[ P ] tin soldiers

MOIRA SWIFT

The salt in the air and thick clouds above make for a rather despondent atmosphere, but Moira found herself liking it. The sting of a cold breeze on her face is invigorating, sharpening the tempo of her steps as she falls into the habitual march of a soldier. A growl of thunder undulates across the iron-grey sky, but she gives the heavens little more than a brief glance to check for lightning. None yet. She's done drills and patrols in worse conditions.

She presses her tongue against the backs of her teeth in a silent grimace that doesn't disturb the impassive expression she currently wears. It's a habit she will likely never let go of, having learned to control her emotions at an earlier age than most. The army had never found out she'd lied about her age, and her ascent to lieutenant major had been quicker than most. Precocious. That was the word the colonel used in his assessment before her final promotion.

"Your pardon, ladies," she mutters, stepping past a gaggle of adolescent girls who were cooing over a spread of sparkling stones laid out by a merchant. They appear to ignore her, but the smallest one turns a curious eye towards Moira, to which she offers a bland smile. There were fewer hawkers out here, but the ones she spies lurking in the shadows seem to fit the atmosphere. This is a seedier part of Sussex, and the Drunken Seagull should be nearby... and hopefully, she would find Argent. The tanner she'd spoken to earlier had been absolutely certain he'd been spotted in the area. Hard to miss a soldier in a den of thieves, after all.

code by claerie

LA.
fall on your sword...

The ambience matched the monochrome man in both body and soul. As the wind picked up and the swell of the clouds surged above he paused to take it all in. Thunder roared its primal cry and he watched eyes tracking the sky for the inevitable lashing of lightning. Moving through the crowds his body fell into the natural routine of a patrol, circling the perimeter and observing closely for signs of disorder. The reminder that he was nothing more than a vagrant parading himself like a soldier jerked his limbs to a sudden stop. He gritted his teeth, internally berating himself for acting like a fool. Pretending could not reverse the damage to his body nor return the rank that had been stripped from him.

Two faces came to mind whenever the shame of his failure ripped open raw wounds. His mother’s pride when he finally graduated from a squire to a platoon of his own and the look of recognition in Lieutenant Major Swift’s eyes when she had seen his potential. He had failed them both. His mother would never know, she had passed before seeing the broken man her son had become. Lieutenant Major Swift had been a dutiful mentor, visiting him while he recovered from his injuries even when it seemed like he wouldn’t make it. He didn’t remember much of that time and he was thankful for that. She deserved a better protege, one that wouldn’t fail her. He hoped she would forget him in time and move on to take another talented recruit under her wing.

He saw her before she noticed him, freezing in place like a rabbit. Of all the places he never expected to see his old mentor in a place of such ill repute. The fear that surged through him made him consider something he never thought he would before. Running away from her. The cowardly thought both sickened and shamed him. He didn’t want her to see him like this, but neither could he disrespect her by ignoring her.

“Lieutenant Major Swift,” he addressed his former commander, inclining his head respectfully. He avoided meeting her gaze, pretending to observe their surroundings instead. ”This is unexpected. Out on patrol?” he asked, deliberately making small talk to avoid the difficult questions.

code by claerie

MOIRA SWIFT

The sound of her name invokes an involuntary response, triggering the synapses that were shaped over nearly two and half years of her life. Moira's shoulders stiffen, hips swinging at a practiced angle to bring her into a face-to-flank, piercing gaze immediately falling upon Argent's familiar visage. She takes a moment to scour his expression, noting the things she's always looked for in her soldiers: clear eyes, clean fur, unstained lips (fermented berry juice would always betray the drinker), and then down to the rest of him, checking for obvious injury or malformation. A moment passes before she truly recognizes him, and the subconscious realization is a painful one: his wounds run deeper.

The smile she grants him is razor thin at first, but blooms into something warmer and more genuine as she takes a few strides forward, intent on a real conversation rather than shouting across the street at one another. "No more patrols for me, Argent," she tells him, grin crumbling into a tiny frown that introduces a shadow between her brows, turning the emerald of her eyes into something more evergreen. "I've retired." She swallows, struggling against the admission, especially since it's terribly obvious that she chose this. This wasn't an honorable discharge; her career might have gone so much further. It's harder than she thought it would be. So much had been sacrificed, all in the name of a king she'd never once laid eyes on. Her fights had been for her men, and no one else. Now that she knew the cost, and had looked into the ugly face of War, Moira could no longer rationalize paying the price.

Especially not when facing Argent.

"Came to see how you're faring," she says, clearing her throat. "And if you've got any advice on civilian life for your old lieutenant major." She tilts her head, silently inviting him to walk the streets with her. She knows he'll likely feel the same itch in his paws, even after some time away from the ranks. It's hard to stay still, harder to accept that sometimes doing nothing is the only option. Relaxation is practically a swear word amongst soldiers.

code by claerie

LA.
fall on your sword...

Her gaze passed over him, seeing through the cracks in his facade and knowing the face behind the mask he presented. She would see that he did not sleep enough, that his fur was bedraggled and unkempt. In the army they wouldn’t have tolerated such a sloppy looking soldier and he felt shame twisting his stomach at the poor impression he must be giving his former commanding officer. Her approval had always been important to Argent and that still hadn’t changed even though he had left the army. Instinctively he felt himself straighten when she approached, holding himself in the stance of a soldier standing to attention. ”No more patrols for me, Argent,” These words drew his evasive gaze towards her earthen features, confusing passing through his stormy gaze. His brow furrowed, a ghost of a frown settling on his monochrome face as he tried to understand. ”I’ve retired,” Her revelation left him speechless. Of all the reasons why she might not patrol anymore, retirement had never entered his mind. Why? When? She seemed in good health from what he could see unless her injury was less obvious like his own. War could damage the mind and break even the hardest soldier.

”Oh,” he replied after a long pause. ”I-...” he began to say and sighed, shaking his head. What was he supposed to say? He would do anything to be able to serve again. If injury had forced her into retirement she wouldn’t want his pity either. ”Are you well?” was what he managed to come out with and after the words were spoken he was inwardly cursing himself. Couldn’t he think of something better to say?

”Came to see how you’re faring,” Those bitter sweet words perked his ears up. He longed to return to how things were between them. The easy comradery between a boss and her subordinate. He wasn’t quite sure how to act around her anymore. He followed at her side, naturally falling into step about half a pace behind her so that she was leading him. ”I got some work to guard the merchants stocks. It’s only temporary, but.. they could always use another set of paws,” he suggested, embarrassed at the slim pickings he had to offer her. She was worthy of more than simple grunt work.

code by claerie

MOIRA SWIFT

Moira can sense his shock, and sees it as he sighs, shakes his head; were she a younger, more impetuous version of herself, she might have laughed or grimaced. Now, she allows the rush of emotions to pass between them both, succumbing to the control that keeps her from what could be considered inappropriate expression. Why, though? wonders a small voice in the back of her mind. The military is no longer her life, and she is entitled to both her opinions and emotions as much as the next wolf. There's no colonel to impress, no inspections to pass. She is beholden to nobody except herself, and now that this particular seed of thought has planted itself, it will undoubtedly grow.

"Don't look at me like that," she grumbles with her ears pinned, though there is a twinkle in her eye that says she isn't actually berating him. "I'm fine." It's everything else that's fucked up. She controls her anger for a moment, but bitterness spills out anyway. "Do you know that the King is planning a ball? As if that is what the people need right now." She snorts, lips curling a little as the flash of her teeth emphasizes the verbal protest. It's probably the most unprofessional thing she's ever said to Argent, but animosity and rebelliousness prickle beneath her skin. Seeing him in person has set her on edge, angry on his behalf.

Moira falls silent, listening to his brief about the work he has found himself after his discharge. She nods, once, acknowledging the offer with brusque gratitude. "They'll be busy enough, scrambling to provide stock for the festivities." She ruminates on this for a moment. It would be nice to have something to keep her busy, but is she willing to give more of her time and energy to an effort she no longer supports? "Perhaps I'll head back north and see what I can find there." She casts a sidelong glance at Argent, wondering what he'd think. Returning to the battlefront? A season ago, she never would have dreamed it.

code by claerie

LA.
fall on your sword...

There was something very different about the Moira Swift standing in front of him than the Lieutenant Major of his memories. Her behaviour was as restrained as his, trying to keep a measure of discipline and professionalism in their interaction. Argent wanted to know why she had retired, but he wasn’t sure if that would be crossing any of the professional boundaries that their relationship had been built on as leader and subordinate.

Don’t look at me like that. She grumbled at him and he narrowed his eyes at her, noting the twinkle in her gaze. ”Tch. You can’t expect me not to worry after telling me you’re retired,” he grumbled back at her, worry wrinkling his stern features. Concern for his former mentor made him forget about his initial awkwardness and feelings of shame. ”I’m fine. she told him and he huffed in response, obviously skeptical. Her sudden criticism of the King had him taken aback, he almost choked in surprise, but managed to clear his throat in time. ”I...I’ve heard about,” he muttered, visibly confused and alarmed by her remarks. ”Lieutenant Major. What is this about?” Argent questioned her perhaps for the first time in his life.

She didn’t seem interested in the work he suggested to her and he nodded, feeling a little disappointed. He’d hoped they might work together again. Again the subject of the winter ball resurfaced and he wondered if that was why she hesitated since she obviously didn’t support King Adamh’s choice to host one. "Perhaps I'll head back north and see what I can find there." A flicker of discomfort caused his nose to twitch and his grey eyes darkened like the stormy skies above. ”That might be dangerous,” he said, with the war all too fresh in his mind. If anyone did remember her from the frontlines it might stir unrest amongst the highlanders. He didn’t doubt that the Lieutenant Major could handle herself, but he had thought the same of himself once.

code by claerie

MOIRA SWIFT

Moira knows she is acting recklessly - at least in comparison to the demeanor she'd maintained so carefully as an officer. Argent's concern is endearing, and she finds herself unconsciously mimicking his expression. Squinting eyes, furrowing brow, the corners of her mouth tightening, and a gleam in her eye that is warm despite her feigned annoyance. She's watching him closely enough to see the shock he tries to disguise with a cough, and she feels a bite of regret at how loose her tongue becomes when oiled with anger.

What is this about? The directness of his query seems to shake her. A sharp intake of breath is followed quickly by a brief shake of her head. Is she refusing to answer his question? Rejecting his concern? She finds that she can't bring herself to be dishonest with him, and although they are still winding their way through the city, she seems lost for a moment. Silence reigns, until she deposes it with a harsh bark of laughter. "Forgive me, soldier. I'm not myself since leaving command, and it... wears on me." She looks at him again, knowing he'll understand.

She sighs, ears flat against her head and tail swung low between her cream-colored ankles as they move along. "You are correct. It would be reckless. Perhaps I'll stay for a while and see what all the fuss is about, eh?" Her smile is forced, but at least she's trying. It's more than the grim, expressionless front that she might normally present in the presence of someone she trusts less than Argent.

code by claerie

LA.
fall on your sword...

The snowy peaks of his shoulders stiffened with tension and his greyscale features twitched with uncertainty. It was not his place to question her, even now that they stood as equals in retirement he still looked to her as his leader. His respect for her had not dwindled even if their ranks no longer required him to answer to her. Argent did not know the reason that she had retired and it seemed to be an uncomfortable subject for her to dwell on so he did not press her on it. She seemed to be struggling enough without him adding to her discomfort.

”I understand, ma’am,” he assured her, knowing how difficult it was to adjust to civilian life. He suspected there was more to it than the Lieutenant Major not feeling herself, but once again held his tongue. If she wished to share with him then he preferred it be on her terms and not because he pushed her to.

She seemed to take Argent’s caution into consideration and suggested that she might stay. A smile touched his stern features, one that was more reminiscent of the warm comradery they shared in their army days. He hoped that she would. If she did disappear into the Highlands he didn’t know if he would see her again. It wasn’t a place he was likely to visit ever again. ”If you change your mind about the winter ball I was thinking of going. Not really my thing, but figure they might need some extra paws on security,” he made mention of it casually so that she knew there would be a friendly face there if she did go.

code by claerie