The Drill Sergeant led another group of recruits into the barrack, told us how to make our beds and arrange our lockers in painstaking detail, and informed us our bunkmates would be our 'battle buddy' for the duration of basic training before leaving us to our own devices. Thinking that I would make amends with the Scarlatina boy, I went to confront him, but as soon as the DS had left us alone he had squirrelled into his cot, facing away from me.
Sighing, I went to sit down on my bed and reflect on the events of the day, but quickly found myself the centre of a gathering of very, very talkative people.
"Argent doesn't seem so bad." One commented optimistically to the group: a blue-haired girl - Azure I think she had been called.
"Oh please, he's a total asshole. I'm sure he'll be laughing his ass off when he has us running laps across base." Another responded - this one a nonchalant looking man with dark features.
The debate about our instructor continued for a few moments, showcasing a colourful range of opinions, before the blue girl interjected with a suggestion.
"Well - seeing as we're all in the same boat here, shouldn't we all get to know each other?" She ventured, seeking the attention of the group and being rewarded with several nods and affirmations, to my minor dismay.
"Right! Well, I'm Afina Azure. I'm from Patch and I love to surf!" She started happily. "Not that Atlas is that great for it though…" she tailed off in a somewhat dejected manner. She was good-looking by all accounts: possessing a rounded face with tanned skin and good definition, and her hair was tied back into a short ponytail.
The nonchalant man spoke next. "No shit. I'm Char Coal." He said flatly. "Mantle born and raised - and I'm a damn fine artist too." He stated the last bit with a hint of pride. He had sharp, angular features, dark skin, and a finely done taper-fade with line art on the sides, giving him a striking and powerful look.
I tuned out most of the other introductions, trying in vain to note the names and faces I would inevitably forget and relearn in a manner both discrete and painfully awkward. Eventually the focus of the group came to me, despite my attempts to not engage with the discussion, and I felt compelled to give away something, lest I alienate more of the fellow recruits I was to spend the next few weeks with.
"Dunn. Sorrel Dunn." I stated simply. The group looked at me, as if expecting me to continue expositing personal history or character - but I said nothing more. For what was there to say? Such things were mysteries even to my own self.
Eventually, another took the opportunity to give their own introduction, taking the spotlight away from myself, and I once again found myself retreating into my own mind as the conversation moved toward home and history. Fortunately, it was not long before many of our troop-to-be grew tired and retired to their bunks, leaving in their wake a relative peace and calm that allowed me to slip into a restful slumber.
A girl stood before me: her figure slight and her hair a fair autumn brown, complimenting nicely her sun-kissed skin and allowing her sparkling green eyes to pop and shine. She was beautiful - not in the way that inspired desire but the way that made her seem almost ethereal; a creature wholly at odds with her surroundings: a cramped and living-room, filled with stale air and home to an awful buzzing coming from the dodgy old lighting.
"It's been a while, huh?" Her voice was soft and angelic to my ears. A familiar melody.
"Too long. I've missed you." The words came out of my mouth whether I willed them to or not.
She giggled softly, raising a frail hand to her mouth to stymy her laughter. "And here I thought you were actually enjoying your life in the city…"
"I am! It's good, really. But it doesn't stop me from worrying about you."
"I'm not going to keel over and die if you're not around for a few weeks. Even if this place is a shithole and Dad is still… you know.." She shook her head with a sarcastic smile, resting her small hands in the pockets of her grey hoodie.
"I know." I said quietly, a tired smile gracing my face as I sat down on the sofa and let the tension drain from my body.
She followed suit, swinging her legs up to rest them on my knees as she lay down, occupying most of the couch. She looked at me with an odd sincerity.
"Want to watch something?" I asked. "There's this movie my friends have been talking about for a while-" She grabbed my arm as I went to reach for the TV remote on the coffee table.
"You remember what you promised?" She stared into my eyes expectantly.
"Yeah - you can move out with me when I get my own place." I replied, slightly concerned.
She sighed, and melted further into the sofa until she looked wholly at ease. She looked up at the ceiling as she spoke. "Honestly, I'm not sure how much longer I can take living in this god-forsaken place. These three years can't go soon enough."
She must have felt my worry spike as she spoke before I could interject. "Don't. I chose this. We'll be better off for it after everything." She said, tiredly.
"I can drop out -"
"And what? We'd be trading one prison for another: we'd never make enough to move somewhere decent." She spoke with annoyance, letting the words hang in the air for a while before rubbing her forehead. "Sorry. I know you're only trying to be considerate." She said, barely a whisper.
"I-" I barely even started speaking before I was interrupted.
"Shut up. Let's watch the stupid movie." She muttered with no real malice, avoiding eye contact, but there was a small smile on her face.
And that was good enough for me.
"Rise and shine cadets!" I was wrenched from my dream by a booming baritone that could only belong to the Drill Sergeant Argent. I staggered to my feet in a daze, and before I had gotten my bearings fully we were putting on PT uniforms and following our instructor into the grim, frosty outdoors. It was still dark outside, and the cold bit at my skin all the while we jogged to the track area on base.
Instructors seemed to swarm on to the track from every direction, shouting equal parts abuse and encouragement to motivate the troop to work harder, all the while they set what was, quite frankly, an impressive pace for the amount they were yelling.
But I wasn't just built strong, I was well-conditioned, and I fell into a rhythm behind one of the instructors, passing and weaving between many of the troop members alongside him as if we were starting from the middle of a park-run. I made sure to keep in his blind-spot, lest I encourage him to push the pace further and earn the ire of my comrades.
It was on the seventh lap of the track that I noticed my bunkmate flagging, having slowed down to what was by all accounts a mild jog, that seemed to take extraordinary effort from the boy. I debated internally on a course of action, before settling on slowing down my pace to match his own: a course of action that did not go unnoticed by Scarlatina.
He made to speak but I beat him to it. "Shut up. Focus on controlling your breathing - breathe deep and through the stomach." I said, between semi-laboured breaths.
I cast a glance at him, and though he looked incensed, he did not speak back, and I could see his breathing become more controlled. Seeing this as a good sign, I went to offer some more advice. "Your weight needs to be further forward - make sure you're landing on the balls of your feet and not your heels." He complied, and while still a bit awkward and rigid it was looking far more like a proper run. "Don't look too far ahead: stare at the ground twenty feet ahead of you." I watched as he lowered his vision, and it seemed to help his posture a bit too. "Don't think about the whole thing, break it down into segments. We're more than halfway through this lap." If that last piece of advice helped him, he didn't show it: he kept looking forward, and it may have been my imagination but it felt like the pace had picked up ever so slightly.
I kept by his side until they called us to stop. He doubled over almost immediately with his hands on his knees, and his breathing began to slow - it was a few more seconds before he met my gaze, and I could not decipher with which emotion it was infused. I did not have much longer to think about it, as I heard the instructors ushering us toward the canteen for breakfast, and he stepped past me to follow the crowd.
"Ungrateful bastard, ain't he?" The low voice of Char piped up from behind me. "I saw you lapping us earlier, but you stayed behind to help him out."
"Don't think too badly of him." He walked up beside me. I pissed him off pretty bad when we first met."
"That would explain it." He sighed, starting to follow the crowd, and I matched him. "Mean pair of lungs you've got: where'd you learn to run so good?"
"I did cross-country in school." The words came out of my mouth before I had intelligently processed the question, and they did so with such familiarity that I took them to be the truth.
"Damn. Don't imagine art-club will be helping me out that much."
I gave his shoulder a nudge. "Chin up. Maybe you can draw Argent a flattering portrait to get him off our backs." It wasn't my best work, but it earned a chuckle from the normally collected man.
"I think he'd just give us extra PT." He said, smiling as we entered the canteen building.
"Probably." I replied flatly as we joined the queue for food.
Breakfast was a grand affair - the selection included toast, hash-browns, pork sausage and beans, with a cup of Atlesian Black on the side. The servers were efficient, and it was not long before we had filled our trays to capacity and were faced with the dilemma of where to sit.
Our indecision was short-lived however, as Afina waved to us from a mostly-empty table. She was sat next to Scarlatina, who looked displeased but oddly tolerant of the attention. It seemed that she was making an effort to get to know everyone in the troop.
I shared a glance with Char, and we both went to sit down next to them. Afina smiled as I took a seat next to her, and my battle-buddy did not immediately meet my gaze.
"Hey you two! Have you met Cedar?" She addressed us energetically. I blinked - so that was his name.
"I'm Char." He introduced himself with a friendly nod.
"We're acquainted." I spoke neutrally, taking a sip of coffee. God, it was grim.
"Yeah…" He started in a low voice, and for a moment I thought he was going to bite my head off again "Sorrel, right?" He said surprisingly amicably. I blinked. I suppose he must have been listening to our introductions earlier.
I nodded in affirmation, before taking a bite of my food. Afina giggled at the display, before speaking. "I've gotta say, I didn't expect such a feast - thought the military would be a bit more frugal."
"Soldiers burn a lot of calories." I stated simply.
Char nodded, before continuing. "And Atlas does well by its troops, if nothing else."
"Well, you won't catch me complaining." She shrugged, taking a bite of her own food. " And neither will Cedar by the looks of things." Afina continued, smiling coyly.
Cedar, for his part, looked a little admonished. He had been wolfing down his meal at a prodigious pace, and was nearly halfway finished while the rest of us had barely started to eat "Fuck do you want me to do, not eat? It's good."
Something about the sight brought a smile to my face. "Don't stop on our account. You could stand to put on some muscle." I jabbed good-naturedly. Though if he did keep us this pace, it wouldn't be long before he'd no longer be the runt of the troop.
Everyone chuckled at that, and Cedar rolled his eyes before continuing to eat as he had before. We talked a little while about this and that as we ate, and before long we had all finished. We hadn't yet been called away, so we continued to chat amongst ourselves.
"So, you three all came from Vale, right?" Char asked us all, and we nodded in assent. "You two seem to speak Atlesian pretty natively though." He continued, addressing Cedar and I.
Ah. This was a difficult subject to navigate for me due to my limited time in Remnant, though given English is my primary language I should probably claim to come from a land that speaks it.
Cedar spoke first, and I was grateful for the extra time to think. "Yeah, well I grew up in Mantle." He explained. "Family moved to Vale when I was young but I kept the accent."
"Lot of folks went that way. What with the depression and all." Char stated offhandedly, but the information was new to me. Had Mantle been through economic troubles recently? As soon as the thought had crossed my mind it vacated it, as I noticed that Char was now looking expectantly at me.
"I grew up in Mantle. Studied in Atlas for a bit, but I ended up dropping out." I went with. Claiming to be from Atlas proper would be strange as I lacked the mannerisms of the upper crust, but I did speak the language correctly, unlike some of the Mantlean dialect I had heard. And I was a student, after all: that much I remember.
"So why were you in Vale?" Ah, balls.
"I was visiting my sister." I say sheepishly. A weak answer, but he had no reason to be suspicious.
He wouldn't get the chance to question me any further as instructors flooded the mess hall, cutting our conversation short with their shouting and we were ushered to the next part of our military education:
Weapons training.
Canon characters soon. I promise.