[Sandbox] Johtan

[Aethyrium]

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Nov. 4 | Time: 00:02 |
Location: Johtan Wilderness Camp - First Night
Wearing: Sweatsuit and camp slippers
Tagging: Azir | Mentioning:  |
Haim stirred the embers of the fire to life and put a log onto it then turned his back to it. The tiny fire was in a hollow in the land and, from more than twenty feet away, hard to see except for the small glow. With his back to it, he reopened his left eye and slowly looked across the horizon. It was distinguishable almost exclusively by the subtle difference between the pitch black of the land and the umbral black of the sky dusted with stars. Scanning slowly, his eyes arrested on the patch of stars blotted out by a form.

Smiling slightly, he moved quietly across the ground. He had to navigate around Lolo's tent and stopped to listen for a moment. He smirked and kept going. The sounds of the ten sleeping souls around him were like a symphony to him. The ripples of rhythmic breathing, the turbulence of shifting bodies, and the occasional jagged edge of a snort or mumbled exclamation. He wondered, idly, how Meena and Lolo would pull off their morning routines come dawn.

He laughed mutely and then stepped up next to his fellow shadow. He wasn't sure exactly why the knightly elf had been assigned a watch in the dead of night. He knew he had taken it because the blindness of night meant less to him than others. As his eyes scanned the dead black air of the night landscape, mostly a sea of shadows, he noted the tiny vibrations of a mouse on the hunt and the grasshopper it stalked. He saw bushed more as clusters of rustling leaves shuddering into the world than shapes. He worked his mouth and swallowed saliva, "Looks quiet out there as long as your not a grasshopper minding his business. See anything?"

But it was rhetorical really. If Azir had seen something the Unovian elf would have acted or said something. Still, Haim paused to listen for half a heartbeat. Then he moved forward. Looking at the elf would be pointless. There would be nothing to see. The comforting blanket of night was part of the courage that allowed him to consider this thought. In the wake of recent events, Haim was readjusting some of his outlooks. And one that had come up over and over the last few days was his reasons for being at Hammer. He'd tried asking a couple others about it and got interesting replies. He'd also taken to speaking with Professors Lowed and Field about expanding his knowledge bases. The topic of how Hollow interacted with Arcanite was proving interesting.  Still, he was searching for a bit of purpose. Or maybe, more likely, he was searching to understand the world a bit. He had always been interested in the motives of others, in comparing them to his own. He felt an eternal interest to see if his motives were normal when compared to others. There weren't many other elves among the squires and even fewer male elves to compare to. "Can I ask you something? Why do you fight?" He found himself placing his hand on Feu's grip idly and thinking about the Hollow they'd battled that day.

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Azir Venris Kil-Mitter
Date | Time: November 4th | Late Night (~12am)
Location: Johtan Wilderness
Wearing: As pictured
Tagging | Mentioning: Haim | Farrah, Doya
Once he had gotten up for watch, Azir took to slowly pacing the outer edge of the group's campsite - far too vigilant to sit down and simply be alert. He kept the plates off, in part because he didn’t want to get in and out of them, but also just to be respectful of the rest of others. Hurricane, however, had been strapped to his back in its harness. The last thing he needed was to be unprepared if more Hispo came upon them. His steps were measured, but subconscious - this sort of thing wasn’t new to him. Each time he made a lap around the camp, as he came across the bend, he allowed his gaze to be stolen from the darkness of night for a moment to glance at Lyra. But only just for that second before his focus commanded him to pay attention to the dark once more. Which might have been a little silly, because there wasn’t a whole lot that he could see out there. Though if the foul red of Hollow eye’s lit up, he’d have been able to pick that out, and he supposed that was all that mattered.

As gentle embers sparked into the air from the stirred fire, Azir paused and turned fully to the distance. Every now and then he’d do that, make a pause to give a particular place a thorough scanning. “No.” He answered with a small shake of his head. “Thankfully, it seems the night intends to be quiet.” Logically, Azir knew that he didn’t need to be so on guard. The Hollow weren’t likely to sneak up on them, even if he allowed himself a bit of relaxation and allowed his eyes to break from his duty. So when Haim asked a question, Azir barely struggled to shift his own gears. “Of course.” He said, turning to face Haim, opening space for the question. While Azir could be a little awkward when it came to socializing, he was certainly more well adjusted than some. His reason for being quiet during their watch had been born entirely from a sense of duty and defaulting to that, as well as being respectful of the sleepers.

Of all the questions to randomly be asked though, that one was not expected.

Azir took a deep breath and made a small thoughtful sound. It seemed to him a terribly nuanced question, but if he dug down to the root of it he supposed that the answer was very simple. Swiping his tongue across his lips, Azir looked briefly back out into the distance, “Because some of us have to.” His eyes returned to Haim, “If none of us fought, we would be swallowed whole. If not by the Hollow, then by those of us who would take advantage of that complacency.” There was something about the way he said that last part that indicated his own motivations - he was driven far more by the latter than the former. “Our lives are constantly under siege, and we have found a tenuous equilibrium with that. But that parity must be broken, if ever our lives are to get better. I cannot abide things as they are, so I am left with the obligation to be the force change.”

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Artanis Mellow
Date | Time: November 5th | Late Night (~3:30am)
Location: Johtan Wilderness
Wearing: This
Tagging | Mentioning: Farrah | Cub, Meena, Lolo, Artanis, Velvet
Given the opportunity, Artanis would have been on watch the entire night. But Azir disapproved of his sleep avoidant habits and wouldn’t hear it. So like every night, when it came time to sleep, Artanis laid down and did something that was more like dozing than actually sleeping. When his eyes struggled to stay open, he waged a mental war with them to keep them so. Even when he did fall asleep, he fitfully rocked and forced himself back to pseudo-conciousness. Anything to avoid actually sleeping. It was his nightly ritual, and had been for years and years. Of course there was no truly escaping it, and it eventually pulled him under. So when Cub had awoken him, it wasn't a snarky attitude that Silenus encountered, but a somewhat thankful Artanis. Watch was better than sleep. With purpose, it was relatively easy for Artanis to force himself to alertness - he certainly had plenty of practice.

Being stuck with Meena on watch wasn’t ideal, though. Someone who was less vocal about defending Lolo would have been preferable. And when it finally ended, despite himself, Artanis offered that they let the others continue to sleep and take a second watch. Meena, unfortunately, was like Azir in that regard apparently and shot the idea down. So after he jostled his partner awake and got her up and going, Artanis returned to his sleeping bag to re-engage sleep in his unending struggle against it. So when he got there and found it occupied, Artanis was less angry and more confused.

Crouching, he pulled the hood and found in his spot, Farrah snoozing away. He rolled his eyes. He glanced back at Marlowe and Velvet setting up for their vigil, and then back down at Farrah. She was interesting in a way that no one else here was. Sleep deprived eyes squinted past their red-bleariness and studied her features as she rested. “What are you doing?” He said, not really loud enough to wake her. Deciding that he didn’t much care, Artanis rose and tugged off his boots by stepping on the heels. Unzipping the sleeping bag, he didn’t wait to see if he was disturbing her. Tossing the top over her so that it formed a wide blanket, Artanis crawled ungracefully over Farrah, nudging and jostling her as he did and slipping into position beside her.

As she groaned, Artanis met her noises with, “It’s my bed, and you weren’t invited. You don’t get to complain.” Settling in on the open face of the sleeping bag, Azir stared up into the sky, pressed up against Farrah’s side. “You here for practice?” He questioned, glancing over at her, “Because I didn’t take you for the shamed type. No need to hide it from everyone else.”

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Nov. 4 | Time: 00:02 |
Location: Johtan Wilderness Camp - First Night
Wearing: Sweatsuit and camp slippers
Tagging: Azir | Mentioning: Lolo, Meena, Vesper, Farrah |
Haim was still swallowing his initial retort as Azir explained himself. The idea that if it had to be someone then it didn't have to be any particular anyone. But the man explained his reasons for electing himself. Haim listened and felt the gulf between them. In the dark, his brow furrowed. His eyes switched between watching the other elf's face and scanning the dark or staring at the invisible ground below. His fingers twisted and danced over Feu's grip and he felt something sliding across his shoulder blades.

Haim had recently learned quality lessons in accepting others as they presented themselves. So, he took what Azir said as honest fact and contemplated it slowly. He felt his jaw chewing on the words. "I seeee..." He blew air out of pursed lips.

He glanced sideways at the man's face and noted how animated it was. It was a strange vision. He couldn't see the features, not really, but the rolling waves of his voice emanated from a space and if he concentrate he could see other tiny sounds as well. The world was alive that way. He could read the emotions in the way the sounds moved as much as he heard it. He marveled at it from a distance.

"A noble, dutiful reason to fight. I see. You wish to. change. the world. Make it better?" He scanned the dark again noting a few crawling things and some rustling trees. "I- see. What you see. I think. The." He struggled for words. He didn't want to go the base route of castigating the criminal, the corrupt, and the poor. People who were, for whatever reason, trying to get by how they could. He really had no fault for people like Ocean or Blossom philosophically. He didn't believe that they thought they were evil. He believed they had a purpose, a reason, a good that they were trying to accomplish. But there were bad actors out there. Maybe Ocean or his elven associate were some? They weren't Hollow, but that somehow made it worse, right? "The world has a lot of people trying to get by. I. Can't. make myself. fault. them. for however it makes sense to them. I don't know. But I think it's amazing that you can see injustice and want to change it."

Haim tried a different tactic then. Instead of vague, nondescript, philosophical wrong, he tried to imagine specific trouble. Dazzle and Dust came to his mind and he understood Azir better, he thought. "Or maybe? I do? The mess that happened at Dazzle and Dust. Specific wrong is easier to imagine acting against. It was so obvious they were trying to rob the man. And, I still can't make myself hate the Crimson Jackals for their motives. or actions. But in that space, I did act to stop them." He chuckled morosely, "I called the OES. Among other things." He shook his head. Most of the drama of that night was past by now, but it was always going to be a reference point for him. Still, when he tried to zoom out from it, the need to act faded. People were just people at the root of things. You couldn't change people; but you could change a person. He wasn't even sure he could change something as small as Johtan, let alone the world. He wasn't even sure he was interested in it.

"I've. I think. Always been more focused on individuals than people. Be an impact on those whose lives you intersect with. Yeah? Educate your family, influence your friends. Defend not attack." He pursed his lips and reflected on how selfish and small that sounded in comparison to Azir's motive. But, then again, he was thinking about how to help the world, wasn't he? But only because he'd met Vesper and Meena and Lolo and Farrah. He gripped the butt of his pistol and lifted it slightly to feel its weight. Who knew, maybe meeting Azir or someone like him might make a difference?

[Envious]

Character Name: Farrah Tinkerspan
Date | Time: 11.05 | 3:32am
Location: Artanis' Sleeping Bag | The Wilds | Grassland - Air Resonance
Wearing: as pictured
Tagging | Mentioning: Artanis |
Meena had been confused when a bleary-eyed Farrah awoke with her. The elf had been too tired to fully explain her half-baked idea, but promises of laughter in the morning over a well-deserved prank were given as she exited the tent with her partner.

The thought of stealing Artanis' sleeping bag had occurred to her during some unmentionable hour of her watch and had, at the time, seemed wildly amusing. She had planned it all out- wait until he and Meena took their shift and then strike! Getting to his sleeping bag unnoticed had been easy, but upon arrival she thought it would be downright hilarious if she were to sleep in the bag instead. So she had found herself sliding into his space, soaking in his lingering warmth as she settled down into her surprise. She just needed something witty to say upon his return! She spent exactly 2 minutes and 24 seconds thinking about it before she fell asleep.

She was so comfortable surrounded by two squads in the wilderness that she didn't immediately wake at Artanis' question. It wasn't until the tug on her blanket - the zipper of his sleeping bag - that she was startled into consciousness as the warmth was ripped away and she was exposed to the cool night air. She sucked in a breath as her eyes snapped open in remembrance. She opened her mouth to complain, but Artanis was taking the path of most resistance to his newly formed zone by obnoxiously crawling over her and she grunted at the unexpected pressure on her body. Once he had collapsed next to her, she rolled over so she was on her back.

Or attempted to. She rolled over knowing full well she'd lay partly on top of him. They jostled back and forth like unruly children before Farrah ended up on her back with her right side in full contact with his left side. She ignored his question for a long moment and with her eyes closed, one might have mistaken her for being asleep again. She finally wrinkled her nose.

"Boots smell like an itty bitty Hollow curled up in their ta die," she remarked with a yawn. "Was gunna say somethin' mean 'n clever when ya got here, but I done forgot what it was gunna be." She reached out with her left hand in an attempt to curl some of the sleeping bag around her, but it didn't travel far. Blinking her eyes open in irritation, she turned her head to look at Artanis. If she felt tired, he certainly looked it. "Ya'd fall sleep before pants was figured out 'n leave me mighty disappointed," she finally countered, yawning again. "But you ain't gotta feign interest in me. Know them eyes of yers only for Marlowe."

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Oct. 29 | Time: A bit before sunset |
Location: A Little Hill Outside Onyx
Wearing: Charcoal pants and coat, burgundy turtleneck, and a pair of somewhat beatup dress shoes
Tagging: None| Mentioning: Connie, Auguste |
Haim rolled his shoulders and grumbled internally at the fit of the jacket. It took a lot for him to go shopping for clothes; more than a lot. Haim hated the entire process. Hate it with every fiber of his being. He wore clothes until they failed structurally. And when he did need new things, that usually meant a thrift shop or bulk store. But in point of fact, nearly every single article of clothing in his closet had been gifted to him. Each and every piece had a name, date, and event attached. Pick out any item from it and he'd be able to recall in perfect detail when, where, and how he received it. That was how he preferred it. Clothes were memories and bits of people.

But showing up in soem ratty old suit to this? Even Haim's stubborn streak had balked at that. So, it was to the shops he went. Well, shop. He'd gone to one; a shop he'd known Connie to love. He'd browsed a bit then let the clerk help him. He smirked as he recalled the man's look when he'd opened the old, battered box to reveal the shoes he wanted 'matched.' He thought the man was going to choke on his tongue. Haim had cut it off with, 'It's my sister's memorial; she gave these to me.' It wasn't really her memorial, it was a memorial for all the lost souls. But, to him, it was about Connie.

He wiggled his toes and looked down at the old black things. The shoes, a pair of shorts, and the orange puffer jacket he loved had been the cost that day. Connie's insistence they go shopping the day he'd received his admittance notice to Onyx University. They were scuffed despite his frantic shine that morning and he suspected he'd abused them into a sorry state, but he'd wear them until they fell apart. It was his way. Today, he wore them as a token of Connie.

His fingers flexed in his pockets and he felt the new fabric of the pants and shirt slide over his form as well. There was little and nothing he wouldn't do for Connie. He was even prepared to be civil to Auguste; that's what she would have wanted. A shape pressed into the flesh of his palm. A small rectangle, smooth on one surface, slid across his flesh and he smiled quietly. He withdrew the item and, without looking, slipped it into his breast pocket instead. It was closer to his heart there.

He stepped forward and moved down the hill towards the little path that lead into a copse of woods. He'd been a bit shocked to learn the memorial was being built outside Onyx. But only slightly. Land was at a premium within the city and the outpost had been, relatively, unknown. If you hadn't had relatives stationed there or were a military aficionado, you might not know about it. If the attack hadn't gotten a bit of headline, he doubted there'd even be a memorial. He licked his lips and pushed the cynicism down. Things were good for him right now. He was on a good footing with gRAVIty, Mir was talking to him and that was exciting, he was working slowly on Lolo's gloves, and his training was progressing. He was looking forward to things in a way he hadn't in months.

He balked and stopped. When Auguste had mentioned the memorial to him, he'd agreed. Not for his father, but for himself. It would be good to mourn Connie properly. To move forward a step or two. He'd never let her go. Her ghost would haunt him his entire life. How could anything else be true. But he had to learn to live with that ghost, right?

He moved forward again and felt his shoulders tighten as he heard people. His pace slowed. Then it quickened and he came around a bend to see the monument. The slab of stone was not that big considering. His gaze slid over its surface and noted the black lines of letters too far away to make out. It slid over and won to the little pedestal in front of it. A block of stone supposedly recovered from the sight. Atop it was a little brazier holding a fire. His mind took it in numbly as he stood there silently. The world seemed frozen around him. This was it, right? If he moved forward, that was accepting that she was gone. Admitting that he'd never se her laugh, hear her voice, or feel her embrace again. It welled up in his chest like a wave. He felt it choke him like a fist shoved into his throat from below. He shoved his fists into his pockets and forced his form to hold still, deadly still.

He didn't know if he was ready to bolt or on the edge of lashing out, so it was best to just stay very still and wait for the world to move again.

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Azir Venris Kil-Mitter
Date | Time: November 4th | Late Night (~12am)
Location: Johtan Wilderness
Wearing: As pictured
Tagging | Mentioning: Haim | Mila, Namid
Azir certainly didn’t think of his goals as so big as to be for the world. “If I can.” He admitted. Why not? There was some truth to the idea that if, when, he ultimately defeated his enemies that the world would be changed for it. That had occurred to him, but only because Azir natively thought in the big picture - which was also why, absent of smaller details, Azir didn’t take much notice of Haim jumping to a bigger framing of his motives. But those were not the reasons he chose to do it. His reasons were, like most people’s he imagined, more personal and tethered to the people that he knew and interacted with.

Haimehen’s sudden broken speech made concern flash across Azir’s face. “Are you well?” He inquired, leaning toward the other man and holding out a hand in case he might need to catch him - was he struggling to breathe or something?

As the other elf continued, Azir tilted his head - entirely unsure where the comments about people getting by was coming from. What did that have to do with the question asked, or his answer for that matter? And why did it feel as though Haim were twisting what he said into some sort of sweeping judgment of people? He was about to comment when Haim redirected to something specific. Azir was, of course, aware of the incident, but it was only peripheral for him. But what Haim said made the taller elf squint and take a backward shift. Was Haimehen truly giving a pass to those who had sought chaos and to deprive another of their livelihood? “These Crimson Jackals are a force that exploits those weaker than them, and you find no fault in that?” Azir shook his head, who was this man to be a Champion if he was so distant from people? It was disgusting. “They are responsible for taking one of your own, are they not? And you can find no fire in yourself for that?”

He turned back to the darkness and stared out into it. If he were a less reserved man, he would have acted on the feelings stirred by such an offensive position. But Haim, like anyone, deserved a chance to respond and clarify his position. Azir was rarely heated to impulsive action - even if sometimes he wished was. “To defend is to react, Haimehen. It is to allow the world to happen to you, and those around you. To defend is to accept, and teach, that the only thing that can be is acceptance of the way things are.” He glanced back at Haim, sizing the elf up, taking measure of him as a man, as a warrior, as an elf, and as a Champion, “You say you took action against the Crimson Jackals in the moment, but in truth all you did was react. And now that you have distance from them, you dismiss them simply as part of life. A thing that must be accepted, because it is what has been. As if we cannot do better, as if we do not deserve better, as if we should not strive for better. Tell me, how many people do you think took that stance before you have, and because they did the Crimson Jackals were allowed to thrive, and as a result they were able to take Mila, break your leg, and chase away Namid?”

He continued to stare at Haim, studying him unwaveringly in the flickering firelight, “If you truly believe yourself so powerless to make change, why are you here?”

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Artanis Mellow
Date | Time: November 5th | Late Night (~3:30am)
Location: Johtan Wilderness
Wearing: This
Tagging | Mentioning: Farrah | Haim, Lyra, Lolo, Meena
As she shifted around, Artanis grunted quietly a few times while she settled. But he didn’t prevent her from anything, even when she ended up half on top of him. “And somehow they still manage to smell better than bullshit Haimehen keeps feeding you people.” He rolled his eyes. “Clean him up, then we can talk about my boots.”

Scoffing, Artanis rolled his head just enough to look at Farrah with side eyes, “What, my presence stole your thoughts? That would be a first.” Though rare, Artanis didn’t even spare himself from his own scathing. “Or maybe,” He reached up past her hand and poked into her temple, giving her head a little shove the opposite direction, “It’s the simple brain of yours, and it just couldn’t keep up. Not that that should be surprising, breeding stock is better off not thinking anyway.”

He did actually laugh, though it was short and rough. “You and everyone else can barely handle me when I’m half asleep as is, you wouldn’t know what to do with me after a good night’s rest. I’d probably make Lyra’s head pop off, and you can’t afford to lose anymore teammates.” As Artanis was not actually a psychopath, when Farrah yawned, he caught it and followed suit. He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head, and groaned, “You’re probably right about me being disappointing though.” He stretched and in the process rubbed their bumping sides, “I’d use you for the fun of it, but wouldn’t turn you into a sow.”

What came out of his mouth was more like a bark than a laugh at the idea of his eyes being for Marlowe. “Oh please, like I would give her the satisfaction. If that fake bimbo were the last hole on Toil, I’d learn to fuck my own.” Grunting, Artanis leaned to meet her eyes, looking at her. “Why are you here? It’s not for my charming personality. Won’t your cow miss you?”

[Aethyrium]

S T O R Y T E L L E R
October 29th, Early Evening | Hillside Shrine outside Onyx
Haimehen
To get to the memorial shrine, one would need to leave out Onyx’s northernmost gate. From there it was a relatively small fifteen minute walk to the site that had been selected to build the memorial. A simple dirt path led the way into the overlapping hills, and another marked by a newly placed sign led anyone wishing to visit up a steep, curving spire. Eventually the dirt road became paved with large, circular, polished marble pavers that had been carefully embedded into the earth to create solid, decorative footholds leading to the shrine that had been erected. At the top of the spire, the shrine itself was perhaps surprisingly well put together. The recess had been painstakingly landscaped - though it was unlikely that would be maintained, care had gone into making sure the wilderness wouldn’t reclaim the shrine itself. A large stone pond had been dug into the earth, filled, with crystal clear water, and the shrine placed center, nearer the back. A thin walkway extended past the front, allowing one to reach the towering polished stone tablet engraved with the names of everyone lost. Then there was the brazier at the base, currently burning. It, no doubt, seemed a lot of effort for Fort Kapsi, which by most accounts was a small outpost.

But apparently not so small that Apple herself didn’t arrive to speak.

The ceremony was simple, but elegant. There weren’t a lot of people, but more than was probably expected - nearly hundred or so. Enough that there were too many faces, and picking any one out of the crowd would have been difficult. Most were family, some survivors, others friends. “Today,” Apple began, when the time was right, “We gather to honor the brave soldiers of Fort Kapsi, who gave their lives in service to Onyx. These valiant men and women stood as guardians of our land, and protected us from threats most will never know. Their dedication and sacrifice will forever be remembered, etched into this stone, and our hearts. They, each of them, were embodiments of the true spirit of heroism.” She continued, speaking of their duties, their unwavering resolve, and the commitment they showed. She spoke of courage and strength, and their tireless dedication to defend their home. “And for those things, we owe them a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. But as we mourn the loss of our fallen comrades, and our lost family, we must also reflect on the lessons learned from their sacrifice. We must strive to honor their memory by rededicating ourselves to the principles they fought and died for. We must work together to build a future where peace and prosperity flourish, where the sacrifices of the fallen are never forgotten. Let their bravery and selflessness serve as an inspiration to us all as we carry on in their memory. Let us be worthy of the sacrifices they made on our behalf.” She concluded with a vow, “I pledge to do better, in their names. I pledge that we will do better, in their names.”

From there, a sort of awarding began. Apple, without need for cards or prompeters, began to recite the names of those lost simply by memory. “For her service as outpost commander, and for the exceptional work done under her leadership, I posthumously award major Violetta de Temps Infini two promotions to the rank of colonel.” For this, she beckoned Auguste forward and handed him the appropriate insignia. Shook his hand, and whispered something to him - though for Haim it read easy, “I am sorry for your loss, Auguste. Violetta was a valued officer, and her contributions over the years cannot be understated.”

She continued, name after name, granting posthumous promotions of one or two ranks to the fallen, seemingly going down in rank, before eventually, “For her service, and commendations of excellence, I posthumously award first sergeant Constance de Temps Infini two promotions to the rank of second lieutenant.” Though it was Auguste’s daughter, Apple turned to Haimehen and beckoned him forward. She offered him the golden bar of rank, “I am sorry for your loss, Haimehen. Constance was a promising young woman, and it was very much my pleasure to get to meet her. The loss of someone so young, and with so much potential for greatness is a heavy weight. Know that you don’t bare it alone. Even if it is only a fraction of your own loss.”

When eventually all names had been recited, all promotions given, Apple turned and walked across the path of the tablet. She set her hand on it and closed her eyes, whispering silently to herself. And after that, it was over. There were people, all who wanted to see the shrine. All who wanted to pay their respects. They mingled and associated. Several people wanted to talk to Auguste, though he seemed at the time most concerned with staying near Haim.

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Nov. 4 | Time: 00:02 |
Location: Johtan Wilderness Camp - First Night
Wearing: Sweatsuit and camp slippers
Tagging: Azir | Mentioning: Lolo, Meena, Vesper, Farrah |
Haim frowned and struggled. He tried to move himself and view the world as Azir described it. But he couldn't. He couldn't wish ill on the Crimson Jackals. Did he wish that they weren't criminals and thugs? Sure. He wished that there wasn't pressure on people to choose violence and criminality, but there was. He chewed his lip and recalled the Freebirds and their movement. He saw what they objected to. He thought them irrational idealists in the way they were going about it, but he saw the same problem as them. He frowned and refocused, his eyes tracing the flight of a fly in the dark, on the night in Dazzle and Dust. The frustration and angst he had felt that, even when he and others, even Lyra, tried to defuse things it had seemed futile. He recalled drawing his weapon and winced. Had he given the Crimson Jackals much choice though? And even when violence broke out, he'd tried to avoid lethal force. Not that that had gone well. But that was then. It was done. Looking back at it from now, he regretted his choices and wished he had made different choices. But that was hindsight.

"Do I agree with the Crimson Jackals' motives for fighting? No. They were wrong to try to rob that man and steal his things and livelihood. That was the wrong choice. Their action was bad. But-" He felt a tightness clutching his chest. He was struggling again though. He reached for the feeling that pervaded his life. On one hand, he claimed no malice for the Crimson Jackals or their ilk. On the other was his burning hatred of Hollow. How could he reconcile that? Had the loss of Mila not hit him as hard as Connie? That seemed certain. What was the visceral difference? Would he be angrier if the Jackals had killed one of them? Maybe. What if Connie had been killed by Jackals instead of Hollow? He felt a smoldering anger at the idea. Would he have dedicated his life to hunting them down if that were the case? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He could take up the role of the advocate, fight for social justice, be like the Freebirds. He could also join the OES and battle street crime at the street level. Those were options he had, but he was here instead. He was in Hammer Academy and training to be a champion. What did that choice mean?

"Never said I was powerless or that there weren't things I wanted to change. Just not those things. I want to destroy Hollow. Sure. That's a good for the whole world and a personal goal. But-" But some part of him did quail and wonder why he was a Champion. He knew and felt the part of him that wanted simple things. That had been his path before. That was the path he had abandoned. The path of the average citizen left for the path of the Champion and hero. What would Bill Derhup do? What would a hero have done in Dazzle and Dust? He bit his lip. He didn't know. He didn't see himself leading some invasion of Kalanos determined to wipe out the Hollow and retake it for humanity. He could see Azir doing that, but not him. "What DO I want to change? I want people living in the villages to not cower behind pathetic walls praying a Hollow doesn't find them, because that's the only protection they have. I want farmers to not have to choose between fixing their tractor and feeding their family. Champions are meant to go out and change the world, right? Well, then, I want Onyx to stop protecting just itself and calling that Johtan. What if my home village was attacked by a class 2 Hollow tomorrow and I lost what little family I had left? We can do more, right? People deserve more, yeah? Well, Johtan deserves a Johtan Military," Haim chuckled happily. He felt lighter.

He traced the butt of Feu again and smirked. This conversation was helpful. The black and white logic was a problem that he would need to worry at. But this conversation had helped him sort of see that he didn't subscribe to that view and didn't need to. Did he want his revenge, yes. On the Hollow, on Ocean, on that blasted elf. Did he want to help alleviate Onyxian misery? Also, yes. Still. This path lead there, he felt it. But what else it allowed him to do was open. And that was new and scary. Open possibility was scary. He stared out into the inky black of night and smiled softly. He could go anywhere and do anything but he couldn't see any of it. Not really. He saw some permutations and echoes and vibrations, but nothing concrete. It was alright for that to be a bit scary. "How's that for an answer?"

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Azir Venris Kil-Mitter
Date | Time: November 4th | Late Night (~12am)
Location: Johtan Wilderness
Wearing: As pictured
Tagging | Mentioning: Haim |
Azir listened intently as Haim spoke, waiting to hear Haimehen reach the point of condemning the people who had exploited an old man, stolen and held a young woman hostage for a month, crippled another, and ultimately been responsible for the deaths of a dozen - including many of their own. But… But. That’s where it stopped. Condemnation never came. Not only had Haimehen avoided his question, he also couldn’t find it in himself to offer anything to clarify or rescind his stance that he found no fault in them. And that was absolutely flooring to Azir to hear, let alone off the tongue of a man who would call himself a Champion. Even if they had the most dire of motives, did that give them the right to exploit others for their own gain? A harmless act, a petty theft of bread to stave off starvation was one thing. But what they did was anything but harmless. And then…

...Just not those things. As if the suffering of people was somehow lesser simply because it was inflicted by other people, than by Hollow.

Azir too felt a tightness, one forming in muscles of his neck. A tension as he looked at the sort of man who would enable the worst of society, simply by justifying it. By his own admission, Haim had known those men were going to rob that man, and despite having all the power in the world to spare him that experience and prevent them from doing what he acknowledged as wrong, he deferred and passed it off to someone else. What was that, if not passive? What was it, if not cruel. And for what, because they were, as he said, trying to get by? Why was the right of the man who owned the shop, the man serving his community, worth less than those who preyed on him and exploited those around them? To what end were they owed mercy, when none could be spared for the owner? And Haim wanted to talk to him about being an impact on those whose lives you intersected? His tension spread deeper into his shoulders and his brow tightened. “You can’t fault them…” He repeated Haim’s earlier words, and nodded his head slowly, disappointedly. Right then, Azir knew everything he needed to know about this man, nay, boy. “I wonder, Haimehen, if Mila will take comfort in your moral superiority of not infringing on their freedoms to trample society as they see fit.”

From there it was almost comical to hear Haim talk, but it was no laughing matter to Azir. For someone, a peer, to be so blatantly heartless and cold, to give a pass and justify the actions of those who would see society at their mercy, was among the very worst things one could do in his eyes. It went against everything that he believed in, it was contrary to his entire life’s goal - for the Hollow were dangerous, and he too would see them eradicated, but he knew the true suffering that people could inflict on one another. That Haimehen would plead the case of farmers and villages who suffered, but so brazenly say that he had no care or interest in fixing the suffering that already existed? It was enough to make Azir’s head spin.

It was an interesting thought, at least. One Azir certainly didn’t have an answer to. In a world where the Hollow were lesser, perhaps. But those people who did not live in Onyx had a choice, nothing stopped them from doing that. They chose to live without the great city's protection. Was it even right then for Onyx to weaken itself, make itself more vulnerable, to benefit those who already forewent its protection? He took a deep breath, thinking briefly on the question, and Haim’s laughter in the face of his own callousness. “What was it you said?” Azir questioned, thinking back for a split second, “It’s a noble and dutiful cause, that I think it speaks of a brighter future. And I hope, for the sake of the little family you have left Haimehen, that should you achieve such widespread unity, they never fall victim to those you couldn’t fault along the way."

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Nov. 4 | Time: 00:02 |
Location: Johtan Wilderness Camp - First Night
Wearing: Sweatsuit and camp slippers
Tagging: Azir | Mentioning: Lolo, Meena, Farrah |
Haim's shoulders slumped in defeat. Whatever his goal had been in approaching the elf, that had been lost. Instead, it seemed that he had convinced this man he was some type of moral deviant. Like because he picked and choose his battles instead of battling blindly every injustice he saw, he was flawed. That he was no better than the criminals Azir seemed to detest. No, not criminals. Criminals were people and Haim didn't believe that Azir saw people. He only saw the actions they committed. He clicked his tongue and stuffed his hands into the pouch of his hoodies and scuffed the ground.

Was there no neutral ground with the man then?

Haim didn't believe that because he didn't believe he was the type of person Azir saw. He'd said the wrong words or used the wrong example. That had to be it. He licked his lips and sighed as his gaze traveled the darkness. In the distance, he saw a snake strike a mouse. Should he be saving the mouse? But as soon as the bitter thought hit his mind, he dismissed it as petty and mean. He scuffed the ground and hummed his voice into the air. It was a signal that he was not yet done either.

"I don't know what I said to make you believe otherwise, but let me correct you. I do not have a blind eye for injustice or wickedness. I do not tolerate it when I see it. I have not. I will not. I don't care what mental gymnastics you need to do to accept that. And I do not wish for the wicked or unjust to go unpunished. If it is my duty to punish them, I will. I have this resolve no matter how I feel about it."

He turned from the dark to look in at the cluster of tents. Would he not put his life on the line to protect every one here, even Artanis and Azir? He'd been there with Meena and Farrah to help confront Everick. He'd stood with the team as they were all willing to sacrifice themselves for Lolo. Haim believe in the sanctity of life. He believed that all people deserved a life of peace and security. He wanted to give that to those that didn't have it. It was frustrating that anyone would think he was not that man. "We can agree on this, Azir. I think. The world is filled with suffering. I don't need to seek it out. It's everywhere all the time. And I will do my part so that when I leave this world, there might be a little less. I promise you that. I promise. Even if I have to suffer for them to alleviate it, I'll take that burden. I will."

He clamped his lips shut to keep from saying any more than that. He had to work with Azir. He hoped the man could trust him. He wondered if the other elf would. Perhaps Haim would get a chance to show his resolve in action. Whatever the case, he grunted and turned again, "I'm going to patrol." He hesitated but then moved off to make a circuit of the camp and look off into the darkness that surrounded them. To watch for danger and ponder what he had learned. He didn't believe that just because people had chosen to live away from the cities that they deserved any less. That idea had taken root in him. The people of Evergreen, Cordes sur-Ciel, the Tors, Gorren's Point. They all deserved the same things as those of Onyx or Sapphire or Ruby. People were people were people.

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Oct. 29 | Time: Early Evening |
Location: A Little Hill Outside Onyx
Wearing: Charcoal pants and coat, burgundy turtleneck, and a pair of somewhat beatup dress shoes
Tagging: None| Mentioning: Connie, Auguste, Violetta |
Haim stared down at the golden bar trapped under his thumb and slid it across the glass pane that covered the picture. He wiggled it back and forth across Connie's face. It was from that time, shortly before moving back to Onyx, when they'd gone to the beach in winter. The one that was so near but so far away from Cordes sur-Ciel. He licked his lips and felt something stir. He let the hand drop to his side and felt the bar slide again before catching on the edge of the frame.

Did the bar mean anything? The promotion? No. But yes. His heart felt gratitude to Blossom for the thoughts, the words, the sentiment. It made him feel better. It did.

"Hey, an officer, eh? Nice work, Con." He turned to look where his father was nearby. The normal spite flared up for a moment and then he wiggled the little bit of gold. "Sheesh, alright, Con. Not today. For you." His eyes flicked down the little box with his grandmother's promotion. He swallowed and remembered that Auguste had lost too. He flexed his shoulders and felt the tension there receded.

He strode forward and then stopped in front of his father. He eyed him hard for a second then closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, sympathy shone from them. They'd lost. No matter what else had happened in their lives, they'd lost that day in July. Haim threw his arms open and stepped in to swing them around the man. He pulled him in tight and just squeezed. For a second, Haim let himself be the boy who just wanted his father to comfort him again. And, in turn, he tried to be the son that comforted his father. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry about granny Violetta. I miss her. I miss the licorice she always carried in her pocket. I miss the socks every Alignment. I miss the way she smelled of shoe polish and starch. I miss that old umbrella she carried everywhere." It all just poured out and he squeezed. "I definitely miss the way she used to order you around like a first year cadet." He grinned and slapped his father's back before stepping back.

He held up his hand and looked at the golden lieutenant's bar and licked his lips, "Is it okay if I keep this? I-" He swallowed, "In the chaos right after, I never got around to her apartment. I never got anything of hers." He looked up at his father and his shoulders rumbled. He swallowed the sob. He screwed his eyes up and sighed. A sigh that turned into a hiccup. He frowned and stilled himself, regaining control. "Anyway, I'd like to keep it. For now. But You can have it if you want. She was your daughter as well as my sister." His eyes turned to the memorial slab and his eyes scanned it. The names were still too distant and small for him to find hers. He still looked.

Haim wasn't sure what would happen later when he and Auguste went back to Onyx. But right here in this little place, they could be at peace. There wasn't anything damning in that, right? They were two men burdened by loss trying to grieve. "Let's go find their names, yeah? I want to see them. Talk to them. I think Connie would like it if we did. Granny Violetta as well." He looked to the elder Temps Infini and waited for a response.

[Aethyrium]

S T O R Y T E L L E R
October 29th, Early Evening | Hillside Shrine outside Onyx
Haimehen
Auguste wasn’t bitter that Apple called Haimehen to receive Connie’s things, if anything, it made him respect Apple all the more. That she would make such a gesture wasn’t needed, and yet there she was doing it anyway. He couldn’t hear the words she shared, but he could imagine them. Hopefully, he thought, Haimehen would find her half as comforting and inspirational as he did. He must have, because when he returned, Auguste witnessed Haim do something he wasn’t even sure the boy knew how to do anymore. He was momentarily stricken with surprise, but he relaxed into it quickly. They could be like this here. Auguste’s arms collapsed around his son and he squeezed him empathetically. It was different, unlike their relationship had ever really been, but not bad. In a lot of ways Auguste wished he had been more receptive to this from the get go - Haim wasn’t the only one to blame for his attitude, afterall. Swallowing, Auguste nodded along acknowledgingly as Haim recalled the past.

He wanted to be strong then for Haimehen, to allow him to mourn and have a rock. But the weight of it all wanted to drag him down. He’d lost a wife, a mother, and a daughter. Like Haim, Auguste hadn’t truly allowed himself to grieve those things. Perhaps the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He missed all of those things too, and so much more. The grin, the almost playfulness on Haimehen’s face, was a blast from the past, and it made Auguste smile. “If it meant having her back, I’d play the first year cadet again.” Glancing to the bar, Auguste nodded. “I think she’d want you to have it.” They had been so close, Auguste wouldn’t separate Haim from Connie anymore than they already were. “Keep it close.”

Then, he followed along, crossing the small path to the actual tablet. There was a lot of loss that day, and he did feel bad for all of it, but it was hard to feel anything past his own loss. Finding their names wasn’t difficult, and Auguste stared at them etched forever into the stone. “I miss her laughter.” He offered about Connie, “She had such a passion for life.” Auguste swallowed and shook his head. He set his hand on Haim’s shoulder.

All around them people talked, approached the shrine, and slowly began to wander away.

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Oct. 29 | Time: Early Evening |
Location: A Little Hill Outside Onyx
Wearing: Charcoal pants and coat, burgundy turtleneck, and a pair of somewhat beatup dress shoes
Tagging: None| Mentioning: Connie, Auguste, Violetta, Tenric, Vesper |
It was easier than he had expected: being cordial with his father. It had been easy to stand there shoulder to shoulder. It had been easy to feel the loss and the grief nakedly, together. Around them, people swirled and grieved their way. Haim had stared, just stared, at the names. He read those around his grandmother's and his sister's. In his mind, they were now the eternal neighbors to his loved one. He found himself wondering about each one silently. What had their lives been like? Families, hopes, dreams, ambitions? And amidst it all, it was easy to just be near near his father.

Perhaps, there was something telling in that?

Perhaps, more telling, when others that Auguste knew had come and pulled at the man's attention, Haim hadn't resented it. Maybe he was older and understood it more? A boy had needed his father but been shuffled to the sidelines. It hurt. Haim still felt the hurt, the resentment. He couldn't ignore that. But he could look at it from a new viewpoint. Look at all the chaos and nonsense in his life? Look at the mess that existed because he didn't let go of his feelings. He held them and clutched at them like a hen with her eggs. He protected them and hid them until they were rotten. Had he not hurt others the way that Auguste hurt him? That didn't make any of it ok, but it helped him understand it.

Someone had come and touched Auguste's shoulder to express condolences. They'd spoken to Haim too. He'd ignored them; Auguste had taken a moment to speak to them and ask about their loss. Haim had felt a spark of resentment but then just marveled at how his father managed it. How he took that second to connect instead. Haim didn't understand how people did that. Just reached out and connected to other people. His father was right though, Connie had been like that too. Maybe that was why they got along? And Connie had always tried to push him: meet people, mingle, connect. But it was hard for him. He'd rather sit inside his shell and play with his toys and let the world slide by.

There'd been others after that. Those who idly shared grief because their name was engraved nearby. Those who knew Auguste and came to express their condolences. There was always a bit of polite chitchat, civil exchanges, that sort of things. The idle chatter than Haim always felt awkward with. He'd gotten good at it; people expected it. But it was never comfortable for him. Still, after the third one, he started to let himself get pulled into the pace. He smiled and asked polite questions about them, their loved ones. He stumbled here and there, but he grit his teeth and tried again. He event nodded and laughed when Auguste introduced him and 'his son.' A stark difference to the other day at the Paladin expo. He momentarily regretted that none of his friends were here. But, He shared little memories about himself and Violetta and Connie and he listened to little stories about other names. At one point, Auguste moved away to speak to some colleagues. Haim nodded, smiled, and accepted it. He wasn't a small boy being abandoned anymore. He was an adult who understood how adults behaved. He was invited along but demurred to stay with Connie. "Maybe next time, Au- Dad."

It was easier than he expected. But not easy. He felt distant: like he was driving in a simulator. Like his body was on autopilot and he was watching a movie of himself. He laughed, he smiled, he made polite little jokes. It was easier than he thought. Having people come up to him, without the safety blanket of his father, and talk to him. And, at the end, he and Auguste had hugged again. Haim had even promised to make time to have dinner with the man. After all, it was easier than he thought.

And then, barely with him noticing, the crowd had dispersed. In ones, twos, and threes it had reduced until it was just him in the brazier's halo standing in front of the memorial: "I know you can't see me or hear me. I don't believe in an afterlife or ghosts or anything. You're both dirt. But I'm going to talk anyway. And I think I am going to pretend that you can hear me." He bit his lip and shifted. His thumb slid the bar across the frame, Elven syllables tumbled out. "I joined Hammer Academy. I know Granny, I know you'd be proud. Just like your father. Connie, I swear I'm okay. I didn't hit my head. I'm happy. I think. And I met people. gRAVIty. They're a bit mad really, but they're good. And Mir, a boy. He's really nice. We're kinda doing this thing. Don't roll your eyes at me! Not like that! Sorry Granny. It's engineering. We're doing this engineering thing. And maybe we'll kiss more. Maybe. But, yeah, I'm happy. I really am. I'm. going. to be a Champion. Like Bill Derhup and great-grandpa Tenric. I am not sure what that means specifically, but I know it means that I will be able to protect Onyx and Corde sur-Ciel. And maybe more."

He crouched down and nodded, his face got animated, "One of the people I met, Vesper. He's part of gRAVIty? He's from a place called Gorren's Point in Kantos? Anyway, he talked about his village being under siege by Hollow. And I started wondering if there wasn't something I could do about it, yeah? Like, if I were a Champion and I used my skills to acquire and retrofit machines to help them? Give them new weapons? And if I could do that for Gorren's Point, then I could for Cordes sur-Ciel and other places. Right? Don't tell Auguste though. I don't know if he'd understand. Maybe he would? It involves a lot of logistics. He might even be able to help out? Do you think Dad might arrange for a Goliath to be misplaced? No? Probably not. General Blossom seems to like me... But, I don't want these people to be abandoned. I don't know. Maybe it sounds silly. But I want to believe in people. No, Connie, I don't know why. I know I used to trash on people a lot. But. I don't know. I'm working on it." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"Anyway, today was nice, right? You saw? I got on with Dad. Yes, I know I could make a habit of calling him that. Yes, Granny. Children shouldn't fight with their parents." He held his hands up defensively toward the memorial. The orange glow of the brazier danced over them and he watched the shadows play for a moment. The specters of his family were quiet, waiting. "Anyway, it was nice. Right? He's not a bad guy. He gets along with people easily. Still haven't figured out small talk or sharing. I'm practicing. But whatever. I miss you two. A lot. Sometimes, the 'missing you' overwhelms everything else. Like a tidal wave and it surges over my head and I feel like I'm drowning. And I do stupid things. And I push people away or withdraw into my shell. If you don't let them in, then it can't hurt more. Yes, I know that's dumb. Shush. But I try to reach out then I get scared and nervous and anxious and I-" He made a rude sound. "I shit the bed. Again, working on it. Sorry for cursing, Granny."

He looked around at the empty clearing. There was more he wanted to say, but it was dark and it would be dangerous soon. He didn't expect too many Hollow this close to Onyx, but there had been that strange attack recently. He bounced against his thighs twice and then shot up to his feet. He reached out to put a hand against the stone and sent silent, general, fuzzy positive thoughts out. He really didn't believe that his sister or grandmother could hear him. But it was nice to get his thoughts out and easy to know what they might say. Especially Connie. He closed his eyes and pulled up the image of her face, smiling and with that mischievous twinkle in her violet eye, and he smiled back.

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Doya Yama
Date | Time: October 29th | Evening
Location: Hillside Shrine outside Onyx
Wearing: Dark teal single shoulder dres, simple jewelry, Ankle wrap sandals. Giant hair braid
Tagging | Mentioning: Haimehen | Artanis, Marlowe
Among the faces lost in the crowd of the ceremony had been Doya’s. Though she technically fell under the category of friends of one lost at Kapsi, for her it felt far more familial than that. But not being actual family, she was not summoned by Apple and given condolences and mementos. For the one she lost, none were called, because there were none left. Among other reasons that was why coming to this event, when its existence had come to her attention, had been so important - that she had Artanis to thank for that was the tiniest of thorns in her brain - to ensure that her friend, her sister was not alone at this mourning. Doya had stayed back in the crowd, both her own brand of socially awkward, and not wanting to deny those who perhaps had more right to be here the opportunity to be close. She listened from the back to the names called, one by one, until Apple said:

“For bravery shown in the attack, and years of service, I posthumously award Sergeant Major Yvonne Atan promotion to the rank of warrant officer first grade.”

After that, Doya had listened to all the others. She didn’t need to know any of them to honor them. When the ceremony concluded, Doya wandered away from the shrine and its immediate area. Down the path, Doya took up a spot nearby so that she could watch as people left. She watched and waited, longer and longer, until she estimated that everyone had left. It had been long enough, and she had seen enough departures. Finally, with the opportunity to visit the shrine on her own, Doya made her way slowly back up the hillside. Her outfit felt a bit foreign on her body - she seldom had need for such nice things.

As she rounded the bend and approached, it seemed she was not the only one with this plan.

Doya quietly moved to turn away, but she was far too observant not to notice. Though Haim was dressed up, his profile was familiar enough that it caught her attention. It surprised her, and she looked at his back. Kapsi was distant and small, it was unexpected to find someone she knew here. Someone from Hammer no less. She contemplated leaving him to it, returning when he was done. But then maybe he could use something familiar in his mourning. She glanced around to find no one else here with him, no family, no members of his team. Was that because he wished it that way? Or because, as she had observed, Haimehen had not known how to reach out to them. She couldn’t imagine Marlowe denying being with him, if he had wanted it.

“Good evening, Haimehen.” Doya decided. It was better to ask and offer, than to leave him behind if he was drowning, she reasoned. Stepping to the far end of the path leading to the tablet, watching him touch its cool, smooth surface, Doya gently inclined her head that caused her braid to hang slightly, “I hope I’m not intruding. I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Oct. 29 | Time: Early Evening |
Location: A Little Hill Outside Onyx
Wearing: Charcoal pants and coat, burgundy turtleneck, and a pair of somewhat beatup dress shoes
Tagging: Doya | Mentioning: Connie, Auguste, Violetta, Tenric, Vesper |
He heard them coming. It was easy. He’d heard them walking along the trail. In the quiet night air far from the city his hearing was even better. He heard them coming and the swish of fabric and the click of heels on stone. He’d tensed at first. He’d wanted a moment of peace and quiet with his family. He’d expected to be able to be still, quiet. He’d felt tension knotting between his shoulder blades as the sound approached him. Just because he was here, at the memorial, did not mean he wanted company. He wanted a bit of time for himself.

The sound had stopped and his name had been spoken. There’d been plenty of people who had ‘known’ him today. He grit his teeth and wanted them to go away, He screwed his eyes shut even as they kept going. Why shouldn’t he be here? Where was the surprise? Couldn’t they see that he didn’t want company? He opened his mouth.

”Didn’t you say it was easier than you thought, Haimie?”

He cringed and sighed. Talking to yourself in your sister's voice was probably some kind of mental health problem, right? The tension bled out, but not all. It had not been 'easy' easy or entirely comfortable earlier, but he'd managed to be civil. And despite that he had expected to have a private moment, it was not this person's fault if his expectations were dashed.  They were probably just doing the entirely human thing of seeing solace in company. He nodded and opened his eyes to glance back. Tall woman, thick braid, fantastic dress. He nodded greeting then started to turn back, "Evening. I held back to have a moment without, you know, all the people. People are noi-" He blinked and his head spun back to look again. HIs eyes went wide. "Doya?!" His eyes flicked back to the dress, the braid, the strappy shoes. They looked back to Doya.

His mouth opened to comment or ejaculate surprise. But then he saw her face, the way she shifted. He snapped it shut and looked down at his own clothes. "Heh, what we do for those we love and admire, yeah? Lolo and Lyra have been trying to get me into a getup like this for weeks. I think even my father had a mild shock seeing it. But for her? I didn’t hesitate even a second. But, sorry, I didn't recognize you at first. Even your steps sound different." He turned to look at the name and reached out to run a finger over it. Then he turned to more fully face Doya. ”You look really nice, Doya. I think whoever they are would appreciate it.”

That was what people did, right? They spoke for other people’s dead. It was terribly presumptuous to assume what someone’s people would say, but he’d watched others do it all day. They’d all told him what Connie or Granny would think, say, do. It was all too nice: Connie would have mocked his suit and Granny would have asked him ‘why no uniform.’ But he’d bit back the words and observed. Auguste had done the same thing with other people’s dead. It was something people did; it was comforting in a way. They meant well. Now, he just had to figure out how far was allowed. So far, so good.

His hands screamed at him that they were hanging like wet noodles off his shoulders and he stuffed his hands into his pockets to quiet them ”But, yeah. I wanted to talk to them and people are too noisy for me sometimes. I didn’t really plan to wait, but I kinda did too? If that makes sense.” He shifted over to make room beside him and then gazed at the memorial. The words weren’t spoken but it was an invitation to join him. ”That one is my grandmother. This one is my sister, Constance de Temps Infini. Connie. Believe it or not, a better shot than even me. Took after our mother.” Pressure pushed up at his chest from below but he stood and waited. He’d offered his names, spoken them aloud. He waited.

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Doya Yama
Date | Time: October 29th | Evening
Location: Hillside Shrine outside Onyx
Wearing: Dark teal single shoulder dres, simple jewelry, Ankle wrap sandals. Giant hair braid
Tagging | Mentioning: Haimehen |
It was peculiar to see Haimehen so dressed up, but only because it was such a stark contrast. She glanced down at her own dress and nodded softly. While it wasn’t her usual attire, she found it enviable that Haimehen at least had people who cared enough about him that they wanted to share that with him. Despite how unfamiliar it was to her, she imagined that if she had that, she’d have gladly embraced the opportunity. “No apology necessary.” She imagined that the world looked awfully different from his eyes, but certainly not so distinct that he could juggle every individual's footsteps in any given location. Her hands swept lightly the sides of her dress and she smiled, “Thank you.” She dipped her head at him, “You’re looking quite sharp yourself.”

Though she was certainly no expert on it, Doya could picture how much louder a crowd was to Haim than others. “It does.” She confirmed, while taking a step onto the walkway and approaching the large tablet of stone. She crossed the water and took up the space she was invited into. “I’ve never known to believe if they can hear us or not when we speak to them.” She searched the tablet for the name that was most important to her, “But I think it’s nice to hope that they can.” She ended up following his indications to the names important to him instead. Names that she had heard, but not connected until just then. “Your sister…” Doya frowned slightly. “I’m sorry for your losses, Haimehen. There aren’t words for such things.” People made words, they tried, but words were insufficient, in her experience, for such personal tragedy. And though she had her own loss, she would not try to overshadow his moment with her own. She had stayed to help him, if he needed, not to seek solace for herself.

“A better shot, truly?” She questioned, looking away from the polished stone to the reservation on Haim’s face as he waited for… Something. “And she had the pleasure of serving with your grandmother.” Doya took a breath and smiled, “Perhaps there is comfort in knowing that she was not alone.”

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Oct. 29 | Time: Early Evening |
Location: A Little Hill Outside Onyx
Wearing: Charcoal pants and coat, burgundy turtleneck, and a pair of somewhat beatup dress shoes
Tagging: Doya | Mentioning: Connie, Farrah, Celeste, Etienne, Violetta |
"Yes. Well, grandmother never said so. She always said that if there was a difference between Connie and me, a dog's hair couldn't measure it." He chuckled at the memory. Etienne had been filled with general wisdom like that. He blinked and wondered if Farrah secretly reminded him of her. "Uhh, my other grandmother. Not this one. My mother's mother. My mother's line is where we get our aim. My mother was a military sniper. My grandmother can shoot the eye out of a squirrel at a hundred yards." His gaze drifted up among the smooth stone as his mind went back.

His mother, when she had been alive, had taken the twins to the firing range between missions. It was a lasting, warm memory for Haim and Connie, so when they'd lost her and been sent to Cordes sur-Ciel, Etienne had taken up the practice of shooting with them and talking about Celeste. Etienne had never allowed the twins to go silent about their mother, nor had she painted the dead woman in pure white. She told stories of the evil, annoying things Celeste had done as a girl and adult. The twins joked about her terrible cooking. They loved her wholly: top to bottom.

Haim needed to remember Etienne's lesson more often.

He grinned and then smiled at Doya, "Actually, my grandmothers didn't get along at all. Granny Violetta was a hard nosed military commander. I seriously doubt serving with her or under her was all sunshine and rainbows. But we did love her and I know they made time for one another. Connie told me she once tried to get Granny to try fried squirrel like Etienne used to make us. Well Charles cooked it, Granny shot it. The dinner did not go extremely well from what Connie told me. But, Violetta loved us in her way. Etienne, my other grandmother, was more like Farrah. Folksy. Earthy. No bullshit in her own way." He chuckled. "Honestly? Except for their radically different viewpoints, they were very similar now I think about it. Etienne had no patience for our angst after mom died." Haim shifted and stretched his back. A chuckled tumbled out of him. "She understood grief and mourning just fine, but not brooding angst. An instinct me and Connie both had. No, it was me. Connie was more... nitro glycerin? No, too explosive and brief. A torch? No, not hot enough and too brief. Ah, she was an acetylene torch. Bright, hot, and lasts as long as it has fuel. I never knew Connie to run out of fuel. She hated Hollow. Not general abhorrence or aversion like normal people. They took her mother from her and she hunted them. Constant, burning, bright. Anyway, Etienne had no time for my brooding. She made me talk through it. She made me laugh about and at my mother."

Haim stopped talking suddenly and his brow furrowed down. Why was he talking? He'd not really been conscious of it. The words had just sort of tumbled out of him like a faucet left on. He worked his lips and mouth trying to taste the reason. It eluded him. He'd been out of his head, the way Etienne used to get him sometimes, and he'd just sort of rambled because there was someone listening. It felt similar to when he'd been talking just a bit earlier to his family alone. He expected that Etienne would have approved. Violetta? He could see her thin lips pressed together and her look of compassionate silence. He chuckled. It was amusing how much of his family he saw in himself when he looked.

He turned to look at Doya and grimaced. He was doing it again though. He kept doing it. Letting things be about him. He huffed, "What about you? Who did you lose?" He turned to search names, not knowing at all what he was looking for but willing and waiting to listen. He was craving fried squirrel and grits.

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Doya Yama
Date | Time: October 29th | Evening
Location: Hillside Shrine outside Onyx
Wearing: Dark teal single shoulder dres, simple jewelry, Ankle wrap sandals. Giant hair braid
Tagging | Mentioning: Haimehen | Farrah
Haim described such similarity between them, and yet Doya saw one most starkly - Connie had joined the military, Haimehen had taken the path of a Champion. While there was overlap and similarity there, it spoke to a great difference between them. Doya looked back at the stone while he spoke of his mother, and she smiled. Was aim a hereditary trait, she wondered. “Impressive.”

She met his grin with an engaged head tilt and an enthusiastic willingness to hear what he shared. It was nice to hear the stories that others shared, like Haim’s story about fried squirrel, because she had precious few of her own like that. “I imagine Farrah would be pleased to be compared to someone you hold in such high regard.” Doya quietly laughed as Haim struggled through finding the descriptor for his sister. The one he landed on she understood, and she approved of the way he presented her. “Your sister sounds like a woman of action, an admirable trait.” She considered herself a woman of action too. That was how she had been raised, taught, and disciplined. “And your grandmother wise. I believe it is normal for us to want to slow down under the burdens of loss. Especially those most personal to us.” She glanced at him, “A grandmother, a mother, a sister…” She looked back to the tablet thoughtfully, “These are weights we must carry, ones that I do not know ever truly grow lighter. But I think I agree with your grandmother, and Farrah, in that succumbing to that instinct is a waste. Our losses can be an anchor that stops us from moving, or they can be weights used to train us to be stronger.”

Shifting to look at him, and offering a sympathetic nod, “You have lost much, Haimehen. It is not wrong to mourn. Just take care that you do not let your loss define you.”

Doya looked to the tablet, her eyes searching for the name that mattered most to her. She reached up and directed his attention to it. “Yvonne. She was a sister, of a sort.” Doya smiled gently in thoughtful recollection, “Not by blood, but calling. Our paths were not so dissimilar that I might not have been where she was, if only a few small decisions had been made differently, or but a subtle change in fate.”

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Oct. 29 | Time: Early Evening |
Location: A Little Hill Outside Onyx
Wearing: Charcoal pants and coat, burgundy turtleneck, and a pair of somewhat beatup dress shoes
Tagging: Doya | Mentioning: Connie, Farrah, Celeste, Etienne, Violetta |
"I don't know if action is the right word as much as determination. Connie was a person of iron will. Mother used to say that I got all the brains and she got all the will while we were in utero. Oh, me and Connie were twins. She was about an hour older and technically born the day before me. I was born just a bit after midnight. And our family always chose to celebrate our birthdays separately." He smirked as he recalled all the times she had pulled the 'older sister' card. He missed her and the ache of it was a hole in his heart. But the worst was his mind. his mind didn't know yet. He found himself laughing or angry or sad and his brain would immediately think 'what will Connie say when I tell her' but he never would. It had happened almost hourly at first but faded over time. Still, he caught himself at least once a day thinking it. His mind told him this would fade eventually, but he suspected Doya was right.

"No, you're correct about that. The burden doesn't get weaker. We grow better able to carry it. It feels lighter, but only because we are stronger."

He tracked her eyes over the monolith and zeroed in when she found her name. He didn't recall it from the litany, but he recalled none but his own. He supposed grief was myopic like that. A lot of things were like that. Inside your own skull, dealing with your thoughts and your emotions, it was easy to forget to look around you and notice others'. It was easy to, as she said, let loss define you and blind you.

He'd done that, hadn't he. In the aftermath of the fall of the fort, he'd gone blind with grief and anger. He'd lost himself. He'd pushed away his friends, his lover, his path in favor of revenge. He had hurt, so he wanted to lash out at the world. He wanted to hurt it back. And in his haste to do so, he'd harmed many around him. But most of all, he'd harmed himself. He was starting to see that. It was too late to fix much of it. It couldn't be put back the way it was like resetting a game. The rules had changed around him. He smirked and thought about the flurry of work he'd done that morning. He considered the conversation he'd had with Meena just before coming here.

He flinched and regretted that his answer to questions about his new clothes had been so bland. He resolved to let the team know where he had gone. To stop hiding his loss like it was his precious treasure. Farrah knew a lot of it. Lolo knew some. Lyra knew almost nothing. Meena and Vesper knew absolutely nothing. They deserved to know. If he wanted to move forward, he needed to get as many advantages as he could. He should keep his promise to Auguste about dinner. The man had lost as well. He should send a letter to Cordes sur-Ciel. He unloaded a heavy breath from his chest and nodded, "A lot of people underestimate the small things. They see the clock but miss the gears. They see the pneumatic arm but miss the delicate sensors that calibrate it." He chuckled as he recalled a problem that had eaten an hour earlier. "But the small things, the quiet moments, the little decisions add up. For good or ill, they accumulate and outweigh almost everything else in the end. I should have kept my promise. But failing that, I should have kept the second one." He chuckled. "I think I can keep the third one. I'm trying." The forwn was brief and then banished to the back of his mind.

He looked to the three names again and nodded, "I'm not Farrah or Lolo. Hugs aren't my thing. Don't tell Lolo that. I don't think she'd understand what mirroring is. But if you ever need to talk about Yvonne? You can have my ear, Doya. And if I need some advice, I'll come find you?" He shifted a bit to extend his hand to the warrior.

[Aethyrium]

Character Name: Doya Yama
Date | Time: October 29th | Evening
Location: Hillside Shrine outside Onyx
Wearing: Dark teal single shoulder dres, simple jewelry, Ankle wrap sandals. Giant hair braid
Tagging | Mentioning: Haimehen | Lolo, Meena
“That sounds exciting.” Doya thought aloud. One birthing event, two days, two celebrations. In a way it allowed them to be individuals, and in another gave them the opportunity to celebrate together for longer. She could imagine that it was a joyous pair of days for them, based on what she knew of birthday celebrations - which was, admittedly, very little. “I’ve never celebrated a birthday. I think you must have been fortunate to have the opportunity to celebrate two.” She smiled warmly at Haim.

She nodded at the idea that people often missed small things. At least, in part. The small moments, things, like gears in a clock weren’t relevant to most people most of the time. Taking notice of them was, rather demonstrably, being too zoomed in on something. That level of detail awareness was best saved for when it was needed, lest it be distracting. But the grander message in it? That she agreed with. People could get lost in the big picture - hell, they could get lost in the mid sized picture. Her thoughts on it wandered at mentions of contextless promises. She refocused on Haim, confused but curious as he spoke of them and she attempted to glean the smallest bit of insight. By the time none came, he was offering something else. “Your secret is safe with me.” She assured him. She wasn’t sure what to make of the comment about Lolo, but then Doya had a hard time figuring out what to make of Lolo in general. “And I appreciate that offer.” Doya’s eyes returned to the stone and she thought. What would she share?

His hand caught the corner of her gaze, and she was drawn to the oddly formal gesture. Even if hugs weren’t his thing, this seemed a little out of place. She hesitated, but only for a moment as confusion flickered across her features. She reached for his hand and took it, shaking firmly but slowly. “I am not the grandmother that Meena was raised to be,” Doya laughed silently, “But my advice is yours if you think it can help.” Reclaiming her hand, Doya paused before looking back at the tablet and instead on what he had said before. The way he offered them like ghosts made her curious, and like this meeting, it seemed perhaps what Haim needed more than anything was not an open door but a push through it. “Like your promises, perhaps there are still ways to keep the first two. And help to be gathered in keeping the last?”

[shengami]

Character Name: Haimehen
Date: Oct. 29 | Time: Early Evening |
Location: A Little Hill Outside Onyx
Wearing: Charcoal pants and coat, burgundy turtleneck, and a pair of somewhat beatup dress shoes
Tagging: Doya | Mentioning: Connie |
He held her hand a second too long and was grinning when he let it go. He shook it to get the feeling of awkwardness out. "Two birthdays...?" He rolled his lips together so they folded into his mouth. He nodded, "I think you got it right, basically. They were separate and the same though. We always made time for one another of our birthdays. This one coming up, it'll be the first without her. I'm not sure what I'll do. Come here, maybe?"

He turned his eyes back and searched Doya's face for any hint of facetiousness in accepting the offer. But he saw only sincerity lit by the umber glow of the brazier. The sun was a memory long gone. He turned his head to look up at the shattered moon. People called it that, but was there any other moon but that one and had it ever been anything but shattered? Wasn't it just the moon then? What did calling it 'shattered' serve? Life was like that, too. Every choice a person made shattered what they had been before. In small ways. And those they met after those choices would never know any version of them but the shattered one, so what was the point of carrying around the 'shattered?' He wasn't shattered Haim, he was just Haim. The version him that did not have a sister anymore.

"That would be nice. But for me to keep the first, I'd need to have been there. With her. To fully keep it. But it had been a thing of passion. Heartbroken kids crying in the night and swearing vengeance for a lost mother. For Connie, it was fuel. For me, it was just anger. And when the anger cooled, my mind wandered." He chuckled darkly, "I didn't deserve it but she let me wander away." He let the air in his lungs go. He'd been holding it too tightly. "I figured it was just a kid's promise, so I was relieved. I promised her I would study and walk the new path she bought for me. But I should have just kept my promise. Served with her even if it meant we were both there. And ended up here." He motioned at the memorial. Being dead didn't bother him if he could have made it mean something.

But that was wrong, too, and he regretted saying what he had and thinking what he did. What would gRAVIty think if they heard it. What would they thing if they knew that had been his first plan that night? That he'd been talked out of charging off into the dark by Auguste? "Then she was gone and... and I abandoned the second for the third promise. To avenge her. To do what I should have done in the first place. But now, I'm not even sure about that. Or maybe I just found a new path. gRAVIty are good people and I think I can get her vengeance and make something of myself, too. I think she'd be happy about that. But I still can't help feeling that I should have been there with her. I should have just kept the promise we made that night. Maybe... maybe we'd both be in Hammer then and champions? Right? If I had just stuck with her."

His head was pounding now and it was full. He breathed quickly to let some of it out. It was pointless though. He had broken the promise. And the second could only be kept if he abandoned the third. And abandoning the third meant leaving gRAVIty. He didn't want to do that. He was just discovering a need to be a hero and make a difference. There were yet tests and struggles on the path, but he thought he was making progress. He gulped cool night air and looked up at the shattered moon. There was no going back anymore. He was shattered. He had to exist as shattered. He had to be the 'not OK' version of himself. He had to live with the promises he had broken.

[Envious]

Character Name: Farrah Tinkerspan
Date | Time: 11.05 | 3:32am
Location: Artanis' Sleeping Bag | The Wilds | Grassland - Air Resonance
Wearing: as pictured
Tagging | Mentioning: Artanis |
”The Lord knows me be tryin,” she stated flatly. ”Wisdom be chasin’, but that boy be faster.” Haim was a problem, but one she was working on correcting in her own unique way. It had only taken Farrah two love taps to get her teammate to simmer down - the fist had occurred when Haim had directed his angry entitlement toward Artanis. The second had been shortly after when his prideful arrogance had turned towards her. Haim had taken both licks - he hadn’t liked it, but after a heated exchange and the promise of ’plenty more where that came from,’ the two of them finally dispersed on mostly the same page. Haim had a plan of action and Farrah’s fist would keep him accountable.

She didn’t say that to Artanis. She had given him a back-handed compliment already for bringing the situation to light and she was grateful it was out in the open to be dealt with but truthfully, she wouldn’t care about what had transpired between Haim and Lyra by morning. Life was too short to hold a grudge and neither of them were worth that effort.

She whined out a groan of irritation as Artanis poked her in the head and half-heartedly attempted to swat him away. It didn’t work - he was more committed to shoving than she was of blocking and she felt her head roll.

”Mine simple brain did notice your kindness earlier. Losin’ yer touch already, Artanus? Share a few straight thoughts witcha ‘n you go soft,” she teased, turning back to lazily grin. ”Ya’d probably be more pleasant ta look at iffin you considered a proper beauty rest.” She let her eyes dip downward in an attempt at a lascivious leer, but forgot about halfway through the look as her eyes almost closed and she failed to bring them back up to complete the gesture. Instead, she closed them and sighed.

”Do think,” she said in rude humor, ”it’d do us all a world o good if Lyra’s head popped off. Mayhaps we could find that stick shoved up her ass with a little light shed on the problem.” She didn’t seem to take the dig at losing teammates very hard, but she also felt secure in Meena staying by her side to temper it.

”Use me? Ha! Ha!” There was true humor in her voice now as it raised in amused shock at the idea of it all. She raised a hand and let it fall on her thigh - as close to slapping her knee in laughter as she was likely to get in this moment - and gave out another exaggerated haaaa. ”Bless that black heart! Ta think that any woman would line up to jump in yer sack” - the irony went straight over her head - ”with any interest in carryin’ yer half-breed bastard babies.” Of course sex was all about baby-making for her. ”That mouth o yers would spoil any goodwill yer dick might give but how me heart do flutter that ya’d consider ta use me!” She laughed again, this time slapping his thigh as her laughter settled into a low cackle as to not wake the camp.

Her smile faded as the conversation turned to Lolo. She grimaced as she felt him shift to stare. After a second, she turned into him, squirming to get comfortable on her side and refusing to give an inch of her stolen space. One arm curled under her head while the other went uninvited to his chest. A finger tapped thoughtfully on his collarbone as she met his stare unblinkingly. She had promised him unfriendly assistance should he say something unkind about Marlowe. She could make good on her promise and make a point. She probably should so he would know she truly did mean it…

But it was some ungodly hour of the night and Marlowe wasn’t even here to witness Artanis’ endless bullying. Would Meena be cross with her if she punched another person in camp? She hadn’t seemed too upset over the first report, but someone Farrah expected her partner’s patience to run thin if a second black eye appeared in camp in the morning.

She would just punch him twice as hard if he tried it tomorrow. That seemed like a good compromise!

”Y’ain’t charmin, but ya sure got a mouth. Hopin' to put it ta better use. Got me a request. Wonderin’ if ya’d say one more thing.” Her heart gave an unexpected, erratic thump. She stopped her tapping on his chest and let her hand rest on her hip; her golden gaze never left his own save to blink. She hadn’t realized her request would come with such a rush of feeling. ”Just one word. A thing I ain’t heard said in a mighty long time.”