marked him as a military brat. While everyone else was joking around, checking their weapons and talking about the folks back home, Gwyn stood stock still, his eyes firmly on the tracks as he waited for the train to arrive.

Despite Thomas' best efforts to loosen him up, Gwyn could feel his heart race. So many smiling faces around him. How many of them would still be here after the first battle? They were the reserves. Reinforcements. And yet, after the deadly push for Hill 58, they were already being drawn into the front. After the next push, who would be the ones being replaced?

He wasn't scared for himself. But he was a sapper. It was his job to make sure the bad guys didn't cross No Man's Land. He was to build the trenches, lay the mines, dig the foxholes and set the sandbags. Anyone who died in the trenches was his fault. Anyone who died in a foxhole, his fault. If any of these men and women died anywhere except standing around in the middle of no man's land with a thumb up their arse, that was on him and him alone. The pressure weighed on him like stones in his pack.

To make matters worse, he felt almost obligated to take some kind of position of control. Out of all the people here, how many of them had been raised from birth to lead men into battle? Very few, he should wonder. And yet, he had to hold himself back. His was a unique position, simultaneously having the name of his dynasty to uphold and yet determined not to let anyone find out who he was for fear of recognition. He doubted that the rank-and-file took well to the children of officers, even if they were officers of a previous war.

At least, officers he hoped were in a previous war.

No. He couldn't let himself get distracted with thoughts of his dad. Focus instead on this Captain Middleton; his exploits had gave him something of a reputation. He was celebrated at home as a man who could get results. He even heard some of the newer troops call him a hero. And yet, what Gwyn had heard only reminded him of his own father: A single minded man, a man who saw the men under him as nothing more than expendable cogs in a hungry war machine, a man who would stop at nothing to end the war in victory and damned be all under him. Gwyn did not understand. Perhaps "heroes" do not need to question their actions.

But he couldn't let his nerves infect everyone around him. Nothing crushed an army worse than lack of morale. So he managed a sickly smile, and tried to ignore the twitch in his leg.
"You best be worried about your own arse, boyo, or some jabbering Imp is gonna ram his bayonet up it." he shot back to the Oceanic. Did that come off as too aggressive? Oh, God, he couldn't go around making enemies in his own rank! Almost immediately, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he turned away fearfully.

@LetMeDoStuff

---

'The right thing to do is the right thing to do.'

He was right on that aspect. But he wouldn't expect much from these soldiers. Some of these men and women were already too engulfed in taking care of themselves that they may not even want or have the time to take care of others. But he could always hope more people would be like Isaac and Jean in that regard. Of course he would not stop the fact that he would be taking actions to reverse whatever Middleton was trying to indoctrinate her. But just expect it would not be a full support like he would want it to.

As the train slowly rolled on the tracks, the sound of engine and clash of metal mixed violently and messily like a horribly played symphony, Michael found himself being attracted to the scenic outside as Jean made the mention of the poet. The landscape that he was slowly passing through, it wasn't a beautiful flower field, nor a rich and well-nurtured rice paddies. It had once been though. Those once beautiful creations of god was now a death valley. All the innocent trees and flowers doing goods for mother nature now dead. When would the seeds of possibility prosper again. When would the wounds heal?

'The right thing to do is the right thing to do.'

'A reminder for our future selves never to repeat this atrocity again...'

Perhaps somewhere, sometime, these fields would not exist...

After Jean left off to get some stripper clips, Michael found himself unoccupied for an indeterminate amount of time. Thankfully he did have a deck of playing cards. He didn't know if these guys could play cards or not. He was pretty sure if they were from a family of upper middle-class, or even a small nobility like Michael's, they would probably have learnt it somewhere in the balls or parties they went through. But whether or not they were capable of playing card games or not, he didn't care. He could make do by himself. But as he was reaching for the deck inside his rucksack, a strangely familiar voice caught his attention.

'Mickey?'

He turned to the doorway to realize...

Lucia?

She was alright. And happy in fact? What? How strange was it that he was just informed that she was in bad shape when she appeared completely fine? Did something or someone cheer her up? If that's the case, then great! He was quite relieved to see Lucia in such cheerfulness. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he saw her in this state. He couldn't blame her though. The first sight she was crying of a horrendous task. The second she was recovering. The third she was called back to that bastard. And the fourth she had passed out from artillery. Perhaps this was indeed her true nature: a pretty and innocent girl who only wishes to bring smile to people's face.

Well, perhaps a little too innocent...

"Uhh..."

He could feel her hand on his face, her thigh pressed against his chest. She was grabbing onto his hair, and ow ow! She was pulling it! What the hell was she doing?!

She soon released him as soon as she settled on a seat nearby. Again, Mickey? She meant Michael? And all of that stunt she just pulled off, just to get to the nearby seat?

"I appreciate the effort, but you could've just asked."

She probably just didn't know. It did come off as a little strange to him that she didn't bother to ask. She probably didn't know basic etiquette in terms of gestures rather than being rude. But considering all the ladies he had met in his life were rather luxurious and had a prestigious origin, they were normally pretty and elegant in appearance but especially very well-mannered in words and gestures. He swore they would freak out like rats meeting cats if they saw Michael in this state. As well-pampered as they were, they probably had never seen the sight of having to run for miles a day, or especially the fact that you could fall dead with a hole on your head any moment.

"My career as an actor has been a disaster. That's when I decide to go to university instead"

Or rather he was about to. If that paper had come a little earlier! Well, not worth dwelling over it anymore. It had already been months ever since. He had already received his baptism of fire already, so he probably couldn't really say anything otherwise.

Once again, he went through his rucksack and took out a deck of cards. Fifty two in total. His fingers busily fiddled with the cards, counting if he had accidentally left any back in Garnia. But occasionally, from the very outside corner of his eyes noticed as if someone was trying to burn his face with only their eyes. Quite constantly at that. Curious, he turned around to Lucia. It was her. Nobody was sitting in that same direction except for her. She was holding a pencil and a small book, just like Franz did the day before. Was she also an artist or something? But just as he was looking at the book, it slammed shut as she put it away. It appeared to be some kind of secret? Personal ones probably. After getting the notification, Michael was dealing the deck out when Lucia showed her appreciation for what he, no they did yesterday, as she hugged everyone of them, with Michael being the first as he was the nearest to her.

And for the rest...

'...'

If anyone could see him right now, his oxygen output was virtually non-existent. He could scent her fragrance you know. The warm pleasant but difficult to describe scent. It...God! His irises directed straight to the side as his subconsciousness erupted an all-out war about whether he wished or wished not this would be over soon. If she knew just to ask directly, all of this could have been averted. Easily at that. And he's not Mickey!

Whether or not he wished it or not, reality still marched, as Lucia settled down in her seat again. And Michael finally breathed again. He didn't even bother correcting her about his name anymore. It probably didn't even matter to him after all that stunt she pulled twice on him to even surface in his mind. Seriously, it had to take a bit of boldness and shamelessness to climb over a boy twice, whilst one could have just quickly excused themselves with only two words.

When he thought this was over, Britta showed up at the doorway to deliver some food.

"Thanks for your effort." Michael graciously accepted the small box of ration. It wasn't hot delicious food, but it was rather quite nutritious and filling. It did take a while for him to settle down with this type of meal daily, but his adaptability did amaze him sometimes. Though right now getting one would be a little difficult considering the woefully undersupplied front they were in. The meal the other day Michael also needed a bit of persuasion with the cook as well.

He didn't pay attention to Britta as she talked to Isaac. He didn't intend to pay attention to anyone for now. He just wanted to shut himself off and enjoyed his meal for now. Who knows when would he get this again. But then again...

"You guys..."

Britta didn't climb over Michael, rather she was just reaching for Lucia, which was alright, but in front of his eyes were something as equally uneasy to look at as getting climbed on. That wasn't even from the same girl.

"Excuse me." He coughed gently, but visibly, his brows were pouring into his nose.

'Could you please clear the vision for me?'
@FalloutJack@LetMeDoStuff

An impatient frown rested on Luke’s face as he sat quietly on a wooden box, repeatedly bouncing his leg up and down while rubbing his thumb across his nearly spotless rifle. Another soldier name Patrick sat across from him, his focus purely directed on his rifle as he cleaned it with care. After a few more moments of silence Luke finally broke it by speaking out. “I swear by the time our train arrives the war will have ended and there won’t be anymore action for us,” complained the young man as he gave a small sigh of annoyance before hanging his head low and ruffling his messy brown hair. The soldier rolled his eyes as he continued to clean his rifle and looked to the impatient Rifleman with a smirk.

“Ya know Luke I don’t think I’ve met a single human being that bitches as much as you do,” he chuckled with the shake of his head before turning his eyes back to his weapon. “If ya ask me I prefer just sitting here with my thumb up my ass over getting shot at by a bunch of angry Imps,” Luke scoffed and raised his head up to reveal his usual grin.

“Oh come on, getting shot at is ninety percent of the job. You just have to find the bright side in it,” he said and gained an arched eyebrow from Patrick as he looked back to him with curiosity.

“What could possibly be the bright side in getting shot at?” he asked with a small frown.

“It’ll be good cardio,” he said with an honest smile. Patrick only rolled his eyes and returned to his weapon. Luke chuckled before letting out a sigh. “Plus we’ll finally be able to put our training to the test,” he stated with eagerness in his voice, catching not only the attention of Patrick once again, but few other soldiers who were close enough to hear. “All that time, all that training, abuse and determination for one goal,” he said while holding up a single finger with a grin. “Now is the time to prove the world and ourselves that it wasn’t all wasted for nothing. We’ll show what us greenhorns are made of and send those Imp bastards running,” he declared with confidence clear in his voice. A confidence that seemed to spread to Patrick and the few that heard him as his words sunk in.

Patrick smiled slightly and gave a small nod. “I guess that’s all true, but I’m still in no rush to get shot at,” Luke shrugged and silently agreed, getting shot wasn’t exactly on his bucket list either. He would never admit it aloud, but a part of him was a bit nervous about the coming war he was about to set out upon. For some reason his thoughts drifted back home, his sisters, friends and even the small farm his family once owned. It dulled his smile slightly, knowing that he would be leaving all that behind, but he was pulled back from his thoughts by the cheers of relief and joy. He looked over to the tracks and felt his grin grow.

“About damn time,” he chuckled before rising to his feet and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “Well Patrick, looks like it’s time to head out,” he said as he looked to the fellow Rifleman before holding out a hand. “Soon we’ll be celebrating in Amone and getting medals for our glorious victory!” Patrick chuckled and grasped his hand firmly with a nod.

“Looking forward to it,” he smiled before the two parted ways to gather their gear and ready to board the coming train. With a heavy sigh he lifted his gear onto his back, gave his rifle a quick check and head for the train with an excited pep in his step.

“Come on then lads, to glory and victory!” he declared with a wide and egar grin on his face as he took the first step onto the train towards Amone. The place where he’ll make his first mark on the world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The Girl who holds thy Scarf. To think I were to see such glistening awe; before me stood such glory and beauty. She was of similar past and present-"

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

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

"I-I'm sorry, what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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