I thought a new thread for what will be happening in between Harvest Moon and Bloody Valentine on Skye would be appropriate. Please start early!
The world goes on. The battle was small, in the greater scheme of things. The loss of the homunculi is treated as it is always is; unfortunate, but inevitable. As an HEITC official once said, their main purpose was to die; indeed their death almost the ultimate fulfillment of their duty. And HEITC interests were protected. That was the important thing. The Campbell dead were already being shipped off to the Raasay Resurrection station. They too would emerge into this strange world, would take their places in the ranks fighting for humanity. Many died; many would live again. The cycle was unbroken.
#74 sits in the taverna, nursing a cup of tea. #99 made it for her, without even asking. She feels embarrassed about the events that followed the battle. Embarrassed and a little ashamed. She thinks about her brethren; so brave, so fearless. What use were tears when so many were dead? She didn’t have the right to cry, really. She didn’t have the right to ask for pity when she had caused such suffering.
But there was always her duty; it was the bridge across the void. But the meaning of duty had changed for her. It had changed and nothing would ever be the same. She found herself with almost no regrets. Did that make her wicked? She took a deep breath and looked around at the people who surrounded her. Mutilated, monomaniacal, grief stricken, broken. But good people. Brave people. Some of them were even her friends. But she would look at all of them every day and wonder what she had done to deserve such a sign of grace.
Dahlia lay on the surgical bed, trying not to let her stubbornness take over. This many casualties, and not a single one could be helped by her. Odd, she thought, to be on the receiving end of the treatment she was so used to providing. The severe wound down her back was causing her immense pain, but she reminded herself she had to just take it. At least it was distracting her from the pain in her legs. She could easily take the pain away, but made a promise to her father she would no longer use Morphine again. “Swanhilde’s are strong willed, Dahlia. You are better than this” he told her with a look of disappointment. The same man is now pale, tired and sitting by her bed. All those years and he managed to come back to her, never forgetting and always determined to find his daughter. Even today during the battle, he came back to her and didn’t leave her side. It was a miracle that he was even alive. Everyone has their suspicions. Some have even warned her that this man might not be my father. Was it jealousy on their part? He had proven himself to her, what more does anyone need? That unmistakable bond was definitely there, she felt it. This was her father, regardless of what anyone said. No one is taking him away from her again.
Dahlia’s father stirred slowly and noticed the tears in her eyes. “Everything will be fine” he reassured her. “Tomorrow is a new day and things will get better”.
The battle was won and the supplies on Skye are safe once more. Hearing the commotion around her as people recover with loved ones in both the infirmary and taverna, Dr. Montgomery sits in the engineering workshop to make progress on the Miniature Land Recovery (M.L.R.) Device, as well as to source resources for other important projects and disable the unused explosives . If this project tests successfully, using the sample crops provided by Zek, this would hopefully help to feed thousands of those starving in other villages and refugee camps.
The pain caused by the knowledge of what she has done to others, and what has been done to her can wait. There is simply too much to do.
She stops her work to stand up and stretch. The pain in her head has become a little too much to bear; a minor inconvenience. Walking towards the tavern, she notices Dahlia’s father sitting patiently by his daughter’s resting form. Dr. Montgomery stops to think, walks away, and comes back with a cup of tea to give to him. After handing him the cup of tea, she turns away and carries on without a word.
As if in defiance of her recent status as a prisoner, Esther sits on the floor against the wall of the Taverna, glancing occasionally with satisfaction at the notice on the wall confirming the truth about her role in the Cult of Anzu. Harriet sleeps in her basket to one side of her mother, who occasionally smiles, kisses her finger, then brushes it accross the infant’s cheek.
She leans forward, squinting through her glasses at the miniscule type in the volume on the floor in front of her: ‘Explosives: Their Creation and Applications.’
Ivy leans against the railing and lifts her face up to catch the last of the sun. She survived. All of it, despite the risks. Despite the odds. Somehow she survived. Somehow she made it home. A small sparkle from the Taverna catches her eye. She feels her consciousness fade as the soft jingling of the coin scarves fascinates her again, drawing her in.
“I’ll never leave again” is her final clear thought before everything is replaced by the bright beautiful scarves which remind her of everything that is home.
marching toward the settlement a lone soldier trudges along the pathway, on his back a rucksack bulging with kit, a rope and grapnel tied to the outside and a lamp off one strap, a large gun is slung over his shoulder and a large thick trench knife thrust into his belt. a smaller satchel shows the heads of two stick grenades poking out. his long khaki trench coat is grubby and sports two sets of sergeant stripes on the arms. his head is totally covered in a standard issue helmet and gas mask combination and the feeling he seems to project is one of great exhaustion.
“so” he says to himself, “were 'ere”
Harriet’s stirring. Esther leans to pick her up, whispering, “Shhh, poppet, Mama’s here.”
She spends a moment staring at her, thinking, Oh, you’re perfect, then The world died and went to hell and still I brought life into it, then looks back to the entrance to see who’s come in, closing the book when she sees Ivy.
The words my sister pass through her head; a concept it had never occurred to her she’d use in application to herself, and she smiles, readjusting Harriet’s blanket and stroking her cheek. Outside, Esther North, soon-to-be-Ptrov, appears tranquil. Inside her head, worlds are shifting.
The thought’s crossed her mind that it may not be entirely right, this slow-building realisation that she’s happy, now, happier than she was in London for years before she came to Skye, happier than she’s been since before Dennis disapeared and Margaret betrayed her trust and she had to leave her work at the hospital, work she loved, and her fits’ frequency became such that she didn’t trust herself around anyone who wasn’t an already-established presence in her life… Was this right? Was it?
This is followed by the idea that this is what Ivy and Orpha mean when they say she’s being too English about things.
Then and there, Esther determines that whether it’s right is irrelevent. She kisses Harriet’s tiny nose and thinks, For your sake, little one, I will accept joy where I find it, then looks back to Ivy, delighting in her fascination at the coin scarves.
“Saskia!”
[quote=“siximpossiblethings”]
“Saskia!”[/quote]
Ivy turns at the sound of her name and smiles widely. Her eyes are slightly glazed over and she’s humming a tune under her breath. Every few bars she softly says “Bloop!” and hits the hanging coins again.
“Hello Esther!”
Orpha enters the taverna to the sight of Ivy joyfully playing with one of the coin scarves and Esther comforting Harriet, and lets herself smile. Noticing Esther’s new reading material, she quickly heads to her quarters and returns with a fairly large book: Union of the Gear Essential Safety Procedures: Explosives (4th edition) and places it next to the new mother.
Forgetting her headache, she returns to work with a revived enthusiasm.
Taking a look around he notices a few folk walking into a building, he follows along and soon finds himself inside the taverna, for a second he stands in the doorway letting his eyes adjust.
“scuse me, any one know where i can find 'eadquarters?”
[quote=“Wulfen (David)”]
“scuse me, any one know where i can find 'eadquarters?”[/quote]
Esther turns to the newcomer, then flicks her eyes over to Ivy.
“Um.” She hesitates. “This is it, I suppose. More or less. My fiance’s in command but I’m not sure where he is right now. Ivy’s his second, but…”
She bites her lip, wondering if drawing Ivy’s attention to him in her current state is a mistake.
“Perhaps I could help?”
[quote=“Wulfen (David)”]
“scuse me, any one know where i can find 'eadquarters?”[/quote]
The sound of an unfamiliar voice seems to snap Ivy back to herself. She turns slowly, casually folding her arms and looks over the new arrival taking in his military uniform. She gives him a nod and waits.
The helmet comes off revealing a man in his 40’s clean shaven though the regrowth is starting to appear, as he tucks the helmet under his left arm he fishes a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands to Esther.
“Sergeant Dorchester reportin’, just got back off the dirigible from the China campaign theatre, cycled out for rest and recuperation, i was told to report in as soon as i landed Ma’am.”
He notes Ivy looking at him and digs out a cap from his pocket puts it on and salutes her.
[quote=“Wulfen (David)”]
“Sergeant Dorchester reportin’, just got back off the dirigible from the China campaign theatre, cycled out for rest and recuperation, i was told to report in as soon as i landed Ma’am.”[/quote]
“Oh!” Esther says this to Ivy rather than Sergeant Dorchester, standing carefully as she cradles Harriet in one arm. “Here, Ivy. This is definitely your area.” Her relief at Ivy’s transformation is visible. “Welcome, Sergeant. My name’s Esther. This is Harriet.”
Ma’am, Ma’am" he says nodding once to each of the ladies, he tries to stand to attention but seems to be too tired to fully lift his shoulders.
[quote=“siximpossiblethings”][quote=“Wulfen (David)”]
“Sergeant Dorchester reportin’, just got back off the dirigible from the China campaign theatre, cycled out for rest and recuperation, i was told to report in as soon as i landed Ma’am.”[/quote]
“Oh!” Esther says this to Ivy rather than Sergeant Dorchester, standing carefully as she cradles Harriet in one arm. “Here, Ivy. This is definitely your area.” Her relief at Ivy’s transformation is visible. “Welcome, Sergeant. My name’s Esther. This is Harriet.”[/quote]
Ivy just smiles and reaches out to take the papers. A quick scan shows that things seem to be in order. “You’re on the only one Sergeant?”
Lewy sits hunched over the engineering workbench, staring blankly at a set of blueprints laid out before him. He figets with his pencil.
“What if I…” he begins, and makes a small adjustment to the plans. “No, no,” he finishes, and erases it. “Maybe if I make the wings a bit more… no. That won’t work.”
He yawns. It’s clear he hasn’t slept recently, but that doesn’t matter to him. The plans, the work. Anything to keep himself busy. He reflexively goes to grab at something around his neck, and seems puzzled to find it’s not there. “Oh, right,” he says out loud, remembering who he’d given it to.
Quietly, his head slumps forward onto the bench, and he passes out on the blueprints for his new airship.
“yes Ma’am, rest of my squad is well, they gave their best but i’ve been in action twice as long as the boys so i drew the straw for leave, its been a long campaign so far”
“yes Ma’am, rest of my squad is well, they gave their best but i’ve been in action twice as long as the boys so i drew the straw for leave, its been a long campaign so far”[/quote]
“Dorchester is it? Well lucky you arrived now, we had a bit of fighting ourselves and the clean up is still going on. Let’s find you a bunk, then when you’re rested I’ll show you around.” She gestures for the sergeant to leave before her.
She turns to Esther before she leaves, “when you see Jasper can you let him know about our new arrival?” She gives Harriet a quick kiss before limping after the sergeant.