Disclaimer: I do not own Advance Wars! (I own a cartridge of both games,
though ^_^;;) All AW characters belong to their respective companies. All
original characters belong to me.
Authoress' note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! ^_^ I apologize profusely for the VERY long hiatus—this school year has been a complete nightmare for me, with loads of work, and many other nuisances. But, as the year winds down, the Fanfiction will become more prolific. Again, I apologize.
To Mend a Broken Wing
Chapter 2:
Dreamweaver
Dammit.
Another night of restless sleep, augmented nicely with nightmares. I don't think I'll ever sleep peacefully again. But I guess that comes with the kind of life I lead. My hands are drenched in unholy blood, and my heart is drenched with unrequited tears. I'm one fucked up little girl, and this is the way that the fates bring that fact to my attention.
I guess I'm getting used to it.
It used to bother me much more than this. Way back at the beginning of the war. When I hadn't truly experienced battle.
I'm glad there's a lull in the war for many reasons...though I regret being on the battlefield. When you sleep near the front, the sounds of battle at least drown the screams of your nightmares. For some reason, I sleep better there. Maybe it's because it's where I feel most at home. But, since the angst between the countries has died down, and Black Hole has had it's tail forcefully stuck between it's legs, and disappeared from the world stage for a short time, I have to find my home elsewhere.
I've found it at a local bar here in GE. A place called the "Rusty Falcon". It's funny to be called that, and be right next to the Air Force base. Many a time I have found myself laughing at this certain point.
Everyone who comes here is some sort of combat veteran. Every night I hear a myriad of cockamamie stories from different battles, some more believable than others. It's mostly old seasoned GE vets– (I don't truly think I could call myself one of these yet, I guess when I become old and senile like they are, I could finally do so) but there are some from the other countries. They are the truly interesting ones.
Isis Valentine, for starters. She, a strange, and hardened girl from Orange Star, had a wonderfully rough beauty to her. She was one of Max's 'Tank Girls' (a nickname we gave his female soldiers), and her face and arms showed it. She was very well built, and her face was covered with small scratches and scars, obviously from the shell fire and other damage done to the tank while she was in it. She didn't say much, but I did find out from her once that she left Orange Star because she was fed up with the fighting, and wanted to try to find a new life. The wars were taking too much of a toll on her essence. But, that soon fell through– she began to miss the excitement and ecstasy she felt servicing and operating the "Instruments of Holy Wrath" as she put them. She now works for Jess, fixing the vehicles, and her beloved tanks.
Mayumi Katsuya was another strange case, hailing from Yellow Comet. She had seen some of the worst parts of the war, and hadn't even participated in one battle. She was a medic, working at one of the emergency aid outposts near the YC battlefields. She'd tell us the stories– people coming in with something as small as a fractured finger or hand, to something as grandiose as a leg that had been blown almost completely off by artillery, and was just hanging on by a scant few sinews. She'd watched people fight for their lives and make it, and also fail. It was always a sad sight, when there was nothing they could do, except let a patient slowly drift into the arms of God. She was relieved, though, that they could at least lessen the pain somewhat with drugs. That way, even though they were dying, it would be a little less difficult on them. Her face was care-worn, and marked with a thousand sorrows for those she saw die. I could tell she was getting accustomed to it, but I could also tell there was something in her that could never adjust to seeing a human life be extinguished in such a tragic way. She'd often sit in the corner, staring off into space, a stray tear sometimes escaping down her face. Everyone just assumed she was having a flashback. I believed there may be something more, but I didn't want to ask her. She seemed to already have enough troubles as it was. There were a million things I wanted to ask her; like why she was in the wars in the first place, and how she eventually ended here in GE. Someday, I will ask her these things, but for now, I'll just sit in quiet awe of this woman, whom after everything she's witnessed, still has a compassionate soul.
It's more than I have.
Lastly, was a couple that always brought strange stares. Madoushi and Saturos Tanjiri, two fugitives of Black Hole. They'd escaped to Green Earth to evade Sturm's horrid regime. Both seemed to also be of Comet descent, but had always lived on Black Hole isle. They fit each other well. Madoushi, pale and willowy, with most of her body framed by a river of black hair that gushed forth from her scalp, swarthy and mysterious. But the most memorable thing about her, was her eyes. They were a startling blue, which heavily contrasted her snowy complexion, and almost anorexic form. Her eyes seemed to have the strength that the rest of her body heavily lacked. She looked as if something was sapping the very life from every part of her, except her eyes. She spoke with a quiet eloquence, that held, intriguingly a spark of hope, that was smothered by well-cultivated timidity. She was no stranger to the darkness the world held– She had walked within it daily.
Saturos, her counterpart, looked much like Madoushi, in physical form and stature, except for the obvious. He was slender, and pale, with a beautiful silken mane of dark blue, coming down to his shoulders. His eyes were also strikingly bright, again shimmering with the strength his body didn't possess. He was going to be "drafted" into the Black Hole Armed Forces for the knowledge and skill he exhibited with different firearms. Mainly, Sturm just wanted his expertise, and was going to exploit it in any way he could, even if he just had to kill Saturos, and harvest his blood to make more of those deplorable clones, like he did with the Orange Star CO, Andy.
But, miraculously, he caught wind of this horrid endeavor (though we don't know how, and haven't asked) and alerted Madoushi, after which the two of them made a harrowing escape to the mainland of Green Earth. Again, this was by some God-given providence; a very lucky slip past the martial law that is in-place everywhere in Black Hole, finally reaching the coast, and finding an abandoned Black Hole boat that had somehow survived the naval assaults—THEN getting it actually to Green Earth without getting killed. It was a feat we all were in awe at, though none of us truly had the balls to say much of anything to the couple from the abhorred country, save the mundane pleasantries every person spouts. They don't seem to care; they hold themselves with a dignity that seems interminable. It's the kind of dignity that everyone wishes to have, but not many truly achieve. I guess you have to experience almost biblical hardships to attain it. These two surely had.
In the midst of this motley crew of characters, I find myself feeling right at home. Here, I never worry about any of the crap I worry about on the base. No-one here cares about my appearance, my tone..my words....
...my hidden emotions...
I let all be seen here. I'm sure some of them know that I'm in love with someone...someone whom, due to great barriers, I can never hope to have..and yet, due to some unspoken law of respect, they never once have asked me about it.
I wish some of my 'contemporaries' on the base would pick up on this idea....
All in all, I love this place. It's comfortable, almost careless attitude brings a strange solace to one like me. This is the one haven I have away from the base, the one place I can drop the facade I habitually wear while I'm anywhere on military property.
Or at least I thought I could....
This night was different than all the others...It had began normally, with all of the usual crowd filing in at intervals, getting a drink, and settling down. I had been in the middle of a talk with Isis, when the door creaked open, and everyone habitually turned their eyes up at the newcomer.
I didn't bother to turn my head, until Isis' eyes went wide. She nudged me, and I then turned toward the door. My face blanched at what I saw, and my eyes, like everyone else's, widened pretty far. But, unlike everyone else, a net of poisonous butterflies released themselves inside my stomach, at the very image that walked through the door.
Someone I never thought would ever come here, was standing there. Someone, though I respect, I also fear. Him.
Eagle.
*********
Thank you for reading, and again, sorry for the horrendously long time it took to update. I will be turning these out more often now, due to the fact of Summer Vacation. Thanks everyone.
-Mai-
Authoress' note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! ^_^ I apologize profusely for the VERY long hiatus—this school year has been a complete nightmare for me, with loads of work, and many other nuisances. But, as the year winds down, the Fanfiction will become more prolific. Again, I apologize.
To Mend a Broken Wing
Chapter 2:
Dreamweaver
Dammit.
Another night of restless sleep, augmented nicely with nightmares. I don't think I'll ever sleep peacefully again. But I guess that comes with the kind of life I lead. My hands are drenched in unholy blood, and my heart is drenched with unrequited tears. I'm one fucked up little girl, and this is the way that the fates bring that fact to my attention.
I guess I'm getting used to it.
It used to bother me much more than this. Way back at the beginning of the war. When I hadn't truly experienced battle.
I'm glad there's a lull in the war for many reasons...though I regret being on the battlefield. When you sleep near the front, the sounds of battle at least drown the screams of your nightmares. For some reason, I sleep better there. Maybe it's because it's where I feel most at home. But, since the angst between the countries has died down, and Black Hole has had it's tail forcefully stuck between it's legs, and disappeared from the world stage for a short time, I have to find my home elsewhere.
I've found it at a local bar here in GE. A place called the "Rusty Falcon". It's funny to be called that, and be right next to the Air Force base. Many a time I have found myself laughing at this certain point.
Everyone who comes here is some sort of combat veteran. Every night I hear a myriad of cockamamie stories from different battles, some more believable than others. It's mostly old seasoned GE vets– (I don't truly think I could call myself one of these yet, I guess when I become old and senile like they are, I could finally do so) but there are some from the other countries. They are the truly interesting ones.
Isis Valentine, for starters. She, a strange, and hardened girl from Orange Star, had a wonderfully rough beauty to her. She was one of Max's 'Tank Girls' (a nickname we gave his female soldiers), and her face and arms showed it. She was very well built, and her face was covered with small scratches and scars, obviously from the shell fire and other damage done to the tank while she was in it. She didn't say much, but I did find out from her once that she left Orange Star because she was fed up with the fighting, and wanted to try to find a new life. The wars were taking too much of a toll on her essence. But, that soon fell through– she began to miss the excitement and ecstasy she felt servicing and operating the "Instruments of Holy Wrath" as she put them. She now works for Jess, fixing the vehicles, and her beloved tanks.
Mayumi Katsuya was another strange case, hailing from Yellow Comet. She had seen some of the worst parts of the war, and hadn't even participated in one battle. She was a medic, working at one of the emergency aid outposts near the YC battlefields. She'd tell us the stories– people coming in with something as small as a fractured finger or hand, to something as grandiose as a leg that had been blown almost completely off by artillery, and was just hanging on by a scant few sinews. She'd watched people fight for their lives and make it, and also fail. It was always a sad sight, when there was nothing they could do, except let a patient slowly drift into the arms of God. She was relieved, though, that they could at least lessen the pain somewhat with drugs. That way, even though they were dying, it would be a little less difficult on them. Her face was care-worn, and marked with a thousand sorrows for those she saw die. I could tell she was getting accustomed to it, but I could also tell there was something in her that could never adjust to seeing a human life be extinguished in such a tragic way. She'd often sit in the corner, staring off into space, a stray tear sometimes escaping down her face. Everyone just assumed she was having a flashback. I believed there may be something more, but I didn't want to ask her. She seemed to already have enough troubles as it was. There were a million things I wanted to ask her; like why she was in the wars in the first place, and how she eventually ended here in GE. Someday, I will ask her these things, but for now, I'll just sit in quiet awe of this woman, whom after everything she's witnessed, still has a compassionate soul.
It's more than I have.
Lastly, was a couple that always brought strange stares. Madoushi and Saturos Tanjiri, two fugitives of Black Hole. They'd escaped to Green Earth to evade Sturm's horrid regime. Both seemed to also be of Comet descent, but had always lived on Black Hole isle. They fit each other well. Madoushi, pale and willowy, with most of her body framed by a river of black hair that gushed forth from her scalp, swarthy and mysterious. But the most memorable thing about her, was her eyes. They were a startling blue, which heavily contrasted her snowy complexion, and almost anorexic form. Her eyes seemed to have the strength that the rest of her body heavily lacked. She looked as if something was sapping the very life from every part of her, except her eyes. She spoke with a quiet eloquence, that held, intriguingly a spark of hope, that was smothered by well-cultivated timidity. She was no stranger to the darkness the world held– She had walked within it daily.
Saturos, her counterpart, looked much like Madoushi, in physical form and stature, except for the obvious. He was slender, and pale, with a beautiful silken mane of dark blue, coming down to his shoulders. His eyes were also strikingly bright, again shimmering with the strength his body didn't possess. He was going to be "drafted" into the Black Hole Armed Forces for the knowledge and skill he exhibited with different firearms. Mainly, Sturm just wanted his expertise, and was going to exploit it in any way he could, even if he just had to kill Saturos, and harvest his blood to make more of those deplorable clones, like he did with the Orange Star CO, Andy.
But, miraculously, he caught wind of this horrid endeavor (though we don't know how, and haven't asked) and alerted Madoushi, after which the two of them made a harrowing escape to the mainland of Green Earth. Again, this was by some God-given providence; a very lucky slip past the martial law that is in-place everywhere in Black Hole, finally reaching the coast, and finding an abandoned Black Hole boat that had somehow survived the naval assaults—THEN getting it actually to Green Earth without getting killed. It was a feat we all were in awe at, though none of us truly had the balls to say much of anything to the couple from the abhorred country, save the mundane pleasantries every person spouts. They don't seem to care; they hold themselves with a dignity that seems interminable. It's the kind of dignity that everyone wishes to have, but not many truly achieve. I guess you have to experience almost biblical hardships to attain it. These two surely had.
In the midst of this motley crew of characters, I find myself feeling right at home. Here, I never worry about any of the crap I worry about on the base. No-one here cares about my appearance, my tone..my words....
...my hidden emotions...
I let all be seen here. I'm sure some of them know that I'm in love with someone...someone whom, due to great barriers, I can never hope to have..and yet, due to some unspoken law of respect, they never once have asked me about it.
I wish some of my 'contemporaries' on the base would pick up on this idea....
All in all, I love this place. It's comfortable, almost careless attitude brings a strange solace to one like me. This is the one haven I have away from the base, the one place I can drop the facade I habitually wear while I'm anywhere on military property.
Or at least I thought I could....
This night was different than all the others...It had began normally, with all of the usual crowd filing in at intervals, getting a drink, and settling down. I had been in the middle of a talk with Isis, when the door creaked open, and everyone habitually turned their eyes up at the newcomer.
I didn't bother to turn my head, until Isis' eyes went wide. She nudged me, and I then turned toward the door. My face blanched at what I saw, and my eyes, like everyone else's, widened pretty far. But, unlike everyone else, a net of poisonous butterflies released themselves inside my stomach, at the very image that walked through the door.
Someone I never thought would ever come here, was standing there. Someone, though I respect, I also fear. Him.
Eagle.
*********
Thank you for reading, and again, sorry for the horrendously long time it took to update. I will be turning these out more often now, due to the fact of Summer Vacation. Thanks everyone.
-Mai-