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Post by Oliver on May 7, 2009 16:01:57 GMT -5
In the morning after the air-raid and bombings, the Crest sits a smoldering ruin of its once former rebuilt glory. From the air, this part of the city appears like a crumbled piece of paper, laid out and flattened. Veins of destruction weasel their way through those buildings and places left unharmed. Smoke blocks out the morning sun and, thankfully, provides a brief reprieve from any further possible bombings.
Camps have been set up in strategic locations throughout the Crest and outlying areas in the Blue and Yellow zones, the Red zones are all but smoldering ruins where the heaviest of the counter-attacks took place. The LPA have set up several of their own camps in the Yellow and Red zones, preparing for the retaliation attack. In the air around these places is the words of the Red Regent, barking out death toll figures and sayings of nationalism and other insightful words to fuel the anger of the citizens.
Oliver, Iole, Sid, and many of the surviving Red Dragoons have established a camp in the Yellow zone, near a civilian relief center and field hospital. The yells and moans of the burned and injured are audible over the regular commotion of the LPA camp. Nearby a smoldering put spews out a foul smelling and peculiar smoke. The ash from it feels different, waxy and wet, like burnt fat.
"Burning the dead." States Sid, looking to Iole, from the spot where he sits, resting his rifle in his hand. "Veird isn't it? That meat from an animal can smell so good, yet meat from our own kind or humans smells so foul." With that attempt to unnerve Iole, he returns back to cleaning his rifle.
Oliver is nearby, at a table, with that device he was working on resting atop it. He sits there with several other LPA members, going over the device and several others.
Connolly is at a command station set up in the center of the camp, beside him is the radioman and several other officers, they appear to be going over battle plans.
Overall, the air is tight with tension and fuming with anger. The rebels are on edge, burning with a lust for revenge.
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Post by Iole on May 7, 2009 21:24:10 GMT -5
::Iole gives Sid a nasty grin, baring her teeth::
Foul? Weird, I think it smells kind of nice.
::Her grin suddenly fades to a scowl, making it plain she was being sarcastic::
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Post by Oliver on May 7, 2009 21:36:55 GMT -5
Without looking up from his cleaning. "Then the buffet is open." He mutters without even a thought.
The LPA troops that are within ear-shot, give the two a glance of curiosity and slight disgust before carrying on with their duties.
"Leave her alone Sid... and Iole... ye're scaring me." States Oliver looking up from his work station, he tells the two others to continue working as he gets up and walks over to Iole. "Ye doing ok here?"
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Post by Iole on May 7, 2009 23:39:24 GMT -5
::Iole sits with her knees tucked to her chest, her arms folded around them::
I'm fine.
::Then she whispers so only Oliver can hear::
It just bugs me that he keeps trying to push my buttons. It's like his defense mechanism.
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Post by Oliver on May 8, 2009 0:19:08 GMT -5
Kneeling down beside her, Oliver whispers back. "I's just his way. How much he's seen an done, amazed he speaks a'all. Snipers are..." Subtly makes a circular motions with his index finger around his temple. "A lit'le off."
In the distance there erupts another explosion and it makes Oliver cringe, just ever so slightly. "Wonder if t'e flat is leveled too..." He states sullenly. "Dun wanna end up'in one of t'ese camps w'en t'e war ends."
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Post by Iole on May 8, 2009 0:26:41 GMT -5
::Iole leans her head against Oliver, falling in and out of sleep::
You know you could always go and live with The Old Crow. You know she's always been crazy about you. I mean after the city's been taken back of course.
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Post by Oliver on May 8, 2009 0:35:46 GMT -5
It takes a moment for Oliver to respond as he thinks. "Ya, I cou'd but t'en w'at about t'e city? Havin been fight'in here for a year just t'e leave. Is my cause as much as t'e rest of us, gonna've a'ot of work to rebuild when i's over. Reynard an t'e party wi'l need a'l of us." Oliver leans back into her, with his head tilted over till it rests atop hers. "My home wi'l a'ways be here."
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Post by Iole on May 8, 2009 0:38:37 GMT -5
::He can feel her head and shoulders rise and fall suddenly as she sighs::
Home. I kind of forgot what that felt like. I guess there's no chance of talking you into coming with me then either.
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Post by Oliver on May 8, 2009 0:43:55 GMT -5
Oliver responds in kind, with a sigh and a slumping shoulder. "Don 'ake me choose 'ike t'at. Ma'be on'e we make our city into t'e place we a'ways wanted an I feel I've done my part, t'en ye can ask me if I wa't to come wi'h you."
Across from them, Sid looks up with a suspicious and curious eye from his gun cleaning. Looking straight at Iole with a wary stare. With one free hand he rummages through a jacket pocket, bringing out a single cigarette. He sticks it between his lips and with the same hand, strikes a match across his pants leg and lights it. He takes one last, long cold look at Iole, flicking the match stick away then returns back to cleaning the rifle.
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Post by Iole on May 8, 2009 0:50:50 GMT -5
::Iole glowers back, but she's too tired to really care what his particular problem with her is this time around::
You're right, I'm sorry. That's not very fair of me is it.
::She thinks for a bit::
Maybe instead, I could stay here with you. I've never really had much of a home anyway. Even when I had one, my Auntie and I were always jumping all over the globe. I don't think I'd mind settling down here once the fighting's over.
::Inside however, she knows this isn't true. Natalia hadn't been the only reason she hadn't managed to stay in one place. Half of her was still a dragon, a being that longed for the skies. A caged bird never sings::
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Post by Oliver on May 8, 2009 1:02:17 GMT -5
"T'at cou'd work, t'at cou'd work nice." He turns his head slightly to get a better look at Iole. "W'at was life 'ike with Nata'ia?"
From his seat, Sid hears that name and his ears perk up. "Natalia? I hope not that demon witch vho gallivanted around the globe, destroying everything. I'm sure she'd be the type to help out our friend the Regent." Angrily, Sid wipes the barrel with the rag in his hand with force. "Elitists... all t'ose wanna-be conquers."
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Post by Iole on May 8, 2009 1:05:27 GMT -5
::Sid didn't see Iole move, and only becomes aware that her boot connected with his face when he finds himself getting back up off his back and rubbing his sore jaw. She keeps her voice low, but her words come through gritted teeth::
Say what you want about me, but you will never talk about my Auntie that way again.
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Post by Oliver on May 8, 2009 1:20:29 GMT -5
The assault draws the attention of the LPA in the immediate area, many turning to watch what happens. Connolly and the other officers look up from their post, mutter amoungst themselves but Connolly appears to command them to stand-fast, to wait and watch.
Oliver jumps up. "Iole!" He runs over beside her, clasping her lightly on her arms from behind. "Don't ye gonna get reprimanded."
Sid stands back with his back slumped as he wipes a tiny trickle of blood from his maw. "The girls got some fight left, good, vas afraid you vere getting veak vith feelings, not good for a place like a battle field. You knov having personal feelings about your comrades is one the vorst sins you can commit in var." He raises his hand and barks at Oliver. "Let her go! She started this, let her finish it."
Curiously, and slightly stunned, Oliver releases his grip on Iole. His expression is that of realization of what Iole was saying earlier, and it came upon him like a bit of new knowledge. He'd been so caught up in nationalism he was blinded to what Iole had been doing here all along.
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Post by Iole on May 8, 2009 1:29:28 GMT -5
::Iole clenches her fists at her sides::
I'd expect that kind of talk from you. What would a sniper know about feelings? You go on and on about how naive and idealistic I am because I avoid killing. But it's only because it's so hard for you to care about the lives you're taking. You have never watched a soldier die before your eyes. And I don't mean watching a body fall to the ground, but watching the light fade from his eyes as a his life and regrets begin to flash before them. You don't know what it's like to fight for your own life, knowing that a moment of hesitation could mean the difference between living to see your family again, and a cold mass grave on the side of the battlefield. All those lives you've taken are just a notch in your gun. You're no soldier. You're a murderer.
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Post by Oliver on May 8, 2009 1:55:30 GMT -5
Sid gives Iole a cold look, but understanding as he moves to the side and picks up his rifle, cradling it across his arms in a non-threatening manner. "I was born on a battlefield. Raised on a battlefield. Gunfire, sirens and screams, they vere my lullabies. Hunted like dogs, day after day, driven from our ragged shelters." He looks away for a moment, thinking distantly to a past he once had.
"That vas my life. Each morning, I'd vake up and find a fev more of my family or friends dead beside me. I'd stare at the morning sun and pray to make it through the day while the governments of the vorld turned a blind eye to our misery."
He looks down to his rifle, admiring it in a strange way.
"I became a sniper, hidden, watching everything through a rifles sight. Now I could see var not from the inside but from the outside, as an observer. I vatched the brutality, the stupidity of mankind through my rifles sight."
He looks up to Iole with a cold, scorning look. Like an old salt to an idealistic greenhorn.
"You'd never understand vhat it's like to be a sniper. Ve see everything about a life through our rifles scope." He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out an dingy and worn rifle scope. "The last time I used this, it vas a cold and icy night. I was vaiting for an Guard foot patrol and vhen they came into my sight I squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out and I heard a soldier cry 'Oh please don't leave me here alone to die'. I realized then his patrol had run away and left their vounded comrade for me to slay. 'There's nothing in this vorld I would not do if there's mercy in your heart you'll let me live'. And in his eyes I saw a look of pain as the mussel of my gun moved towards his brain."
He takes several steps closer to Iole, twirling the rifle scope between the fingers of his left hand.
"The dawn vas breaking as I reached my base and I vill never forget the look on that boy's face. Fear, agony, and torment vhere all there. Oh but to your memory, Iole, his life I spared."
He tosses down the scope infront of Iole's feat. "Here, I already know these awful things have got to be, now its your turn to learn as I did as you look at the battlefield through a rifles scope. Tell me after you do, if you don't see it the same as I do."
Sid turns around and walks off, stopping only to bend down and pick up his half-lit, half finished cigarette. He takes one buff then continues walking away.
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Post by Iole on May 8, 2009 2:16:07 GMT -5
::Iole takes the scope, squeezing it in her fingers, not taking her eyes off Sid as he leaves. Then she turns heel and makes her way through the gathering, her only thought being to get as far from all the eyes on her as possible. How could she have been so stupid? But she just couldn't let Sid talk that way about her Auntie. Or even worse, imply that her reasons for fighting alongside Oliver were weakness. But she realizes with a pang that if Natalia had seen what she'd just done, she'd shake her head and sigh in disappointment, and Iole would know that she was right. That she was every bit as immature and single minded as the day her Auntie had found her. In her anger, she managed to alienate herself from the people she had been fighting alongside. And now she was going to find herself a place to cry like the spoiled child she knew herself to be. She crouches near one of the tents on the fringe of the encampment and curls her knees to her chest, and soon the knees of her torn and muddy jeans are soaked in her own tears::
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Post by Oliver on May 8, 2009 2:35:00 GMT -5
"Iole! Wait! Iole!"
"Oliver!" Calls Connolly, ordering him over.
Oliver grits his teeth, looking to where Iole had stormed off to and to his commanding officer. "Oliver, come here. That's a direct order!" With a growl, Oliver turns and approaches Connolly for whatever he wanted that was so important as to drag him away.
After a few, long minutes of crying, Iole hears footsteps against the torn gravel and dirt. Her nose picks up the distinct bitter scent of a cigarette. Standing above her is Sid, he offers her the cigarette.
"I know I'm the last person you vant to see, but here, this will make you feel better." He takes a drag from his own cigarette. "You are a lot like Oliver, that is vhat I vanted to see or not." There's a pause as he speaks. "I'll tell you the one true aspect that sets a sniper apart from other soldiers." He takes another drag from his cigarette. "A sniper doesn't vait to kill people, no, a sniper vaits for someone to kill them, to kill me. That's the cruelty of my lot in life."
He tosses the cigarette to the ground and steps it out. "One more thing; never forget that some 'sins' should be committed. Remember that, next time you look at Ollie with those eyes of yours."
Once again, Sid leaves as quietly as he came. Heading back into the heart of the camp.
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Post by Iole on May 8, 2009 2:44:59 GMT -5
::Iole's eyes follow Sid again, clutching the still unlit cigarette in her hand like a punishment. Ironic as this would be for a dragon, Iole didn't smoke. She can't just let Sid leave though::
Wait.
::She gets back up and the two of them meet in the middle::
You dropped this.
::She pulls his scope back out and hands it to him::
It sounded important to you. It's the same one from your story isn't it?
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Post by Oliver on May 8, 2009 13:48:57 GMT -5
Sid turns around and when Iole offers back the scope, he refuses it.
"That it is, the same one I vatched the kids face through, but I don't need it anymore. As I said, its your turn to look at the battlefield from the outside in."
"Iole!" It's Oliver, calling from across the camp, running from the command tent. As Iole attention is diverted, Sid once again walks away.
"Iole, t'ere ye are." He places his hand on her shoulder then gives her a light hug. "I'm sorry a'out Sid. I nev'r t'ought he go t'at far."
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Post by Iole on May 8, 2009 13:52:44 GMT -5
::Iole hastily wipes away the remaining tears on her face::
It's fine, I'm alright. I just think we're all on edge. I can't really blame him. It was my fault really.
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