"Something has got to be done," Erin announced to the air.
The Raptor Army Commander paced up and down the cramped confines of her quarters, curling her hands into tight little fists. "Stupid little bastard," she spat, this time directing her animosity to the battered green locker tucked into one corner. (Just for the record, it did look rather vicious.)
"Are you /trying/ to make my life a living hell?" Erin demanded of the locker. "Oh, right, how could I forget, it already /is/ that."
The locker remained silent.
"It's not like I haven't had a number of strange soldiers to suffer through in my day," the girl continued, voice growing more strained and taut. "Storma mistook my lap for a seat, Kram managed to lose both his uniform and sanity during practice, Octavian played creepy worshipper... and there have plenty more where those came from, if not actually /my/ soldiers..."
Erin opened her fists, letting tired fingers find their way to her temples. Gold-lashed eyelids slid closed; pale-orange hair hung limply on her neck, one stray tendrils spiraling in a lazy curl.
Eyes snapped back open, fists re-clenched and stabbed at the offending piece of decor. Erin swore and recoiled back, cradling the injured appendage gently. She glared at the locker, still failing to notice it wasn't the object of her rage.
"I'd kick you, if it wouldn't hurt my foot, you bastard... obviously denying me anything /resembling/ respect isn't enough for you! Gotta bite my commander's patch off and spit it into the goddamn recycling bin... And now my fist..." The commander slowly trailed off, staring at the locker. "...Oh, my.."
"I'm talking to - I'm /attacking/ my locker... gods, help me. Edain told me this army would break me, and well... just /look/ at me." Erin let her fists fall to her sides and dropped to the floor beside the locker. She leaned back against the bed and opened the locker, pulling out the ripped sleeve of a black and gold uniform. "Phoenix." The word felt both strange and intimately familiar on her tongue. "If I had heeded Edain, I could still be in my beloved Phoenix. Those carefree days are gone forever." Erin chuckled suddenly, the irony striking her as funny in some twisted way.
Those words, although realized long ago, stung her ears. Her days in Phoenix may have had their grievances as well, but at least then there was time to sneak into the Chem Supply Room with Astra and dye their hair orange - as well as a few peers' hair. Cedion had resisted so stubbornly that when he escaped, he left his sleeve in Erin's clutches. And now he was gone; iced after attacking his dearest friend; his /brother/.
Erin shook her head. "I should have known. This army turned Ethan into a recluse and drove Ced to attack Davan... what made me think I could succeed where they failed? You're a foolish child, Erin. It's time to push aside this self pity.... Something has got to be done about Ominae."
The Raptor Army Commander paced up and down the cramped confines of her quarters, curling her hands into tight little fists. "Stupid little bastard," she spat, this time directing her animosity to the battered green locker tucked into one corner. (Just for the record, it did look rather vicious.)
"Are you /trying/ to make my life a living hell?" Erin demanded of the locker. "Oh, right, how could I forget, it already /is/ that."
The locker remained silent.
"It's not like I haven't had a number of strange soldiers to suffer through in my day," the girl continued, voice growing more strained and taut. "Storma mistook my lap for a seat, Kram managed to lose both his uniform and sanity during practice, Octavian played creepy worshipper... and there have plenty more where those came from, if not actually /my/ soldiers..."
Erin opened her fists, letting tired fingers find their way to her temples. Gold-lashed eyelids slid closed; pale-orange hair hung limply on her neck, one stray tendrils spiraling in a lazy curl.
Eyes snapped back open, fists re-clenched and stabbed at the offending piece of decor. Erin swore and recoiled back, cradling the injured appendage gently. She glared at the locker, still failing to notice it wasn't the object of her rage.
"I'd kick you, if it wouldn't hurt my foot, you bastard... obviously denying me anything /resembling/ respect isn't enough for you! Gotta bite my commander's patch off and spit it into the goddamn recycling bin... And now my fist..." The commander slowly trailed off, staring at the locker. "...Oh, my.."
"I'm talking to - I'm /attacking/ my locker... gods, help me. Edain told me this army would break me, and well... just /look/ at me." Erin let her fists fall to her sides and dropped to the floor beside the locker. She leaned back against the bed and opened the locker, pulling out the ripped sleeve of a black and gold uniform. "Phoenix." The word felt both strange and intimately familiar on her tongue. "If I had heeded Edain, I could still be in my beloved Phoenix. Those carefree days are gone forever." Erin chuckled suddenly, the irony striking her as funny in some twisted way.
Those words, although realized long ago, stung her ears. Her days in Phoenix may have had their grievances as well, but at least then there was time to sneak into the Chem Supply Room with Astra and dye their hair orange - as well as a few peers' hair. Cedion had resisted so stubbornly that when he escaped, he left his sleeve in Erin's clutches. And now he was gone; iced after attacking his dearest friend; his /brother/.
Erin shook her head. "I should have known. This army turned Ethan into a recluse and drove Ced to attack Davan... what made me think I could succeed where they failed? You're a foolish child, Erin. It's time to push aside this self pity.... Something has got to be done about Ominae."