Rouge: Una Moreau

If not for the circumstances, Una would have loved to be back in her home sector. However much she loved the bright lights and glamor of Rouge, there was something wonderful about being in Viridis. Maybe it was the familiar sight of farms stretching across the horizon, or the fresh, unpolluted air that was so hard to get in Rouge. Maybe it was the smattering of trees and greenery her small group was traveling through that she hadn't seen in years. Or maybe it was the knowledge that her family was here, somewhere across the farms and buildings in the distance, that she was closer to them than she had been in months. Except I can't go visit them. Una's momentary happiness dissipated at the thought, and she looked away from the houses she imagined she could see in the distance.

She walked silently, twisting the ring on her finger slowly as she did so. To her left she could hear Bella and Arava talking quietly about the route to Noir they'd all been forced to memorize. Viridis, Caeruleus, Noir. Una watched them quietly, observing.

Ever since the Nixes had been split up, Arava had taken charge of their tiny group, figuring out when to stop for the night, how to get food, where to go next, and Una was grateful she had. Although, she could have done without the other's... abrasive personality. Still, she supposed that was something that often came with being a leader. Next to her, Bellona, or Bella, as she'd asked to be called, was scanning the area around them, living up to her role as a guard. Bella, when not on the lookout, seemed kind enough, and her smile reminded Una a little bit of Corina's. If they hadn't been on the run, Una liked to think they would have been friends.

Justina, on the other hand, still made the faintest hints of anger flare through her every time she saw her. Because of the other woman, she hadn't had the chance to go after Corina, to make sure that she was safe, that she too had escaped the flames. Logically, Una knew that blaming Justina wasn't fair, that she was just doing her job, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't help that every time she looked at the healer, all she heard was Don't die, that she saw Corina's figure melting into the fire.

Abruptly, Bella stopped. The sudden stillness caught Una's attention, and she blinked in confusion. She could see the instant shift in Bella's demeanor, the easygoing personality hardening into seriousness. Bella reached for the gun stuck at her hip as she whispered, "There's a group of about seven guards coming towards us. They're not palace guards, just regular soldiers, but they've already spotted us." Her voice was tense, and Una could feel ice spreading through her

Arava straightened, her eyes calculating and sharp. "We need to find a place where we can conceal ourselves; we don't want to bring attention to ourselves." Her voice was crisp and commanding, without the faintest hint of nerves. Una swallowed, her mouth too dry for her to even attempt speaking, so she just nodded and followed the others.

She could feel sweat collecting on her palms, and she wiped them on her shirt. Arava led the three of them to a thick cluster of trees and gestured towards the top of them. Nerves exploded in Una's stomach, she had never been a big fan of heights, but she didn't have a choice.

Just as Bella started climbing the tree, Una caught sight of uniforms against the trees. "They found us," she breathed, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. Immediately, Bella scaled the nearest tree easily, Arava following with slightly less nimbleness. Steeling herself, Una made to follow, her body managing to climb the tree with considerably less resistance than she expected. Adrenaline does amazing things. Her palms were cold and clammy with sweat by the time she reached the top, but she didn't dare remove her hands from where they were gripping the rough bark.

Una could feel her arms shaking as she clutched the tree limb she was on, her breath coming in uneven intervals as she waited. Time seemed frozen as she waited, and her fingers dug into the bark, imprinting their pattern on her skin. When the soldiers finally came into sight she almost felt relieved. Her eyes met Justina's, and there was a mix of emotions there that made her look away. Instead, she stared down at the soldiers. They were a motley crew, a mix of old and young men. One of them caught her attention, a young man with long dark hair that looked vaguely familiar. It wasn't until she caught sight of his face that she realized why.

It was Sebastian Talbot. Homesickness filled her at the sight of him, and she couldn't stop the soft whisper of his name. She froze as soon as she did. Shit, what if they heard? None of them looked up, but she thought Sebastian paused. She swallowed hard, refusing to breathe. She could feel the weight of her companions' glares and she shrank farther into the tree, wishing she was anywhere else but here. Her eyes went to Sebastian, unable to believe who she was seeing.

Una hadn't had many friends in Viridis, but Sebastian had been one of the few. She remembered him as sweet and quiet, with a passion for protecting the environment. He had, at one point, been her best friend. He had hated violence, yet here he was, holding gun and hunting rebels down. She couldn't help but wonder if the boy with indistinguishable words and awful social skills was still there beneath the surface – the same way Una from Viridis was still there, just covered with a thick armor of Rouge looks and Nix determination. But there didn't seem to be any of that boy left in the person she saw patrolling beneath her.

Gradually, as nothing seemed to happen, some of her panic drained away. Impatience set in, crawling along her skin like ants. Come on, just leave already. Just when she thought she might implode with impatience, one of them spoke.

"There's no one here, let's move to the next section." They all nodded, and Una felt herself relax a little, enough to slightly shift in place. It wasn't long before it was just the four of them, and she let a silent sigh of relief.

"Alright, let's move." Arava's quiet command broke the stillness. Una grimaced as she released the tree; her arms were sore and bark patterns adorned her arms and legs in an unflattering design. She was the last one down, and she didn't miss the irritated look on Arava's face. Arava said nothing to her though, simply started walking again. Barely had she made it ten feet when a figure stepped out from behind a tree and wrapped an arm around her neck. For a split second, Una and the others remained frozen. Then everyone jumped into action.

Bella ran forward, her gun out as she glanced frantically around the area. Justina was close behind her, stopping feet away from Arava. The dark haired woman kicked at her opponent's legs, and his grip must have loosened because she was quick to pull out of his reach. His hand reached for his gun at the same time Una locked eyes with him. It was, of course, Sebastian.

Recognition flickered across his face, and his eyebrows furrowed. His mouth opened, as if he was going to say something. Before any sound came out, he stumbled, blood blooming against the white of his uniform. Una's eyes flicked to Arava, but there was no gun in her hands, nor Bella's. Which meant...

"Justina?"

Una wasn't sure who said Justina's name, her ears ringing despite the fact that she hadn't heard a shot. The blonde didn't answer, but her hands shook ever so slightly around the gun in her hand. Una moved slowly towards Sebastian, ignoring the confusion on the others' faces.

He was still alive, but she certain he wouldn't be for long. She wanted to say something to him, but she couldn't find the words. Even if she had, Una didn't think she'd be able to say them, not with the other Nixes around them, and certainly not with the look of confused betrayal in Sebastian's eyes.

She moved a little closer to him, and he flinched away from her. Una stopped immediately, the single movement like a punch in the gut. With terrible clarity, she remembered what she must look like to him. A traitor who had the face of a friend. She remembered her own reaction after discovering Corina had been a part of the Nixes, and she stepped away. There was nothing she could say to him. She turned away.

"Let's go," she said harshly. "We need to make it to Noir as soon as possible." For once, Arava said nothing, simply nodded and let Una take the lead, the other two following. As she walked away, Una couldn't help looking back and wondering if the Nixes were something she really wanted to be a part of.

~~~~

Viridis: Arava Lourdes

Arava's capacity for patience was being tested. She had encountered her fair share of aggravations in her life, and while any other time she would have questioned whether she ever had patience in the first place, she knew now: this was hell. An exaggeration yes, but in the world of hyperbole and politics, one must adapt, one must carefully choose their words to appeal to the emotions of the masses. So yes, it was hell, though her surroundings looked very much like the sector Jaune.

With her was a group of three others—all much younger, much less intelligent, and much less experienced than she—who were tasked with meeting again in Noir. The only command: don't be killed. It was an easy enough command for Arava, but with a group she felt compelled to lead, she felt hindered, like a weight had been dropped on her—specifically, the weight of three girls.

Bellona, a petite girl whose only defining quality was her musculature confounding onlookers due to her short stature, was, in an ironic twist, also the loudest amongst the girls. It occurred to Arava that while a serious demeanor was a common attribute most had at one point of another, being in another sector, away from the battle in Candidus, it seemed their guards had dropped. After all, who would suspect four girls to be spies or revolutionaries?

"The café smells delicious. I'm hungry, how about you guys? If we stop for twenty minutes, we can get back and into Sarcelle within the hour," said Bellona. One would imagine a former guard to have kept up the façade of seriousness throughout the travels, however Arava thought her to be shaken up—understandably, they all were (or so Arava pretended to be). When shaken up, one attempts to recreate the illusion of normalcy.

The two girls agreed.

A run-down of those Arava was accompanied by:

Una, former model, no backbone, little to say and much less to disagree with, though Arava thought her motives to be hidden. A typical model: one outside personality, and one hidden away from the cameras.

Justina, nurse, pathetically kind and loyal.

And then Bellona.

To say Arava was surrounded by those of lesser caliber was to say the least of the matter. "If we stop to eat, we have an easier chance of being spotted. Sacrelle's deserted in the day, which is bad because we are no longer inconspicuous," said Arava as she walked ahead of the girls on the cobbled sidewalk, "but is good because there are no patrols of officers wandering around."

"Yes, but we do need to eat," said Justina. They were passing bakeries and stores and cafes and restaurants left and right, tantalizing smells of fresh goods and succulent pasta sauces wafted across to them and the others occupying the walk-only street. It was tempting, yes, but it was a risk unneeded.

"We won't starve," said Arava, pushing up the gun hidden in her jacket, one hand always on it. "The risks are too great."

"Well I agree with both of you," Una cut in, though Arava didn't slow her pace to look back at her. "I think we should run in and get something and then keep going. If we aren't hungry we can move faster."

"Right," said Arava, though she did not mean it. She pursed her lips and sighed. "Well if you three really care so much about endangering us, you go get food, and I'll wait outside until you're finished."

"Okay," said Bellona, and the three girls ran ahead—in a somehow reinvigorated manner—and into a café called Killian's Koffee.

It took them several moments to receive food and be on their way again, and many more for them to reach the outskirts of Sarcelle, where the impoverished lived in small, rundown houses, doors beaten and the grass dead. Drugs and addiction were common, arava knew.

When she had first been tasked with her job of divvying up education and nuclear plans to other countries, she specifically avoided Argyris. This was simple: keep people here less than educated, and you have a people to control. Or, at least, that was her hope. To many in Sarcelle, with their curtains mismatched and clothes barely fitting emaciated children, she was seen as the typical: the typical bureaucrat, the typical wealthy woman. And she was, she knew that as well as the next proletariat. She revelled in it, but she knew at the end of the day, no one could compete with those already in power. In Viridis it's a matter of making sure Sarcelle has electricity and water. Little else was of their concern.

The girls with her tutted. Bellona lamented the fact she had never seen such sad sights, Una lamented at the lack of colour and the drabness of the houses, and Justina lamented over the state of the sickly children that sat on porch steps and giggle through thin faces. Arava lamented the fact she was stuck with the girls. Poverty was needed so that people like her partners would always remain where they were in life—never falling or increasing their status.

Women were passed out on porch chairs, men shouted at the girls as they walked, but it was like a dozy town, stuck in a stupor until the bars opened again at seven. The air was thick, the sewage system putrefied Arava's insides as it wafted from open grates. If one ignored the stench and the people occupying the homes, it was almost quaint.

It would take until sundown to reach the meeting place, a dangerous time to be in Sarcelle and Noir. While the team was meant to stick together, Arava wondered how much trouble she would truly gt in if something happened and she was not there to see it. She could leave the girls, leave their weak, untrained minds behind and continue on. She could dart into an alleyway and hide, work her way to Noir herself, meet up with a colleague now in exile, perhaps (there were many of them now), and continue her work for the few hours she would be granted. But yet, she remained, caught in the role of defender and strategist. She needed those in power to trust her, to keep her by their side. To do that, she first had to work with the girls, and so she will, reluctantly.

To become a leader one must first play their cards right, never giving up their best card until the end. She would continue, working her way until she achieved what she wanted. It was only a matter of time.

~~~~

Caeruleus: Bellona Orion

Bella was used to being underestimated - so when the tall woman sighed at her on sight, she wasn't surprised.

"Are you the soldier?" the woman asked. Without waiting for an answer, she stuck her hand out bluntly. "Arava. Strategist."

Bellona saluted sharply, giving the woman a tight smile. "Corporal Orion, ma'am, and as you guessed, I am the soldier."

Another girl, far taller than Bella, waved slightly from behind Arava. "I'm Justina - officially medic. How's your leg?"

"Hmm?" Bellona hadn't realized her limp was that obvious, but a laugh emerged from Justina.

"It's not too bad, since you're not limping, but you're walking stiffly. I've been treating battlefield injuries for years."

"Oh, of course!" Bellona let her own laugh escape. "Yes, one of your coworkers was very good at treating it. The castle guards are excellent shots."

Justina smiled grimly. "Not as good as we are."

Arava sighed. "We should start our route as quickly as possible. It's possibly the most convoluted, but we'll be going through Viridis, which I know."

Bellona glanced at Arava. "Then you'll be taking the lead, officer?"

"Yes, Corporal. Follow me - Una, you too."

A slim girl whom Bellona hadn't seen before emerged from the shadows, her bag bulging. "Sorry, Arava," she murmured, stuffing a scarf into her already full bag. "Just getting my supplies."

"If we're all ready, we should proceed."

The group started walking, Bellona trying not to limp, but they were booking it towards the safe house - not that she was mad. The pain in her leg was a permanent reminder of why they had to leave.

Still, she couldn't help feeling, well, almost happy that most of the castle guards had made it out alive.

Arava quickly forced her way into the leadership position - whenever Bellona even thought about making a suggestion, it seemed that Arava had already come up with a different, far more complicated one that involved twists and turns down dark alleys and darting across streets. Bellona wasn't about to complain, but she didn't dissent when Justina said, "This is utterly ridiculous."

Arava glanced at her witheringly. "It's safe. Do you want us to be followed?"

"No, but I can barely follow you. I doubt the palace guards would either."

"Besides," Bellona piped, "doing everything like this will only make the palace guards suspicious. They're trained to look for anything out of the ordinary, like groups of people or girls with big bags sprinting across deserted streets into alleys, especially in whatever scientific studies area this is."

"You're one of the palace defectors."

It wasn't a question, but Bella gave it in answer. "Yes. Officially soldier and palace insider extraordinare, at your service."

Arava smiled at that - she wasn't all ice. "Then perhaps we can do it your way. Are four girls walking with big bags suspicious?"

"Not as long as we look like we're going somewhere. Just walk with a purpose, like we're carrying scientific supplies."

Una smiled. "It's like a less photographed catwalk."

The quartet started down the street, talking and giggling. At first, their conversations were fake, just vapid exclamations of "He did what?" and "Oh my goodness!" but they fell into easy chat: Una emerging from her shell as she told stories of her modeling; Justina telling them of her family, her work before the rebellion; Arava sharing her favorite battle strategies, some of which she had in common with Bellona.

"The Ram is the most effective," Bella countered to Arava's argument for the Crab. "The Crab has more casualties for your side."

"But also more casualties for the opposers."

"See, but the numbers don't work. The Ram doesn't have as many casualties overall, but most of them are for the opposition."

"Have they lost you, too?" Bellona heard Justina murmur to Una, which elicited a smile.

"We should grab something to eat before we cross over to Jaune, or else we'll get stuck in there. You don't want to go through Jaune on an empty stomach." Una's suggestion was met with nods.

Arava glanced at a nearby street sign. "There's a little cafe down the road with fresh fruit in smoothies and things. We can go in and grab something."

"I can wait outside with the bags, so they don't ask too many questions," Bellona volunteered - she wasn't a fan of smoothies.

"Would that attract too mch attention?" Justina joked with a grin. "If not, I'd be happy to take this pack off."

"It'll be fine." Bellona gathered the packs around her on a bench outside the store, checked discreetly to make sure her weapon was concealed, and sighed, reaching a hand down to rub her throbbing leg.

It was hurting her more than she wanted to admit, but she knew that she was also ignoring the fact that it hurt because her friend had given her that injury - Celeste, who she'd spent nights giggling with, who she'd bonded with over their shared challenges in a world of tall, muscled men, who she'd shot.

Who'd shot her back.

Her teeth clenched and she squeezed her eyes shut as she brushed her fingers over the entry hole, still red and warm despot the painkillers she was on to help fight the throbbing ache that still poked through.

She felt a weight settle next to her, and, assuming it was Justina, transformed her grimace into a bright smile. Expecting the woman's soft voice, the sound of a deep male baritone nearly made her shriek when her neighbor said, "That's the worst fake smile you've ever given me."

"Mathias," she gasped, her chest tightening with fear and anger and joy all at once. She didn't know whether to hug him or run away. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored the question, his dark eyes serious as they searched her face. "There's a warrant out for you, Bella. You have to get into hiding."

"I know. We're on our way-"

"No. Now. You're a traitor, Bella." He didn't look at her as he spoke. "They want you dead, as a symbol."

"I haven't done anything worth killing."

"Colette's in the hospital because of you, Bella." He might as well have been shouting, for the intensity of his voice. "You shot her."

"She shot me-"

"In the leg, and she's under inquiry because of it. You know as well as anyone we have to shoot traitors on sight, Bella. No mercy."

"Then why haven't you shot me?"

Bellona didn't know if she wanted and answer to that question, but she met Mathias's dark eyes with her own, swallowing hard as he stared at her.

"I think deep down, you're not a traitor."

There was a commotion down the street - Justina was tumbling out the door, arms full of bags and bottles, giggling. Mathias stood, ready to leave, but he kneeled down first and hissed, "Shoot me."

"What? No! Why would I-"

"Prove that you're a traitor, that you think the Queen and all who stand for her are the enemy. Shoot. Me."

"No," she whispered. "No."

He might have been loyal to the Queen, but he was still her friend. Did that make him a bad person, or did it make her a bad soldier?

"You'll come back, Bella," he said, before glancing at the approaching gaggle of girls and vanishing into the alleys of the sector.

"Everything all right, Bellona?" Justina asked, approaching her. The woman looked worried, but Bellona faked a smile.

"Just wondering when you all were going to get back. Is one of those for me?"

She tried to push Mathias out of her head as the group crossed into Jaune, but she couldn't help wondering where her allegiances laid.

~~~~

Purpureus: Vilola Eway

The shadows are welcoming, and she follows their path without question, a watchful, anxious eye always peering around the corners for just a fraction of a second before proceeding. Unceasing adrenaline keeps her heart beating at a regular rate, but it is far too fast for comfort- the rush is familiar, and the danger keeps her on edge.

Daylight withers in the distance. Over the rooftops of elegant Caerulean buildings, she can no longer see the sun- only the faint rays of magenta pooling across the sky above. Night, she knows, is the best time to travel undercover, but there had been no time to waste. She'd barely managed to pull her bag from the base camp before it had been devoured in flames, and the soldier had overrun the area completely. Its gentle rocking against her side offers solace, soothing her heightened nerves with a reminder that she still has what she loves most, and though she'd scrawled many a charming message on the walls of the place now in ashes, Vilola's certain she can always make more.

The royal sector would have been an iconic place to spray a cry for revolution, but alas, the sooner the group reaches safety, the better. She wouldn't have minded spending the rest of the journey alone, but her companions had- almost unanimously- agreed against it. The dark-haired one had only seemed dismissive, as though they'd have been better off without her, said she might hold them back when she gets tired.

She's always disliked being doubted due to her age. Vilola has probably done more to defy the Queen in her thirteen years of life than he has in what, ten more? No, she'd have preferred someone to side with her just for the value of creating such a thing, to defy the Queen's rule right in her own sector. But, apparently, it was not to be.

Secure in the middle of the group, she scuttles along the edges of the streets, careful to avoid detection. The general, though Vilola could tell he'd been unenthusiastic about his role, leads them, signaling a clear crossing or the moment they should cross to the next shadow. She always takes her own look just before exposing herself, just to make sure vulnerability will not lead to sudden death. In all her years of splattering messages throughout the slums, she'd never once employed another person to watch her back, never once trusted anyone's instincts but her own. Despite the company of people on her side, she can't break the habit of keeping her safety in her own hands.

As awful as it is, she would not hesitate to abandon them in danger. The unflinching, snide attitude she's detected from the dark-haired member leads her to the conclusion that he wouldn't hesitate, either, but the general keeps glancing back at them- habits she guesses he picked up during battles, to determine which of his soldiers were still alive. And they are soldiers, she supposes. Just not like the ones of the Queen's military, with their flawless uniforms and straight faces as they sent bullets whizzing into the base camp, blood leaking from fatal wounds they'd caused. She'd been shocked at how little emotion they'd displayed as people, however guilty they may have been in the minds of the troops, perished in the fire they had lit, ceased breathing as their hearts were severed from bullets shot by the soldiers. She doesn't understand it.

She would abandon the group in a moment's notice, but she would always feel the guilt of leaving them behind. Perhaps it is more that she has no choice, while the military does, in a way- they have the choice of whether to shoot, to spare or to save- to kill a child, just as she had watched so many years ago, or to let him go with a warning. She is nothing more than a kid- what is she expected to do? Run. What can she do? Run. A can of spray paint can only do so much good against a gun.

Sometimes she wishes she'd grown up in Noir, where she'd already know how to successfully fire a gun by thirteen. Had she been there, perhaps she wouldn't be so helpless in an ambush, so dependent on those surrounding her when caught in a group battle. Sometimes she wonders whether or not it's been good for her to stay solo, to value herself above all others. When she'd gone to school, the teachers had always said anyone should be ready to sacrifice anything for the Queen- no matter how young or old, how rich or poor- even as far as life. She'd zoned out by then, thinking about how Piccolo had once said he'd wanted to kill the Queen.

Perhaps the dark-haired man- Taliesin, she hears the general call him- is right. Perhaps she does hold them back. Perhaps a girl of only thirteen, however skilled in the art of publicizing actions against the Queen's rule, isn't worth saving, and should be left behind- she can't take care of them. She won't do anything to aid them, will only be a burden in the long run.

She shakes off the thoughts, scurrying after the blonde-haired boy of the quartet just in front of her. It's been easy to determine he, like Taliesin, is from Sarcelle- yet, oddly enough, is on the quieter side. Well, as quiet as possible in silent racing down the roads that could very well be the most dangerous in all of Argyris for a set of rebels, considering the proximity of the Queen they seek to dethrone. But the general had determined it was the fastest way to the safehouse, and none of them questioned it- certainly not the blonde. She's decided his presence is what strikes her as quiet- it is softer than the others, and the concerned glances he keeps sending back at the two comrades behind him, just to confirm Vilola and Taliesin are both alright, seem as though he could actually care about their safety.

Shouts echo in the distance, and she comes to an abrupt halt, freezing just next to a window of a more modest advisor or noble's home, on the outskirts of the sector. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears as she awaits gunshots to splatter her companions, detected in their sprint from sector to sector, and an unintentional glance into the window of the home reveals her face, wedged between around thirty others- each a person she recognizes from the camp. The caption reads her name, and a sudden fear settles in Vilola's heart- not like the thrill of trying not to be caught while freshening one of her works in the early hours of the morning, or the spike in adrenaline ignited within her whenever the sputtering of a car sounds just down the street, and she's forced to quickly scamper out of sight. No, it is a pure and utter terror, for she has lived her entire life in anonymity, the criminal unidentified, the crook of a street artist that nobody's managed to catch.

But now... now she's been figured out. Her name is open for all of the world to read, her face for all of the word to see. She has tried so hard to keep it covered, obscure. But it is out there.

Being a lawbreaker results in no consequence when crimes remain unchecked. She had never thought about her family when performing such dangerous actions- at least, not in a way where they would be harmed. All she'd thought of was the catchy slogans Harmonika had brainstormed over their meager suppers, the adamant arguments Tenor had uttered in hushed tones after dark. She had never once thought that maybe she was a link to them, that their lie of her illness might have led to an undesirable fate.

And that fear is that her family is already dead, or on their way to being like such. For the rules she'd heard time and time again in school certainly apply, and all she can think of is soldiers, fists slamming against the door of her house, and the image of her parents, her siblings with a bullet to the forehead each.

"Come on," someone whispers to her, tone gentle and understanding. She tears her eyes away from the screen, noticing the blonde gesturing to the next corner, the upcoming destination. She wonders if he has a family, if the same fear resonates in his mind. A quick peek back at Taliesin results in only an impatient expression, and the general remains somber, as usual. And she decides that if they do, they certainly aren't showing it.

Maybe they just anticipated it in advance, and she didn't.

But Vilola Eway picks herself up all the same, and tries to summon the images of her siblings she'd always had when hiding for them, painting for them, revolting for them. She tries to remember all that they stood for. And she decides, for now, to believe that no matter how they are, they'd have wanted her to fight. She musters an image of the last time she'd seen them- the day she'd snuck off under the cover of darkness to join the rebellion. "Make us proud, little Nixe," Clariette had smiled at her. "Make us proud."

And Vilola will.

~~~~

Braun: Elora Eclair

An absence of truth prompts possibility.

Without candid words to strictly adhere to, freedom hangs as if a puppet by its strings. It dangles from the skies as its immensity glows, evident; the possibility of emotion, of feeling, of character shines as if immortal in the heavens above. To be true to honesty is to be imprisoned within eternal chains; to find a balance between truth and necessary lies is to be free. The truth bounds its sufferers to shackles, and only when its victims have the courage to lie, to break free, does it crumble and disappear to seek out another to prey upon.

It is within lies that Elora finds faith.

It is within lies that Elora finds something more.

The sun is submissive as it rises within the sky, bright as it showers Argyris in its blessings of light and bliss. Its reign is well-received, and its magnificent sight of golden beauty is often smiled upon. Sector Aureus is under a magical trance, obedient as it brims with laughter and delighted voices; it is as joyful as any within its high-spirited boundaries. Greenery is limited, and stores line the narrow streets. Lights illuminate the thriving hour, embellishing windowsills and doorframes in an attempt to stand out but only blending in as a result of the sector's radiant aura.

"It never fails to amaze, does it?" Phillip Morris' voice is quiet, and it seems he always finds the beauty beyond the veil of calamity that surrounds him. "It's not quiet, not really, but I find it calming."

Achlys' gaze lingers, level with his. "I love the lights. They're so bright like the stars, so what is there not to love?"

Elora resists the urge to roll her eyes at the overly-optimistic voices of her fellow Nixes. It's quite the contrary, really; a dislike for the buzzing sector has blossomed from simple reasoning:

"If there's more people, then there's more royal guards. I'd think such a sector could easily be our downfall," she says with straightforward honesty, eliminating the glistening positivity of her peers.

"Maybe."

Perhaps Philip's optimism is more limited and his thoughts more realistic than what Elora originally thought. However, she knows with certainty that Achlys is not - and cannot be - the same.

"I like to think it's best to stay positive." Achlys says, predictably so.

This time, Elora doesn't withstand the urge to roll her eyes. "We have a better chance if we accept the facts and try to do something about it."

"Do something about it?" Achlys asks cautiously, her voice still calm without a trace of animosity. "Do what?"

"What do you think?" Elora replies, her voice growing impatient. "Let's pretend there's a bunch of royal guards prowling about. What would you do?"

"Hide."

Elora is about to nod and reply with a sarcastic disapproval to show her satisfaction with Achlys' abrupt reply, but Reese seems to have a better idea.

"No," he interrupts, "We won't be getting around as quickly if we hide."

With a glance over at him, Elora has the urge to roll her eyes again. His face makes him look like a child, and she really can't believe anyone who appears so immature. She is annoyed - for what reason she cannot be sure - and responds in a sarcastic voice once more, "Then what do you suggest? Parade around all high and mighty as if we're royalty? Put a gun to the guards' faces?"

She lifts her eyebrows at Reese, a challenge she doubts he will accept.

He accepts it.

"Aureus is the center of fashion. If we disguise ourselves, we could very as parade in front of the royal guards' noses, and the wouldn't even notice!" he shot back.

Elora is quiet; she knows she has been put in her place.

Achlys smiles; she is grinning at the thought of dressing up as a star - a different type of star, but a star nonetheless.

Philip is calm; he is always calm.

"It could easily work," Reese continues, "and we'd be at the base in no time."

"Well," Philip begins, his voice soft as always, "it will probably work. I'd say it's definitely worth a try."

Reese glances at him, his eyes blank. "Would I be suggesting it if I didn't think it would work? Or if it wasn't worth a shot?"

He receives no reply.

Elora knows the pair is correct, but she is reluctant to admit it, and so, she does not. Instead, she turns away, her peripheral sight on the royal guards across the street. They are roaming so freely, though searching accordingly, and she knows that they have been discussing for far too long.

"We need to go," she whispers quietly before repeating herself louder, "we need to go!"

"What?"

She doesn't know who is speaking, but she doesn't care. She hadn't realized how close the royal guards truly were; she should have realized. Panic flares within her throat, growing rapidly throughout her body as its crackling flames lick her throat dry. She remembers those who fell at their first base, and the image of the bullet entering Adonis' heart is still vivid within her mind. Anxiety clouds her heart, and the sunlight diminishes to darkened smoke within her eyes as the truth quickly arises within her mind: she is afraid.

Breathe, she tells herself.

A cough racks her throat.

Breathe, she commands herself.

A breath is inhaled.

Breathe.

She breathes.

It is Achlys who takes Elora's arm, her voice soothing as she murmurs incomprehensible words. Elora is thankful; she is appreciative of the girl who wants no harm to anyone else. Her panic's flame is in dying embers, and she is quiet as she is pulled inside of a clothing store. Fabrics of all colors and patterns engulf her, and sight of the royal guard is lost. Achlys is at her side, and Elora is already regretting the attitude she pulled with the kind girl earlier. Why is it that she is so blunt and filled with attitude? Why is it that she is a person who cannot always see the bright side but rather the truth? Elora wants to be positive and believe in the possibilities of faith, of trust, of hope. It is a fact, she knows, that there must be someone to question all the positivity, someone to see the sheer, transparent reality. Sometimes, she wishes she isn't that person.

An absence of doubt brings the presence of optimism.

But sometimes, optimism draws the end.

~~~~

Argent: Achlys Archimedii

"Coast clear."

Through the busy streets and crowded buildings, Achlys scanned the area for the Queen's guards. They couldn't be risked getting caught on this trip. At this moment, every Nix was essential.

Pressing a button on the side of the lens, all the closer objects became holograms, thin green frames of what had once blocked her further view seconds ago.

This kid is good.

After scanning the second layer, she clicked the button again. The goggles were able to look through a total of 500 metres deep into the city, more than enough to ensure their safe journey. Not to mention the numerous hidden alleyways branching off the main street.

Achlys put down her goggles and retreated from the bushes back towards the group, where Elora and Philip sat waiting. They were right at the edge of the Viridis-Jaune border, but unlike the former, Jaune didn't exactly provide much foliage to hide in. In fact, from what Achlys scouted, she didn't see any trees at all, only a bustling city of brick and stone.

The bushes to her left rustled, and Reese emerged shortly after, equipped with the same pair of goggles as Achlys. "No guards to be seen. We should be able to move."

Acknowledging the statement, Elora and Philip got up and cleared the area. While they covered the group's tracks with dried leaves and twigs.

"You know," Achlys studied the goggles in her hand, "these aren't too shabby."

"Your flying models weren't too bad either," replied Reese.

"Well, considering you put these things together in an hour, pretty impressive."

Reese smirked. "What can I say? Reese Richter never disappoints." With that, he took a fanciful bow in front of her and the trees, leaving Achlys to roll her eyes with a light-hearted scoff.

"Hey gearheads! Let's get moving."

Elora stood waiting for them in the bushes, eyebrows raised. Philip was nowhere to be seen, probably already through the greenery. Quickly packing the little items she got, Achlys followed her shortly after, trailed closely by Reese.

They crawled through the bushes for a while, the branches and leaves pricking Achlys's face and hands. Sharp beams of light began to stream through the cracks between leaves, and soon enough, they emerged into the streets of Jaune.

A total contrast to Viridis, the streets were filled with people, a majority of them couples and families. Achlys knew they would be full from the goggles, but it was still a bit of a shock to see so many people up close. The sounds of welcome bells, public chatter and footsteps on cobblestone reverberated through the air. Enticing aromas of cooked food and sweet pastries wafted through the atmosphere, making Achlys salivate a little. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized something; she was starving.

"I want pie," said Reese suddenly, staring at the culinary streets.

"What?" Elora turned to look at him with furrowed eyebrows and an unbelieving stare. Achlys didn't know her that well, except that she was from Braun. The few conversations they had were fairly pleasant, but one trait she definitely portrayed was her candidness in both speech and print. Considering her home sector, Achlys wasn't too surprised, but it was slightly unnerving at times.

"Pie. A baked dish of fruit, or meat and vegetables, typically with a top and base of pastry. Factual enough for you, Elora?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "You know we can't do that. We'll risk blowing our cover."

"But I'm starvingggggg..." groaned Reese, pulling down the sides of his beanie in frustration.

"I have some trail mix in my bag if you want," offered Philip.

Compared to the three of them, Philip towered over the group. Achlys bumped into him a few times before, but never really chatted with him. He often carried an aura of friendliness to him, with his calm, baritone voice and soft facial features.

Perhaps it's a psychiatry skill.

"No thanks, Philip," Reese sighed, "I just really want pie."

Elora crossed her arms, clearly slightly annoyed. "Well, you can't always have what you want." By this time, the four of them were on the streets, submerged in the crowd. They walked closely together, talking softly and sticking close to the alleyways.

"I know, but I want PIE. Seriously, I can't be the only one here that wants a hot, juicy, freshly baked pie instead of trail mix. No offense, Phil."

"I wouldn't mind."

"That's because you're a robot. Achlys, as one inventor to another, would you rather a beautiful, delicious, sweet pie, or trail mix?"

Three pairs of eyes rested on Achlys. She pursed her lips. "Well...I can't deny that an apple pie sounds amazing right about now—"

"See! She gets it!" exclaimed Reese, flailing his arms up.

"—but we can't risk getting caught, so trail mix would do."

The boy sighed deeply, arms falling back to his sides. "I know...Philip, does your offer still stand?"

Elora smirked, a victorious glint in her eye. Philip seemed more than happy to reach into his bag and give Reese a plastic bag full of various nuts and seeds. With another defeated sigh, he opened the bag and began munching on the snack.

Suddenly, Achlys saw a familiar black uniform up the road, conversing with a few people. He was holding up some papers to them. Her heart started to race. "Alleyway. Now."

"What?", asked Elora. Achlys nudged her head towards the direction of the guard, and all three of them saw him too. Turning around, they immediately headed in the opposite direction. There was an alleyway between the shops a short distance ahead, and if they could just lose themselves in the crowd...

"Hey! Stop there!"

Achlys turned to see the guard pointing at them, talking into his communicator.

"Run!"

And so they did. The guard was shouting at them, ordering them to stop. Achlys tried to block it out, focusing on the path ahead. She wanted to apologize to all the people she accidentally shoved while running, but now wasn't the time. Elora and Reese were in front of her while Philip raced behind. She could feel beads of sweat trickling down her forehead, lungs gasping for breath. Her legs were moving as fast as they could, but even that seemed not fast enough. The streets soon became wider, with staircases situated at almost every turn.

Oh, why don't we have anyone from Jaune?

They headed down a random staircase. There was no planned destination, escape was the only objective right now. Confused looks and annoyed voices were all they got from the public as they made their way through the city. Just as they turned a corner, two guards were coming right at them.

"Over there!"

The shout came from behind, a posse of guards in hot pursuit of them. Panicking, they headed down another flight of stairs and came face to face with—a raging river.

There was no way to run. The current was swift and strong, clearly seen from how fast the dried leaves and dead twigs coursed through the river. The stairs ended in a square block of cement; no ledge to walk across, no bridge, nothing. Shouts could be heard from above, the sounds of numerous footsteps echoing all the way down. There was no escape.

Unless...

"We have to jump."

"What?!" said Elora and Reese in unison.

"There's no other way."

"But I can't swim!"

"You think I can?" Achlys exclaimed.

The footsteps were getting louder by the second.

"We have no choice. On three," Achlys began. "One..."

Elora was staring fearfully at the tempestuous waters. Reese was panting heavily, clearly exhausted from the run. Philip's lips were pressed so tightly against one another the edges were white.

"Two..."

Achlys tried to swallow her bubbling fears. She had no idea how to swim. No idea if they would even survive. No idea what they were doing. What she was doing.

There's no other way.

"Three!" And they jumped.

The current was stronger than what she had expected. Immediately, it pushed them away from the stairs with tremendous force, coursing down the river. Achlys desperately flailed her arms about, trying to keep afloat but the water constantly got the better of her, splashing into her eyes and fogging her eyesight. Her head bobbed between the surface, making her accidentally swallow some of the water when she was submerged. She had no control whatsoever.

"Ac-Achlys!"

Trying to see where the voice had come from, she caught sight of Reese to the left. He had lost his beanie, his wet, curly hair flattened from the water. Achlys tried to edge towards him, fighting the current.

"Grab my hand!"

Reaching one hand out to Reese, he did the same, trying to grab hold of her. Both were pushed fiercely by the current, and the feat proved impossible.

"Reese! Achlys!"

She turned to see the source of the call. Further downstream, Philip and Elora, both drenched wet, were holding out a huge branch from the riverside. There was another unfamiliar figure standing with them, but at this point, she didn't really care. All that mattered was getting out. Trying to edge towards the side, she reached her hands as far as she could for the branch, letting the current sweep her towards it. Finally, her fingertips grazed the branch and she managed to grab ahold of it. Once she had a better grip, she reached her other hand out for Reese who was coming down the river. She managed to catch his hand, and the two were slowly pulled ashore.

As they reached the riverside, Elora helped Achlys get up, while Philip helped Reese. Once she was out of the water, Achlys coughed out spurts of water, exhausted from the ordeal. "Thank...you..." she said between breaths.

Clearly drained of energy herself, Elora just gave her a small smile. Reese was still recovering, but other than that and being soaked to the bone, he seemed alright.

We're alive.

"Well, you youngsters are an odd bunch, aren't ya?"

Achlys looked up to see an old man sitting on a big rock. He wore a red plaid shirt with dark brown pants. With soft brown eyes amd a kind smile, his face was wrinkled with age, hair grey as stone. He was the figure that helped Philip and Elora.

"He helped us out the river," said Philip, "without him, we'll probably be dead."

"Indeed you would. Now, why don't you kids come back to my cabin? Warm up a little, maybe have some pumpkin pie."

By some instinct, the three of them looked at Reese, whose eyes had widened to the size of the moon.

***

The pie was delicious.

The four of them dried up and covered with warm blankets, the old man had served them all slices of freshly baked pumpkin pie. Everyone had second helpings except Elora, who didn't like pumpkin. She gave her second plate to Reese.

Achlys had noticed this was a quieter part of Jaune, a small forest perhaps. There wasn't anyone else to be seen apart from them and the old man. Though strange, she liked the calmer atmosphere.

"So, let me guess," the old man rested his elbows on his knees a nd looked at Philip,"these are your daughters?"

Elora stifled a laugh as Reese's jaw dropped. Achlys had to cover a smile. A bite of half-chewed pie could be seen in his mouth. "I am a boy, thank you very much."

"Oh, my apologies. My eyesight isn't what it used to be." Reese grumbled softly, but resumed his meal.

Suddenly, Achlys began to feel a little light-headed. The objects in front of her began to double and she dropped her plate. Trying to get up, she realized she couldn't. It was like she was bolted to her spot.

"You goddamn Nixes think you're so clever."

No. No, it can't be.

The old man got up and collected their plates. The others were paralyzed too, unable to speak nor move.

"Messing everything up, disrupting order. Don't think I'm stupid. I saw the news. And what random group of foreigners would jump into the river?" Stacking the plates, he placed them on the table.

"Unhhh! Unnhhhhhhhh!" Reese shouted incoherently. The old man laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not with the Queen. Besides, the reward is nearly as satisfying as watching you drown in the river."

He's mad. Oh my god, he's insane. We're going to die in the hands of a madman.

The old man had a surprising amount of strength for his age. One by one, he brought them out to the riverbank. Achlys didn't even realize night had fallen. Her heart was pounding. They needed to run. But how?

He brought Philip out last. Then, he tied a large rock to everyone's right foot. At Reese, he smiled creepily at him. "Don't worry, little boy. I'll let you go first." This was only met by Reese's utter panic and more muffled screams.

"Oh right, I forgot the gags. Be right back." Once he was out of sight, Elora jumped up and started cutting everyone's binds with a sharp rock she had in her hand. "The poison must've been in the pie. I only ate the pie crust."

Once she had cut everyone out, she tried to drag them towards the forest. Grabbing Reese by the leg, she was about halfway there when the old man returned.

"Hey!"

He lunged for Elora. The two struggled for a while, but Elora was much weaker than the man, and he pinned down her arms. She kicked his abdomen, resulting in him wincing backward and letting her go. She tried to run, but the man soon got up and chased after her. Achlys was helpless, to herself and Elora. The two were out of sight, and the three of them were still paralyzed. Suddenly, she heard a splash.

No.

Slow footsteps crunched towards them.

Please be Elora please be Elora.

A familiar brunette came back in her sight. Achlys breathed a sigh of relief.

"I-I didn't mean to push him in, I—"

Her knees buckled. Achlys wanted to comfort her, tell her everything was okay, but her mouth could barely even move. Only a small, reassuring smile. Elora stared at Achlys, then suddenly hugged her tightly. Philip looked on with calm eyes. Reese lied on the ground in an awkward pose, only able to stare up at the stars above.

We're alive.

We're okay.

~~~~

Candidus: Justina Tremblant

"Pick up the pace, you guys. We can't let them notice us."

"We should be fine. The clothes should be enough to mask our appearances."

"Shut up and get moving, all of you!"

The sounds of some of the other rebels arguing ahead of her made Justina sigh as she removed her doctor's mask from her face and wiped the sweat from her brow, taking a deep inhale of the air now free from the smoke and misery that had hooked onto her emotions clawing away at what little sanity she still had left in her. Flashes of the orange and yellow columns of heat and light continued to dance before her eyes, and it was all she could do to shake the image out of her mind with several blinks and constant snaps of the fingers. Since they left the burning hospital in her own sector, the rebels were trying to make their way to the backup rebel base which, according to Colette, was in the Noir Sector. However, they had to make several different paths to mask their true whereabouts, thus resulting in her sticking with a royal guard from Caeruleus, a scientist from Viridis, and a model from Rouge--all unlikely people to have even made their way into the group of Nixes in the first place.

As much as Justina didn't like the idea, she had no choice but to go with the flow. She knew better than to argue with the general of an army, even if it was in oppression with the authorities of the country, especially after she had just come out from an argument with a now deceased female sergeant. Should her father be here, he would probably show her no mercy as he would probably go about with another one of his lectures on the subject of fighting a war the true soldier's way. And it was expected, right, with the foundation of his life coming from Noir?

"Never show anyone your true emotions in a war that could very well cost your life. Follow your general's orders and say nothing more. There's no reason for you to express yourself in the middle of a battlefield. After all, there is no art in war."

She shook her head as she followed the rest of the group into what could only be Sector Caeruleus. A shiver soon ran down her spine as she found herself glancing up at the turrets of the royal castle, much larger than she had ever imagined it before, with guards situated at almost every corner of the streets standing tall and erect, their dark uniforms aiding them in blending in with the night that was slowly but surely falling.

"I had no idea that Candidus would have been that big," Una murmured, causing Bellona to hush the young model.

"Not a word here," she instructed everyone, glancing about at the guards. "This is probably one of the most dangerous parts of the journey, getting through Caeruleus. After all, this is where the Queen and her most trusted guards reside, and the last thing anyone would want is for one of them to find us. Once we get through this sector, the rest of the journey would be easier."

Justina nodded along with the others, and she held up her medic pack which was previously strapped to her belt. "If any of you need this, let me know."

"Great." Aravis gave a curt nod to Bellona. "You know this sector well. Lead the way."

Bellona nodded as she began to dart from alleyway to alleyway, from obscure wall to obscure wall motioning the others to follow every once in awhile, as they all went single file starting with Aravis, then Una, then Justina. The thought of the guards seeing the shadowed figures running under the bright streetlights made Justina shiver with every sudden dash through the streets, trying her best not to trip over her feet in her haste, but the further through the sector they went, the more confident she felt about Bellona's plan.

Soon, they managed to reach the border between Caeruleus and Jaune without a problem. Just as they were going to cross it, however, Justina could make out a few wild shouts coming from afar, followed by a gunshot and a woman's scream--one she could probably place as the youngest rebel, Vilola.

She was gone too soon.

"Come on," Aravis muttered, beckoning to them. "If another one of us is down, then that means it would be a matter of time before they catch the rest of us. The faster we move, the better our chances of survival."

The scent of delicious food soon began to waft towards Justina the moment they entered Sector Jaune, and a wan smile tugged at her lips at the thought of food. Admittedly, she hadn't eaten in a long while--at least, not since the execution in the morning.

"Well. At least we made it this far," Una noted with a soft smile.

"We'd better get some food," Bellona added curtly. "I'll go get some for us from a nearby bakery," she suggested, but Justina raised her hand.

"No, it's fine, Bellona. I'll go."

Aravis bit her lip and stared at Justina in a judging demeanour. Out of everyone in the group, she was one who loved to take charge despite the fact that there was a guard among them ready to rule them out. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yes." Justina nodded. "Just stay here."

Before anyone could argue, Justina threw her hood up and departed from the group and entered a nearby bakery, the smell of freshly baked bread entering her nostrils with every breath she took. Murmuring a silent thank you to Una for the rather large beige trench coat masking her weapons, she quickly jammed her hands into her pockets and slowly waited until she got to the front of the line, greeting one of the workers with a nod.

"What would you like, ma'am?" the worker asked her with a slight smile on her face, undoubtedly unable to recognize the rebel under the coat.

"I'd like to have two loaves of freshly baked bread please," Justina replied in a low voice, rounding her request up with a nod.

The worker nodded as she went to get some loaves of bread for her from the back shelf, and then bowed her out of the shop after she paid.

"Good job," Una commended as she took a slice of bread from Justina the moment she returned. "If we keep this up, we'll actually be able to make it undetected."

Justina nodded as she handed a slice of bread to everyone else, storing the rest in her satchel. "If not for the diverse geniuses we possess, I wouldn't have agreed better," she said in a low voice. "Now where are we to go from here?"

Bellona frowned as she pulled out a map of the country from her own trench coat, frowning. "Well, we're in Jaune right now, and right on this intersection," she said, pointing her finger in the general spot where they were. "The fastest way we can get to Noir from here is to go through Sarcelle."

"Oh no." Aravis shook her head defiantly at the sound of going through the Sarcelle sector, and she clenched hard on her piece of bread which began to flatten under her grip. "There is no way we are going through Sarcelle. Forget the royal guards keeping a lookout for the rebels; the last thing anyone would expect was for one of us to get carried away by a lap dancer."

"Either way, we'll have to go through it," Una said, finishing up her piece of bread daintily and dusting her hands free from the crumbs. "If there's one thing Sarcelle is looking for, it's sexy people. The most we can do is make sure we lay our beauty low, and don't look up."

Suddenly, there came another shriek in the air--a male one, it sounded--that made the four of them fall silent.

"Who do you think that might be?" Bellona whispered to Justina, her grip on the map tightening as the thin paper shook in her hands

Justina shook her head as she glanced out of the alley, shocked to see a flash of crimson hair under the streetlights, his eyes wide open as blood poured from a critical wound in his torso. Could it be another one of them? There was no telling--she had never seen him around before. "I have no idea."

"Then let's get a move on," Una said, rising to her feet. "The faster we get through Sarcelle, the better."

Out of all the sectors Justina had to run through with the other rebels, Sarcelle would have to be the rowdiest and possibly dirtiest of them all. Everywhere she looked, there was always a party going on at every corner of the street, loud music of different styles booming through their open windows. Broken glass shards of various sizes littered the streets along with the stubs of cigarettes and even what looked to be used condoms that made Justina cringe and tense quite visibly as she stumbled behind them, jamming her hands in her pocket as her satchel slapped itself on her leg repeatedly, over and over.

This was not an environment she was used to; this would not be an environment she'd like to favourably find herself in.

Miraculously, the few of them were able to avoid all the chaos going about them, slipping past the guards like unnoticed silhouettes as they crossed the final border into Noir. The sight of her father's old sector, her father's old home, made Justina relax, releasing all the tension in her limbs as she followed the others in another hidden alley in the shadows.

"Great. Now...Colette's base would be here," Bellona said as she pulled out her map, pointing at the intersection where they were. "Quickest route would have to be through here, but would that be the safest?" she asked, tracing her finger through a path on the map.

"There's no telling. I doubt any of us has been here," Aravis said. "Best bet would be that we split up now, each of us carrying weapons, and then we'll be able to make it to the base. Just look out for the flag, and we'll be fine." She handed Justina a pistol, already loaded with bullets, and held in her own hands a few Swiss Army knives. "Be prepared to fight, all of you."

Barely had the words flown out of Aravis's mouth when a knife suddenly impaled itself into the wall behind Una, barely nicking the tip of her right ear which brought out a rather loud hiss from the model.

"There they are!" a guard's voice shouted--a strangely familiar masculine one that almost made Justina's heart crack. "Get them!"

Was that her father giving the order? Justina would never know, and she didn't want to know as she pulled everyone on their feet and dashed off through the labyrinth of the sector's streets without a single idea where she was going. All that ran through her mind was the voice of the guard, the soldier that sounded so much like her dad--was he against her now? Was he aware of her wish to fight against the tyrannical ruler of their country, the country they were supposed to be proud of?

"Snap out of it," she scolded herself. There was no art in war.

There was no art in commands, or gunfire, or conflict. What elaboration was there to something so straightforward?

Eventually, the group had made their way to the base. None of them even bothered glancing at each other or over their shoulders anymore as they dashed into the new base, shutting the door to the open gunfire that continued to pursue them.

With all her strength now pent up and used, Justina collapsed onto her knees again, keeling over as her head hit the hard stone ground.

There was no art in war. There was no reason for her to express herself.

There was no reason for her to show that she was truly afraid of what was yet to come.