circumstantial evidence

Chapter 01: strawberries
Chapter 02: lemons
Chapter 03: cherries
Chapter 04: seashells

Duty binding and the pursuit of excellence in all things, combat to camaraderie, has made the thought of establishing new relations - new types of relations - between and across national lines somewhat of a late and forgotten-about one. Soldiers have got plenty enough to worry about just recognizing the up-close-and-personal faces of the opposing side, let alone smililng at them any more easily and gleefully than one would at a friendly from a far-off colony.

So that's all well and fine. Stop fighting. Pick up a hobby. Hoe some potatoes. Look an ether-lined Agnian in the face. The usual snuff.

Bolearis is lost, though. He's not cut out to be commander, of course. All whacking and smacking aside, he's observed that there's a whole Levnis of a lot more to coming into your own than just posturing to show who's boss.

He's got to get himself into some situations, first. Run about on the road and fall into Ouroboros, et cetera. Work out who's where and how's what and all the ugly bits in between about making sure everyone has enough to eat, at the end of the day.

And then there's Cammuravi, whom Bolearis has never ever seen having to muck about with any of this logistical business. He's above it. Probably always has been. That single fact has the eyes of the Steelwill glued to every ember quicker than clocks to a flame.

Effortless, is he? Not a single vein stood out to show that he tries so hard.

"You might try slowing down a bit, Alexandria?"

Juniper looked at her with that serious face, that quiet resting caution that betrayed not a care in the world, and for a moment Alex even thought it might be possible.

From anyone else, it'd make her absolutely rile in disgust. Slow down? Let up? Watch Iota fall into disrepair purely for the sake of not being bothered?

But it was Juniper suggesting it, so Alexandria found it prudent to consider. If the other colony was yet standing, in the aftermath of the destruction of the Flame Clock, then might its strategy not prove workable, in some way, after all?

What she said, though, was that "I'm afraid I don't know how to do that. Putting Iota first is all I know."

Juniper had no reason to stray conciliatory, to be encouraging and patient and wise. Actually, they had no reason to care at all - and wasn't that their entire point?

Alex would surely hang her head just to go in circles thinking about it, if she'd ever dared to let herself consider such a thing.

"That is difficult, isn't it," replied Juniper. "Consul U visited us so rarely, we never had any notion of how well or poorly we were doing. We just knew when we were running low."

Running on empty. Alexandria'd been doing it for quite a few terms now, always busting to stay on top.

Her own oddness frustrated her. It fit far too well with Juniper's peace.

Whether or not she held herself up as the Silvercoat, Ethel had never abided the idea of leaving anyone behind. Strategy was a thing to be measured and concocted in advance of the battle and its associated movements, not a rushed reorganization enacted while already out on the field.

There should be no objective to failing anyone, save their own inevitable failure to stay alive.

Not that she truly thought of her comrades and subordinates so harshly. It was a difficult thing to qualify, but in the end it was simply this: all those who fell did so giving their greatest effort. All those who proceeded would have their mettle tested again, in time.

It was the sad truth of the world. That sadness, brutal melancholy, pervaded despite the lack of any other firmamental idea.

If there were any in Aionios that had inspired a tenderer concept for the celebrated commander of Colony 4, it was the commensurate commander of Colony 5.

Orsolya, beautiful and bright-eyed, explosive and earnest, graceful in grayscale despite the dynamics of her thick, dark hair.

Somehow, she brought honor to Iron and Copper - even, once, to Dirt and Tin.

Orsolya had been adamant that she'd match Ethel's success by her own promise. Ethel had naturally respected this, but she'd also felt...invested in the prosperity of another, separate settlement, the way no soldier ever should.

It wasn't the judicious thing, nor was it particularly productive. But something about Orsolya compelled her. Somehow, it always had.

Irma's always been so inspirational - so sparky, so primed to, well, mouth off at anyone who stood in her way!

Fiona's job, as the colony signifer, is to rally them all together and keep them focused on target, just like a bona fide commander, but she can hardly say that she has Irma's true charisma for the battles at hand. That grand focus and expert tactics, putting a well place to buffs that Fiona just feels herself throwing out hurriedly, just scrambling to keep everyone standing...

Well, not that it's such a great compliment to be putting herself down, but how else is it she should describe what's so wonderful about Irma?

Maybe let's try it, to think of all the best that Irma brings out. Maybe let's reminisce on the best of unified times.

How Irma used to be so gentle (and she still is, lately, but it's different). How she'd consistently make a point to put Fiona first.

How she hated to see Fiona frown. Fiona's obviously the heart of Mu, and Irma's indeed been its soul.

So confident and self-assured. Trust in yourself and your crew, yes yes, but always always bet on Irma, firstmost.

Her glistening eyes, so keen and ready. Her gorgeous hair, so coral-colored and straight-set.

Fiona has always loved Irma. Oh, of course she has. Others might say it's complicated, and tragic and regrettable and all, but that's only the now of it, and the then has really never even posed a question.