all quiet on the western front

"Perfectly, innocent, you're totally right."

His smile skews his mouth boyishly crooked, but no one can really see it for how he's pressed his face back into her chest, breathing out hard through his nose right into her cleavage, drawing a giggle from her at the tickling.

"But what I️ mean is. You're in charge."

He starts to trace light, wispy lines up her arms, the soft skin gliding under his fingertips all the way up to the curve of her shoulder, where he pauses to spend some extra time.

"Of course there would be no need for sneaking. But it would still be fun to do. So we could do it out of want and not necessity."

He cuts his eyes up at her now, noticing for the first time how she watches him, looks down at him with this deep satisfaction in her eyes, almost like a peaceful curiosity, something pleased and amused about it. He'd give up sight altogether if he could choose to only see her eyes looking at him like that for the rest of his life.

"But... but really though. You would. You'd tell everyone? And you'd be okay with it? Everyone would?"


Dolan doesn't answer for a moment, just starts studying the inside hem of his shirt tail, feeling along the seam to have some sort of focused sensory information to ground himself with.

"I'm allowed to be curious. I️ want to know what I'm walking into. I'm still a soldier, too, after all."

He cuts his eyes up at her, and they're still bright as ever, even in the dim light of the truck as it sways back and forth. Bright and piercing, keen and... something intrinsically knowing about them. As if Dolan can't say anything to disguise himself, can't cover up the fact that his brain is broken and his mind is in bits and he can play soldier, pretend that he has it together all he wants, but somehow she'll still now.

But that's not going to stop him from trying. He doesn't know how to do anything else.

"It was never something Hadrian could figure out, you know. Why Estenor of all people got shoved in the front. It made him giddy at first, like they were making this fatal misstep without even knowing it. And then after all the months of..."

He shrugs, letting all the banalities of war and its processes roll off with that motion.

"It irritated him to no end, that he couldn't get the best of her, especially when he thought it was going to be a piece of cake. That's why he."

He blinks, cocks his head a little as he watches the dark grey truck wall rumble with the wheels as they dip against the uneven ground. Things come back, little by little. How Hadrian's voice had been dark, beyond murderous, beyond normal when he'd growled at Dolan to take Estenor down. How irate he'd been when Dolan had failed, all the ways Dolan had to pay for it.

"That's probably why he moved on. Got too frustrated. He thinks of her like some cockroach. This annoyance he can't kill."

"I would be more than happy to parade around everywhere holding hands. Every single second of every single long, bloody day."

Rather than go back around to playing with him, poking at his face, she loops her arms around his shoulders, pausing there for a moment to just embrace him like this. If he had some sort of hybrid ears, she'd swear she would have just seen them perk up at the confession.

He's always watching her so closely, even when he's not meaning to, trying to anticipate her every move and desire. When those things align with his own, or at least if he gets them correct, then his face lights up like a child receiving a gold star from an admired teacher.

Except, maybe it's actually more than just that. There's that longing to please, yes, but, more than anything, there's just a longing to be. That's a sentiment she feels like she can relate to in every way.

"But."

So she hates to ruin it now. Fengari rolls to her back, pulling him to follow, exhaling deeply as his weight lands on top of her. It doesn't bother her, but it does force most of the air out of her at first.

"I'm not sure how thrilled other people would be. I don't really care, but for the sake of the twins not killing you... Maybe we should ease people into it? Warm people up to the idea of us?"



Trita watches him for a long moment, watching how he blinks, keeps trying to play off fidgeting as the movement of the truck.

"Does it make you uncomfortable to think of her as a cockroach now?"

She tilts her head slightly, quirking up an eyebrow. He gives little response to the question at first, either not understanding it or not understanding his feelings on the matter. Given what she knows of him based on his file and what he's shared, it's probably both.

It seems like explaining everything is going to be a new job of hers, on top of everything else. Sure, why not?

"I mean, back then, you weren't really thinking for yourself, sure. So someone could argue something stupid like you would never think that about her. Or, you were being forced to think that. I think it's more that Hadrian was your commanding officer so you were, yes forced to agree, but also given your background, it came naturally to agree with him. It was easier. Now, Estenor is your commanding officer and even remembering Hadrian thinks that way or that you used to go along with it bothers you because she outranks you. Just on principle, she is supposed to deserve more respect than that."

The bus hits an especially large bump, jarring the stretcher out of place and it slowly starts to roll. Trita stretches out one of her legs so a wheel bumps against her foot and stops its route. After a while, things level back out enough that she can play with the think, nudging it away with the toy of her boot, catching it when it rolls back, over and over again. It's mindless but it's something to do.

"I wonder why he hated her so much, though. I mean, I get it, enemy general and all. But you'd think he'd more see it as an opportunity. Estenor's been around for... A long time, to put it lightly. Imagine the trophy it would be to capture her or to do her in finally? You'd be a war hero for every war that's occurred in the last century for one side or another."

"Yeah, that's. I️ mean, I️ figured."

Shand brings his cheek against her skin now instead of his chin, angling his face away from her. He'd known it was mostly joking and fun since the start of talking about being open with how they feel about each other, but something about even pretending it could be true had made him want it worse. Think it was even possible, grab onto it, hold it tightly.

"I️ guess if anyone knows how disproportionately they'd react to news like that, it should be me."

His small crooked smile pulls at her skin a little as he tries to convince even himself.

"But. But one day. Yeah?"

He swallows, not able to keep himself from the idea fully, determined to choke the life out of it, cling to it desperately.

"One day when the war is over and all, it won't matter who knows. We'll be together and we'll be somewhere far from here just, God, just living and enjoying things and then it won't matter who knows."

He repeats the last part more softly, almost like some childish bit of memorization, or something recited to give him peace.


Dolan feels his eyebrows pull together, but that doesn't mean much. His face barely changes even when he thinks he's being expressive, so that seldom works in his favor.

"...Maybe."

It is strange, he'll admit, but the strangeness is more in her wording. Telling Dolan that Estenor is his commanding officer now. Is she toying, playing, concealing some kind of true motive? He's not totally convinced that he won't be shot dead the second he walks into that camp, at the very least. But something in him wants to trust this woman.

Then there's always the possibility that Trita doesn't know either. That maybe Estenor hadn't shared her true intentions, that Trita had come to convince him to defect and that there had been something real and not persuasive or manipulative or mission-driven in the time they'd spent together.

Yes, the flashes of skin and sweat and moans come to mind, but surprisingly, the thing he keeps seeing the most of is his hand ghosting gently over the fur on her ear, over and over, transfixed and soothed by the softness.

"He did see it as an opportunity. At first. But when you fail at opportunities enough, they turn into embarrassments. Especially when they look like Estenor."

He doesn't jump to explain himself at all, but he remembers the first time he'd seen the general in the scope of a weapon he'd been manning during an early watch. He hadn't had authorization to shoot, it had been straight surveillance and intel gathering. He'd watched her through the scope for a few solid minutes as she stood right at the boundaries of her camp. Dolan remembers inwardly scoffing. She'd seemed like nothing but a girl then, small and short and feminine and out of place. Hadrian's confidence for overtaking her didn't seem misplaced at all.

Until the battlefield, and the burns, and the fury inside his own head. A lot of that is still blurry, swathed in fire and void of all sense. Like a horrible nightmare in multiple broken pieces yet to be rearranged into a whole. He's not sure he wants to try.

"No, you misunderstood me, Shand."

Fengari sighs deeply, more upset with herself than anything else. She probably explained it incorrectly and made it sound worse than she meant it. Leading her own squadron and all that is great, but maybe she is missing some early development on social interactions.

Then again, nothing could have or would have prepared her for interacting with someone she is physically and emotionally attracted to. They never would have thought to teach her that and, as such, she feels ill-equipped right now.

"I mean, I would really like us to come out and tell people. But we should do it in steps, probably. Like, I don't know, maybe tomorrow you walk upfront with me so people get used to seeing us near each other. Do that for a little while. Then we can start bumping into each other, acting more casual. Things like that. They'll start to suspect on their own. That seems better to me than just fumbling out of this tent half-naked and making out tomorrow morning."



Trita can feel the truck turn, the first left turn of three before it's time for the two of them to walk the rest of the way on their own. The seconds start ticking down in her head, counting away this moment of relative peace.

So much for finally getting a good nap in, for feeling the ease of the hum and movement of the vehicle. Nothing to be done about it now.

"Listen, you can make comments about her appearance to me, you can even make them to her. She's a graceful person, both in combat and in demeanor. But you talk like that in front of her righthand men and you're going to be in big trouble. You think Estenor is scary? Wait until you meeting Kael and Rowan after an anti-Estenor comment."

She chuckles a little to herself, snagging a second nearby bag and starting to paw through it to look at the supplies Makun packed for her. Standard rations, ammo, some change of undergarments, the usual. Dolan's bag probably looks the same minus the ammo. She can't see Makun willingly trusting him alone with her and loaded weapons.

"Really, they're not that bad. Just over-protective. Which, you know, not a bad quality of any right-hand. Still, I wouldn't underestimate them."

"No, no I️ know. It just."

He huffs against her skin again, this time a little more obnoxiously, almost like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

"It feels like by the time we're through walking out all the gradual steps, maybe the war will be over. Maybe we'll all be dead."

He says it partially as a joke, but he regrets it as soon as it comes out of his mouth. He'd promised her that he'd keep her safe, and that's still his only reason for getting up in the morning. But the statement brings with it that old uncertainty, some of the old fear of not knowing. Of wondering if, at any minute, the camp could be invaded and Fengari taken from him, and him hauled back to some facility somewhere where no one will ever find him again, to wait out eternity in some cold metal room.

He feels himself shiver a little, almost as if he can feel the coldness already. Eyes closed tight, he presses himself even closer to her, willing himself to feel her heat above anything else.

"I️ don't mean that. It's just. I'm still scared, you know. And. I️ just don't want to miss out on anything with you."



"I️ wasn't being disrespectful. Just saying that her appearance can be misleading."

Dolan mumbles it under his breath, knowing he has to walk the line here. Even if they plan to kill him once they get to camp, even if Estenor plans it and Trita doesn't know, even if the whole world knows, he still can't risk being insubordinate in this new situation. It's been drilled into his head: obey. The one thing expected of him at all times. The reins will pass hands as they may, but the rule doesn't change. Whatever his fate is at whatever this place Trita's taking him, it's not in his best interest to put up any resistance to her or to Estenor. Or to anyone, really. Like this, on his own, Dolan is still a good soldier, even minus his special capabilities. But against a whole squadron of loyal and angry soldiers? And up against them without a gun? He's not stupid.

"Estenor... remembers that I'm the one that tore her camp down. I️ caused all that damage and took all those lives."

He says it with a deadpan expression, like he's stating any other commonly accepted fact, but he leaves it off as a question, still staring at her in a way that would most likely never be interpreted as inquisitive by anyone else.

"Trust me. This plan of mine should not span out over months. I may be a patient woman, but I'm not that patient."

She brushes his hair back so she can find a spot right at his hairline to kiss, lingering there to breathe in that unique saltwater scent he seems to carry around with him, even if it should be impossible.

"I'm thinking we'll be falling out of tents half-clothed in three weeks max."

Something about that sort of talk doesn't seem to fit in this soft moment, but she still allows it anyways. It's light, it's happy, fun, somewhat suggestive... It's everything they need after what they've been through. What they'll continue going through. Serious flirting or honest joke, it doesn't matter. Any little bit helps.

"Let's just hope camp dads don't try to give us The Talk. Not sure I could handle that from Rowan and I'm not sure Kael could even get halfway through it before having to walk away. Believe it or not, that kind of stuff really embarrasses him."



"I mean, she has really good memory. Odds are, she remembers."

Trita nods, standing up as she feels the truck take that third and fateful last left turn. He watches her for a moment, trying to judge if she's going to do more teasing, make some uncalled-for move on him, or actually is preparing to head out. At least, that's what she thinks he's going through in his head. She wouldn't blame him, especially on that third point. Not with how she's been acting since they met.

It's ridiculous and unprofessional. But, at the end of the day, here they are. It worked.

"You wouldn't be the first one to do that to her camp, though. Probably won't be the last either. It's war and war is hell."

By the time he sees her grab her bag, he gets the picture and starts collecting his own as the truck starts slowing down.

"I'm as close to Mire's entrance as I can get."

"The trees are literally right there, like not even five feet away. We can manage, you did well."

Trita reaches up into the truck's cab, mockingly patting Makun's head, a gesture he quickly shrugs off, shooting a glare up into the rearview mirror at her.

"Watch it, Airin. I'm older than you."

"Oh? So, why don't you act like it?"

Not satisfied with how he brushed her away, she throws herself forward and kisses his cheek, turning and running out of the back by the time he hunches up on himself, wiping his cheek on his shoulder, cursing all the while.

"Let's go, Dolan. We've got ground to cover."

She doesn't wait much for him, already well into the mouth of the forest by the time she calls back for him.

Neither Shand nor Fengari had been able to sleep for very long. Of course, not to complain, because Shand has been sleeping more soundly at her side than he has in his whole life. But something in him, and apparently a similar something in her, won’t let them rest in that calm for too long. There is always an underlying restlessness.

And this morning, that restlessness drives them out into the small clearing beside their wooded camp. Its so small that it must have been manmade, maybe for a small reservoir or storage for tanks at some point. But the forest is steadily working to reclaim the ground, brush brambling at the edges of the wood and working to grow further in.

Shand stands about ten feet away from her, not by order but compulsively. This had felt like a good idea last night in the height of his emotions, when he just wanted to be a help to her and not a burden, when he wanted to be more like her. But now, now in the stark light of day, the possible consequences of that desire are even more apparent.

“I️ don’t want... how do we know I’m not gonna hit you?”

His voice is a strained whisper-yell, trying to project over the distance without being too loud and alerting any enemies to their position.

Truth be told, he doesn’t know if he’s going to hit her with lightning or anything else or not. He doesn’t know if any will even muster itself up. He knows next to nothing, and that emptiness and uselessness makes him wish even harder for the opposite, but his fear keeps his feet planted firmly yards away from her, his body tilted ever so slightly in the direction opposite her, as if this intentional directionality will somehow be another layer of protection for her against himself.

"We don't. That's kind of the thing when you're learning powers like this."

Fengari taps her foot as she thinks over all the ways she was taught to be the weapon and monster that she is, trying to piece together what the exact opposite of that would look like on the fly.

In a way, her training had been effective. In more ways, it had been incredibly damaging, sometimes physically but mostly psychologically. How does she keep him from all of that while actually teaching him anything?

Maybe the best way is to feel it out.

Lifting her arm, she lets it rise slowly, hand dragging down like how a limb moves when calming treading water or swimming like she's fighting some invisible resistance or force. Halfway through the arc, right by her hip, a spark flares with a crack, igniting a small swirl positioned just in front of her index finger. As her arm lifts forward the rest of the way, the flame grows until it's spiraling all around her hand, even licking up at her elbow. A soft warm breeze brushes through the clearing, blowing the ends of her hair just as it does the ends of the flames.

She stops when her arm is stretched out in front of her, trying to debate what to do now, what path of lessons to go down with him first. Fight or control? Power or acceptance?

With a snap, she flicks her wrist in a smooth circle, her palm gathering the fire, catching it up in her grasp until she can safely hold her hand close towards her face, the flames a tight ball of glowing energy floating above her skin, lighting her face and fingers.

"I think. Maybe first we should teach you to understand your powers on a basic level, control them by knowing what they are. Fighting should come later. If you fight without control, that's when you'll do irreparable damage."

She finally looks over at him, the ball of fire dispersing away when she takes her eyes from it.

"Come over here and put your hand on the back of mine as I go through that motion again. You should feel the steadiness first to know what you're aiming for, then we can work on your trying the same thing."

He swallows hard against that thought but realizes there’s no point in arguing if he really does want to learn. His original suggestion had been to find somewhere far far away from everyone and everything, off in the middle of nowhere, where he couldn’t accidentally do any damage.

An impossible fantasy.

He slowly joins her at her side, his hesitance impossible to miss with the way his shoulders stay squared slightly away from her, just in case. Its not that he thinks he could catch her off guard, or that she couldn’t protect herself if need be. But Shand knows he can’t die. He could suffer a good hundreds, thousands, an infinite number of accidents and otherwise, and still live. One ill-placed bullet or lightning strike could hurt her in a way he couldn’t live with.

Still, he lines his hand up with hers. The back of her hand is warm, pulsating almost, and he almost pulls back from how badly his own hand starts to shake.

“So you’re... you’re what, holding it back somehow? I️ dont even know how to get mine to start, much less stop.”

"It's a constant fight, Shand. Here."

A bit impatiently, she pulls his hand back over hers and starts that arc motion down by their sides again.

The difference is this time he can feel she wasn't moving her arm and hand slowly for effect or intrigue. Fengari is quite literally fighting some invisible force, pushing through it, her motion smooth but her hand growing in each second-by-second. There's even a slight tremble to her fingers that was impossible to see but can be softly felt. There is actually something here unseen struggling against her.

"You feel it, don't you? That weight and pressure?"

Her eyes stay down on their hands, brow knitting when the spark in front of her finger tries to flare up. No, she can't have that. That's just one more thing to press down, shove into a corner and deal with later.

"I am fighting against this pressure every single second of every day. Each step, each breath, it's always there, I always feel it. You got a taste of it when you had to carry me back off the battlefield. Of course, there are some functions like walking and breathing where I am so used to this resistance that I can get by without showing it's there. This on-going battle is why I'm burning up all the time. I fight to keep the flames under control and there is a consequence to that."

He pulls his hand away quickly, as if the extra weight of it is somehow heavier on her, making everything worse. He clasps his hands behind his back but still stares at her lifted arm, brows furrowed a little, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"I️ don't, I️ don't feel anything like that. I️ never feel any of it coming, it just. I️ panic, and it happens, and then its worse, and then it just goes away. I️ don't know why. I️ don't think there is a reason."

He watches how carefully she moves, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase grace under pressure. He can't imagine living like that, waging a war outside while waging one inside.

Well, he can, but it's not the same. Tiny nagging fears, insecurities, those pinpricks of hopeless smallness like he gets when Lev talks down to him, when he sees all this going on around him and knows he's unable to help. He was meant for this, and yet the one thing he was meant for, he can't even grasp.

"Maybe this is why they never trained me. Maybe I'm just broken. Or something. Maybe I'm just useless."

He shrugs his shoulders tightly around his ears, letting the tension hold for a few seconds. Somehow the tightness in his muscles brings him some comfort, like even his uncertainty can tie him here to something physical beyond all the doubts and disbeliefs.

"Maybe that's why your powers are so out of control."

He keeps snapping away which isn't helping and she doesn't try to hide the frustration from her face. If he really wants to give this a go, really wants to try his hand at this, then he's going to need to listen, to follow her.

"Powers like this are linked to our thoughts and emotions. That's part of what makes them so strong but also so terrifying."

As she continues her little lecture, she steps back to him, grabbing his hand again, except she doesn't put it on the back of hers this time. Instead, she just holds it between them, lacing her fingers through his.

"It's weird, because when I'm alone, the heat and fire makes life miserable. But when I'm with you, it nearly feels pleasant. I'm highly aware of how hot I am when we're holding hands because I don't want to burn you, but, at the same time, this is one of the few moments my own heat doesn't bother me personally. It's conflicting and confusing, I can only imagine it's because I care so much about you that I don't want to hurt you, but I'm also the happiest and the calmest when I'm with you."

She can tell he wants to pull away, to jerk his hand back, to not join her in looking at how their skin looks together. It only makes her squeeze his hand more, making sure he can't get away this time. Fengari looks up at his face now, tilting her head so she's in his line of sight and he has to at least acknowledge her.

"If it helps, think of your powers as a completely different person, as a roommate or friend of sorts. When you say that you're useless, you're really calling him useless. And he hears it, he can tell how you feel about him. Why would anyone cooperate with a person that constantly talks about them like that? It's hurtful and wrong, of course he wouldn't want to listen and would want to act out and do his own thing. It's not like you've cared enough to try to understand him. He's basically an angsty teenager who is actually in the right to be angsty."

Her lips quirk up into a small smile, amused by her own analogy. Actually, the more she thinks about it, the more she likes it. Powers like this really are like another person living inside of you that you have to navigate life with. It's frustrating, it's difficult, sometimes near impossible, but it's life and you only make it more painful by not trying.

Stepping to his side, she brings their arms back down like before, going to swing their hands in that arc again, but this time she puts his hand on the bottom, puts his hand down to follow the motion, hers on top to go along with the ride and guide him. It's not really so much that she thinks he's going to feel anything on his own doing it, but more to use the motion as an analogy for everything now that he knows what it means.

"You don't feel the daily physical resistance I do, the physical fighting I do with myself and the pressure of my power, but there is resistance between you and him. Its defining word is 'useless' and we need to find that spot where the resistance really kicks into high gear between you two. Where the pressure manifests, even if it's just inside your own mind. I'm kind of excited, I bet he's a rather attractive gentleman, I can't wait to get to know him."

Shand finally lets his eyes drift down to their hands together, hers there on top of his.

"I'm... not all that great at dealing with other people. At least, when they're not you."

He glances up at her to grin a little sheepishly, suggestively, but his smile freezes as he tries to think through what she's said. In the heat of the moment, he's never really recognized any emotional connection, any obvious cause to the destructive forces that emanate from him. But since being with her, he's noticed more about other sides of the same force.

"Hey, you know... like when we're, you know."

He shimmies his shoulders a little, a ridiculous motion that would mean nothing if not for the expression, the boyish grin and the eyebrow waggling, that accompany it.

"Well stuff happens then. Stuff, I️ mean lightning stuff. Shock stuff. And that night when all the lights in your tent were blown out? Back at the other camp, my first night? I️ didn't really try to do anything, but it was just like. Like that blue light came out of nowhere because I️ could tell you were scared in the dark."

His brows are less suggestive and more serious now, knit together as he studies his hands to give himself something to focus on as he thinks. When he'd been in the facility, the scientists had forced reactions sometimes, but there had been no rhyme or reason. All certain voltages measured and recorded, gaging amounts and times. Out here, in the real world outside of the facility, his abilities have been more dormant than not, only showing up here and there with seemingly no reason at all.

Until he met her. Now it's either a lightning show or some kind of shock therapy every other day. Somehow, she's the difference. If it's emotion that brings the abilities out, then he's inclined to think that it's nothing more than his total and complete love for her, but that doesn't seem to fit all the details.

On the battlefield, with missiles screaming by their heads and tanks crunching bones in the earth, his power was heightened as it had never been before. And all in response to...

He looks up suddenly, his hand flipping over under hers to grab it.

"I've really only ever had my lightning show up strongly when I️ thought you were going to get hurt. I️ don't...know what to do with that."

"M-Me?"

Fengari's wide eyes snap up to his, and she's highly aware of the blush on her face the whole time, but it's not like she can stop it right now. It's not even like she's embarrassed in a bad way. She's endeared and touched, but she can't figure out how to link that to anything because... Well. It's so different than how she operates her powers.

In a fit that almost looks like a sudden spasm, she dives her head down, pressing her face against the outside of his arm to hide her expression from him, her hand squeezing his again.

"That. That's."

Then, something clicks, or at least seems like it's clicking bit-by-bit. Her brow knits against the fabric of his sleeve, piecing this new information with the bit he had said earlier. Shand starts to ask her something but she holds a finger up to quiet him as her mind works down a train of thought.

It couldn't be so simple. Could it?

"You're being useful."

Slowly, she turns her face up, resting her chin against him so they can look at each other again.

"You said earlier you feel useless but, in all those situations... Yes, even the-"

She shimmies her shoulders, mocking the way he had.

"Ones, you're being your definition of useful. You're helping me see in the dark when I'm afraid, you're working over me to make me feel good, for lack of an appropriate word right now. And, on the battlefield, you're helping and saving me from getting hurt or worse. These are all situations you think you're being useful. Your power is directly linked to being helpful to someone, or feeling like you're being helpful. And it snaps when you feel like you can't be or you can't think of a plan to be. That's so... Fascinating."

He opens his mouth to argue, to provide some alternative, or some contrary evidence, but he can't think of any. Even back to the start of this, when he and the others had crested that hill and they'd been shot at, Shand had reacted to his fear that Lunath would get hurt. On the battlefield, he'd reacted to seeing Fengari directly in harm's way. Even when he'd been hit, thrown to the ground violently enough to knock him out, his powers hadn't reacted then. It's always been for someone else, when others are in trouble.

That has him shaking his head fast, a little bit of that same fear jumping into his eyes.

"I️ don't, I️ don't want to do this if it puts anyone in danger. If I️ can't, my powers won't do anything unless someone else is being threatened and that's not worth it. I️ can't do this. I️ can't just be trained if it's going to be like that."

His fingers grip onto her hand more tightly, shaking a little. He's worried about this his whole life. Since the beginning, even since before the facility, when he'd first realized he was different. His favorite question as a child had always been why, to everything and everyone multiple times over. And in this situation, it had never been any different.

Now he has his answer. It's branded into him, somewhere deep in his DNA probably, to be useful. To be helpful, to put others before himself. His abilities make it his responsibility. Without it, he won't ever truly be of any use, have any purpose.

Lev's words start ringing in his ears again, goading him to just accept the he can't run from being what he is, not forever. And this discovery confirms it all. He's alive to be of use, to be used somehow in someone else's agenda. At least like this, with Fengari, he won't be treated or thought of as some object or weapon but. He feels the reality of it sink in more and more with each passing moment.

He leans his head over until his cheek rests on the top of hers, gives him a few seconds in contact with her before he closes his eyes, tries to think straight. His only purpose now is her. To protect her, to make sure he keeps his promise that they'll both make it out of this war and live happily ever after together. And if this is how his powers work, then damn if he isn't going to make them work for him in this.

"How am I️ supposed to control it when it works like that. There's. I️ don't know what to do."

"We have to show it... We have to show him and you that you're both useful even outside of those situations. If we can do that, then you should be able to control everything better because you won't be reliant on outside dangerous sources to cause it."

Fengari holds their hands up so they can still both see the contact even huddled against each other. Of course, that's all easier said than done. Teaching someone value and self-worth... She doesn't even have those things. Her method of control is based on the opposite of Shand's, based on the reason he hates the thing that causes his to spark.

She chews her lip, brow knitting. It's not his fault, he doesn't even know her basis for everything, but it makes her feel like more of a monster. She's the danger that causes his control, reverse things, flip sides, it doesn't matter.

"You know."

Giving one hard swallow, she pulls herself out of her spiraling. This training time isn't about her, it's about him. Helping him understand this side to himself, how to work with it. That's what's most important right now.

"I can't make you believe me but I think you're helpful and useful by just existing and being near me. You calm me down, make me laugh. I've never been this happy in my entire life, and that has to mean something. We're in the middle of hell right now and this is my version of paradise. And it only is this way because you're standing here right now. Just standing, just talking, just being. That's all you need to do and you're the most valuable person I can think of."

Her emotions in check again, she can force herself to look up at him, to smile lovingly and encouragingly at him, rubbing her thumb in circles over his hand.

"I can't make you believe that, but I think we need to get you to a point of accepting yourself for this to work. I think that's how we do this."

A soft scoffing sound escapes his lips before he inhales deeply, never taking his gaze off their hands. This whole thing seems easier said than done. If he wants to be able to harness this, whatever it is, raw energy, pushy roommate, this ability, to protect her, then he wants to do it now. Needs to be able to do it now. Not at the end of some long process of trying to like himself. Hell, he'll be alive an eternity and he can't foresee a real end to a feat like that. He doesn't want to like himself, accept himself, anything like that. He just wants to keep her alive.

Except now the two are linked, somehow, in this strange messy complicated way that he can't get around.

"So I️... I️ need to feel like I️ don't have to be useful in order to actually be useful?"

He chuckles softly, an almost rueful sound burdened with how heavy that feels, how impossible.

"There's not, perhaps, some short cut. Or alternate route. Some back door with a lock we can pick or a window we can break into instead?"

"Ha. No, it can't be that easy. Trust me, a century later and I'm still working on it."

She presses her mouth to his arm, kissing his sleeve a few times, trailing up and down a couple of inches as she goes, back and forth, before she stops abruptly. Her eyes playfully shoot up at him, eyebrow arched, ready to be done talking.

"So. Wanna give it a try? Wanna see if you can shoot some lightning out of your hand. I've definitely seen and felt you do it at different intensities."

Ripping her face back from him, she tugs him so he's angled towards a dead tree, one that looks like it saw the worse half of target practice for a camp of soldiers months ago. He doesn't immediately lift his hand up so she goes to help him, slipping hers to the back of his hand and holding their arms out in front of him.

"At the end of the day, I'm still a general. I like to see what my soldiers can do."

With how they're positioned, she's pressed up against his back, angling him off a bit sideways, feet spread and planted in almost a gun-firing position. Her free hand is on his back hip, her other hand stays locked on top of his, keeping his arm stretched towards the tree several yards away from them.

No, if this were any other soldier, she wouldn't be nearly this close, but it's Shand. It's fun to feel her chest press against his batch, feel how he tenses and his breathing hitches, let her cheek rest against the lower part of his shoulder blade.

He goes to step away but with her hand on his and the other on his hip, she grips him tightly to make him stay, shaking her head against him.

"No. This is where I put you so this is where you're staying. A good soldier can perform under pressure, so give it a shot."

It takes him a second to catch his breath, to rationalize that he shouldn't be thinking about how she feels pressed into his back, how close she is to him in this strange position that still manages to get his heart racing. He's sure she can feel it, even where she is.

"I️, you know I️ can't even perform when I'm not under pressure."

His tone is a little whiny but also playful to match the sudden shift in mood. He tries to shift his weight, too, thinking maybe that will help him take his mind off her, but her hand at his hip becomes firm in a way that doesn't help at all.

"All this talk about performing is making it really hard to not think about performing. In other ways."

He murmurs it under his breath as he sighs out hard, tries to get all the oxygen out of his lungs. Her hand is on top of his still, and both their hands shake a bit. He's pretty sure that's his fault.

"What do I️ even."

He shakes his head, trying not to let the frustration overwhelm him. Should he think about her getting hurt? He doesn't want to think about that. Should he try to think about accepting himself? What would that even look like? This must be what drowning feels like for someone who can't swim, who doesn't know what to do to set things right and save themselves.

He closes his eyes hard, clenches his teeth, scrunching up the side of his face in tense concentration. He stays that way a few seconds before opening one squinted eye and surveying the tree, no more damaged than before.

"It's not working. I️ don't know what 'it' even is, but."

"Shand."

Fengari rocks up to the toes of her boots, lifting her face to hook her chin on his shoulder, at the perfect angle to talk right up into his ear. He nearly jumps out of his skin when she blows into it which gives her a good couple seconds of giggling, but she stops herself.

"I need that tree gone."

Even she is highly aware of how her breath hits his ear, how she whispers quietly to him, the way she's grabbing his hip firmly to keep him to her and how her chest just dragged up his back when she stood on her toes. Maybe it's all a little manipulative, but she needs to know more about how his power works and she's only seen it a few times in very different situations.

"Behind that tree is the easiest path towards Fort Marsh, but it's a rather large tree and its root system has the ground all uneven. How would anyone be able to get through there? Axel on his crutches, Yvaine with the medical equipment. It's in the way."

Yes, the logic is flawed. In a sense. The tree is old, wide, too close to the surrounding trees to really pass by it... But really only in this one direction, they could find a different path around it. However, she's banking on him being so focused on her voice, with the visual of it in front of them, that he won't think of that on his own quite yet.

"I need you to take it down for me. Don't worry, it's already dead, you won't be killing it."

She plants a kiss on the side of his neck to try to sweeten the deal some for him, lingering to let her eyelashes brush against his skin, trying to keep subtly glancing at their hands. Her own palm heats up even hotter than usual against the back of his hand, little licks of flames starting up over her arm but she keeps it controlled to mostly just warming his skin up where they touch.

Every tickle of her breath against his skin sends shivers down his spine, ones that make it hard to even keep his arm extended out in front of him like she’s trying to get him to do. His brain keeps pushing him to turn around, to scoop her in his arms and kiss to, to press her to the front of him with as much intensity as she’s pressing against his back.

But she’d requested something. Even though ask might not be the technical word, trying to do what she wants appeals to him far more than it would to do it for anyone else. He’s always had a hard time with authority, with people trying to keep him bridled and shoved down. People like Lev, like the scientists. But Luna. There is bright, burningly bright love behind everything she does, and he can’t help but be drawn to it.

His eyes close right against the feelings that try to keep him focused on those other kinds of performance that his brain is so set on.

The tree. She wants me to strike it. But not because she actually needs me to... she’s trying to paint a scenario, to motivate me, but I️ can tell it’s not a need, I️ know no harm is going to come to anyone because of it... can’t fool myself into thinking that no matter how hard I try.

He sighs, scrunching up his nose, really truly trying to convince himself of the reality of the scenario she’d painted for the sake of teaching him. But that Adrenalin isn’t coursing, his brain isn’t firing panic, so it feels mostly useless.

Well, mostly. There are other feelings that start to tug on his veins a little in that special way. She presses one leg inside of his, knee kicking his leg out a little wider and he feels the slightest hum inside the veins of his forearms, feel that buzz start to travel slowly across his chest along with, well, other feelings.

“You... might be getting sparks here soon but not the kind you were going for, I️ think.”

Keeping his voice low, he chances a glance down and behind him, where he can see just a hint of her hair, and he swallows hard, bites once at his bottom lip to let his teeth drag over it before taking another deep breath to at least try to stay centered on doing what she’d asked.

"Would it be so wrong of me to say I'll take any sparks you're willing to give, hm?"

She laughs low, airy, right into his ear, feeling some sort of charge come off of him. Not exactly the charge she's looking for, but there is at least a surge of energy. She can roll with that for now.

"You know, I meant what I said earlier, about you being useful in every way for me."

Rather than keep his arm up, she lets go of his hand to make him do so on his own, ghosting her fingertips up his arm then down his side, stopping at his other hip. It's an odd feeling holding him like this, keeping his lower half pressed to her how she wants, not one she's used to, but for this particular moment, it feels right.

"You do really make me feel so, so good, Shand. Those little sparks along my skin, all the pulses of electricity right up into me, I love it. I even love just standing here like this- Oh, now, since when have you ever tucked your shirt in? That's not a uniform requirement for my squad."

Her fingers press under his belt at his sides, tugging his shirt hem up out of his pants. To be fair to him, he really seems like he had tried to fit the part of a soldier while getting ready this morning, probably to put in a good effort and show. But she hates it, it doesn't suit him.

"As I was saying, just feeling you this close, it's a rush of adrenaline. We're both two ticking bombs side-by-side without a care, readying to ignite the other. Can you feel the... Danger in that?"

Fengari hooks her chin into the collar of his shirt, giving her access to let her lips move along the nape of his neck as she speaks, letting him feel the words as he's hearing them.

Every brush of her lips across his skin makes him gasp a little. He keeps trying to shift his weight to alleviate some of the tension growing but her hands keep his hips firmly in place, right where she wants them, angled exactly how she wants. Especially when she starts talking about it, drawing it out, every fluctuation of her voice suggestive and playful.

"You, uh. All your men are right over there."

It comes out a little choked because he has to swallow back another sudden intake of air when she kisses the back of his neck and the shivers down his spine start to course, to flow in a way that normal shivers don't. He's still holding his arm out obediently, and he looks down at it to see his veins start to glow softly, pulsing light in time with his heartbeat, which is speeding up steadily the longer she presses into the back of him.

"The only real danger here is. Is that none of them know."

He says it with a childish insistence, his voice tapering to a whisper on the end as he glances back toward the camp with some precursory nervousness.

But his veins don't seem to get that same memo. They're humming faintly now, glowing more brightly the more she touches him, and either his heartbeat is sounding so loudly in his head, or he swears he hears a distant clap of thunder off beyond the clearing.

He lets his arm fall to his own hip to grab her wrist, using it to pull her around in front of him, moving them both with choppy, short and almost hobbled steps toward the tree until she's backed against it and he's looking down at her.

They're in the shadow from the dark overhang of the heavy, dead branches, a shadow just dim enough for him to be able to see the light blue glow he casts against her skin and the dark tree bark as the energy really starts to flow in his veins. It's reaching his fingertips, crawling up his neck and he leans down to nip at her lip a bit, slips his fingers in between hers, anticipating the shock that will jump between their skin soon.

"Oh? Was it the whispering or the untucking your shirt?"

Fengari's lips quirk up as she looks at his face, feels the hum, the energy. Yeah, this really wasn't what she was going for when it came from his lesson, but it's definitely where it seems to have led. Not that she's really complaining and, even if she were, she's the one that started this.

In a way, she is getting some sort of result, too. It can't be that bad of a teaching method.

She lifts a hand to trace along the veins of his neck, those glowing the brightest of all thanks to their proximity to his heart. It's mesmerizing and she finds herself lost in following them.

"If it was the shirt, I can do more. I'm a very dedicated teacher."

True to her word, she starts playing at the hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it up to start gradually exposing his stomach and then his chest. It's like a treasure of veins, of the softest blue hue, she can feel the light reflecting in her own eyes. All of them nearly look like a map waiting to be explored.

She happily gets to it, holding his shirt up under his chin with one hand, her other getting to work along the contours of his muscles, following the paths lighting up as if for her curiosity alone.

"You learning anything yet?"

Leaning forward, she presses her face to his chest, kissing right over his rapidly beating heart several times, her free hand still tracing all around, slightly lower now, all the while.

He has to ball both his hands up in the back of her shirt, press his lips together tight to keep from making noise at everything she's doing. Every touch, every lingering glance and more focused studying she does of him makes his heart beat faster, makes his veins pulse brighter unto he can feel the light starting to beam out of his eyes, feel the hum cast over his brain and send him into that heightened but strangely calm state.

It had been thunder before, and he hears it again- this time a bit closer. It makes him laugh, chuckle softly under his breath as he leans in, cups her chin to pull her up to him so he can kiss her, wash her face in that glow and get as close to her as he can like this, here before anyone sees. Before anyone notices that he's practically a glowing beacon signal.

Her hands keep tracing over veins and tattoos and the intersection of both, over scarred skin and smooth and it's like a treasure trove for his senses, the feeling of her smooth skin and then the light drag of her fingernails and the press of her palms. He puts one arm up beside her head to brace himself against the tree, already breathing more heavily than he should be. Trying to keep himself quiet is making it all so much worse. So much better.

"We might have a forest fire on our hands here in a minute. Teacher."

His lips cock to the side mischievously with the playful nickname, appreciating how she responds with a passionate kiss that nearly presses him back.

A short, quick jolt of lightning jumps from his fingertips and wraps itself, jerking and snaking, down the charred trunk of the tree and into the ground so fast that it's like it was almost never there, save for the few moments of thin smoke and the smell of singed wood.

"I'm learning you're quite good at making me feel useful."