Regardless of how badly Symphony often wished she had been able to join her father and brothers in the war, fight for her nation's freedom, she also knew that she was exactly where she needed to be now. Arcwood was destined to lose from the start of things, the people just refused to give up without a fight, so the war began. Ceridia had advantages in technology, weaponry, as well as soldiers actually trained in combat. Most of Arcwood's long history had been peaceful, their army more honorary than anything else.
The outcome of the war was inevitable, but now the real war was being waged, a war they could actually win. Symphony knew that the progress the resistance made felt minimal, and many Arcwood citizens had given in to Ceridian rule, but victory was possible and as long she was still breathing she would fight for it. She was determined to succeed, to see her people free once more, and she didn't care how long it took. All that mattered to her was doing her part and hoping she could make a difference.
"Maybe that's the problem," she said, hoisting herself easily into the driver's side of the van, her green hazel eyes looking straight at Spirit as she settled behind the wheel, "The fact that it's always 'you people' and 'our people', when we're all people. The only things that truly set us apart are our actions and our choices. It'll be interesting to see what yours say about you." Then Symohony shrugged, trying to not let the memories flashing through her mind to distract her.
"Besides," she said as rummaged around her bag a moment, gesturing vaguely for Spirit to take a seat, "I'm incredibly charming, I'm sure we'll get along great." Her tone was only mildly sarcastic as she concentrated on Spirit's wrist, her technological intellect taking over her focus. She fiddled with a few of her devices, most of it stuff she'd cobbled together herself, until finally she held something that looked a little like a screwdriver with a shorter head on it up to Spirit's skin.
"This might pinch," she said suddenly, and then immediately sent a tiny spark, no more powerful that a static charge really, into the skin where the tracker was located.
Creativity
Level 72
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 255
Posts: 5,904
Posted: 6/19/2022 at 8:38 PM
Post #12
It was safe to say that Elsa had gone through her fair share of painful experiences, both physical and emotional. Being restrained to a gurney as blood flowed down her cheek from the sharpnel in her eye, kicking and screaming the whole way, certainly wasn't one of her finest moments, not to mention childbirth. Still, the small shock from Cyber's device hurt more than she liked to admit. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from reacting, not wanting to appear weak in front of her new acquaintance.
Besides, the small jolt from the device was nothing compared to the realization of what, exactly, the device must've been for. There was no precision, no opening the communicator. There was simply a jolt - a shortcircuit, she assumed.
Elsa had attempted to hack the communicator herself as she travelled to the ration site, but she had always been better with hardware than software. She was hoping there was a way that the resistance worker - literally named Cyber - could do what she failed to do, and she still could, but... well. It made sense.
Except.
Now she didn't know when she'd be able to see or talk to her son again. Her reason for living, for turning her life around and rediscovering herself. Her will. Her everything. And that made her panic, just a little. She turned her head away to hide anything that might appear in her good eye, clenching her hand into a fist by her side.
He'd think she abandoned him. Or worse. He was young, only four years old, but he'd seen far more of the cruelty of the world than any four year-old should have. And she felt she was entirely to blame for that, entirely at fault, but he knew what death was, and he had spent hours cowering under her bed in fear when the soldiers she'd requested to speak with showed up at the door of the dingy little apartment she'd managed to afford.
'I wish to offer my services to the Council,' she'd told them all while her son clutched his teddy bear close to his damaged heart.
She forced her mind back to the present, swallowing past the memories that formed a lump in her throat. "Yes, incredibly charming, I'm sure," she agreed in a droll tone. "And you know, I used to be quite striking before I lost my eye. I was a different person. Perhaps back then, I might've been more susceptible to your charms, but so far, I have to admit, you've come up short."
Then she grinned and looked back at the Arcer. "So if your intention is to charm me, you're gonna have to try just a bit harder than that."
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,041
Posted: 6/28/2022 at 2:59 PM
Post #13
Having a roommate was not something Symphony had ever considered and after the last couple of days, she had decided that she hated it. Yes, perhaps there was an extra bias because the roommate in question was a potential enemy...but honestly she was pretty sure she wouldn't enjoy it under any circumstances. It wasn't that she didn't like people or socializing, though she was certainly more at home in front her a computer screen, it was simply the fact that she liked her living space to be, well, her's.
There was no denying that Spirit had so far been a perfectly polite and amiable guest, but there was no denying the fact that Symphony felt perturbed every time the Ceridian moved any of her stuff around. She bit her tongue and made no comment for the most part, no complaints, mainly because she knew this situation was of her own making. She had taken it upon herself to bring Spirit back to the abandoned building near the docks where they dropped their stolen supplies at, she had introduced Spirit to one of the heads of the resistance, and therefore Spirit was her responsibility.
We'll have to talk more about this later, Symphony remembered gruff, old Walker saying to her, She'll need to make her case to the others and setting a meeting will take time. If you wanna vouch for her that's on you, so in the meantime shes your charge...
Her charge, her responsibility, which Symphony also knew meant it was her head if anything got screwed up. For the moment, she didn't think Spirit planned to outright betray them, but it was also hard to read exactly what the Ceridian was really thinking, and that meant Symphony had to be remain on guard. Most of her resistance buddies thought that she was nuts, several were still all for putting a bullet into Spirit and dumping her off the pier, which had put a certain tension between everyone. However, the offer of information had been intriguing enough to those higher in the ranks that the other would have to wait on being able to satisfy their hatred.
The apartment in which Symphony lived was located in a mostly dilapidated building. There was no real landlord to speak of, and most of the residents were squatters. She had most of the third floor to herself, and she liked it that way. Not that she was able to be alone now that Spirit was staying with her, and it was uncomfortable to watch all her carefully cultivated clutter being peeled back one layer at a time while the Ceridian continually "tidied up" around the place. She liked the comfort of things scattered around her, and she still always knew where everything was...mostly.
"Are you sure I can't talk you into taking the bed?" Symphony asked Spirit as she emerged from the bedroom late that morning, "I'm much more comfortable sleeping on the couch." She rubbed her lower back with both hands for emphasis.
Creativity
Level 72
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 255
Posts: 5,904
Posted: 7/1/2022 at 5:09 PM
Post #14
I've got guns in my head and they won't go, spirits in my head and they won't go...
It had really only been a few days since Elsa showed up at the resistance's theft mission and offered her services to the leader of the mission, Cyber. Only a few days since she'd been presented before one of the leaders of the resistance, miraculously not shot down on the spot. Only a few days since she'd been stationed with Cyber, occupying her weary little apartment.
Only a few days since she'd lost all contact with her son.
And quite frankly, she was losing her mind.
She'd tried to fiddle with her communicator when Cyber was away or asleep, she'd used tools and random devices found around the atrocious mess, but she was an engineer, not a technologist. Hardware was her specialty, not software. For the life of her, she couldn't get the damn thing to even turn on. It was dead.
So, she tried to distract herself in the meantime. She couldn't see her son, had no idea whether he was even still alive, and her desperate attempt at sanity led her to slowly picking at Cyber's mess like it was a deposit of ore in those cursed Arcwood mines. She did bit by bit, filing away any information she found for later reference, and she observed. She cleaned and fiddled and fixed and sang to try to keep the panic at bay.
When Cyber approached her to argue, once again, their sleeping arrangement, Elsa was contorted around underneath the sink, trying to fix that aggravating leak. She'd attempted it before, but somehow, only ended up making the leak worse. She stormed away from the sink that day, cursing at it in her mother tongue. But in those two days since she last approached the issue, she'd gotten more desperate, and somehow, it seemed to be working.
"I will not be taking the bed," she reiterated to the Arcer, grunting a bit as she twisted the wrench and tightened the nut in place.
But the gun still rattles, the gun still rattles, oh...
And a big part of it was that she'd been watching Cyber. She'd been observing her. Her habits, her sleeping schedule. It was very clear that Cyber liked her mess, that it unhinged her for Elsa to be there, disrupting it, but there wasn't much else she could do.
Taking the couch was easier. Taking the couch was less noticeable should she have to leave or return in the middle of the night. She didn't quite feel like climbing through the window of Cyber's third story bedroom, having to somehow be quiet even with alcohol in her system. The couch gave her freedom, an escape. Should the door be busted down by angry Arcers, she wouldn't be boxed into a corner.
She finished with the sink and untwisted herself, grease on her cheek promptly being ignored. She cocked her head at the Arcer, an amused smile playing at one corner of her mouth. "I have to admit, this place makes me very nostalgic though. It's like cleaning up after my brothers all over again."
And I don't want a never-ending life, I just want to be alive while I'm here...
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,041
Posted: 7/10/2022 at 8:29 PM
Post #15
The majority of Symphony's life before the war had been centered around her family. Her mother, father, and both of her brothers had built a nest of comfort and safety around her, and she had loved every moment of it. She remembered the smell of her father's workshop, the sound of her mother humming in the kitchen while she cooked, and the sight of her brothers wrestling around in the backyard. She remembered the feeling of each of their embraces, all unique and wonderful in their own ways.
Most of all, though...Symphony remembered the day she had lost it all. She tried to remember the good things tried to hold onto them, but the bad stuff always had a way of creeping up and taking over her memories. Watching her father and brothers walk out the door, hacking the broadcast networks for battlefield updates, delivering the news to her mother that they had all died...it all played like a loop in her mind. It had gotten to the point where she often tried to just not think about them at all.
That was the reason Symphony like her messy apartment, because there was nothing about the clutter to remind her of her family besides photos that were stuffed in a filing cabinet of sight. Unfortunately, her new house guest seemed determined to organize said mess. Watching Spirit fix the leaky sink, on top of everything else she'd done around the place so far, was painful, but she tried to hide it.
Its a mission, Symphony reminded herself, Bringing the Rid in was your idea, and you're going to have to deal with the consequences...
She really hated that word, "Rid", but at the moment she was less concerned with bigoted slang terms and more concerned with how little sleep was getting at night.
"Yeah, well," she mumbled as she stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, "If you change your mind..." She yawned and absently rubbed at her groggy eyes.
Then Spirit said something that sent a chill straight down her spine, and Symphony felt her family memories fighting to take over her conscious mind. Brothers...well wasn't that interesting...
"I...," she began to say and then when she felt her throat tighten she inconspicuously cleared her throat, "I wish I could say the same, but my brothers were usually the ones cleaning up after me."
Creativity
Level 72
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 255
Posts: 5,904
Posted: 7/18/2022 at 3:17 PM
Post #16
"You know, Elsie, maybe you'd have a lot more time on your hands if you were just a little less high-strung," Runar teased, laying on his stomach with a taunting grin on his face.
She scoffed and casually tossed one of his dirty socks at the grin. "And maybe you'd be a lot less prone to disease if you picked up your socks every once in a while," she shot back. "I mean, seriously. You are seventeen years old."
"Yeah, and? So are you. Let it go, live a little."
"Not living in a pigsty."
"Harsh, Elsie. Harsh."
Elsa paused, blinking back into reality as the mess of her shared room with Runar turned back to the still-daunting mess of Cyber's apartment. She sighed and turned towards the no-longer-leaking sink, turning the faucet on. Maybe that was why she wasn't necessarily upset with Cyber, even with her efforts to re-dirty the parts she'd managed to tidy thus far.
She dipped a hand towel under the running water and brought it up to wipe at the grease smear still present on her cheek. "Well, I suppose they didn't do a very good job of it then," she muttered.
"Kind of feels like my lot in life sometimes, taking care of others. My brothers, my kid. At least you're not a guy, it's a nice change of pace."
"Runar, come back! Don't you die on me, you dumb brute! Halfviti! You idiot, come back!"
-
It certainly wasn't the first time Noa had waited in Councilor Dunlop's study as he entirely ignored her and instead pored over a letter on his desk, and she was sure it wasn't going to be the last, either. He let out a low, thoughtful groan and scratched the stubble on his jaw as she picked at the nails on her left hand and tried to pretend that it wasn't the fifth time he'd done that in the last ten minutes.
Truthfully, she wasn't even that upset. At least she was back home in Ceridia, after being stationed in the embassy at Arcwood for the past five years since the war ended. She was tired of the same decaying red walls, the same moth-eaten couches. It was the nicest building in Arcwood, and yet it still looked like it hadn't been given any genuine care in decades.
She bit back a sigh and adjusted the fingerless glove on her hand, unsure of who, or what exactly they were waiting for.
Councilor Dunlop wasn't her favorite. Granted, he wasn't her least favorite on the council, either. He was somewhere in the middle - a despicable man with a despicable daughter, yes, but every councilor was despicable. That's how they became councilors.
Dunlop had been the first one to endorse her for the position of General of the Military. It was no small title, one that she bore proudly. Part of her wanted to make a crack about how they'd been waiting so long, it was a wonder that Ceridia hadn't engaged in another war in the meantime.
It had been five years since the last war, the longest dry spell in Noa's memory.
But, well. The Council had its hands full trying to figure out Tukerium.
Regardless, she thought the joke must be in poor taste. After all, Ceridia didn't engage in war for the sake of war - it did it for progress, for improvement. To help the lesser nations ascend to its level. Just like they'd done with her nation of birth. Never would she have been able to ascend to this position of power back in Aclea.
Creativity
Level 72
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 255
Posts: 5,904
Posted: 11/19/2022 at 2:24 AM
Post #17
Keeping this from getting locked
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