Written Wonderland

Elaine was grateful that Chris seemed to genuinely be chewing on what she had said, but she grew nervous again when his eyes narrowed.

Why had she asked for him?

Had the soldier not asked for the bullshit-free version, she might have tried to come up with something more soothing, but she was tired, and she appreciated that Chris wanted her to be straight with him. So, the truth, then, regardless of if it was going to make him run from her again.

"If I'm going to agree to send soldiers to the goddess, I don't want to force them. And it's difficult for me to imagine anyone who would want to go. So, that means I'm left with sending people who seem like they want to leave. To be honest, you were the first to come to mind. You're a good soldier, but I always have wondered if you'd be happier--or perhaps more fulfilled--elsewhere. And, I genuinely thought you might know of others if the idea was repulsive to you." Captain Morris sighed and continued. "But, to be honest, I don't want to send anyone. I will, but I don't want to."

The fact that Chris was the first soldier to come to his captain's mind as someone who wanted to leave stabbed deep into his chest, but he merely swallowed, his expression perhaps flinching, but not showing much more than that. He'd steeled himself for an answer like that, and he supposed, of all the things she could have said, the observation that he seemed most likely to want to leave was... well, probably true, and not especially judgmental, when he truly took a moment to look at it. It made him worry about just how bad of a soldier he'd been for her, but he tried to remind himself that she'd explicitly said he was a good soldier, and in the end, she'd said she didn't want to send anyone, presumably even him.

Chris' eyes looked down for a moment while he let his captain's words sink into his body. He realized he was somewhat disappointed that the captain hadn't answered that she thought he'd be someone the goddess would appreciate, but he told himself that had been an unreasonable hope in the first place. The captain might've once had friends who revered the goddess, but she herself seemed deeply uncertain. So, no, of course she wouldn't be able to say whether the goddess would want him. Probably, no one could. Captain Rutliff, maybe, but Chris dreaded the notion of approaching that captain for his opinion. He didn't know Chris, and Chris didn't trust his judgment. Though, it occurred to the boy to wonder anxiously how much volunteering to go to the goddess meant interacting with Rutliff more, but that felt like getting ahead of himself.

The boy swallowed, and returned his gaze to his captain.

"Well, you might be right about me. It sounds crazy, but I'm considering it." Chris watched Captain Morris' expression carefully, keeping his own steeled. He wasn't sure what he was looking for--hoping for or afraid of, even--but he wanted to catch any tiny hint of her response that he could. He didn't necessarily want her to reply, though. He wasn't sure if there was more he wanted to ask his captain about this particular thing, especially since it was getting harder and harder to see past the subtle notes of tiredness he saw in her.

"Is there something else going on, captain? Or, is it just..." the boy trailed off, unsure how to finish. Of course there had been a lot going on. Maybe it was stupid to ask, as though everything he knew they both knew about wouldn't warrant her being a little bit tired. Chris was tired, and he'd been able to spend most of his time staring silently at water. The boy lowered his gaze again, looking a bit guilty. Truthfully, he wouldn't normally have asked. Captain Morris wasn't exactly among the incredibly small group of people who confided much of anything in him. But, well, it seemed like they were confiding in each other for the time being--Chris admitting he was considering volunteering; Captain Morris confessing her concerns about the goddess, and reminiscing about her friends.

"I don't know." he mumbled before he let too long of a silence pass. "Couldn't shake the feeling like I missed something."

Elaine wondered if the answer she had given Chris had been too honest, but it was certainly too late to retract it, and she wasn't even sure what she would have said otherwise. But, when Chris spoke and said he was seriously considering going to the goddess, Elaine's expression fell a little, and her eyes watered ever so slightly. Chris may have been--may be--difficult, but that didn't mean she wanted him gone. To compose herself, she looked toward the ground and blinked a few times before Chris started speaking again. Finally, she let out a short, half-hearted chuckle.

"I'm going to miss your skills of observation," she said with a smile. "If you do leave, that is." Taking a deep breath, she determined there was no harm in saying something about what had happened when she had gotten back to camp. It didn't exactly feel related to what else Chris already knew about.

"You're right. When I got back to camp, I found a soldier bleeding with a neck and stomach wound, and he resisted going to the infirmary. It was difficult for him to speak, but he said something about a dream..." --and a god-- "and the healer thinks the soldier consumed some angel's trumpet. I don't know what would have compelled him to do that, but... well, I know everyone is tired of this war." Elaine paused for a moment, thoughtful, but then continued. "The healer says the man is going to be fine. And he's conscious. Not like the men attacked in the night."

The captain looked at Chris and smiled a little, her sadness at the possibility of Chris leaving--of anyone leaving--getting to her again.

A surprised, flustered smile briefly flashed across Chris' expression before he tightened his lips to obscure it. He hadn't been remotely prepared for a compliment from his captain, but that was what she'd given him. Butterflies swarmed in his chest--a strange, happy feeling, but bordering on overwhelming. The soldier clenched his fist on his knee to keep himself from rubbing at his sternum.

The butterflies quickly went lax and dissipated when Captain Morris said she'd found a soldier bleeding. The urge to smile dissipated with them, and the boy's expression relaxed into a soft, surprised, and vaguely-worried gape. He listened to his captain finish explaining what had happened, though confusion tugged a bit at his brow. Was she... was she saying someone had attempted suicide? Chris wasn't sure he cared to clarify. He decided he'd content himself with just knowing that he'd been right about something else being on his captain's mind, and having some idea of what it was so it didn't feel so vague and looming. He nodded, kind of absent-mindedly, but he supposed hoping to convey that he was glad she'd told him, even if he looked worried and confused about what she'd said.

"I'm glad he'll be okay." Chris finally said, a little hollowly, but he didn't feel like he could move on without saying something about it, and he found himself anxious to move on.

"Anyway, um... if I do decide to go..." the soldier shifted in his seat a bit nervously, but continued, "Do I just... report somewhere, or...?"

Elaine could not help but notice the changes in Chris' demeanor after both the compliment and the captain's explanation of what had happened since she returned to camp. She briefly wondered if it had been a mistake to be so honest with Chris, but she reminded herself that he had been the one to ask questions. And she knew from experience that giving Chris a half-hearted answer would not go over well. They need to trust each other, right now more than ever.

After Chris asked what he should do if he wanted to volunteer, Elaine gave the soldier a long look, full of compassion, and hoped that it would impart some bravery onto him and maybe even keep him protected. Gods only knew what Chris would face with the goddess.

"I'd like to know as soon as you are confident in your decision. I somehow doubt we will be able to gather all the volunteers by sundown, but be prepared to leave by then. I will make sure all the other arrangements are made." After a moment, Elaine added, "I would like to be there to see you off."

Chris felt a bit uncomfortable under his captain's gaze, but did his best to hold still rather than squirm or scrunch himself up. In the brief glances he felt brave enough to meet her gaze directly, he could tell she was trying to show him compassion. A lump swelled in Chris' stomach, seething and angry at the thought that the captain was pitying him, but he tensed his muscles against it, adamant to accept whatever his captain was actually trying to give him. Now more than ever before seemed like the time for that.

It sucked that he'd need to be ready to leave tonight, but he understood it wouldn't make much sense to wait around for days on end while indecisive soldiers tittered about entertaining the idea but unable to commit. Chris' eyes narrowed as he thought about some of the soldiers sharing lurid tales and how fucking quick they'd probably go white at the thought of actually living them. Chris' own blood didn't exactly run smoothly at the thought.

With a sigh, the boy pushed himself to his feet, one hand reaching over to rub at his other forearm before he caught himself and willed both hands steadily down to his side.

"I'll... go do what I need to do, then."

He swallowed uncomfortably, well fucking aware that at least one thing he needed to do was to talk to Amy. He wouldn't like it one bit (and probably, neither would she) but he wouldn't be able to leave without her blessing--or at the very least, her explicit indifference on the matter. Chris frowned deeply, emotion and fluster tugging at his expression before he hastily turned and left.

---

He didn't immediately find Amy--granted, not that he tried terribly hard. He'd given some of her usual haunts around camp a quick walk-by, before a creeping cowardice, relieved at not finding her yet, amplified the growing hunger in his stomach. Chris supposed there was no good reason not to eat first anyway, and made his way to the mess tent to grab some food. He could tell right away that the energy was different from normal, like everyone was somehow talking about the exact same thing. He dared to eavesdrop on a table he passed by after grabbing some food, just enough to hear the word volunteer.

Chris' back bristled as he took in just how many people were probably talking about that right now then, and the horrible thought crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, they'd have more than enough volunteers. The soldier's stomach turned over at the thought of finally getting onboard with the idea of leaving, just to be told it wasn't necessary. After all, wouldn't the goddess prefer someone less sullen? Maybe someone who had been more interested in trading tales, who cared to believe in her before she made magic rain from the sky. Gods, who was he to think this goddess would want him?

Chris hastily took his food far, far away from the mess tent, hurrying down the riverbank and deep into the woods. He wanted to cry, but settled for stuffing his face, and then staring intently down at the river. His mind was a tangle, questioning all over again why he was even considering going in the first place. He gripped white-knuckled at his knees, his eyes blurry and growing red as he wallowed in the feeling of being no good to anyone at all, least of all himself. He had no idea what he really wanted.

Then, he heard footsteps approaching, and his heart leapt to his throat. He pushed himself to his feet, far more flustered than normal, like he ought not to be here by the river at all.

"Amy!" he exclaimed her name before he'd even quite comprehended who he saw approaching him. How did she know? Had he been so obvious looking for her? Surely not, when he'd barely even tried?

Amy stopped walking towards him when she saw Chris stand and stare at her wide-eyed, his face already a deep red. Her own cheeks darkened, and she took half a step back. They were both silent a long moment, Amy's face twisting in clear discomfort. Chris barely breathed while he waited to see what she'd do, make some indication of why she was here.

"Have you heard?" was all she said, her eyes averted down towards the river. Anger welled in Chris' chest--she really couldn't be any more fucking specific than that?--but, he supposed, with how suffused the mess tent had been, maybe he was the one being unfair, pretending like it wasn't obvious what she was on about.

"Yeah." He finally huffed, willing his body to relax a bit, though they both continued standing stiff some feet away from each other.

"Will you go?" Amy asked quietly after another long silence, and a dagger ripped at Chris' heart. First his captain, and now Amy, both of them thinking of Chris so readily? Did Amy want him to leave? He supposed it'd probably simplify her life. Fuck.

"Do you want me to?" Chris asked, angry and exasperated.

"No!" Amy shouted back quickly, her face scrunched. Chris gaped in surprise, but Amy continued. "I mean, I... I don't really know what happened, Chris. One day everything was fine, and then the next you just stopped talking to me."

"Are you kidding me?" Chris' fists clenched at his sides. "Everything was not fine."

"Really?!" Amy spread her arms, now also exasperated.

"Really!" Chris spat back, crossed his arms, and turned around. This was so fucking stupid. He expected to hear Amy's footsteps recede, but there was just the quiet sound of the river.

"Gods, Chris, I don't get you."

Chris scrunched his shoulders, and stubbornly kept staring down the bank into the woods. He kept waiting for her to leave, but still, only the water rang in his ears, louder and louder until it was unbearable. He dropped his fists to his sides again as he flung back around.

"What makes you think I want to go, anyway?"

"Well, you hardly seem happy here!" Amy snapped back.

Chris groaned and turned around again, his hands reaching up to tangle in his hair and pull. By the time he started to loosen his grip and let sound through that curtain of pain, a panic shot up through his heart. Amy was crying.

Chris peeked in terror over his shoulder, the rest of him practically petrified. He saw Amy crouching, hugging her knees to her forehead as she cried. Chris thought about running into the woods again, but what would that accomplish? He... he still needed something from Amy, he knew. Maybe the way to get it was to figure out how in the fuck to actually deal with this. Even so, he remained still as a statue, absolutely baffled about what in the fuck to do.

Finally, Amy calmed and raised her gaze to him, and Chris hastily looked towards the river, but didn't move.

"I don't understand what I did wrong." Her voice sounded so soft, so meek, so very unlike Amy. At least, so very unlike the Amy he'd befriended, who'd been his confidant, who'd so gracefully taken off his shirt to touch his bare, burning skin. The fragility of it made Chris want to tell her that it was nothing, that it was just him, that he was broken, but then, he felt angry at that impulse arising. He may be tied in all sort of knots, but she didn't do nothing wrong. Still, it wasn't exactly going to get him what he wanted to spit that in her face, least of all when tears still fell down her cheeks.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that." Chris finally muttered, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. Amy sniffed, and slowly pushed herself to her feet.

"Well, if you don't know how to be a godsdamned human, then maybe you should go."

Chris's eyes narrowed, his brows flinching in pain at Amy's words. Again, he wanted to run, but instead he clenched his fists tighter, along with his jaw and his shoulders and his whole godsdamned body, all just to keep him glued to the spot. He still had no idea what to say, though. And he took too long coming up with it, because before he knew what was what, he finally heard Amy's footsteps leaving, in a full-out run. Chris's gaze shot up in a panic.

"Amy, wait!" he yelled, reaching out for her, the sight of her leaving clawing mercilessly at his heart. He panted heavily as she turned out of sight back towards camp, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and jostling his vision.

"FUUUUUCK!"

The scream pushed itself from Chris' throat, and he fell to his knees, clawing up clumps of grass and dirt and throwing them towards the river, anger blinding his senses and burning his skin stinging at his eyes. He was pissed at Amy for being so fucking fragile, at himself for the ways he knew he was confusing as fuck to deal with, at his captain for putting him in this position in the first place, at their commander for treating with the Demon Queen, at Rutliff for undoubtedly following his cock, at the king for being such a bastard that they had to be fighting this war to begin with.

Another wail bellowed from him, screaming its way into the woods. He didn't care that he wasn't far enough from camp for the woods to swallow the sound. He couldn't possibly hold that in his sight. He felt too much anger to contain, and all he could do was keep tearing at the grass and dirt beneath him, frenzied and sobbing and utterly unable to stop.

((OOC: Not how I expected it to go, but how it went. WHEEEEEE~

Couple notes:
- We assumed the timing would work out okay for Chris to be in the mess tent shortly after Evan left.
- If you wanna send someone investigating Chris' wails, that'd prolly be reasonable, but no obligation. We're mostly just stopping here cuz whatever's gonna happen next will prolly take some thought and we've spent long enough on this today lol.))

Captain Miller was trying to distract himself, and he was doing a decent job of it. Pouring himself into training his retinue typically helped, and if that wasn't enough, he could always get away for a few moments to pray. He simply didn't want to think about... Well, no point in going there. No, his mind was peaceful as he ran through drills right along his soldiers, peaceful and content--

FUUUUUCK!

Captain Miller did not lose stride, finishing the last leg of his drill before stopping. He almost definitely did not want to know what was going on over there. And yet, they hadn't doubled the watch and the guard for no reason. What if the king's men were attacking and someone saw them first? But how likely was that, really? He wanted to ignore it, wanted to feign ignorance, but several of his soldiers were looking at him with curiosity--they'd heard it, too. And then another wail. Well, no choice, then.

Choosing the recruit who finished the drill last, the captain said, "Mizrahi! Go investigate." Joseph attempted to look stern to make it clear that this was something of a punishment. "Report back as soon as possible."

Daniel Mizrahi looked up at his captain, his black shoulder-length hair slick with sweat and hanging heavy, his dark eyes flashing with something akin to remorse or perhaps begging, but the soldier did not otherwise object, and the rest of his features remained neutral. With little more than a nod, Daniel picked up his sheathed sword and jogged off in the direction the sound came from, eager to put space between himself and his companions after having been the last to finish.

Once Daniel hit the tree line, he slowed, recognizing that, if there really was someone attacking, it would be best to get the jump on them. Stealthily, Daniel slipped from one tree to the next, his eyes widening and glancing around as the sweat from his hair dripped onto the ground. He used one hand to brush his hair back and used the other to unsheathe his sword, carefully and quietly, from its leather casing. He eased toward where he thought he had heard the sound come from, and from a short distance, he saw a young soldier aggressively attacking... the grass. Yes, those where army-issue clothes all right. Sheathing his sword once more, Daniel came out from behind a tree and approached the soldier, a little more swagger in his step than he actually felt.

"You... uh... all right? We... I... heard something that sounded like distress." Daniel stopped several paces from the man, doing what he could to give him space. He certainly looked upset.

Chris didn't notice another soldier approaching; he was too caught up in his fingers scraping into dirt, his vision blurred by the tears in his eyes and his peripheral blinded by the thick brown locks that hung over his shoulders and stuck to his face.

He stopped dead when the soldier spoke, though. Again, the impulse to leap to his feet and run jolted through him, but he just kept thinking to himself that he still needed something. From this soldier, though? Chris glared up to the man, the vicious red in his eyes barely peeking through the strands of hair in his face, all but obscuring the smooth midnight blue that usually shone. No, what could Chris possibly need from this stranger who timidly inquired after him?

"I'm fine!" Chris snapped, his voice hoarse and raw. His eyes turned back down to the earth, where his stiff, dirty fingers clenched around a small bundle of roots. With his frenzy interrupted, he couldn't help taking stock of himself, the discomfort of the dirt beneath his nails and a cut he'd managed to get on his thumb now suddenly unignorable. The boy's next impulse was to go rinse his hands in the fiver, but before he could will his body to move, his stomach turned over, and his attention returned to the man before him, whose gaze apparently pinned Chris to the spot, likely completely unwittingly. Chris wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

"Just leave me alone." The boy grumbled. He'd intended to muster another vicious glare, but he could feel it faltering. A lump steadily climbed its way up his throat while his jaw clenched to stave off a tremble, and his brows slipped subtly upwards, his nose flaring in panic that he might start sobbing again any moment now.

Daniel's eyes widened further as the soldier turned partway around. It was clear the man had been crying, but he also looked... ferocious. Daniel started again when the soldier snapped at him but then softened his shoulders when the soldier added more evenly that he just wanted to be left alone. And that's exactly what Daniel wanted to do. Except... he was going to need to report back to Captain Miller, and Daniel wasn't entirely sure what he would say about this.

"You're not... you're not injured or anything? We were worried that the king might have..." Daniel took a step back, potently aware that he was probably crossing a boundary in continuing to talk, but at the same time, his feet refused to move any further. He got the distinct impression that this soldier did need help, only... Daniel had no idea how to provide it to him.

The king. Right. Of course. Chris's lungs involuntarily pushed out a deep, bitter laugh, relieving some of the pressure to sob that had been building up, though he didn't manage to stop himself from sniffing afterwards.

"Just a personal matter." The boy replied dryly as he turned his gaze again back to the earth. Something tugged at his mind, though. It wasn't just a personal matter, he realized; wouldn't it be, to some extent, the whole army's business, who decided to go? Chris' face burned and his stomach bubbled at the thought. He tried to let that be the end of it, then--if he couldn't stand the shame of it, then surely he wasn't fit to go anyway. And yet...

"I'm thinking of volunteering." The words spilled hastily from Chris' mouth, his shoulders somehow stiffening even further. He couldn't bear to turn around to look at the soldier, instead just making himself utterly silent, his ears listening over the flow of the river for this stranger's response.