AND THE ANZAC LEGENDS DIDN'T MENTION...

[agogemod]

AND THEN SOMEONE YELLED OUT "CONTACT!";

and the bloke behind me swore

THE SILENT WAR

The news of the day of the retreat spreads like wildfire through the Trenches. Leading up to the final date, all soldiers on the ground are instructed to limit their gunfire, to make it look like the usual traditions for warfare, which have determined much of human history up until this point: no one really goes to war in winter. Everyone is to maintain a verbal and physical presence, but the time to confuse the Turks has really become paramount. At times, whole sections are ordered to be perfectly quiet until the last possible second and then spring out before the Turks can get too close.

Which is just how it is supposed to be. In fact, for COST recruits, there's a real sense that this might just go according to plan.

Around this time, the Rear Guard signup starts. COST recruits are met with some surprise by Captain Lewis; he will blink in surprise at a group so new wanting to volunteer so readily, but he's glad and gives everyone who joins a big warm handshake.

Each day gets closer and the mood of the soldiers becomes more jubilant and tenser; the erratic sense of relief that they might be leaving what has become the graveyard of so many friends and, often times, family, combines with the frustration of not being able to do anything but wait. This leads to more than a few fights breaking out, often over nothing important. Just the edge of temporary relief.

Then, before dawn on Jan 7th, the evacuation begins in earnest. It's possible to see it from the top of some sections: a bustling populace until it trickles down to the ghost of the Trenches, where there is nothing left but the rear guard. It's a smooth, efficient evacuation.

The Rear Guard

This is a skeleton army, just enough to make it seem no one has left. Everyone is encouraged to come up with ways to make it seem like there are more men than there actually are.

The local soldiers have come up with a particularly sneaky one - a rope is wrapped around the trigger of a rifle, just loose enough not to pull it, and from the end of it hangs a bucket. Another container slowly drips water into the bucket until it fills and drops, pulling the rope around the trigger and firing the gun. Soldiers are tasked with emptying the water, refilling the cannister, or checking the gun if it looks like it has jammed.

Outside of that, if someone has a sneaky idea to keep up the ruse - even if it's lighting small fires or singing loudly in a chorus to give the notion of people still around - it's all encouraged.

THE THUNDER OF GUNS

Everything is going well. It's not even that worrying when a thick mist comes up, heavy and difficult to see through. But, for those with powers, it prickles oddly on bare skin, followed by a pressure that builds in the back of the mind. It seems to dull any extra powers or senses; magic and its ilk are still usable, but require more concentration to reach now.

In the stillness of the night, however, there is no breeze to move the fog on and it settles like oil through the trench.

It's 1am when the first shell drops. It falls to the east of the recruits' position at Lone Pine. It's a shell that comes down and splits apart the night air in an explosion of shrapnel, dirt and heat. Then a second, then a third, now starting from both sides.

All the soldiers' clamour out of the way and Captain Lewis can be heard shouting over the din: "Into the Tunnels!"

But not everyone can make it. The shells are coming steadily now and one step in the wrong direction is the difference between life and death in such a small space. It's chaos - some soldiers are killed outright. Others get buried under the debris and dirt. Others catch shrapnel that, if not fatal, is enough to throw them and make it hard to get up. But COST's mission is the same as it always is: save as many of these men's lives as possible.

There are four direct entries into the tunnels, all about four or five meters apart, and they're all interconnected within the tunnels themselves.

One by one, however, shells fall and destroy the entrances to the tunnels.

WARTIME ARCHEOLOGY

It takes another three hours for the bombardment to stop and, once the tunnel entrances collapse, it becomes very dark in there. Might be time to fish out a match and strike up a torch.

While Officers previously told soldiers to keep out of the tunnels and otherwise left them ignored, these tunnels are huge. Not like the ones in other sections of the coast; here, they seem to go far into No Man's Land. They're crudely constructed and only some sections are reenforced with heavy beams of wood. But once journeying into them, there are all sorts of things to be found. There are old gas lamps that can be used to light your way or hung on a secure nook or cranny. The stone has been worn smooth in some sections, and other parts have been carved with graffiti of the soldiers who cut them out.

Some locations go down a few steps, while others go up and small holes seem to have been dug through the roof of the tunnels.

It's definitely best to get away from the front of the tunnels, where the bombing is still going on. There are wounded to be seen to and secured from bleeding out, people to find to make sure everyone is still alive. Maybe you want to go farther into the interweaving tunnels to see what else can be recovered. Or maybe you're being stubbornly sensible and looking for a way to dig your way out again, once the bombs stop firing.

Either way, it's a long, exhausting wait in the dark as the ground shakes, showering dust and rocks over everyone.

INTO THE DAWN

The sun has risen when the firing stops - and it's time to search for a way out of here.

Stepping into the light reveals utter destruction. The concentrated bombing has done its work; everything is strewn or buried in dirt and rubble. Machine guns are overturned and parts of the Trench have collapsed; going over the top would be disastrous, given that the Turks have no idea what is happening and will pick off anyone who sticks their head up.

There also isn't...anyone else around. All that's left is this one segment of the rear guard, just 500 men and the COST soldiers. It isn't possible to discern if the other groups have been evacuated or killed at this point.

It's time to consolidate, count their losses, see who is alive and who isn't, and salvage what supplies are left after some digging clean up is done. Work out who needs to stand watch. For now, Captain Lewis' orders are to use the tunnels as a new base of operations.

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

They appear first as a shimmer of off-light, no more than a haze against the resettling mist. A faint shape against the grey - the long lines of a dog's face, almost Jackal-like, in a clean black uniform that gives more to the appearance of shadows - moves closer, but not too close. They could almost be a trick of the light, out of the corner of your eye. Almost intangible.

They're not moving closer, however, choosing to hang back in the rubble of the Trenches. The ANZAC soldiers don't seem to notice them at all.

Ten minutes after they're first spotted, Commander Grothia issues a priority message:

Contact. Regency soldiers. Do not engage.

If a shot does get fired that way, whether it's from Turkish or ANZAC soldiers unknowingly or from COST operatives: it's quick but, as the bullet seems to come into contact with them, the air around them shimmers blue, like it's hitting a field of light. This effect seems to be stronger when they're standing close together and, as of now, they remain unhurt.

Moving closer to them increases that feeling of mind fog on powered characters; for the unmagical, a sense of unease prickles up. It's a feeling not unlike the beginnings of the time-step, the hum of sensation that marks a transfer through time. Veteran recruits will easily recognize the buzz that dances through their bones before it stills as they move away; rookies might recall it from their initial arrival from BASE.

READ THE OOC INFOPAGE.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

Merlin Sawall | Chronicles of Amber | OTA

[purpleandgray]

1. OMINOUS PROLOGUE

Illusion spells are easy and quick to execute. Merlin hangs several of them while he finds a quiet nook of the trenches to hole up with his back against the muddy walls, smoking too many cigarettes to mask the foul stench of rot. When there are no eyes on him, he presses a trigger on those spells, one at a time, causing erratic gunfire and muzzle flashes to appear on the top of the trenches. As if there were a whole group of soldiers firing. No one will notice a few lacking bullets in a war. But just to keep it reasonable, he sets a few actual guns on the top of the walls and occasionally fires a shot.

The waiting game doesn't seem to bother him all that much. He's learned to switch off his emergency mode and just review his situation along the years of his strange life, being trapped for months at a time has given him an ability to just wait and see what's to come. Give him five minutes to plan and he's pretty golden, give him an hour and his prospects go up exponentially, give him a day and there's very little he can't do with it.

"So, first thing you're going to do when we get out of here?" he asks from whoever happens to sit beside him at the nightfall. "I'd give my kingdom for a cup of coffee right about now." He'd give it for a lot less, to be honest.

2. FORESHADOWING FOG

Merlin is one of those people who seem unusually alarmed by the mist. He abandons completely the near careless attitude that he had tried for a size earlier. That man is gone, replaced by a someone who seems to have eyes on his back, alert, finger on the trigger and staring quietly into the rising mists.

For those with some extrasensory perception, he isn't just a new man by the change of his attitude, but there is a looming sense of power around him. It might feel like something broken, chaotic, hovering around him. A word of warning: this abyss does stare back if gazed upon too deeply.

"What do you make of the change in weather?" he asks from anyone willing to engage him in conversation.

3. IT'S TIME FOR THE ACTION SPECIAL

And just like that, the waiting game and trepidation comes to an end just as viciously as expected. Merlin is definitely not among the first to enter the tunnels. He remains back to see as many soldiers into the safety as possible.

The tunnel isn't as forgiving, though. A shell drops near the mouth of the tunnel that he's at, shrapnel and loose rocks and dust filling his prospects for a few disorienting moments. His ears are ringing from the explosion that luckily didn't hit him but got to a lot of the other soldiers. Some of them go down immediately, twisted bodies broken on the ground, but quite a few fall with less lethal injuries, broken bones, bleeding eyes. Merlin grabs a few shoulders and hauls these poor sods towards the tunnels, ignoring cries of pain as he pushes the soldiers through the entrance and shoves them further before he goes back for more.

The mouth of the tunnel seems to start coming down not much after he moves away from it. It seems to have taken a partial hit from the shell. Merlin dashes to the construct to jams his riffle into the top, pushing against it with his considerable strength. He could hold it up rather easily with a few Logrus tendrils but that wouldn't be discreet at all. Eventually he'll have to let it crumble, but for now it's still open and he yells to someone he thinks he recognises to be with the COST: "Get them inside now!"

He helps a limping man past him and into the tunnels. "Keep going. Make room. Go!"

4. HERE COMES THE SEQUEL

The calm after the storm seems unnatural. After the mad rush into the tunnels and the time spent covering under the falling dust and rocks in the rainfall of bombs, there's nothing reassuring about the quiet. Absolutely nothing.

Merlin spent the time in the tunnels to hang as many spells as possible. He didn't go looting or exploring. Instead he curled into a corner and prepared a handful of spells. He expected more fighting, which is why all his spells are geared towards shielding and causing discreet damage. But to his disappointment he didn't hang a single spell that would have had to do with investigating. A definite failure to assess the situation on his end.

He pushes through the increasing sensation of mind fog and marvels at the presence of the time-step. Cursing himself inwardly at his lack of foresight, he is already readying himself to engage the Regency soldiers - it calls him like an old addiction - when the command to stand back arrives. Merlin gives a small sigh and instead pushes forward to the front. Perhaps he should be helping the soldiers to climb out of the tunnels or help take count of the remaining resources, but instead Merlin is keeping a steady eye on the Regency.

Feel free to tell him to get back to work or start a conversation. He's unlikely to do that himself.

[ ooc: If you want something else with Merle, let me know, I'm happy to write starters. C: piipa ]

1

[tommygunned]

"Oh, man, you're crazy."

See, she can do this too. It's actually kind of a relief to find somebody who isn't face-first in despair or gallows humor--not that gallows humor is bad but, look, there's regular funny even in the pits of hell. Sex jokes are funny everywhere. So are poop jokes. Maturity hobbles the unhappy.

So, as she flops down onto a sandbag and yawns widely, she shakes her head.

"Long shower. Long shower. Hours of shower, gonna use up all the water on a small planet, and it'll be hot water. You remember what clean's like? I don't."

[purpleandgray]

"Crazy? Or addicted?" Merlin gives a small, rather mirthless chuckle. Coffee is definitely his poison of choice.

He shakes one cigarette out of his package and offers it to her. Even if the stench of burning tar and tobacco leaves is an unpleasant one, it's much better than rot and filth.

"I feel like there isn't a cure to this condition anymore. We just need to learn to shed our skins like snakes. That might make me feel clean. I'm not sure of anything less to be honest."

2

[neutronium]

"Nothing good for those we're supposed to be protecting, I suspect." Hux frowns slightly, taking a long drag on his cigarette, blowing out the smoke, watching it curl into the sky. He's long stopped trying to pretend that he was smoking, instead just resorting to smoking them--it has helped him avoid hungry, and the miss of his caf (even for him, the rations have left something to be desired).

He glances over at the other man, and the frown deepens just slightly; the fog is bothering him, but not because he has powers, but he's been around Ren and Snoke long enough to know what hey feel like when they feel off. There are so many that seem...on edge, now, including this man. It's like a buzzing that settles in the back of his teeth, the hint of ozone and tension trying to cling to his skin.

Staring into the abyss has never scared him, after all. He just dares it to stare back.

"I doubt that is much we can do about it, but prepare for some negative eventuality."

[purpleandgray]

"I suppose you are correct." Merlin has to agree. There have been magic in some of the Earths that he's seen but this one hasn't shown any signs of it this far. Which means the mist is a result of something else entirely.

He gives the other man a brief glance from the corner of his eye, as if he doesn't want to take his eyes off of the mist for a long period of time.

When he hung his spells, he hadn't taken into consideration magic at all. There's a distinct possibility that it's going to cost him.

With a small sigh, he fishes out his own cigarettes and lights one up. Keeping his fingers moving is a good idea after all. It gives him something to focus on.

"It's not natural." For this world at least.

He frowns and rubs his hand across his jaw thoughtfully. His shrug is almost like an afterthought to all of this. What is there to do about it?

"You were at the training camp, right?" One way of saying you're with COST, aren't you?

[neutronium]

"The fact we are here at all isn't natural. Our existence here could easily disrupt any precious balance that was had here," regardless of what COST said--he doubted they had all the causalities plotted out, and if they did, it was clear they were willing to take risks. Risks that included this strange mist rolling in.

Hux continued to work on his cigarette, watching both the mist and the man next to him in turn. "I was, yes. Sniper designation--which means my skills certainly will not be of use, now." He pressed the cigarette between his lips and offered a hand.

"Armitage."

[purpleandgray]

"That is if you believe that there's only one thread of existence at any given time." Merlin gave a small shrug. "In my experience the universe is an unreadable collection of countless possibilities and parallel existences. We quite possibly might alter this world's future indefinitely. But who is to say it wasn't meant to happen? Who is to say what is meant to happen?"

Fate. Not a thing Merlin believes in. Despite his rather strange position in his life where he always seems to end up smack in the middle of the most decisive skirmishes. That is his mother's doing, though, nothing to do with fate.

"There probably is a world out there where this same conflict plays out without our interference. And then another where it ends in a completely different note. And another where it already has been done and we're a hundred years late to it."

He takes Armitage's hand and squeezes it firmly. "Merlin Sawall. I thought I saw you in sniper training." Even if it had been mostly done one-on-one it would have been hard to miss who else was receiving those lessons. "Have you been long with the COST?"

[neutronium]

"COST, apparently." Hux gave a small snort, pressing his lips together in a thin line. He didn't believe in fate, either. Destiny, yes; they were two separate things, as one was something you had to strive for--it was not preordained. But the idea of different timelines--that was a new idea to him, now. He didn't find it unbelievable, but it was also something that would take him a bit of time to fully process.

"Those other 'worlds' don't matter, though--what matters is what we are doing to this one--and perhaps not all worlds can handle what happens. Pulling at the threads, dropping other existences into reality...there is a gamble being played. And we are not the ones betting."

And Hux disliked not being in control.

Still, he shook the hand, giving a nod of his head. "Only since December. I'm recently arrived. Yourself?"

[purpleandgray]

"Trying to understand what happens on cosmic level is a headache and then some," Merlin said with a small, mirthless chuckle. He used to be able to affect those things. Apparently COST had seen it necessary to take that ability away from him.

"I'm as fresh as they come. This is my first time."

He didn't seem all that bothered by it. The mist was giving him more to think about, however. What it was and why it was here were questions that would put a pressure on him for quite a while.

"Any tips you might have for the rookie?" he asked with a small twitch on his lips.

2

[courtintrigue]

As if war was not a perfectly reasonable cause for one to be on edge already, this fog creeps in. The mist prickles along her skin like magic, a feeling she would quite enjoy if not for two important facts. The first is that she feels as though her mana is draining more quickly, effortless spells now requiring more focus. That would be bad enough, but the second fact is that time and time again, in Jerusalem and then France and now here, Earth has proven to have no magic.

That it suddenly feels as though it does -- and in such a way that impairs -- unsettles her. Infuriates her.

Though the man who asks the question is not a familiar face, she can sense something different about him. Being near him feels a bit like standing beside someone casting a particularly powerful spell, but whether that is real or some further trick of the mist is uncertain. It is her way to appraise everyone she meets, but he earns a closer scrutiny than most, her golden eyes studious.

"I like it not."

[purpleandgray]

It is frustrating. Just a simple sign of Logrus requires effort to hold onto. Almost as if he had just essayed Chaos for the first time and tried it on for a size. But he's no novice with the primal forces and it shouldn't require this much from him.

Reluctantly he will have to admit eventually that he can't hold onto the sign forever. Especially if he wants to cast a spell or two. He'll have to pick one or the other.

Sighing, he pulls back a little bit from the wall and glances at her, pausing as he realises that she's looking at him instead of the fog.

"Neither do I." One corner of his mouth twitches, as if trying to pull up into a smile but only manages to get there half way. "I don't think it's origins are exactly natural."

He thinks he remembers seeing her at the training camp. It seems safe to assume that she's with COST. He doesn't remember seeing any local women at the trenches.

"Merlin," he says as he offers his hand to her.

[courtintrigue]

"No," she agrees with a distinct note of bitterness. "I have felt nothing quite like it here before now."

That may not mean as much to him right now as it does to her, but it is a small consolation that know that she is not alone in feeling ill at ease. The fog is thick enough to make the world around them eerie, yes, but eeriness alone is far from enough to bother her.

She looks down at his offered hand, not unfamiliar with the gesture but still not accustomed to it. So much touching over simple greetings, she remembers complaining once, and she knows Aedan wanted to laugh but held it in as best he could. It seems clasping and shaking hands is a custom for many people regardless of where she goes.

"I am Morrigan." Let no one say she makes no attempt to adapt. Under the circumstances, she is curious to see if that feeling of power is stronger on contact. Her hand clasps his, firm, but only for a moment. "You are a new recruit?"

[purpleandgray]

"Yeah, in my experience Earth-- Well, Earths are usually magic free zones." Merlin nods curtly. "I don't think I've seen spells used by uh, local people in any of the Earths that I've visited."

But the multiverse works in mysterious ways. He's quite sure there is a version of Earth where magic is used. However, it hasn't seemed that way in this particular one at least this far.

The way she pauses before she clasps his hand makes him think that she's not accustomed to handshakes. But when she does grab his hand he lets that smile slip over his lips fully and squeezes her hand firmly. Whether or not the feeling of power is stronger or not depends on her. He's but a conduit for the world altering primal force of Chaos. Logrus has a mind of its own, Merlin can command it but not quite control all of its deviations, which are plenty.

"Morrigan. It's a pleasure. Even if the circumstances could have been better. And yes, I am new. I don't suppose you have any pro tips for the rookie."

[courtintrigue]

"You have experience with multiple Earths." A single note of laughter huffs out of her, more than a little dry. "What a delight that must be."

This one is quite enough for anyone, she thinks, though that does give her pause. To her recollection no one has explicitly said that everything she has done with COST has happened in one timeline on one Earth. That has been her assumption, one she has had little reason to doubt.

"My advice is that you should expect to never feel satisfied." The brief handshake feels like something of an affirmation, but it tells her nothing more. Whatever power clings to him is entirely unfamiliar. "We are not always successful at meeting our goals. Even when we do, we are not lingering to enjoy it. Some of us do not even recall joining the cause." Her head tips, not so far from owlish. "Do you?"

[purpleandgray]

Merlin can't help the snort of laughter he gives at her dry reply. Despite feeling the tingle of nervous energy, like a ring of ice around his ass, he isn't completely blind to the humour of it. "I'm quite fond of it," he shoots back with a small, crooked grin that curls in one corner of his mouth. "Earth, in its various versions. But I'm rather particular to the ones that are further along with their history. Almost a hundred years forward from this date."

He relaxes a little bit, assuming a stance that has some longevity, at ease and shifting his weight back instead of constantly hovering on the edge of ready action. He's gotten used to living on that recipe since leaving his preferred shadow Earth behind. Gallipoli seems almost like a relief compared to that. No one is gunning specifically for his head here after all.

"You don't seem exactly impressed, I take it," he says with a hint of a teasing note in his tone of voice. "If this is what your sampling has been, though. I'm not surprised."

He considers her pro tips curiously. The general attitude around the COST operations seem somewhat familiar to him - a fact that might be comforting to some is rather terrifying to Merlin instead - he could imagine one of his aunts or uncles leading a project like this without a problem.

"I do, remember," he says a little awkwardly, reaching up to ruffle the hair at the back of his head. "But I have to admit that I had completely different kind of expectations." At first he had assumed he might actually lie about not remembering. But the closer to the truth you keep your stories, the better. And he's still at liberty to spin this depending on her reaction to it. (Merlin could do with a reminder that not everyone is out to get him.) "What about yourself?"

3

[handsomefoil]

Henry follows up as a man he may or may not recognize (the mud and grime really doesn't help) from COST, grabbing the injured man and ushering him and the others in as quickly as he can. It's hard not to get distracted by the ringing in his ears, the possibility of more shells raining down on their heads, but adrenaline plays a great part in his efforts.

Whoever Merlin didn't grab the first time around, he does, and he has to thank his maker for keeping him all in one piece through the past few weeks. As the last of them are pushed through the crumbling entrance, he sets one of the men down to sit and whips his head around to watch the rubble and rocks gradually block out the light.

"Shit," he wheezes out, leaning a shoulder against the wall for a moment. The ceiling is low and everything feels cramped, trapped, suffocating and currently too warm despite the weather. "Think we... got as many as we could..."

[purpleandgray]

Happily the stranger doesn't drag his feet but makes a valiant effort to get a move on as fast as possible. Merlin pushes against the roof of the entrance as hard as he can but when a shell lands too damn close for comfort, shaking loose some rubble and more rocks, even he has to admit defeat.

He yanks his riffle out of the doorway and dodges inside. As much as he would like to say that he lands gracefully, that is not the case. A whistle can be heard outside and then the ground shakes, throwing him off of his feet and the shower of rocks right after him. Pain explodes against his temple and soon after blood smears the field of his vision. He finds himself on the ground, spitting mud out of his mouth.

"Yeah," he croaks, trying to get his voice heard over the raging of bombs outside. "I hope the rest find another entrance that's still intact."

[handsomefoil]

Once the man dislodges his rifle, the rest of the entrance comes apart at an alarming speed. Like his life flashing before his eyes, cold and dark substance flashing over his skin (his eyes, nose, mouth, cutting off his air) when he'd been entombed in a mysterious stone not more than a few months ago, the light disappears.

Then suddenly, Henry loses his balance, dropping his injured cargo as the impact of the bomb vibrates through the ground. His arms come up to shield his face, little rocks pelting his arm but fortunately he's far away enough to avoid being hit by anything larger. Light floods through the cracks and it's bright for a second until it's not. He watches the man go down, wondering if he's dead.

He doesn't know this man, but for some reason there's a sliver of relief when he hears his voice. Death and delivering it never bothered him, but he's suddenly tired of it— being surrounded by it so constantly and in such a state. Having a voice that sound less pitiful than the others to communicate with feels like a fucking blessing.

"Good luck to them."

He remembers to breathe, focusing on the sound of the man's voice though it starts to mingle with the pained moans and sobs of men and boys alike as they suffer their wounds.

"You alright?"

[purpleandgray]

Struggling to sit up, Merlin brushes some dust off of himself even if it's such a pointless effort given that they're all caked with it from head to toe. Someone lights a lantern further away and the glow reveals his hands to be smeared with blood that has turned brown from all the ash and dust that's mixed with it.

"Just brilliant," he says drily as he glances up at the guy who helped him outside. He seems to remember his face, faintly, from the training camp before. So, he's with COST as well.

The soldiers start to trickle further into the caves. No one really wants to stay around the crumbled mouth of it, which is sharp, Merlin muses, even if it probably isn't going to cave in any further.

He doesn't try up yet, but tests his temple with the back of his fingers and winces as pain shoots through his head.

"You? Any injuries?" They're stuck in this together now. He just hopes this man isn't one of those loose cannons that will resist any attempts to work together.

[handsomefoil]

The soldier he'd been carrying groans, and he does his best to help him sit so that he's at least not exacerbating his injuries. After exchanging a few hushed words, he turns towards Merlin as he's asking him about injuries. He pauses a moment to glance at the head wound, but at least the guy seems lucid enough.

"No, none, just a little bruised maybe."

He'd always been lucky enough to never get seriously injured, despite his line of work.

"Looks like a shallow cut," he says, nodding in his general direction. "You don't have a concussion, do you?"

LATE AS USUAL - 1

[dorzalta]

"Just as we discussed, tala. One body, and you return."

"As you command, Lady Mother."

She's in the process of allowing her spiderling to crawl down her arm, settle on her lap for a brief moment, and then scurry down into the muddy grounds of the trenches. The porcelain-skinned Day-One is quick, near a ghost, as she scurries up the opposite side and disappears at the top.

No increase in gunfire. It's a good sign, yes?

With a quiet sigh, she lights a cigarette and takes a surprisingly long draw on it. No coughing. The epitome of calm, the Dragon Queen is, as she considers the guns they'd perched above.

"Seems a rather hefty price for one cup of coffee." Did you see her just lick her lips, Merlin? "I would enjoy a cup. My goal is to take a bath. I want the water steaming hot. And maybe have an orange, if we can find one."

HDU

[purpleandgray]

Merlin has kind of convinced himself that cleanliness is a state of mind by now. He's done a lot of work on it. Delusions are hard to maintain, you see.

But her spider friend makes him give an interesting little hum as he watches it scurry away on her orders. "One body?" he asks curiously, assuming this is probably for nourishing the beast.

He could possibly come by some coffee beans if he'd be very discreet about it. But making the coffee might result in a riot in the trenches. Unfortunate as it is, he keeps this to himself.

Instead, he wastes his rations for today's miracle making to dig up a small bag of gummy bears from his pocket. He glances around as if not to alert the soldiers further along the trenches. He peels open the plastic bag and offers it to her.

"Bath is a good one, too. But I think I would do without a bath for one more day if that meant I'd get coffee."

I DAREEE

[dorzalta]

"She'll gorge herself, elsewise." Dany makes a disapproving noise in the back of her throat, exhaling smoke through her nostrils. "She's already tried as much back at the medical tent, when we proffered our aid there. Not exactly discreet. I was near her, at least, when she would."

Now, she's wary of leaving her daughter in the midst of enemies.

"She'll also cause some panic, I imagine, with a man's innards melted open." Said so casually, as she takes another drag on her cigarette. "Are you willing to wager a kingdom on that cup of coffee, though?"

The bag has her tilting her head, leaning closer to gaze curiously at it. There are brightly colored... bears? She reaches to pull a green one out, squeezing it, watching it bounce back into its natural form. Then she looks up to him. "I don't understand."

so daunting....

[purpleandgray]

"Ah, moderation in everything," Merlin says with a quiet hum, nodding easily at her comment as if it were the most reasonable.

It really isn't, though. But who is he to judge?

"I'm sure she would have quite an impressive visage. Not sure if that would be such a bad thing, though." He sounds thoughtful as if he really is considering the pros and cons of it.

Then he jumps out of his revenue when she doesn't seem to know what to do with the candy.

"You can eat it." Here, let Merlin show an example. Here goes, blue and green at the same time. "Or you could just play with it too, if you like. One could suggest that ripping off the heads and seating them on different coloured bodies might be amusing."

A beat. And a few more bears.

"I recommend eating, though."

He's going to come back to that line of thought about his kingdom in a little bit. They have more important things to discuss at first.

snaps fingers at

[dorzalta]

She doesn't mention her dragons, or how they'd been so very territorial of their food whilst adolescents. Nor does she mention how Drogon terrorized the countryside throughout Essos for so very long. That's why she attempts to monitor this. Because allow a child free reign, and that child would learn no discipline.

"The entire point is to assimilate. Having a spider-like creature terrorizing the enemies would not do well for history, I imagine."

This is Dany: behaving. Not trying to twist the events into something more favorable.

She leaves that subject be, and instead watches him eat the bears. When he suggests tearing their heads off, she lifts her own to her nose and sniffs at it. There's a distantly sweet smell to it. Strange.

"Have you torn their heads off very often?" she asks, before slipping the bear into her mouth.

It's chewy. With each bite, more flavor bursts onto her tongue. Not juicy like the fruit she'd favored in Essos, but not plain, either.

"Where are these from?"