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+--- Thread: When You See White Mice (/showthread.php?tid=194455)
When You See White Mice - Erremnart - 09-01-2022
Fort Ramsey; Ontario System; Independent Space
Virginia Belle slept in an unnatural and painful looking position at her desk aboard the Roanoke, still in her captain's uniform. On her desk were several empty bottles of Liberty Ale, a small empty bottle of moonshine and a half empty bottle of what looked like blue window cleaner.
She was snapped out of her dreamless slumber by her communications terminal on the desk with a message from the LFR Command. Years in the Legion had trained her senses and instincts enough that important sounding acoustic alerts were capable of waking her from a drunken stupor.
While the terminal continued to beep insistently, Virginia was waking from her merciful slumber to a painful reality - her cervical spine ached, her stomach felt like water and she had an absolutely excruciating headache to boot. Her parched mouth was burning and just as she tried to take a deep breath - she coughed loudly. Instinctively, she tried to open her eyes to look at the beeping terminal, but the harshness of the light in her quarters made her search around her desk for her sunglasses instead.
"Just kill me...", Virginia muttered softly, and with more painful prostrations, she straightened up at her desk, pressed the button on the terminal to accept the incoming message, and, still half out of it, replied to the message. It wasn't until she sent her reply that it dawned on her what she had actually done. Her remorse lasted only a few seconds, however, before her stomach rebelled for good and forced her to go to her personal bathroom and vomit into the toilet bowl as quickly as possible.
When the deed was done, she flushed after herself and wearily walked to the sink to rinse her mouth and wash her face. Her reflection in the mirror was looking back at her, estimated to be fifty years old at this point.
"You're getting too old for this, you hag.", she uttered softly to her reflection and reached into the medicine cabinet above the sink for a pack with powerful stimulant tablets with very high concentrations of taurine, caffeine and other minerals essential to bring balance to her system, although the recommended dosage was one per day maximum, and washed two tablets down with two glasses of tap water.
A race against time ensued and she dressed in a new and clean uniform as she had to throw her old one in the laundry basket - it smelled of too much cheap booze. Fortunately her experience with alcohol was extensive and she knew exactly what to do to look fresh again - hydrate with water, shower and brush her teeth. She managed all of this in almost twenty minutes, though she would have done it faster if the caffeine overdose hadn't made her blood pressure too high and had to sit down for a moment in the shower. When she was done, she checked herself in front of the mirror and was relieved to find Viginia Belle's reflection looking back at her, looking about twenty-seven.
On her way out of her office, she made one more stop at the Roanoke cafeteria for another cup of coffee and hurriedly left her ship through the connecting tube and made her way to the infirmary at Fort Ramsey. Her dark glasses were still on her eyes as she still hadn't quite gotten rid of her hangover.
She was snapped out of her dreamless slumber by her communications terminal on the desk with a message from the LFR Command. Years in the Legion had trained her senses and instincts enough that important sounding acoustic alerts were capable of waking her from a drunken stupor.
While the terminal continued to beep insistently, Virginia was waking from her merciful slumber to a painful reality - her cervical spine ached, her stomach felt like water and she had an absolutely excruciating headache to boot. Her parched mouth was burning and just as she tried to take a deep breath - she coughed loudly. Instinctively, she tried to open her eyes to look at the beeping terminal, but the harshness of the light in her quarters made her search around her desk for her sunglasses instead.
"Just kill me...", Virginia muttered softly, and with more painful prostrations, she straightened up at her desk, pressed the button on the terminal to accept the incoming message, and, still half out of it, replied to the message. It wasn't until she sent her reply that it dawned on her what she had actually done. Her remorse lasted only a few seconds, however, before her stomach rebelled for good and forced her to go to her personal bathroom and vomit into the toilet bowl as quickly as possible.
When the deed was done, she flushed after herself and wearily walked to the sink to rinse her mouth and wash her face. Her reflection in the mirror was looking back at her, estimated to be fifty years old at this point.
"You're getting too old for this, you hag.", she uttered softly to her reflection and reached into the medicine cabinet above the sink for a pack with powerful stimulant tablets with very high concentrations of taurine, caffeine and other minerals essential to bring balance to her system, although the recommended dosage was one per day maximum, and washed two tablets down with two glasses of tap water.
* * *
A race against time ensued and she dressed in a new and clean uniform as she had to throw her old one in the laundry basket - it smelled of too much cheap booze. Fortunately her experience with alcohol was extensive and she knew exactly what to do to look fresh again - hydrate with water, shower and brush her teeth. She managed all of this in almost twenty minutes, though she would have done it faster if the caffeine overdose hadn't made her blood pressure too high and had to sit down for a moment in the shower. When she was done, she checked herself in front of the mirror and was relieved to find Viginia Belle's reflection looking back at her, looking about twenty-seven.
On her way out of her office, she made one more stop at the Roanoke cafeteria for another cup of coffee and hurriedly left her ship through the connecting tube and made her way to the infirmary at Fort Ramsey. Her dark glasses were still on her eyes as she still hadn't quite gotten rid of her hangover.
RE: When you see white mice - Reeves - 09-02-2022
Walking to the infirmary was quite the surreal experience. There was a definite sense of tension in the air, like something had gone horribly wrong and caused mass agitation. The scattered news terminals would show intermittent feeds of people clamoring outside the Alliance building and speculation regarding Morreti's current status. It almost seemed like a full-scale riot was about to unfold but not for the sort of reasons the mutineers might have hoped. No, the optics were very much skewed by politics and protocol, things the Xenos were not above or immune to, fallible as everything and everyone else they opposed.
Like the self professed "Liberators" of Rome that stabbed Caesar 27 times, these actions had garnered almost no sympathy. The Commander was an elected official, and evidently this assassination attempt, the success of which was currently vague, flew in the face of tradition and principle. It was widely felt that the mutineers had no legitimate cause of action with which to remove the Commander from office, hence why they brought up no petition on the matter to be determined by popular vote. They enacted a tribal and exclusive form of what was alleged as justice, but it felt like betrayal. So while this was certainly not Rome, and Morreti was by no means Caesar, he was still a man who had devoted an enormous amount of time and resources in the interests of his people, only to be betrayed by four individuals with such little regard for their fellow men that they didn't so much as even consider involving them. There was an equivalent, if not greater amount of speculation regarding the motives of the four mutineers, ranging from being quite petty to faltering allegiances. With hostilities against the technocracy still being fresh, it was alleged that misplaced sympathies were also a potential cause.
To demonize your opponent, truly a Libertonian virtue.
When Belle had finally rushed her way through Ramsey and the infirmary, the sight of an "honor" guard outside one of the many rooms hinted at where she needed to go. It was obviously that the men stationed here were less than pleased to see someone visibly hungover, but they made no comments nor did they act outwardly judgmental about it. Nobody could have seen this coming.
Like the self professed "Liberators" of Rome that stabbed Caesar 27 times, these actions had garnered almost no sympathy. The Commander was an elected official, and evidently this assassination attempt, the success of which was currently vague, flew in the face of tradition and principle. It was widely felt that the mutineers had no legitimate cause of action with which to remove the Commander from office, hence why they brought up no petition on the matter to be determined by popular vote. They enacted a tribal and exclusive form of what was alleged as justice, but it felt like betrayal. So while this was certainly not Rome, and Morreti was by no means Caesar, he was still a man who had devoted an enormous amount of time and resources in the interests of his people, only to be betrayed by four individuals with such little regard for their fellow men that they didn't so much as even consider involving them. There was an equivalent, if not greater amount of speculation regarding the motives of the four mutineers, ranging from being quite petty to faltering allegiances. With hostilities against the technocracy still being fresh, it was alleged that misplaced sympathies were also a potential cause.
To demonize your opponent, truly a Libertonian virtue.
When Belle had finally rushed her way through Ramsey and the infirmary, the sight of an "honor" guard outside one of the many rooms hinted at where she needed to go. It was obviously that the men stationed here were less than pleased to see someone visibly hungover, but they made no comments nor did they act outwardly judgmental about it. Nobody could have seen this coming.
RE: When you see white mice - Erremnart - 09-02-2022
Virginia continued through the corridors across the infirmary and stopped outside the room where Morreti lay. With a wave of her hand, she saluted the guards and knocked on the door, waiting to be let in. She still had no idea why she was here or what she was doing and her still somewhat shaking head wasn't making it any easier. She was visibly relieved, though - apparently this wasn't the guy she'd beaten up five days ago at Fort Ramsey after a heated verbal confrontation for pinching her ass in a bar.
She pushed her dark glasses higher and walked in with her clearly militaristic walk and body language. She was wearing her uniform, so she walked and acted like a soldier, regardless of the cacophony that was currently going on in her head. In the end, she didn't know how formal she should be or not, but with the number of guards that were all around, she preferred to forgo any jokes to lighten the mood, at least for now.
"Commander?", she said aloud as soon as she entered the room and looked around.
She pushed her dark glasses higher and walked in with her clearly militaristic walk and body language. She was wearing her uniform, so she walked and acted like a soldier, regardless of the cacophony that was currently going on in her head. In the end, she didn't know how formal she should be or not, but with the number of guards that were all around, she preferred to forgo any jokes to lighten the mood, at least for now.
"Commander?", she said aloud as soon as she entered the room and looked around.
RE: When you see white mice - Reeves - 09-03-2022
Two things were immediately apparent once that threshold had been crossed. The first being a pervasive smell of flowers emanating from a substantial bouquet of red and white sagatheas. Placed quite aesthetically underneath the floral arrangement was a badly cracked and scorched helmet, the orange tint a little faded from the punishment suffered. If something needed to be accredited for preserving the life of the pilot, then it was definitely that very same helmet. Which despite the extreme stress had managed to retain its seal and continue functioning, the precious seconds of life support breathing air into lungs that would have otherwise been vacant.
One of the more qualified members of the medical staff was still attending to him, being as patient as possible with the Commander's defiant attitude despite constant assertions that he should just lie down. Instead, he was seated at the edge of the bed and slowly moved his head in the direction of whoever was calling out to him. When it was clear who it was, he gestured for the person attending to him to leave and they did so promptly, needing a break to restore the patience needed to put up with his stubbornness.
On closer inspection, the left side of his face had a long bruise crossing up across his cheek, over his nose and onto his forehead, almost perfectly matching the crack on the helmet which had served to protect him. His hair was a mess and he hadn't bothered trying to tidy it for the sake of appearances, strands cluttering his forehead while others stood up in many places. His condition seemed fine otherwise, but was likely much worse to behold upon first being brought in. With the amount of equipment tidily stored in the room, it suggested surgery had been performed recently, and if a guess has to be made it must have been to resolve internal bleeding of a fairly large scale.
Abruptly, he stuck a hand out in her direction. Initially it might have seemed like a request for help in order to stand, but his palm was facing upwards and he wasn't postured in a way to reflect that intent. Since the only other person in the room with them had just left, it was clear he just wanted some sense of comfort. When he tried to speak at first, he just coughed harshly, like he must have inhaled smoke at some point which was still choking his airways even hours later. "You're going to ask why I called, aren't you? I want to say that would be a silly question to ask, knowing what you know." His chest clenched painfully while his throat burned, cursing him for the fact that he was refusing to cough and seemed to just grunt it away. "I called because I wanted to see the reason I punched the throttle until I broke it."
One of the more qualified members of the medical staff was still attending to him, being as patient as possible with the Commander's defiant attitude despite constant assertions that he should just lie down. Instead, he was seated at the edge of the bed and slowly moved his head in the direction of whoever was calling out to him. When it was clear who it was, he gestured for the person attending to him to leave and they did so promptly, needing a break to restore the patience needed to put up with his stubbornness.
On closer inspection, the left side of his face had a long bruise crossing up across his cheek, over his nose and onto his forehead, almost perfectly matching the crack on the helmet which had served to protect him. His hair was a mess and he hadn't bothered trying to tidy it for the sake of appearances, strands cluttering his forehead while others stood up in many places. His condition seemed fine otherwise, but was likely much worse to behold upon first being brought in. With the amount of equipment tidily stored in the room, it suggested surgery had been performed recently, and if a guess has to be made it must have been to resolve internal bleeding of a fairly large scale.
Abruptly, he stuck a hand out in her direction. Initially it might have seemed like a request for help in order to stand, but his palm was facing upwards and he wasn't postured in a way to reflect that intent. Since the only other person in the room with them had just left, it was clear he just wanted some sense of comfort. When he tried to speak at first, he just coughed harshly, like he must have inhaled smoke at some point which was still choking his airways even hours later. "You're going to ask why I called, aren't you? I want to say that would be a silly question to ask, knowing what you know." His chest clenched painfully while his throat burned, cursing him for the fact that he was refusing to cough and seemed to just grunt it away. "I called because I wanted to see the reason I punched the throttle until I broke it."
RE: When you see white mice - Erremnart - 09-04-2022
Virginia sighed and looked at Morreti. She reached over to the light control in the room and turned it down a few levels before the room lighting was comfortable enough for her to remove her dark glasses.
"Well... I won't lie, you look like I feel today." she added with a slight chuckle in her voice, though her eyes more than clearly betrayed a genuine concern for his health. She didn't even bother looking at the ubiquitous medical displays - she wouldn't understand them anyway.
Taking a chair in her hands, she pulled it over to Morreti's bedside and sat down heavily on it. Her movements weren't as natural as usual, despite her best efforts she would still need a day or so to fully recover from her hangover and especially the uncomfortable position she slept in at her desk - some of her muscles were still spasming despite the hot shower, and probably a few pinched nerves in her collarbone and cervical spine.
"Fill me in, tell me what actually happened. I would have expected a mutiny against the Commander in the Liberty Rogues, but not in here. This sh*t looks serious.", Virginia Belle asked him with a serious tone.
"Well... I won't lie, you look like I feel today." she added with a slight chuckle in her voice, though her eyes more than clearly betrayed a genuine concern for his health. She didn't even bother looking at the ubiquitous medical displays - she wouldn't understand them anyway.
Taking a chair in her hands, she pulled it over to Morreti's bedside and sat down heavily on it. Her movements weren't as natural as usual, despite her best efforts she would still need a day or so to fully recover from her hangover and especially the uncomfortable position she slept in at her desk - some of her muscles were still spasming despite the hot shower, and probably a few pinched nerves in her collarbone and cervical spine.
"Fill me in, tell me what actually happened. I would have expected a mutiny against the Commander in the Liberty Rogues, but not in here. This sh*t looks serious.", Virginia Belle asked him with a serious tone.
RE: When you see white mice - Reeves - 09-04-2022
The best way to explain this to her would be the simplest and most direct route, even if it ran the risk of sounding a little insensitive towards the hurt sentiments that caused all this. "I killed Vincent Abrams, or at least I thought I did, not so sure anymore. He was a friend of the Alliance but started behaving erratically and getting close to the Technocracy, of course that did nothing to mitigate his erratic behaviour. It got bad enough that the Order had reason to believe he was compromised. So a decision had to be made, and I made it. His life for the LFR."
It struck him that things felt so much simpler back then, at least in hindsight and this would cause his expression to grow distant before he caught himself reminiscing and continued talking. "My mistake was doing this in secret. I didn't tell anyone else in the Alliance who cared about him, so you can imagine they were upset to have this hidden from them. Didn't end with this though, they seem to hate every recent decision I've made and feel it's all progressively perverting the cause, almost as if the cause only belongs to them. They hate that we're dealing in drugs, they hate Knight but I can sort of see why, and they also hate you. That I wasn't willing to let slide. They did the exact same thing the people we're truly against do. Belittle what you've gone through to get here, and disregard your own personal struggles. It must be nice thinking with such narrow focus and not understanding how Nations are actually built. It takes all sorts to make a Nation. Nothing I could say was going to make them see reason. So they lashed out when they felt provoked and ran when it seemed like the job was done." Strangely, he didn't seem angry or offended by any of this. He realised that on many levels this conflict was unnecessary and it served neither of their interests, only the interests of enemies.
"They've all been disavowed now, there's no going back. Just like I might not be able to fix their grievances with me, there's no way to undo the perception everyone else has developed towards what they did. Nobody gains anything from this except for our usual enemies who might have been informed about what happened. So it's only fair that massacring them receives a more enthusiastic priority. Can't afford to look weak, can't afford to be weak" Finally he felt he'd mentioned everything there was and even addressed the course of action looking forward. But he wasn't any less uncomfortable than he was before saying all this, and in many ways it just made him feel worse and that was written all over his face.
It struck him that things felt so much simpler back then, at least in hindsight and this would cause his expression to grow distant before he caught himself reminiscing and continued talking. "My mistake was doing this in secret. I didn't tell anyone else in the Alliance who cared about him, so you can imagine they were upset to have this hidden from them. Didn't end with this though, they seem to hate every recent decision I've made and feel it's all progressively perverting the cause, almost as if the cause only belongs to them. They hate that we're dealing in drugs, they hate Knight but I can sort of see why, and they also hate you. That I wasn't willing to let slide. They did the exact same thing the people we're truly against do. Belittle what you've gone through to get here, and disregard your own personal struggles. It must be nice thinking with such narrow focus and not understanding how Nations are actually built. It takes all sorts to make a Nation. Nothing I could say was going to make them see reason. So they lashed out when they felt provoked and ran when it seemed like the job was done." Strangely, he didn't seem angry or offended by any of this. He realised that on many levels this conflict was unnecessary and it served neither of their interests, only the interests of enemies.
"They've all been disavowed now, there's no going back. Just like I might not be able to fix their grievances with me, there's no way to undo the perception everyone else has developed towards what they did. Nobody gains anything from this except for our usual enemies who might have been informed about what happened. So it's only fair that massacring them receives a more enthusiastic priority. Can't afford to look weak, can't afford to be weak" Finally he felt he'd mentioned everything there was and even addressed the course of action looking forward. But he wasn't any less uncomfortable than he was before saying all this, and in many ways it just made him feel worse and that was written all over his face.
RE: When you see white mice - Erremnart - 09-07-2022
Virginia listened quietly to his monologue and moved one of the unruly blonde strands of her hair behind her right ear.
"Mh-hm. You should have included them in the decision-making process if you're going to handle everything here democratically. Even my senior officers have caught the bug from you and want to be in on all my important decisions.", she chuckled lightly and put her left leg over the right one in order to sit more comfortably.
At the remarks about how she despised his other decisions, Virginia just waved her hand, "Damien... a lot of people hate me. Let them angrily pinch the back of an eight wire, I don't care. If I had to care about anyone who didn't like me... bhah, I wouldn't be doing anything else.".
Immediately at that, her face grew serious and she leaned closer to him, "But what will that mean for your cause, the LFR? How much has it disrupted your operations? What are you going to do now that you're out of here?", she asked, motioning with her hand towards his hospital bed and the array of machines and wires monitoring his vitals.
"Mh-hm. You should have included them in the decision-making process if you're going to handle everything here democratically. Even my senior officers have caught the bug from you and want to be in on all my important decisions.", she chuckled lightly and put her left leg over the right one in order to sit more comfortably.
At the remarks about how she despised his other decisions, Virginia just waved her hand, "Damien... a lot of people hate me. Let them angrily pinch the back of an eight wire, I don't care. If I had to care about anyone who didn't like me... bhah, I wouldn't be doing anything else.".
Immediately at that, her face grew serious and she leaned closer to him, "But what will that mean for your cause, the LFR? How much has it disrupted your operations? What are you going to do now that you're out of here?", she asked, motioning with her hand towards his hospital bed and the array of machines and wires monitoring his vitals.
RE: When You See White Mice - Reeves - 09-07-2022
When she laughed at how her senior staff were starting to fall in line with his own behavior and ideology, it prompted him to just smile and let out an amused exhale but the undeniable sense of melancholy prevented him from outright laughing. Still, there was something he felt like taking note of out loud. "You called me by my name." A trivial thing but still something that felt uncommon between them.
The question was complicated, because to some degree he wasn't sure what would really happen and how this would change anything, or even if it did change anything. From a cursory glance he'd made at the current attitudes of people in response to this, things seemed on the verge of zealous behavior and in his favor. And while this was definitely a good thing for him, zealotry rarely ever brought good tidings to causes predicated on independence. "It means we're down 4 pilots. That's an insignificant number relative to the thousands of others. The vast and overwhelming majority of people seem more angered by what the mutineers did rather than why they did it. So the integrity of the Alliance is still intact and there's been no petitions demanding my removal. I was surprised to hear that Command had more or less taken initiative the second they knew this had happened, they still are in cases where my direct oversight isn't possible. Not only has Command contacted the Order about this, but they've made sure to dispatch a unit of men to weed out any potential sympathizers the mutineers might have had, so even if this could pose a liability to operations - they aren't going to let it. As for the LFR, well she's always been a herculean dream at the end of a long and bloody tunnel. I'm a drop in that veritable ocean of a war and this changes nothing. With or without me, people will keep striving to create it for as long as Liberty isn't truly free." The reality of the LFR being able to manifest felt immensely distant, and that was almost discouraging. It evoked a sigh from him as his eyes moved across her face in an almost instinctively affectionate manner.
"I'm just going to keep doing my job. As harsh as this was it's given me perspective, couple that with the fact that some of our enemies probably think that I'm dead and that now's the time to make a move, something that we're both prepared for and hoping for them to do. It's about time we grew up as a movement." That last sentence of his was likely the most interesting and full of implications, but he'd provided no elaboration on what he meant by that. Still, it could be assumed that he meant the cause needed some kind of overhaul or restructuring, to eliminate petty divisions that result in the kind of perceptions that the mutineers had of the Roanoke, despite the shared commitment to the LFR.
Even with the genuine and natural confidence and charisma behind his words now, that sense of melancholy remained, like a dampness that had seeped into the walls of a home.
The question was complicated, because to some degree he wasn't sure what would really happen and how this would change anything, or even if it did change anything. From a cursory glance he'd made at the current attitudes of people in response to this, things seemed on the verge of zealous behavior and in his favor. And while this was definitely a good thing for him, zealotry rarely ever brought good tidings to causes predicated on independence. "It means we're down 4 pilots. That's an insignificant number relative to the thousands of others. The vast and overwhelming majority of people seem more angered by what the mutineers did rather than why they did it. So the integrity of the Alliance is still intact and there's been no petitions demanding my removal. I was surprised to hear that Command had more or less taken initiative the second they knew this had happened, they still are in cases where my direct oversight isn't possible. Not only has Command contacted the Order about this, but they've made sure to dispatch a unit of men to weed out any potential sympathizers the mutineers might have had, so even if this could pose a liability to operations - they aren't going to let it. As for the LFR, well she's always been a herculean dream at the end of a long and bloody tunnel. I'm a drop in that veritable ocean of a war and this changes nothing. With or without me, people will keep striving to create it for as long as Liberty isn't truly free." The reality of the LFR being able to manifest felt immensely distant, and that was almost discouraging. It evoked a sigh from him as his eyes moved across her face in an almost instinctively affectionate manner.
"I'm just going to keep doing my job. As harsh as this was it's given me perspective, couple that with the fact that some of our enemies probably think that I'm dead and that now's the time to make a move, something that we're both prepared for and hoping for them to do. It's about time we grew up as a movement." That last sentence of his was likely the most interesting and full of implications, but he'd provided no elaboration on what he meant by that. Still, it could be assumed that he meant the cause needed some kind of overhaul or restructuring, to eliminate petty divisions that result in the kind of perceptions that the mutineers had of the Roanoke, despite the shared commitment to the LFR.
Even with the genuine and natural confidence and charisma behind his words now, that sense of melancholy remained, like a dampness that had seeped into the walls of a home.
RE: When You See White Mice - Erremnart - 09-11-2022
After his monologue, during which he illuminated the events of the last few days and the near future regarding the LFR, Virginia just sighed and ran her left main hand through her hair. She pulled her eyebrows into a sympathetic expression and shook her head slightly, "Don't tell me this isn't a big deal. Losing a first officer, XO or whatever you call them in here - is never easy for the commander and crew, even when they betray and backstab you. I know this myself - I lost my XO immediately after taking over the ship, and while he didn't betray me - me and my crew're still missing him. It will be no different with your people.".
She paused for a moment and looked at him thoughtfully, but her fatigue from the hangover was evident, and though her face betrayed nothing, her eyes did. Her pause was short and lasted a few seconds before she continued, "You should do everything you can to make sure something like this doesn't happen again...", she held up her left index finger, "... and you should take such precautions on your side as well, be more in touch with your people, involve them more in your thought processes regarding the future. Not just threatening or telling them how to deal with traitors, but also something encouraging. About the future, about your plans, about those who are still loyal to the cause.".
She paused for a moment and looked at him thoughtfully, but her fatigue from the hangover was evident, and though her face betrayed nothing, her eyes did. Her pause was short and lasted a few seconds before she continued, "You should do everything you can to make sure something like this doesn't happen again...", she held up her left index finger, "... and you should take such precautions on your side as well, be more in touch with your people, involve them more in your thought processes regarding the future. Not just threatening or telling them how to deal with traitors, but also something encouraging. About the future, about your plans, about those who are still loyal to the cause.".
RE: When You See White Mice - Reeves - 09-11-2022
He listened intently, and to show he truly was there was an occasional nod that accompanied her advice. There really wasn't a reason to disagree with what she was telling him, and obviously the sudden departure of people would hurt the others that knew them and felt a sense of reliance and trust. "You're right. Seems like you're making a habit of it." Under the circumstances, and realizing he didn't have to pretend to be the unfeeling and never hesitating persona he used in public, a tangible sense of pain cut through those words as his voice came close to cracking.
"It's always been about the future and we take care of our own. I'm stripped of my wings for at least a month or two, and it's going to be miserable for me confined to just a station and not being able to fight. But it'll force me to be way more involved in administration, and I'll be able to micromanage things and make sure people get what they need." With a sigh and a shake of the head, he suppressed the pain that crept in, ignoring the pinch that was both emotional and physical.
But despite his best efforts, this did the opposite of help, if anything it made the sorrow in his eyes more pronounced. "I'm not going to pretend like I won't miss some of them. There's a certain kind of bond that fighting tooth and nail creates, being each other's only ward against swift death. But it's over now, and I have to live with that. I can wish for things to be different, but that won't happen, and I can't change what I've done." The room grew quiet after that become he stopped speaking and broke eye contact, focusing on nothing in particular as the silence was broken by the hum and whirring of machines. He was miserable and there was no hiding it, and it seemed like he just accepted that this was how those chapters of his life would end.
"It's always been about the future and we take care of our own. I'm stripped of my wings for at least a month or two, and it's going to be miserable for me confined to just a station and not being able to fight. But it'll force me to be way more involved in administration, and I'll be able to micromanage things and make sure people get what they need." With a sigh and a shake of the head, he suppressed the pain that crept in, ignoring the pinch that was both emotional and physical.
But despite his best efforts, this did the opposite of help, if anything it made the sorrow in his eyes more pronounced. "I'm not going to pretend like I won't miss some of them. There's a certain kind of bond that fighting tooth and nail creates, being each other's only ward against swift death. But it's over now, and I have to live with that. I can wish for things to be different, but that won't happen, and I can't change what I've done." The room grew quiet after that become he stopped speaking and broke eye contact, focusing on nothing in particular as the silence was broken by the hum and whirring of machines. He was miserable and there was no hiding it, and it seemed like he just accepted that this was how those chapters of his life would end.