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Post by Ian Rosewood on Jul 5, 2010 22:44:38 GMT -6
”And that concludes our meeting.” The leader of the table said just as Ian started to nod off. Okay, so there was coffee and energy drinks for people but the caffeine in coffee could only take Ian so far in a meeting that had gone on until midnight. Not to mention that she had been sitting there since eight. Everyone gathered around the table started to get up and mutter. They started to share thoughts of the meeting, thoughts of going to bed. Ian stretched in her seat, her muscles had gone stiff three hours and thirty minute ago. In addition to all that was that she really couldn’t stand not moving for more than half an hour and as a result; she been jittery the whole meeting. She took a glance at the table, the images from the end of the meeting still on the screen of the table. Ian could remember the first time she used and saw the table, it had been the most amazing thing at the time but after sitting through too many too long meeting having only its bright screen to stare at the table was nearly an object of loathing more than of awe at that point. But even so it was still fun to play with the screen and its features.
”You leaving, Rosewood?” A fellow major asked. Ian hardly noticed him but still replied with, ”Nah, I’m going to stick around a bit longer.” She as tired as she was, Ian didn’t get access to the giant computer table with profiles of all the shifters on it often. And for now, it looked like she was alone with the exception of a few lingerers. Ian plopped back down in her seat and pulled up a personal screen. She didn’t care to change it so her screen didn’t control the main image of the table. It didn’t matter much; she was just looking through the profiles of shifters captured from the raids. She tapped the screen and the layout turned to single profiles. She didn’t know any of the shifters besides the one she captured but each of their faces and names gave her a sense of dark satisfaction. Another one of them was locked up. But some of them wouldn’t be for long.
Sadly, the meeting had been about the rehabilitation program. Ian was barely able to hide her disgust when she learned that some shape shifters could be released into Keis once more. She scrolled though possible candidates for the program, raid captures, and the shifters that had slipped through the cracks that was on file. Some that were on file were still being targeted and still in danger, but if they weaseled their way from danger from the raids something told Ian those shifters would need some special treatment. Absentmindedly, Ian scrolled through the names and faces of each of the shifters. Ian looked at their forms, ages, heights, eye color, anything that would identify them from the rest of the humans. Her head rested in one of her hands as sleep threatened to pull her away from this opportunity. ”All of you are bastards.” She mumbled looking at their faces. As human as they might appear, they really were monsters beneath that skin and nothing would change that.
The meeting had run on longer than expected, but it was all about the importance of the rehabilitation program. Some people would be working extra hours keeping an eye on some of the more dangerous shifters of having to drag their butts back to SEG if they got in trouble. So much information in usch short time, but there wasn’t a much better plan. Ian stripped her uniform jacket leaving her in a white button up shirt and black tie. She draped it on the back of her seat wondering what kinds of chaos could erupt from the program, would it backfire? Could it? Time would tell and the shifters would be discriminated against, but despite all the planning Ian couldn’t help but think that with some shifters released back into society, there could be something that slipped through the cracks and SEG could be at the mercy of the shifters soon. Ian grimaced at the thoughts and kept looking at the profiles. SEG had it under control, didn’t they?
ooc: Always wanted to post here. ^0^ Open to SEG!!! |
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Post by Amalthea Winterlynn on Jul 6, 2010 4:08:48 GMT -6
This meeting was a waste of time. Yeah, Amalthea would be doing her time checking on banded shapeshifters and making sure they didn’t get in trouble, and she was sure she’d be doing more than enough hauling their asses back to their cells where they belonged, and yes, she should probably know all about the rehabilitation program, but that in itself was a waste of time. Shapeshifters couldn’t be rehabilitated; that much Amalthea believed with every particle of her being. Shapeshifters were monsters and could never be tamed. She’d seen their handiwork firsthand – she knew all too well what they could do.
But, like everyone else who would be involved, she had been required to come to this meeting and she’d come, and she’d sat through all of it. It wasn’t boring and it wasn’t like the leader of the table rambled or anything – it was just pointless, and Amalthea didn’t want to be here. She didn’t care if it was late or not – although this was cutting into her practice time and that didn’t please her all that much – the nightmares made sure of that. She just wanted out to work on shooting with her right hand – her weaker hand. She’d seen soldiers out of work for weeks because their hands were injured; it reminded her that she should practice on both sides. But of course, she had her responsibilities as a Major and as a soldier, and she’d carry them out. Even if it meant attending meetings in the middle of the night in the formal uniform that most people hardly ever wore that dragged on for hours and went very deep into a subject that frustrated and scared Amalthea. Even if it meant that she had to wait another sleepless night before working on her shooting. The SEG was her life, and that meant that they dictated it.
She heard the leader announce that the meeting was over, and she sighed with relief. She didn’t want to hear any more about this doomed subject. Sure, the SEG might have it under control, but she was sure that it would fail all the same. She’d believed in shapeshifters too many times to be fooled again. She remained in her seat, waiting for the people eager to go home or to their barracks and sleep to leave. She could wait – she had all the time in the world. There was a lot of people in the room, and getting trampled because she couldn’t wait a few minutes for them to clear out wasn’t worth it. So she waited. She placed a hand over the screen in front of her, trying to block out the light – it was too late for that kind of brightness – and shifted, trying to work the kinks out of her muscles. Staying still this long was bad for them, but it couldn’t be helped. She twisted her neck, hearing it crack and pop. Gross, yet kind of fascinating. She twisted the other way. Snap, crackle, pop – like rice crispies. Oh damn, maybe she was loopy from lack of sleep. Not that she was tired – when you stayed up to ungodly hours of the night every night and still got up early every morning for four years, your body got used to it. It even began to stop you from doing anything else. But, yes, sometimes you did get loopy. But she didn’t want to sleep right now – she wanted to go practice that right handed shooting, or, if she didn’t feel like shooting – and she probably shouldn’t, she could wake people up – she could go practice with the dummies and work on her hand to hand.
Her attention was distracted by the display on the screen shifting – to shapeshifter profiles. Captured, escaped, free but known – they were all on there, in a giant database meant to aid in their capture. Of course, they were rarely assigned to catch them unless they knew where they were, but it could still be useful to look up someone you suspected was a shapeshifter or match a blood test to a known shapeshifter. She was about to turn away, actually standing up and out of the chair, when the shapeshifter on the screen changed to someone she recognized. Rowan Behr – Hawkeye’s attacker. Oh, she remembered Behr all right, and she assumed he remembered her. She knew what the information said on that display very well – Status: Captured during raids by Major Amalthea Winterlynn. It’d been several months back, but she remembered it quite well. What, was that all the way back in winter? Time flew. She turned away. She didn’t want or need to see his face anymore, didn’t need to be reminded of what he’d done or even of her triumph in capturing him. She didn’t need any of it.
She looked up at the mumble of a woman – the woman scrolling through the database tiredly. Amalthea didn’t know if she’d meant to leave the display on or not, but the leader had said the meeting was over, and everyone was gone, so it couldn’t mean that much. She looked familiar from somewhere, but Amalthea didn’t know where, and she was more focused on what the woman had said. Yes, they were all bastards – as many in the SEG knew too well. She knew too many soldiers that had lost parents, wives, husbands, kids, brothers and sisters to the war to be ignorant of that fact, even if some still were. They were lucky to have remained so – Amalthea herself hadn’t gotten that luxury, which was how she’d wound up here.
”They are.” Amalthea replied to the woman, even if the comment hadn’t been directed at her. She sighed. ”Anything in particular you’re looking for?” She asked, stubbornly refusing to refer to shapeshifters as anyone, implying that they were something resembling humans. They were things, and that just made them easier to kill. She kept her tone quiet – everything was too loud at midnight, even if you were in a public place.
ooc; couldn't resist. ian and amalthea: take two. without craziness, hopefully. and i hope you know that i'm really slow at replying by now.
word count; 1004. |
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Post by Ian Rosewood on Jul 6, 2010 22:41:29 GMT -6
So many had been captured. But still, each shifter that was still free was another monster unleashed onto the poor fragile city of Keis. Ian grimaced angrily each time she saw: Status: Free Ian gritted her teeth angrily at the shifters. Why had they have to exist at all? If they hadn’t been created no humans lives would have been lost in the war and everyone would be living peacefully. Where no one suffered from grief and SEG wouldn’t have had come into existence. And if SEG hadn’t come into existence Ian wouldn’t have had to be sitting at the big computer table for four hours listening to information that could have been dispensed through an email or letter or anything other than a four hour meeting.
The program went a little along the lines of; shifters were being released into Keis under SEG’s new rehabilitation program. They would still be bound by the bands and wouldn’t be able to shift. But they might still cause trouble. The soldiers were going to be on call for trouble making shifters. In addition, the shifters were going to discriminated against. They would be known by humans and possibly even hated for it. Those who had no idea of the existence of shifters soon would and would most likely grow to hate them. If shifters caused trouble or harm to Keis they would be promptly locked back up.
Even with all the repercussions and the pros of the plan, Ian couldn’t help but be unsettled about it all. What with shifters unsupervised on the streets, who knew what they were capable of? After experiencing the war, Ian knew all too well of the chaos that could ensue on Cambria. She hoped SEG had it all under control, but sometimes she seriously doubted the leader’s choices and plans. The worst thing that could happen was that shifters would start a rebellion, SEG wouldn’t be able to handle it and humans would be in the shifters place soon enough. An unnervingly cold chill ran down Ian’s spine. Oh God. She thought scared at the thought. Could it really turn that bad?
Ian was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t quite notice when someone else said, ”They are.” Just after she had mumbled a line about the shifters. Something told her it was more of a statement than a quote directed toward her. Because everyone in SEG hated the shifters. Otherwise, why would they be in the organization anyways? ”Anything in particular you’re looking for?” The blond woman asked. Ian recognized her from the paintball fiasco in winter. Oh how she wished she could have forgotten that insanity. Her voice was soft, the night made everything loud. And Ian wasn’t used to the night being so loud.
Inattentively, Ian scrolled through more shifter names. Name: Veritas Itaria. Status: Captured during raids by Major Rosewood and Private Yalsa. Had the raids truly been in the winter? So many months ago? Ian remembered the raids all too well. She closed her eyes hoping that in doing so she could wash away some of those memories. A little sorrow for Nick leaving SEG and heading back home to earth. He had been a good kid, and from after the run in with Veritas, she had respect for him. She hoped there was some sort of way she could make contact with him. He was a very nice kid to say the least. A little clumsy and rash but a loss to the ranks or SEG.
Finally, she let out a sigh and answered her question, ”No. Just. Just looking.” Ian stretched her spine in her seat making it crack loudly. Something told her that it wasn’t healthy to do it but she dismissed the thought. ”What ‘cha doing here still?” Ian asked. Though Ian didn’t know what kept her lingering she gestured for her to sit in the seat next to her. Trying to fill up the silence, ian tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ears then tapped the screen twice and the display shifted from single profiles to a grid with tabs at the top depicting status.
For: Amalthea Winterlynn Thank you Izzeh!!!
ooc: Burn it Down by Avenged Sevefold helped my get my ass in gear ;P
word count: 697, not nearly as impressive as you post... |
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Post by Amalthea Winterlynn on Jul 8, 2010 18:06:27 GMT -6
There were people out there who had as much or more reason to hate the shapeshifters than Amalthea. People who had lost their whole families, people who had fought in the war out of sense of duty and paid for it by watching their friends die. When you looked at it that way, she’d gotten off lucky – her family was absent in her life because she’d pushed them away, and they were still alive. But that didn’t mean that Amalthea felt like she had – she had lost her child and her husband, and however many people fed her that ‘you’re pretty, you’ll meet someone else’ or ‘you’re young yet – you can have more’ bullshit, it didn’t ease the ache of her husband and son being dead, damn it. So yes, she hated the shapeshifters more than she would ever have thought herself capable of back then, not that that was surprising. She divided her life into before and after, and the change in who she was was significant. The old Amalthea probably wasn’t capable of hating like she did now, and the new one could never be as naïve and stupid as the old one had been.
So yes, she thought the rehabilitation program was stupid, a waste of time, and suicidal to boot. Now that the war was over and the SEG were no longer the saviors of the humans, suspicions and wariness had grown in the citizens of Keis of the men and women who arrested their coworkers and friends. Maybe setting the shapeshifters free would help, but if they attacked people, if they were violent, what then? It was a stupid move, and seeing as Amalthea was incapable of believing that monsters that could kill her child – never mind that it had been a very small group, not the whole race – could live peacefully among humans, she couldn’t believe that this wouldn’t go horribly wrong, and she could only hope the people of Keis were smart enough to stay far, far away from shapeshifters who’d been released, whether the SEG swore they were rehabilitated or not. This idea of theirs was a huge gamble, and if they lost, people could die, the war could be restarted. Their position was so fragile still; if enough free shapeshifters and stupid humans banded together they could still wreak havoc. The whole idea was just a bad one, and Amalthea hated it.
She scrutinized the woman, trying to remember where she knew her from. Oh, right – Rosewood, from paintball. That had been a terrible idea too, and it hadn’t increased Amalthea’s faith in her superiors. She smiled a little – she’d fought this woman on top of the walls of the maze, the last of her teammates to face off with her in the maze or out. She was a good fighter, clever and resourceful. She’d shot Amalthea on the shoulder. She didn’t hold a grudge – she’d shot plenty of people herself. It hadn’t been a good day all around. She winced at the memory.
She glanced down at the screen, seeing another name there. Veritas Itaria – captured by Rosewood and some Yalsa guy. So she was good – of course, she’d have to be to reach the rank of Major and still be alive. The raids had been tumultuous and sometimes scary – Amalthea was still ashamed that she had let the royal brat get away. But she’d caught Behr – even if Hawkeye still wasn’t speaking to her. It didn’t seem that long ago, and in the scheme of things they weren’t – just this winter. Some people had hated them – Amalthea had not. How often was she handed a name and description and told to capture them? It was her job, and she did it well – her skill due in no small part to her grim enthusiasm for the task. Hunting monsters was not where she’d ever envisioned herself in the past, but now it consumed her life – something that was a concern among her few friends that weren’t as obsessed as she was. She didn’t care. This was her job and her life now, and she’d be dead before she gave it up – literally. She didn’t give any thought to what she’d do after the shapeshifters were gone – she would most likely be dead before that happened.
She looked up at Rosewood’s response and her question. ”I was just…thinking,” she replied quietly. Yeah right – she’d seen her own name and Behr’s and gotten distracted. She made her way over to the other woman, taking the seat she had indicated. She didn’t really know why – she had meant to leave – but she didn’t need to leave just yet, and seeing Behr’s name and all the other shapeshifters had reminded her how much there was left to be done. Would Behr be released under the Rehabilitation program? Amalthea prayed not – he was violent, and he didn’t need to be able to shapeshift to go after Erin and attack her again. They could lock him up again, but that wouldn’t do Hawkeye any good if he got to her first. He was fast, smart, and strong, and the idea of him free again, just when Amalthea had thought they were safe from the bastard, was a little scary – even if she wasn’t willing to admit that to herself, and neither was her partner, who had more than enough reason to be afraid. She sighed, contemplating the future with this program involved. She wasn’t sure if it was good or not.
ooc; this is really rambly and bad. but oh well, now you have two posts to go c:
word count; 915. |
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Post by Ian Rosewood on Jul 8, 2010 22:40:54 GMT -6
Ian was used to a certain schedule and when she was sentenced to meetings and such she wasn’t a happy camper. She figured she would forget half of the information in the morning unless she got some sort of refresher email the next day. Looking at all the shifters on the screen she realized that it was getting harder and harder to concentrate. It took her a few seconds longer to process the names on the screen and the faces staring back at her. Just great, in an hour she’d start to get slap happy and that never resulted in anything good. There were good reasons Ian kept a strict schedule. The midnight meeting was seriously screwing her up.
Finally Ian gave up for a minute and just sat there to think. The first thought that came to mind was that she really, really, really wanted to smack the person who came up with the rehabilitation program. Smack them and smack them real good. So hard that maybe they would regret even coming up with the idea in the first place because it was the stupidest idea SEG had ever come up and would go into a secret hall of fame. Ian had the right mind to go file a formal five page complaint in size twelve times new roman font single spaced. She could go on about why the rehabilitation program was a bad idea for at least ten pages, but she’d have to live with five. And if the plan exploded in SEG’s faces, Ian could say, I told you so! Had all their work in the raids in the winter been in vain> Why, why why in the Lord’s good names would they release the shifters that all of the soldiers risked life and limb to try and capture? It made absolutely no sense at all. It would make the soldiers feel inadequate and underappreciated and would put others at risk. Ian’s mind switched to wondering if any of the soldiers in SEG were happy about the program in the least bit. Ian decided to ask Amalthea though Ian knew what her answer would probably be, ”I think the rehabilitation program is a waste of time and resources. Man I wish SEG hadn’t done this, I mean, what about you? What do you think?”
While Ian had a second she grabbed two cups of coffee and gave one to Amalthea. She offered her some cream and sugar before taking a sip of hers: completely black. It was some sort of an acquired taste. She’d never had coffee with sweeteners or cream in it and Ian was not one for chance. She stuck with her black coffee and the only time she switched it up was during the summer and had it iced. Though the night was cold enough to be acceptable for a cup of hot coffee, and even besides that Ian needed the caffeine. While Amalthea was distracted with the coffee for a minute Ian found herself at where she started soon enough at Rowan Behr. She almost gagged at the memory of that raid hunt. She had been humiliated thoroughly and so had her comrade Kin. Ian had tried to wash that memory from her brain for a long time but no matter what she couldn’t repress it. Ian swore she’d make the shifter suffer for hurting her pride. For getting away and for being what he was. Ian was tempted to smack the table but knew she could break the screen and end up giving ten of her paychecks to pay for the expensive computer table. ” Winterlynn, you captured Behr?” Ian asked. Not that she really needed her reassurance; it was right on the screen in front of her. A very dominant part of Ian was elated, joyous that Amalthea had captured the evil shifter but Ian pride was hurt again. She wanted to have captured him herself and given herself her own satisfaction of having brought him back to SEG upon her own power. Ian kept the screen on Rowan. The evil little devil that had thoroughly humiliated Ian, the woman sneered at his face. A string of obscenities ran through her head as she thought about the shifters more and more. Grimacing Ian spat out violently but quietly in nearly a growl, ”Monsters, they are just evil killing monsters.”
For: Thea
ooc: You know I still partially hate you, right, izzeh? And on the other hand: 3 hours of sleep is not adequate to attempt posting....
word count: 738 I'm tired okay? |
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