It’s not a game. We walk through the fire.

[relentless_sentinel]

Who: Nephenee and Donatello
What: Helping Donnie sort through the feelings of being in his first messy battle
Where: Flotsam docks
When: Shortly after the first mission
Warnings: Talk of death, war, blood, the things you'd expect when dealing with this sort of thing.

First mission, down. They'd succeeded in their objectives, and they hadn't had any deaths on their end, at least that she knew of. The prisoners were safe, and the Imperials had gotten messed with. By all accounts, they'd won a victory.

But even a victory could come with loss, and in the case of Donatello, there was a loss of some innocence this night. Nephenee'd seen it before, and Yune knew she had dealt with it herself her first real battle...but seeing it real-time this long after the wars and, frankly, apocalypse, in Tellius just reminded her that she'd stepped into a warzone all over again. She was glad he wasn't physically injured, but...well, she'd seen the blow he'd taken to his spirit, and her own ached to see it. It's why she'd offered to talk with him after they got done with the mission.

As much as the events and having to wear that awful outfit at the party in Elysium had unnerved her, she could shove them down for now into a corner and deal with the internal squirming that caused later. Donnie needed her to be strong, he needed someone to talk to about what he'd dealt with.

After just enough time to clean up and bake some, because Yune knew showing up soaked in blood wouldn't help the teen and she needed some time to focus her own issues so she could help others, the Sentinel sat on the docks in a clean shirt, hat, and shorts. Her long, bare legs swayed over the waters as she absently fiddled with a sprig of yarrow, watching the waves and trying to let them wash over her restless spirit as she waited for the turtlekin.

Comments

[purplexing]

He bobs in the water a bit, his face still halfway under. It's so tempting to just sink back down, but... Nephenee's making good on what she'd said she'd do, so it'd probably be rude to leave her hanging.

"Just needed to relax for a bit."

The turtlekin swims over to where he can pull himself up by the ropes binding one of the braces of the dock, and once he's out, he wanders over to where the human is, plopping down to sit beside her.

"......"

He's not sure what the next step is, here, but at least he doesn't look like he's ready to dive back in at the drop of a hat.

[relentless_sentinel]

"Yeah...Ah get it..." Baking therapy was a thing. Speaking of, as he climbs up, Donnie might catch the whiff of some sort of sweet baked good nearby...really nearby. Like on the other side of the soldier nearby.

"..." Crap, she'd been hoping he'd talk first. Uhhhhh...right, cookies! "Um..." A little self-consciously, she brings around a small basket covered in an off-white cloth that she brushes aside, revealing a small assortment of cookies: oatmeal raisin, what looks like sugar cookies, and some with different jams set on top (sorry Don, she doesn't know about chocolate). "Ah...made some cookies...ya want some?"

[purplexing]

He hadn't immediately figured what the smell was, but it's a pleasant one, and so near that it can't have drifted from anywhere else. The ocean breeze tends to carry all sorts of scents throughout Flotsam but they don't tend to linger very long unless the source is close.

The turtlekin's curiosity is thoroughly piqued, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips subconsciously because whatever it is, it smells tasty!

Father was not a baker, nor much of a cook. Donnie's youngest brother had ended up the one with the most culinary experience by experiment, but things had been for the most part, straight forward. Treats like this were only such as he'd caught glimpses of on the table at the noble's home that he'd had to stay in, part of so many things that had been off-limits.

"Can I..?" he asks, blinking at her. Is there such a thing as a kid who's never had a cookie in his life?

[relentless_sentinel]

Colour Nephenee confused; she'd just offered...but that look reminds her so much of her younger siblings that she can't help but smile warmly. "O'course, 'swhy Ah made 'em." Poor guy.

Neph's always been a cook, and a good one just from so much practice, but some of the ingredients here are very different from what she's used to, since she grew up dirt poor and having to use fruits and honey if she wanted anything actually sweet. Hopefully they're good. But just so he doesn't feel more awkward, she holds it out for him to take.

[purplexing]

Donnie reaches out, pausing as he looks sheepishly at his wet hand before he shakes off as much of the excess water. Very carefully he picks out one of the cookies with jam, sniffing at it before he tries a nibble.

It's...a lot sweeter than anything he's ever had, that's for sure. He's about as used to naturally sweet things as Nephenee seems to be, but at least it doesn't seem overbearingly so enough that he takes a bigger bite. Swimming does make one hungry, and the cookie's gone before he even realizes. He looks hesitantly at the rest. Even though Nephenee had said she'd made them to share, it's still a weird sort of concept. Outside of what one expects of standard meals, Donnie never really expects anyone to offer him anything. He snatches another cookie as though expecting Nephenee to change her mind.

[relentless_sentinel]

Something in how Donnie acts gives her the impression he's not used to kindness, and it causes her heart to ache. What had he gone through in the past to cause him to be so scared? Who or what had hurt him so?

Nephenee is a compassionate sort, but she is not self-aware enough in the slightest to catch any parallels when it came to her own issues.

A soft chuckle escapes unbidden, and she gestures to the basket. "It's alright. Ah ain't gonna take 'em away. Have as many as ya want." She could always make more, and probably would.

[purplexing]

Too many sweets would probably be bad, but at least he doesn't have too much of a sweet tooth that he might overdo it. Donnie helps himself to a few more, trying the different types that he finds. The oatmeal ones seem to be the winner as he eats more of those than the sugar cookies.

Once he's had his fill he dusts off his hands, flicking off crumbs he finds on his plastron with a bit of a face.

"...thank you," he adds in afterthought. Manners, right.

At least he doesn't have a grumbling stomach to distract him now, but Nephenee hadn't come just to feed him, and once again the turtlekin's eyes drift back towards the waters.

"...I'm sorry," is what he starts with once he does round up his thoughts, reluctant as they are to return to that particular subject. "For...being a potential liability. I guess I really hadn't thought about how things would be when you're right in the middle of a fight instead of waiting somewhere on the sidelines..."

[relentless_sentinel]

Empty stomachs are awful for dealing with things, and in general. She's glad to be of service. "You're welcome."

Once Donnie's done cleaning off, Nephenee takes a jam cookie and nibbles on it as she listens intently to his troubles. It takes her a moment to think about her response after. She's never actually talked someone through this sort of thing before now...so she wants to make sure she does a good job. Or at least her best, given her inexperience with both the situation and the language.

Tucking a leg up to her chest, the Sentinel lets out a slow, measured breath through her nose, before giving him what's supposed to be a reassuring smile. There's sadness there, though. It's not fine, but... "...It...happens to all o'us who fight. Ya...can practice with folks, or on dummies, all ya want, but..."

The musty scent of autumn on the air, the crunch of scattering leaves beneath their feet. Shouting. The dull aching of blows, then heavy irons clamping, pinching her wrists and ankles...

"...Nothin' quite...prepares ya for the first time on a real battlefield..."

Mildew; cold, stale, brackish water; echoing darkness. A glimmering light and hope when the door opens, then vice-like fear, disgust, and bile when a guard falls to the blade of one of the Greil Mercenaries; sharp, sweet iron as his blood runs, seeps into the cracks of the stone floor...

She tucks her other leg in close, hugging them both to her chest as the memories flood back in pulses, a shiver running through her for a moment. "Or...the first time ya see death there."

[purplexing]

"...no, I guess not."

Donnie mirrors Nephenee's own position without really thinking about it, wrapping his arms around his knees with a sigh. The images of blood and falling bodies comes unbidden in his memories, his mouth pulling in a grimace as he hugs his knees tighter.

"Yeah. I... Well I guess it's not that I didn't think anyone would get killed out there but... Seeing it happen is a lot different." It's made him rethink a lot of things, but he knows the Empire's killed many without blinking an eye. He remembers how angry he'd been, under the hurt and fear of being used to help develop improvements to their technical weaponry, and how easy it had been to just wish everyone there would die. Is that what he really wants though? He doesn't know, and not knowing is not something that ever sits easy with him.

[relentless_sentinel]

"It...really is."

She's a farm girl, she'd seen death before. But it was very different back then...she and her Pa had hunted and fished, but that was to survive. She'd never been around the times he'd had to slaughter a chicken or something closer to home when there wasn't money for food or game or fish to be found. For better or worse, Rowan had doted on his and Hazel's eldest, tried to spare her that until she was older. But he'd never gotten the chance to show her how to do that sort of thing...she'd never had the heart to do that after...after...

She shakes her head. If she goes down that rabbit trail, she won't come back out for awhile. Even that brief reminisce brings some tears to her eyes, and she has to swallow a lump in her throat before she can speak again.

"...An' killin' the first time's different, too..."

Warm sea salt in the wind. A flash that she barely catches on her shield...an astringent, metallic scent when she retaliates in terror, something warm and wet splattering against her...and the light leaving the enemy's eyes as they fall...

"...Not somethin' Ah'd wish on anybody."

[purplexing]

The most death that he and his brothers had ever seen were about the same. You never thought much about killing a fish or catching a bird when not having it would mean not being able to eat. Donnie's own father had never really specified why he didn't decide to live in Elysium or why he'd left being a gladiator, although ever since Donnie had been more exposed to the awful truth about how the Empire was, he had his growing suspicions that their father hadn't really 'retired' so much as escaped. In retrospect it did make a lot more sense as to why they lived alone out by the sea. Those had been happy, innocent times.

The turtlekin squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want to think about killing anyone if it had been bad enough seeing it happen. He hadn't intended to kill anyone with any of his blows, although he doesn't know if any that had been meant to be to disable had turned out worse for the recipient. Was killing someone accidentally the same as killing them on purpose? ...but if they weren't, then those people would have killed him or someone else.

He lets out a breath after realizing he'd been holding it, lifting his head just enough to glance over his knees at Nephenee.

"...you did it so easily," he says quietly. Not in a judging sort of way, but an observation.

[relentless_sentinel]

For a long moment, there's no answer to that, both for her parsing it into her own language and her mulling over it.

It had been easy for her. It usually is. At least in the sense that she's...well, she's a Sentinel. She's damn good at her job, and unfortunately, oftentimes that job involves killing. But, easy in the sense of the weight on her spirit later...

After some time, she sighs. "Ah've...been a soldier a real long while. Started when Ah was...15?" There's a slight, mirthless chuckle. Yune, had it been that long ago? Sometimes she forgets, honestly. "One o'our neighbors, Daein,'s leader decided to take over Crimea. Ah'm the only one in my family who could fight, so Ah joined the militia in my hometown to try to help...couple o'us got captured," the less said about that, the better.

"But when we were rescued by General Ike an' his folks workin' for Princess Elincia, Ah wanted to help her take back the throne, an' so Ah fought in that war. That was...six years ago? Somewheres 'round there. A few years later, 'nother war broke out, an' that led to Ashera wakin' up an' us havin' to fight her, an'..."

Abruptly, and shockingly, Nephenee realizes that there's a lot missing from that whole thing for context, and this time, the chuckle is a bit self-effacing. "Sorry. A...Ah've been in two wars an' helped fight the goddess Ashera." Annnnd back to not being self-aware enough to understand just how that sounds.

"Ah've...had a lot of practice killin' folks, unfortunately. An'...unfortunately, Ah'm good at it, bein' a Sentinel." Or understanding that doesn't make sense without more context. "'S easy in that sense...Ah don't like doin' it, but when they're tryin' to kill ya or innocent folks an' those that can't fight back..."

[purplexing]

That's... a lot. Fifteen...one year younger than himself. Like Mikey. The thought of any of his brothers having to fight like that turns his stomach. It's hard to really imagine, and it's why he's kept from trying to go back and find them. He doesn't want them to get caught up in any of this. But he doesn't want to find out if something's happened to them either, and the thought that maybe they'd tried to look for him, all the maybes, all the unknowns, keeps him up at night if he lets himself think too much about it. Not thinking too much about anything is already a feat in itself.

Nephenee sounds like she's really been involved in things, she's had similar experiences. She's...much more cut out for battles and missions. And then she casually drops that tidbit about helping fight a goddess, leaving Donnie staring. Maybe it was a translation error? The woman's already name-dropped so much that surely he must have gotten some context mixed up. But if she's actually helped face goddesses, then it's no wonder she's so fearless! Donnie can't possibly wrap his head around that.

His expression sobers as she touches upon her experiences, more or less confirming what he's figured. Reluctantly he nods.

"...I-I know that. I do. I just need to not overthink it." In the heat of the moment it's easier to act. But what about afterwards? He's already overthinking it. He smooshes his face against his arms again. "...or maybe I shouldn't take part in battle-type missions..."

[relentless_sentinel]

Nephenee's siblings are, thankfully, too young for anything like this. But that means she's always been the one to fight, and that's how she got...way more experience than she would like, frankly. Though her dropping the whole goddess thing the way she did isn't a product of pride (that would require more than a potato's worth of self-esteem). It's just what happened, and she says most of this like it's simply history.

The soldier has to think about how to respond to what he says. On the one hand, she would like it if they didn't have to fight...but at the same time...

"It's...a hard choice, Ah know..." This is part of why she fights as hard as she does, so she can spare people what she's been through. "...Ah...don't wanna say this, but...e'en if ya were to stay more on the sidelines, there's no guarantee ya won't have to fight, or...maybe hafta kill someone..." What if wherever he was got raided? Or they get ambushed? No telling what might happen.

Nephenee turns her head to regard him thoughtfully, resting it against her arms. She doesn't know that much about him... "What...sorta things are ya good at?"

[purplexing]

Raph would be the eldest, eighteen and far more built to be a fighter than Donnie. Their big brother loved smashing things and could probably take hits like nobody's business. ...but after being in a real fight, with real injuries and blood and... He shakes his head to dislodge the images as best he can. But Donnie'd never wish that on Raph. His brother may love to pummel things, but he has the softest heart.

He compacts himself even tighter against himself as he listens to Nephenee. As scary and terrible as it sounds, he knows she's right. There's no guarantee that he could avoid any conflicts, not in this occupation, not with this group. Not with the Empire being how it is.

"...I'm good with machines. With designing and building them, fixing them." At least this is easier to talk about.

[relentless_sentinel]

The Crimean's head tilts a bit at that. She's heard that term before now, but...wracking her brain, she comes up short of an answer on her own.

"...Ah'm...sorry, Ah'm not...sure what those are?" She's not sure what that'd translate to in Tellesian, or even if they exist back home. "Muh...sheens?"

[purplexing]

Oh, right. Donnie keeps forgetting that levels of technology can differ between whatever worlds some of the people that have been pulled here have come from. He blinks, thinking about the easiest available example.

"Like the airships, for one, how they're powered. Or the armor that people pilot. Even the heavy artillery here in Flotsam like the cannons, there's some mechanical aspect to them." He's lifted his head, thoroughly distracted from the earlier heaviness of their conversational topic. "Basically machines are tools, sometimes simple but a lot of the times they can be pretty complex."

[relentless_sentinel]

That...makes some sense, she reckons, though she's still mentally headscratching as she tries to figure some sort of equivalency to something back home. This place has such different technology it kind of makes her country girl head hurt...

"Huh...we don't got airships or cannons back home. Sure not the Armors the Empire uses." She's rather used to the equivalent term here being...well, what she would normally be wearing.

Though the cannon bit does spark an idea. "Uh...would..." Light, what would the word for them be... "Um, siege weapons be sorta similar? L-Like...catapults or ballistae?"

[purplexing]

"Yes! Those are considered machinery. Manually operated for the most part, but they've likely inspired the use of cannons. Just think of all those gears and how they move with each other to make something work with minimal effort, like pulling down a catapult head or bending a ballista."

Donnie actually looks and sounds excited as he tries to explain. This is truly where his passion is, after all. "It's like building complex puzzles. When you get down to the root of it, an armor is just made up of many parts that work together to make its limbs move, and a pilot at its center to control those movements without having to be strong enough to bend or lift one of those huge limbs."

[relentless_sentinel]

Aw, it does her heart good to see him excited. Even if it might be just for a bit, it's better for you than staying in your funk for too long...

Nephenee ponders that for a moment. She understands the core principle of "one thing does a thing that makes another thing do a thing" and on, but going past that she can't imagine something terribly complex without seeing it actually doing its thing. (Also, she wonders, in her lack of self-knowledge, how strong the people are here that they need some of these machines. Neph, not every one can bench dragons...)

"Ah think Ah can see how that's useful. How do the folks inside control stuff, though?" She's not really seen them in action, honestly.

[purplexing]

Having been anticipating the question more or less, Donnie launches instantly into his explanation, growing more animated with his gestures.

"Well, essentially at its core, it really is still armor like the sort that people wear," he says. "Inside one of the armor suits like the Schwert, the pilot controls all the movements in some extent through their own movement, and the armor echoes that movement, if that makes sense."

[relentless_sentinel]

It sort of makes sense... "Ah...think so?"

Clearly Donnie knows a lot about these, which is great, and she's glad. But she does have to ask, "So...how big are these? An' how do ya take one down?"

It's an important question, since she's barely seen them, much less faced them. "They sound...hardy." Granted, she knows how to take down things, but...she wants to understand where this is going to fall in relation to other things she's faced, if it can even be compared. Maaaaybe something like Brom's armour?

[purplexing]

"We took one down in Hesaeth. I think another team took down one more closer to the camp." Donnie remembers that moment, the big metal form looking equal parts incredible and frightening. It had been the first time he'd seen one in combat. It was just too bad it was on the wrong side.

"You want to basically take out the pilot. The cockpit is pretty well shielded, and once the armor's operational, it's sealed pretty tight. There's a manual release for emergencies but it's hard to get to if the thing is actively fighting against you. It'd be hard to get a hold of while it's moving," he says.

"If you can't force the pilot out, then going for the joints in the limbs is the next best bet. Everything is protected but in between, only so much because it still needs to move. Disable one or two limbs and you've already got an advantage, so long as we're talking about the non-flying models. If you're dealing with the flight-capable ones, disabling their ability to do so would be the easiest way to take it down."

I thought I hit this...oops

[relentless_sentinel]

Nephenee scratches her head, rustling the hair under her hat a fair bit as she thinks about that for a few moments. Hmm, that sounds...annoying, but doable.

"Kinda makes me think o'some o'the generals back home, or someone like Ashnard or Zelgius, with all their armour...Not sure what sounds harder: takin' out a dragon laguz or one o'these Armors." Given she's only fought the latter, there's no way for her to make a real comparison there.

"So what Ah'm hearin' is go for the joints to start, or at least disablin' the ability to move 'round as much."

[purplexing]

The turtlekin nods. "The standard models aren't as fast. You can usually tell what might be built for speed by the weapons they're wielding if you don't notice the differences in the armor styles right away. Definitely don't try to tackle one alone, either way."