001 ♠ the price of victory
[ooc; feel free to hit me or something I am winging this guy's canon nnnngh
Timeline: some time after he meets Miwako, before he asks her out; some time after cancelling classes for a week because of a White SeeD mission; some time after giving a grueling exam to juniors - inwardly going 'WORK IT, BITCHES' at them -]
He's no different from anyone else, that he knows, and that he lives by; he was just another statistic in a white army of angels breathing the scent of death every single day. He could die any moment on the battlefield and he knows that he won't regret a single thing (except maybe one, maybe he should've asked her out or something, screw fraternization protocol), because that's just how he had been molded, raised, to forget everything, like forever using the waters of Lethe to clean the blood from his hands.
That being said, coming back from a mission was an absolute bitch, because everything hurt and he just had to get another dose of the drug that gave him so high of a GF compatibility rate, just had to face the faceless voices of the Counsel, just had to get reminded that, oh, next time, be a little faster with the mass-murder thing, will you?
And he had been made to come back in the middle of the day, too. Oh, it was so easy to slip back into his affable self, when blood was slowly soaking through the back of his uniform (and he can't take it off, his tattoos will show) and down an immobile arm numb with repeated casting and drawing and casting -
Why, oh why was the Infirmary so far away?
Timeline: some time after he meets Miwako, before he asks her out; some time after cancelling classes for a week because of a White SeeD mission; some time after giving a grueling exam to juniors - inwardly going 'WORK IT, BITCHES' at them -]
He's no different from anyone else, that he knows, and that he lives by; he was just another statistic in a white army of angels breathing the scent of death every single day. He could die any moment on the battlefield and he knows that he won't regret a single thing (except maybe one, maybe he should've asked her out or something, screw fraternization protocol), because that's just how he had been molded, raised, to forget everything, like forever using the waters of Lethe to clean the blood from his hands.
That being said, coming back from a mission was an absolute bitch, because everything hurt and he just had to get another dose of the drug that gave him so high of a GF compatibility rate, just had to face the faceless voices of the Counsel, just had to get reminded that, oh, next time, be a little faster with the mass-murder thing, will you?
And he had been made to come back in the middle of the day, too. Oh, it was so easy to slip back into his affable self, when blood was slowly soaking through the back of his uniform (and he can't take it off, his tattoos will show) and down an immobile arm numb with repeated casting and drawing and casting -
Why, oh why was the Infirmary so far away?