Thanos had gone directly to Latzu the moment the boat docked, assuming that Tobi would run straight to mother and fill her in. It was the Polemarch who needed as much information as possible, while there were still soldiers on the ground – Loretta could wait. And Vaughn...well, Thanos told himself that the Alpha would want to know the whole story, not the half-account he had to offer now. Told himself, but didn't manage to convince. Not really.
A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him – not the first he'd felt that night. He bit it back just as he'd swallowed his angry retorts when Latzu told him he was to stay behind while a search party recovered the survivors, and the bodies. The Polemarch was right, he knew – he wasn't trained for this, had no business being out there, but he'd wanted to -help-, dammit, not hang back with babysitters and Tobi. He gritted his teeth at the thought of Loretta's son. Of all the people to be there tonight, waiting with that perpetually confused look on his face to pick up the Jiro, the stupid nothos who'd managed to make another mess. How it galled him! The only person who he'd have like to see less at that point was the Savia herself, and seeing her puppet was not much better.
'Her puppet.' Oh, that was rich. Whose strings was she pulling, again?
His hand went to his mouth as his stomach gave another lurch, his mind helpfully recalling long nights of puking and sweating, thrashing and groaning, usually after some spectacular fuck-up. The Legionnaire who had joined him at the gates (more babysitting, no doubt) asked if he was okay, looking sincere. Thanos was surprised to realize that he appreciated, rather than resented, the concern. Even so, he gave only a gruff nod – it was all he trusted himself with. Then they shared a cigarette, the soldier looking a little guilty but not wanting to say no.
He wasn't sure of how long he waited there, standing vigil in the middle of the road, before the last of the Legion's trucks approached, but it was approaching twilight as he and the soldier opened the gates. One truck slowed a little as it passed through, and a Legionnaire tumbled out, rushing over to Thanos and speaking rapidly, breathlessly. Six dead. Four wounded. Names fired past him – Thanos was both shocked and horrified to learn that the one who had pushed him over the stairwell had -survived-. He should have gone back, should have found a way – had he known, had he had any idea there were survivors up there...
He trailed the trucks at a jog, anxious to get back, to somehow absolve himself of his part in tonight's disaster. Though he wouldn't find absolution in Loretta, he would have to speak with her right away, and Vaughn.
Six dead. Four wounded. The first casualties in this new war. Six dead. Six dead. Four wounded. His hard shoes, expensive dress shoes to go with his expensive suit, slapped out the rhythm for his mental chant. He hit the doors at a dead run, reeled through the entryway, hearing but not registering the cheers, not comprehending that the Legion's first response was joy for those who had lived, feeling only the sorrow for those left behind. Left behind. Left behind. His footsteps were louder on the tile.
He made it to the bathroom before puking his guts out, but just barely.
Here comes the sun
/ooc - Takes place after the meeting gone awry at the docks.
Tobi tried not to think too much as he ran down the steps, taking them two or three at a time. That course of action, at least, had always served him well. Yep, good old Tobi, keeping his head down, his mouth shut, his brain off.
Thanos pretty much ignored him on the return trip and took off practically the instant they hit dry land. Reporting to the V man, he'd guessed. Tobi had wondered if his mom had made it back already, if even then she was explaining herself in Dad's office. Boy was he surprised when he went to his parent's bungalow and found Loretta, robe flying behind her, hair messy and tangled. Even knowing the truth, he had nearly been fooled by her wail of 'relief' at the sight of him. She had thrown her arms around him, petted his head, murmuring 'my baby, my baby, you're safe, you're alright.' After that display, she told him that the reports were still coming in, and asked after Thanos - she could not quite manage the same display of relief for the Jiro's apparent safety, but what Tobi thought was odd was the fact that Thanos should have beaten him there. She hadn't given him time to dwell on that, though - she suddenly and desperately clutched at his arm, insisting that she had to trust him with something. Pressing a sealed note into his hand, she told him again that she had to be able to trust him, and without waiting for a reply, directed him to the barracks to meet a soldier. It didn't make sense; why didn't she just summon the soldier to the Alpha Bungalow if she was so worried about him messing up? Did she not want her husband to know about this exchange or was it something else?
Too much thinking. Too many questions. His family had never been the Cleavers and he shouldn't be worrying about things way over his pay grade anyway.
But what was she doing out there in the first place?
Question unanswered, he had slammed to a halt at the door to the barracks. He was not to go in - the recipient would meet him at the door.
Though Mom had told him to hurry, Tobi didn't see the need; he'd waited a solid half hour and watched a good dozen soldiers walk right past him so far, all with intent expressions. Ah, but there he went again, thinking.
From snippets of conversation, he gathered that the Legion was still trying to recover their men from the explosion. He knew there had to be losses on their side, but he'd been too far away to tell how severe.
Bored, Tobi leaned against a door, not realizing how sloppy he looked compared to the soldiers that moved briskly by. This would, he mused, be a long night for the poor nothos who had to recover the bodies.
Finally the soldier in question arrived - Tobi knew him vaguely as someone he had seen around his parents - and he grabbed a camouflaged arm to get his attention.
'Message from the Savia, dude.'
The Legionnaire took the note without comment and started to head inside, but a sudden impulse made Tobi speak up again.
'Hey, did your buddies make it back? Anything I can do?'
The soldier looked confused for a split second, then swiftly opened the note. Tobi saw his eyes skim the paper, then go back to read more carefully, his expression growing tighter and his complexion paler by the moment. Tobi would never have dreamed of opening that note while it was in his hands, but now he wished he had taken the opportunity right under his nose, even if it meant failing mom's test of trust or whatever this was.
The soldier finished the note and put it carefully in his pocket, looking dazed. He started for the door once again, but then seemed to remember that Tobi was still standing there.
'That's okay - we got this.'
With that dismissal, the soldier pushed his way through the door and out of sight, leaving Tobi to his questions. Soon enough, though, a dull roar came to his ears like a flood to interrupt his thoughts. Pushing the door open with his foot, he soon found out what all the commotion was about.
Every Legionnaire was on his feet, cheering loudly, and the soldier he had just spoken to was hoisted up in the air on his comrade's shoulders, looking gratified and embarrassed and squirming to get down. If he had thought that first cheer was loud, though, it was nothing compared to the second, the one that rushed into his ears as more men pushed past him through the door. He turned in time to see that one of the men was burned and bloodied, but still walking, before he had to move out of the way and back into the hall. He closed the door quietly, imagining that he was being quite discreet, and whirled away to make his escape.
He came face to face with the Polemarch.
'Civilians,' Latzu bit out, 'are not permitted in the barracks without an escort. Even sons of the Sarkis, Tobar Emiliano.'
Who did this guy think he was, calling him by his full name? Tobi felt himself puffing with indignation, but the fact was that the Polemarch scared him a little, and he deflated almost before he swelled.
'Uh, I was just...er. Yeah, you've got this.' He made an 'okay' sign with his thumb and index finger, and backed away slowly.
Latzu did not break his stare until Tobi rounded the corner. In fact, Tobi thought the Polemarch might still be standing there, boring a hole into the wall with his eyes. He gave a little shudder and continued home, putting the whole incident out of his mind with the ease of the shallow-minded.
Harder to forget were the faces of the men, the cheers rising up to the ceiling, when their fellow Legionnaires returned. That memory stayed with him for a long time after.
Thanos
16 years ago
Loretta Emiliano
16 years ago
There was no looking back for Loretta. She could only do what she had always done – propel herself forward, by sheer force of will if she had to. No regrets, no crisis of conscience – such things were a weakness.
Had he seen her in the boat?
It didn't matter. Tobi was a good, obedient son, that was what was important. He was no more capable of deception than a babe in her arms. It didn't matter that she thought, for just an instant, that might have caught a glimpse of her in the moonlight. She knew his character, knew him to the bones, and that was much more significant than a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, a nagging feeling she would crush under her heel and forget if she knew what was good for her!
She stomped her foot, a literal manifestation of her thoughts, and shook her head, like some wild horse about to bolt or kick.
She had a speech to make. Vaughn would address the city – he was working with writers already to craft an address about putting an end to corruption and crime on the docks. Latzu would speak to his men, the soldiers. Unbeknownst to her, her son would address the online communities – a voice of reason in a time of fear. It was left to her to address the pack, publicly at least – the Jiro would meet privately with certain individuals, speak at campfires, visit the infirmary. Loretta was both aware and unaware of his contribution.
Diplomacy was never her strong point – that had always been Vaughn's area of expertise, and Durriken's before him. Loretta had neither the time nor the patience for those who disagreed with her, who could not understand her vision – it was up to her husband to persuade those who were not easily convinced. She could, however, inspire, and fortunately that was to be the purpose of this speech. The pack did not need to be convinced of what they were attempting – they simply needed some hope in this dark hour.
By the time she stepped out of her quarters and began making her way to the clearing, she almost believed her lies. She almost believed that she had been safe in her bed, alone because her husband was at the manor, when the Jiro's meeting had turned tragic.
Had he seen her in the boat?
It didn't matter. Tobi was a good, obedient son, that was what was important. He was no more capable of deception than a babe in her arms. It didn't matter that she thought, for just an instant, that might have caught a glimpse of her in the moonlight. She knew his character, knew him to the bones, and that was much more significant than a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, a nagging feeling she would crush under her heel and forget if she knew what was good for her!
She stomped her foot, a literal manifestation of her thoughts, and shook her head, like some wild horse about to bolt or kick.
She had a speech to make. Vaughn would address the city – he was working with writers already to craft an address about putting an end to corruption and crime on the docks. Latzu would speak to his men, the soldiers. Unbeknownst to her, her son would address the online communities – a voice of reason in a time of fear. It was left to her to address the pack, publicly at least – the Jiro would meet privately with certain individuals, speak at campfires, visit the infirmary. Loretta was both aware and unaware of his contribution.
Diplomacy was never her strong point – that had always been Vaughn's area of expertise, and Durriken's before him. Loretta had neither the time nor the patience for those who disagreed with her, who could not understand her vision – it was up to her husband to persuade those who were not easily convinced. She could, however, inspire, and fortunately that was to be the purpose of this speech. The pack did not need to be convinced of what they were attempting – they simply needed some hope in this dark hour.
By the time she stepped out of her quarters and began making her way to the clearing, she almost believed her lies. She almost believed that she had been safe in her bed, alone because her husband was at the manor, when the Jiro's meeting had turned tragic.
Polemarch Latzu
16 years ago
“These were the first casualties of the war – they will not be the last.”
The Savia’s speech was broadcast throughout the entire hospital, but much of the pack was outside, sitting on the soft grass of the pine-framed mall, while the female alpha endeavored to unify the clan in this time of tragedy. Latzu observed as best as he could, and what he saw was more significant than what he heard from the podium - which was, at best, predictable. The pack was still in shock, and needed, more than the speech, the opportunity to come together and simply be among their family. They needed to see the Legion in formation, keeping them safe, and they needed to see their leaders before them, in control, demanding their best even now.
“We must never forget their sacrifice.”
Oh, but they would. Not fully, of course, but The Legion was still too segregated from the rest of the pack for others to truly feel their losses in the first place. Latzu understood this, and did not resent it, but statements like these made such speeches all the harder to bear. Even those who had brothers or sisters, sons or daughters in Vyusher R’asa’s military could not understand how each loss was engraved on the souls of the Legionnaires.
“The Legion has never been stronger.”
Latzu could not say whether that was true, but if it was, he knew who to thank. Loretta was obsessed with the Mighty Army and had granted them a hearty share of the pack’s power. As much as he hated having to pander to the ‘dynasty’, even he had to acknowledge how far a little good will with the Savia went.
And that good will, he mused, would have to be carefully cultivated from here on, balanced as both a cost and an asset in all negotiations to follow. He knew as well as any that the Savia could be delighted with you one day and furious the next, that her words did not necessarily follow her thoughts. And so he put on this show, marching his soldiers out of the mall, looking young and disciplined and excellent, all dry eyes and bravery, as the rest of the Vyusher watched on.
They would make time for mourning, but not where all eyes could see.
/ooc all out
The Savia’s speech was broadcast throughout the entire hospital, but much of the pack was outside, sitting on the soft grass of the pine-framed mall, while the female alpha endeavored to unify the clan in this time of tragedy. Latzu observed as best as he could, and what he saw was more significant than what he heard from the podium - which was, at best, predictable. The pack was still in shock, and needed, more than the speech, the opportunity to come together and simply be among their family. They needed to see the Legion in formation, keeping them safe, and they needed to see their leaders before them, in control, demanding their best even now.
“We must never forget their sacrifice.”
Oh, but they would. Not fully, of course, but The Legion was still too segregated from the rest of the pack for others to truly feel their losses in the first place. Latzu understood this, and did not resent it, but statements like these made such speeches all the harder to bear. Even those who had brothers or sisters, sons or daughters in Vyusher R’asa’s military could not understand how each loss was engraved on the souls of the Legionnaires.
“The Legion has never been stronger.”
Latzu could not say whether that was true, but if it was, he knew who to thank. Loretta was obsessed with the Mighty Army and had granted them a hearty share of the pack’s power. As much as he hated having to pander to the ‘dynasty’, even he had to acknowledge how far a little good will with the Savia went.
And that good will, he mused, would have to be carefully cultivated from here on, balanced as both a cost and an asset in all negotiations to follow. He knew as well as any that the Savia could be delighted with you one day and furious the next, that her words did not necessarily follow her thoughts. And so he put on this show, marching his soldiers out of the mall, looking young and disciplined and excellent, all dry eyes and bravery, as the rest of the Vyusher watched on.
They would make time for mourning, but not where all eyes could see.
/ooc all out