![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aguu A/N: Well, it has been awhile, hasn't it?
________________________________
Adrian popped two pills into his mouth, choosing to chew on them instead of taking a swig of water. Rosenrot was peaceful in the early morning, before students and children decided to sully it with noise. The bitter flavor of the drug distracted him from the yelling and screaming going on in his head, and once he swallowed, it was gone.
Momentary relief.
*She* wasn't here yet, which was a blessing. He was walking leisurely when he thought he saw a glimmer of white standing on top of the stage, the place where the senior council and the officers stood on Thursdays for flag ceremony. Blinking his evergreen eyes he saw Garand, wearing a white jacket. "Garand!" He called out, just to make sure.
The Spanish-Filipino officer glanced round and saw the foxfur head in the distance and nodded. "Come here!" It wasn't an order, and it wasn't a request. It was a mixture of both, and in a way, Adrian admired Miguel, because he always looked like he was in control.
Control. The word echoed in his head, bouncing around like a ship tossed between crashing waves.
Though it had been years ago, Adrian could still recall the most important thing that his godfather had said.
"Control," he had muttered in a voice that could freeze hell. It had certainly frozen his Godfather's heart. If he had been a normal child, he would have tried to run away as soon as he possibly had the chance, perhaps back to his parents.
But you can't, the voice in his head said mockingly. They're dead. Just like the first one you had to kill.
If they're dead, he had shot back, invisibly, silently, in fear that his Godfather would think he was crazy. Why are they still screaming?
Going to Rosenrot made no difference. A job was still a job, albeit a humiliatingly simple one. Scouting for new recruits was something he had to do while still learning how to shoot a gun.
"Hey, Adrian? Nagant? Nagant!" Garand's sharp voice brought him back to the covered court. "Sorry sir, I spaced out for a minute there...what were you saying?"
"Today is the first day you'll be working with Elizabeth." A muffled groan.
"Oh, come on. You'd think that I was sending you to be tortured."
"Being with her is torture, Miguel. All those people staring, asking odd questions--it's like they think that I'm, I don't know, I actually like her?" Nagant ran a hand through his hair, wanting to do something with his hands. His superior's eyes turned towards him in mock surprise.
"Maybe because you're always close to her? This school works highly on being judgemental, no matter what anyone else may say."
"I don't like her. I was assigned to be with her, by you. I'm just following orders."
"Yes, but no one ever mentioned that you had to be with her even outside school hours. Or before and after Thursday."
"Hn." Adrian thought it was appropriate to end the conversation. They stood side by side, silent for awhile, until Garand called out for the batch to come. "Position." Garand whispered before counting. Skittering to the side, he jumped offstage and adjusted his bib, and with one last clomp of Nagant's boots, Garand took a deep breath and started to shout.
"LIPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! SA! WA! LO!..."
It still sent shivers up Adrian Nagant's spine, and he knew it was coming. Footsteps, shouts of "It's time!", "Oh shi--" and "Hurry up or we'll all have to squat!" echoed throughout the covered courts, students all clad in baby-blue uniforms clomped in their leather shoes and took their places in front of the stage, their right arms raised to the other's shoulder.
Garand checked and saw that slowly, they were spacing out like chocolates in a box.
While Garand and Nagant didn't see the rest of the officers, they certainly heard them.
"DIDN'T YOU HEAR HIM? HE SAID HURRY UP, GET TO YOUR POSITIONS!" Sten's voice rang out strong.
More clomping, more nervous shouts and murmurs. Some students who looked like they didn't want to be there walked slowly, and more than half of the batch swore under their breaths.
"QUIET! NO TALKING!" Nagant looked at the nearest section, and he could see some girls straining to look at him.
"Stop looking at Sir Nagant!" Luger called to his section, C.
"PAT! MA!..."
"OH FU--MY FOOT IS STUCK!" Winchester's voice.
"Here, I'll help you!--ew, it really is stuck. Watch where you put your feet...ew. Sir Nagant!"
His face could have fooled a human lie detector. Nagant walked towards Winchester's voice, his face set into his normal, serious features. With one look at the women, Nagant convinced them that Winchester getting his foot stuck in one of the volleyball net poles was definitely not funny.
"Here, hold my hand." Winchester looked weary, and Nagant sighed. "Don't be such a fag."
"Hey, I'm no--all right, all right. Stupid hole..." With a lot of effort, Nagant managed to help Winchester dislodge his boot from the floor, and Sten dragged Winchester off to the stage. While walking back to the stage, Adrian Nagant looked at the other officers.
Piniple was on the lookout for latecomers, already directing a few to a line separate from the others, Mauser and Raighn assisting him. No one could figure out how Mauser had gotten the position, but they just thought it was better not to question him. Mauser's answers usually differed, depending on the person.
"How did you get the position?" He remembered asking Mauser one day. The man was just in the right shade of pale--not anemic-pale, and definitely not as pale as Browning. His eyes were painted chocolate, framed with feminine lashes. He could have been mistaken for a girl, but his voice and demeanor would have given him away.
"Garand risked a lot when he picked me for an officer." Mauser had a bitter laugh, Nagant remembered. It was like his own, and yet had a more subtle, angrier quality. "This school works in two ways, Adrian. You either buy certain...things, under the radar, or you have talent. Pure talent that goes far beyond something as simple as nationality. Fortunately, I had both."
He had pulled Mauser closer so that they could talk without being far too metaphoric. "Even if you bribed the administration to...overlook...your nationality, I don't think it would have sat well with the rest of the batch."
Mauser cocked his head to one side and whispered, his breath a mixture of clove cigarettes and mint-chip ice cream.
"You expect too much from this batch, and this school, Adrian Nagant." Without another word, he had gently wrenched himself away from Nagant's grasp and walked on.
Pulling himself away from the confines of his own mind, Nagant's eyes searched for the only missing officer.
I swear, Browning, if you're off chasing those stupid cats agai-- he saw a flash of black followed by white race inside the covered court, and a high-pitched, too-cheerful giggle. It cut through the panic, through the confusion of the late students, even through Garand's shouting. Elizabeth wasn't even looking at him, which was surprising.
The moment she saw Garand onstage, she forgot about the black flash--most likely a cat--and went to her place, on the right side of the stage, looking on.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM---PU!" Every student stood straight and ready. Garand coughed and cleared his throat before announcing, "Good, everyone's here. Taaaaaaake seats!"
"Sir thank you sir!" the students carefully and quickly sat down, their backs slumping.
"He never said you were at ease. Straighten those backs, maggots. Don't look at anything else. Look straight." Her voice had taken on a dark quality, one that was almost identical to Sten's, except it made Nagant extremely uncomfortable, and he had no idea why. It was just the normal "officer" routine that most adopted.
Why is it so...weird on you?
Curious, Nagant walked beside her. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Elizabeth?"
"Sir Nagant." Her voice was curt and cold. "You should be more concerned about the lineup, instead of my bed."
"Nagant, Browning!" Garand's voice, and Nagant saw the albino flip her hair at him and moved towards their Wing Commander. For the first time, he noticed that her jacket wasn't present, and she had a surprisingly trimmer figure than when she wore it over her person.
Curious and curiouser...what happened to you, Head Medic? And more importantly...what happened to your jacket?
________________________________
Adrian popped two pills into his mouth, choosing to chew on them instead of taking a swig of water. Rosenrot was peaceful in the early morning, before students and children decided to sully it with noise. The bitter flavor of the drug distracted him from the yelling and screaming going on in his head, and once he swallowed, it was gone.
Momentary relief.
*She* wasn't here yet, which was a blessing. He was walking leisurely when he thought he saw a glimmer of white standing on top of the stage, the place where the senior council and the officers stood on Thursdays for flag ceremony. Blinking his evergreen eyes he saw Garand, wearing a white jacket. "Garand!" He called out, just to make sure.
The Spanish-Filipino officer glanced round and saw the foxfur head in the distance and nodded. "Come here!" It wasn't an order, and it wasn't a request. It was a mixture of both, and in a way, Adrian admired Miguel, because he always looked like he was in control.
Control. The word echoed in his head, bouncing around like a ship tossed between crashing waves.
Though it had been years ago, Adrian could still recall the most important thing that his godfather had said.
"Control," he had muttered in a voice that could freeze hell. It had certainly frozen his Godfather's heart. If he had been a normal child, he would have tried to run away as soon as he possibly had the chance, perhaps back to his parents.
But you can't, the voice in his head said mockingly. They're dead. Just like the first one you had to kill.
If they're dead, he had shot back, invisibly, silently, in fear that his Godfather would think he was crazy. Why are they still screaming?
Going to Rosenrot made no difference. A job was still a job, albeit a humiliatingly simple one. Scouting for new recruits was something he had to do while still learning how to shoot a gun.
"Hey, Adrian? Nagant? Nagant!" Garand's sharp voice brought him back to the covered court. "Sorry sir, I spaced out for a minute there...what were you saying?"
"Today is the first day you'll be working with Elizabeth." A muffled groan.
"Oh, come on. You'd think that I was sending you to be tortured."
"Being with her is torture, Miguel. All those people staring, asking odd questions--it's like they think that I'm, I don't know, I actually like her?" Nagant ran a hand through his hair, wanting to do something with his hands. His superior's eyes turned towards him in mock surprise.
"Maybe because you're always close to her? This school works highly on being judgemental, no matter what anyone else may say."
"I don't like her. I was assigned to be with her, by you. I'm just following orders."
"Yes, but no one ever mentioned that you had to be with her even outside school hours. Or before and after Thursday."
"Hn." Adrian thought it was appropriate to end the conversation. They stood side by side, silent for awhile, until Garand called out for the batch to come. "Position." Garand whispered before counting. Skittering to the side, he jumped offstage and adjusted his bib, and with one last clomp of Nagant's boots, Garand took a deep breath and started to shout.
"LIPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! SA! WA! LO!..."
It still sent shivers up Adrian Nagant's spine, and he knew it was coming. Footsteps, shouts of "It's time!", "Oh shi--" and "Hurry up or we'll all have to squat!" echoed throughout the covered courts, students all clad in baby-blue uniforms clomped in their leather shoes and took their places in front of the stage, their right arms raised to the other's shoulder.
Garand checked and saw that slowly, they were spacing out like chocolates in a box.
While Garand and Nagant didn't see the rest of the officers, they certainly heard them.
"DIDN'T YOU HEAR HIM? HE SAID HURRY UP, GET TO YOUR POSITIONS!" Sten's voice rang out strong.
More clomping, more nervous shouts and murmurs. Some students who looked like they didn't want to be there walked slowly, and more than half of the batch swore under their breaths.
"QUIET! NO TALKING!" Nagant looked at the nearest section, and he could see some girls straining to look at him.
"Stop looking at Sir Nagant!" Luger called to his section, C.
"PAT! MA!..."
"OH FU--MY FOOT IS STUCK!" Winchester's voice.
"Here, I'll help you!--ew, it really is stuck. Watch where you put your feet...ew. Sir Nagant!"
His face could have fooled a human lie detector. Nagant walked towards Winchester's voice, his face set into his normal, serious features. With one look at the women, Nagant convinced them that Winchester getting his foot stuck in one of the volleyball net poles was definitely not funny.
"Here, hold my hand." Winchester looked weary, and Nagant sighed. "Don't be such a fag."
"Hey, I'm no--all right, all right. Stupid hole..." With a lot of effort, Nagant managed to help Winchester dislodge his boot from the floor, and Sten dragged Winchester off to the stage. While walking back to the stage, Adrian Nagant looked at the other officers.
Piniple was on the lookout for latecomers, already directing a few to a line separate from the others, Mauser and Raighn assisting him. No one could figure out how Mauser had gotten the position, but they just thought it was better not to question him. Mauser's answers usually differed, depending on the person.
"How did you get the position?" He remembered asking Mauser one day. The man was just in the right shade of pale--not anemic-pale, and definitely not as pale as Browning. His eyes were painted chocolate, framed with feminine lashes. He could have been mistaken for a girl, but his voice and demeanor would have given him away.
"Garand risked a lot when he picked me for an officer." Mauser had a bitter laugh, Nagant remembered. It was like his own, and yet had a more subtle, angrier quality. "This school works in two ways, Adrian. You either buy certain...things, under the radar, or you have talent. Pure talent that goes far beyond something as simple as nationality. Fortunately, I had both."
He had pulled Mauser closer so that they could talk without being far too metaphoric. "Even if you bribed the administration to...overlook...your nationality, I don't think it would have sat well with the rest of the batch."
Mauser cocked his head to one side and whispered, his breath a mixture of clove cigarettes and mint-chip ice cream.
"You expect too much from this batch, and this school, Adrian Nagant." Without another word, he had gently wrenched himself away from Nagant's grasp and walked on.
Pulling himself away from the confines of his own mind, Nagant's eyes searched for the only missing officer.
I swear, Browning, if you're off chasing those stupid cats agai-- he saw a flash of black followed by white race inside the covered court, and a high-pitched, too-cheerful giggle. It cut through the panic, through the confusion of the late students, even through Garand's shouting. Elizabeth wasn't even looking at him, which was surprising.
The moment she saw Garand onstage, she forgot about the black flash--most likely a cat--and went to her place, on the right side of the stage, looking on.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM---PU!" Every student stood straight and ready. Garand coughed and cleared his throat before announcing, "Good, everyone's here. Taaaaaaake seats!"
"Sir thank you sir!" the students carefully and quickly sat down, their backs slumping.
"He never said you were at ease. Straighten those backs, maggots. Don't look at anything else. Look straight." Her voice had taken on a dark quality, one that was almost identical to Sten's, except it made Nagant extremely uncomfortable, and he had no idea why. It was just the normal "officer" routine that most adopted.
Why is it so...weird on you?
Curious, Nagant walked beside her. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Elizabeth?"
"Sir Nagant." Her voice was curt and cold. "You should be more concerned about the lineup, instead of my bed."
"Nagant, Browning!" Garand's voice, and Nagant saw the albino flip her hair at him and moved towards their Wing Commander. For the first time, he noticed that her jacket wasn't present, and she had a surprisingly trimmer figure than when she wore it over her person.
Curious and curiouser...what happened to you, Head Medic? And more importantly...what happened to your jacket?
