vindictam: (pic#9835571)
corvo "FUBAR" attano ([personal profile] vindictam) wrote in [community profile] nonsuch 2015-12-20 08:31 am (UTC)

It's the way of military camps, that they talk more than gossip magazines do ( or, used to, no wait, still do - he sees those vids coming back from her, half a galaxy away, he's seen every damn one of them in a back log he plays too often to himself in the relative dark and privacy that could be afforded ). Run on those things because it's something to talk about that isn't - isn't everything else that they look at when they open their eyes. No one can really blame them for it, when there's a fallen city to live in, and a ruined planet to watch fall apart.

But also it means that the minute she lands, after advisers, commanders, the council, the higher ups get notice on the long list of people that need the information, he's the first to know. No it's not some call or message passed down, it's by way of grapevine, the same one that found out they were married in the first place ( wore his ring, the same cheap metal from years and years ago, and it's been bent out of shape and rebent back into, like the shape this marriage has always been, and by and large, eventually it got asked about. Some muttered conversation he probably should have thought through but didn't. Some remark of 'sir, is your partner still alive?' a glance down at it, dull shine of metal 'I should hope so, she's supposed to be saving us all.' naturally, it was everywhere the next morning. ). Of one hissed message into the ear of another, and eventually he's the only other person to tell worth noting, apparently. One breathless private that yanks him away from the wall he has stood on - and keeps standing on day in day out now, wave after wave, holds it and holds it and holds it. He still never wanted a command of his own.

But she'd be coming, and she'd need good men on the ground, a port to work from. That's all it came down to, in the end. To buy the time.

A tug, and he's got his only bad habit left ( except her, she is the worst of them ) by way of a cigarette held in the corner of his life. Never smoked much, old habit from something far too long ago now, that he barely bothered with before. Until the collectors, until after she - had to do something with his hands, at the best of times now. Being away from the wall was the only time it was safe to do so.

Pinches it between finger, exhales smoke through his nose from the deep breath in as the man babbles out the words. Tells the private not to bother because, he knows, of course he knows. He knows her, and he knows what she is, and of course she was here - because one day, she always would be.

That and, as he nods over the shoulder of the soldier in front of him, there she is. He steps past the messenger and all too slow, normal -- like they'd done this a hundred times and maybe they have, lived this life over and over again -- makes her way towards her.

"Commander." Tugs the half smoked cigarette free, stubs it out on the ground under his boot heel and his hands go back to resting on the rifle strapped across his chest, same way as the rest of them were. "Took your time."

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