Snippet #1470897

Talae had just enough time to wonder where on earth all this fog had come from before she was yanked from... well... here, and placed somewhere else. She staggered slightly on landing, but recovered well enough. She'd never been transported by such a method before, and her stomach informed her that she didn't much fancy doing it again... ever, if she could avoid it. Not that she was holding out hope. She cast her eyes over the group, counting the few heads that she knew and the fewer that she could profess to care about, relieved that everyone was there. She knew not all of the Legionnaires had made it, but this she had by now learned to accept as a matter of course.

There was always a moment, though, when she felt anxiety in the aftermath of a battle that she privately considered worse than the combat itself. It was an instant of panic, as she sorted through the faces presented to her sight and sought the one she would never be able to accept losing. Most of the time, it had been less necessary- Faera then had been but a healer,and was to be found without fail tending the injured in the wake of someone else's destruction. Now, though... now she knew she would have to accept that the possibility of not being able to find the one piece of familiarity she allowed herself. It was daunting.

She noted the Captain's irritation and wondered if perhaps the intelligence had been bad after all. Well, obviously it was bad, because they'd walked right into more Children than they could handle, and certainly more than anyone had seemed to expect. Was it mere incompetence, then, or something more sinister? It was in her nature to suspect the worst; it tended to keep a person alive. Still, there was nothing but idle speculation to go on, now, and so she dismissed the train of thought and filed into the camp area behind the rest. Studying the gash on her side, which was beginning to properly hurt now, she considered just having Fae deal with it, but decided that it would be an unnecessary burden. She'd barely been able to stand after her first battle, let alone do anything that required as much energy as magic.

She'd also been more than a bit traumatized, and though she had long since lost the majority of her sensitivity towards such matters, she did have enough of a soul to wonder with something approaching sympathy how many of her fellows were suffering that shell-shocked sensation at the moment. Talae filed silently into the line for lighter injuries, figuring that though it hurt like hell, it was far from life-threatening unless it got infected or something.

The pain receded, and she exhaled with relief. There was a scar, but she hardly could be bothered to care about that. "Talk to Sid or Caine tommorow. Learn to use heavier weapons...it's a little too obvious that you are new to warfare tactics." Talae simply nodded. Tell me something I do not know. Though he could not have heard the thought, the Captain's apology certainly qualified, and she blinked, the faintest traces of surprise appearing on her face.

"If looks could do harm, I would have died long ago," she replied with a hint of wryness. "Think nothing of it."

---

Talae considered making her way to the tent she'd been assigned immediately, but ultimately decided against it. She was weary, but not in the sort of way that meant she was likely to sleep anytime soon. Also... seeking her sister's company would probably mean that she'd have to help the younger one sift through her experiences- and she really couldn't do that just yet. It would mean, in all likelihood, a recounting of the first time she'd fought and killed someone, and that stood out among her subsequent experiences as a particularly ugly thing.

She glanced around camp; most people seemed to be going about their business or off in their own little worlds. She did not begrudge them this; as long as they stood up again and kept marching the next time, it probably shouldn't matter at all. Caine appeared to be having a minor fit from where he sat atop a nearby bench, and she sighed inwardly. She knew a little of the man- scant details, really, but enough to guess what he was thinking. It wasn't as though he were exactly subtle with it.

"Survivor's guilt?" though it was ostensibly inflected as such, it was not really a question. she stood with arm crossed, though otherwise she could have been talking about the weather for all her inflection. "It's still as useless as it was last time I told you so." She knew she wasn't helping, so she broached a more neutral, useful topic. "Boss says I have to learn to fight melee. I don't suppose you'd be willing to do an old comrade a favor and make sure I don't kill myself trying?" A white eyebrow forms a perfect arch over a red eye, and she plants herself at the other end of the bench, there to listen if he desires to speak. She wasn't good with advice- never had been, but that didn't mean she couldn't listen.

If he refused, she could always go to Sid, but she had a feeling the Lieutenant had more than enough problems on her hands already.