TWENTY-FIVE : Just don't anger me
[She finishes troop inspection, dismissing her men with a secret smile of pride. She's missed them. and she's finally starting to get used to the new order of things. No Miles means nobody is there to make her calm down, or to do her dirty work; she's been rotating help in and out until she finds someone she clicks with. This new guy, though, he's cheeky but he might work. She doesn't know how she became so tolerant, but at least he's useful.
There's a monument she goes to visit before bed, a formality at this point, honoring those of her troops that fell in the battle in Central. Was it worth it, to see Bradley dead, even if she wasn't Fuhrer? Of course it was. And Grumman is old, so delightfully, usefully old... She smirks as she turns away from the monument. It's only a matter of time.
There's no telegraph from Ishval waiting for her when she finally gets back to her room and dismisses her temporary assistant. It's very satisfying to see the lack of new bars or ribbons on her uniform; she sees them daily on the chests of her men, instead, and on those she has to wave off to higher pursuits. She runs her fingers over the wool, draping it over the back of a chair before she slips into bed.]
[She dreams, oddly, of faceless men in rubber suits, and this unending sensation of suffocation.
She's coughing and choking as she wakes up, and she realizes quite swiftly that she is not alone in bed. She reaches for her sword--it isn't there--and her gun--also not present.
But there is the phone. The phone she knows so well. She picks it up.]
Tch. What's the date?
There's a monument she goes to visit before bed, a formality at this point, honoring those of her troops that fell in the battle in Central. Was it worth it, to see Bradley dead, even if she wasn't Fuhrer? Of course it was. And Grumman is old, so delightfully, usefully old... She smirks as she turns away from the monument. It's only a matter of time.
There's no telegraph from Ishval waiting for her when she finally gets back to her room and dismisses her temporary assistant. It's very satisfying to see the lack of new bars or ribbons on her uniform; she sees them daily on the chests of her men, instead, and on those she has to wave off to higher pursuits. She runs her fingers over the wool, draping it over the back of a chair before she slips into bed.]
[She dreams, oddly, of faceless men in rubber suits, and this unending sensation of suffocation.
She's coughing and choking as she wakes up, and she realizes quite swiftly that she is not alone in bed. She reaches for her sword--it isn't there--and her gun--also not present.
But there is the phone. The phone she knows so well. She picks it up.]
Tch. What's the date?