Burning the midnight oil [open]

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Adam couldn't sleep. The beds here were too soft for his taste. There might have been a time in his life where he had a bed, but now that he had one, he wanted little to do with it as he possibly could. He sat up, the sheets falling to his waist as the moonlight filtered into the barracks through the window near his bunk. Rubbing his eyes with his hands, the crusty bits of sleep fell away. He squinted through his hazy sleepiness that seemed to cloud around him like smoke in a bar room. He slept for maybe one or two hours a day at best. Again he rubbed the last bit of sleep out of his eyes as he swung his feet silently over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold, as was expected. Outside the steel grey clouds threatened snow. Snow, the fluffy white stuff that generally sent children and adults alike into a tizzy. It was something that brought horrible memories to his own mind. He vaguely saw himself, younger, smaller, protecting a smaller child, his own little brother against the cold and frigid air. His own body heat slightly rising to keep the both of them warm, or at least warm enough till they found shelter. Cowering and hiding behind dumpsters and inside sheds as they did their best to scrounge food and hide, not be shot as intruders. The food was horrible at best. Huddling and shivering against each other, under blankets and circled around fires, wondering if they would ever be something more than just monster hunters.

Quietly, Adam slipped on thick socks and a pair of boots over some well worn jeans. His clothes were tattered, thread bare. He was sorely in need of more clothes but for once he had shirts that fit. Adam at first, was wairy to take off his clothes and put them in the communal laundry basket in the baths. Yes, he had been forced to take a bath upon his first arrival at camp. He had leaned over to say something to his brother but as his own luck would have it, as per usual, his brother was gone. His brother had been gone for two years now. What was his own brother like now? Adam just knew that his own brother hated him, hated him because he sacrificed himself so Adam could live. Everything Adam did was for his little brother, nothing else. His brow furrowed as he thought about his little brother, tugging one arm and then the next into flannel sleeves over the purple camp shirt. Over it went a leather jacket, he didn't want to be caught without it. His hands stumbled in the dark, his knife he kept under his pillow came out and into a sheath in his boot. A small curse came to his lip as he grabbed the other knife off of the little night stand beside his bunk.

The cold air greeted him, he inhaled sharply. Adam was no stranger to cold weather. Most of the wanderings he had been on had taken him in the Pacific Northwest and the upper midwest. Sometimes there had been more snow than he could even imagine. No one was out at this time of night and he liked the quiet. On any other day he would have simply hopped up on the roof of the barracks. But for now, he was going for a walk. He stopped at the place where he had trained with his cohort the other day. Field of Mars? Yeah that was it, he thought as he spotted someone putting out new training dummies on the field for combat training. He pulled one of the knives from his boots as he felt the weight in his hand. For a brief moment, the weight felt odd, off, a bit heavier than he imagined. It simply must have been his own imagination but with a simple toss, the weight was fine. "I think I'm going crazy." Adam muttered.

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sleepless days, sleepless nights where my w a n d e r s to what could have been Edmund could never sleep. At least, not peacefully of his own will. Too much nightmare material for that. The only solid sleep he got was when Rhia forcibly knocked him out in a dreamless sleep. He was pretty sure it wasn't healthy, but his body had gotten used to two or less hours (three if he was lucky). Over the years he had gotten a bit better (as had his eating habits; as in he'd actually eat and eat a decent amount), but some of his sleeping habits hadn't changed. When woken up, he usually stayed up. Unless, of course, his body revolted into actually shutting down like a normal human for a whole night. Otherwise, the rest of the night was dedicated to fixing things as quietly as he could, staring up at the ceiling, climbing onto the roof, or going out on aimless walks that usually ended up in the forge. At least in the forge he could do something productive. Tonight was a night for a walk. Ed slipped out of bed, dressed, and took his jacket. It had been getting cooler. The nights a bit nippier. Not that he minded much. He could survive in the cold as much as he could in the heat. It reminded him of when he went on the quest. Wilderness living. He actually hadn't minded it much. It was a change from what he was used to. It has certainly given him a new respect for outdoorsy people or extreme livers or whatever. Sinclair had felt right at home. Lyn... He wondered what she was doing. How she was doing. He then promptly shut his thoughts on that down. As he started his walk out of New Rome with Cinny in his wake, there came a nudge in his gut. That's why he probably got up around this time everyday. Habit. A seven year old one. First would be getting up soon, and Ed would always get up earlier just so he didn't have to deal with too many people. The time when he was in a cohort seemed so long ago, and, well, it was. Last week had been his twentieth birthday. His family's death day. Another year of him alive and them dead. He would have retired honorably if he hadn't ditched, but only seven bars stayed on his arm. A mark of incompletion. He had left on January 25th, exactly two months shy of completing eight years of service. Ah well, the Legion wasn't one for rounding up. He passed Terminus with a few lofty comments from the bust which he ignored as usual. Once outside of the border, he switched Cinny's chip, putting the docile chip into the small container around his neck. Idea courtesy of Redpath. He walked along the all too familiar route. Cinny beeping slightly as warning they were approaching some. Ah, it appeared as if Ed wasn't the only one awake at an odd hour. Then again, this was the legion. They were all odd balls. He wondered if he had more late night wanderer's than he had initially thought. Of course, he had never actively tried to find them. He'd just sit on a roof or hole himself up in the forge or his room in the Rogers's house. Ed took a deep breath of the cool night air and then let it out, suddenly aware of his breathing. Ugh, now he sounded like be belonged in a yoga class. Although, breathing during fight and strength training was optimal. At least, it was if te person didn't want to pass out in three minutes. The Field of Mars was coming up. Too many memories associated with that place: training, wars, betrayals, and returns. He soon approached the other person his machine had beeped about. He saw a blade flip in the air. "We've all been there," Ed said dryly, passing the other male as the mutter left his mouth. COMMENTARIUM: *indulges Ed in his muse take over* >.> VERBA: 658

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There was always that cold serenity that came with the onset of spring. It still had the nip in the air, but at the same time, the nights were getting a bit warmer. The days were becoming longer and the nights were shorter. Had there been snow on the ground, he had half expected to see spigs of colors here and there. But it looked as if it had been a rather uneventful winter. The North West where he had done his time of making the snow and ice a more liveable place for his brother, this place was fairly mild in comparison. The branches were still fairly bare, save for the few buds of leaves and flowers that were trying to use their color to cut through the steel grey atmosphere that came with storm clouds. He could smell the moisture on the air, feel it almost. It was like the bones in his body were all achy, trying to remind him that there was foul weather on the way. Adam wondered what sort of god was the one that presided over the rainy days, not that he really cared. There was only one God that he knew of and that he cared about in particular. It was his own father. While he was still even wary of Apollo, Adam was slowly starting to deal with the fact that his divine father wasn't going anywhere.

He turned the knife over and over in his hands, flicking the wrists as if he had been doing this for years, which he had. The knife and bow felt more comfortable to him than any of the other weapons that had been shoved in his direction. He liked the armory, but at the same time, it was stupid. All of these weapons were useless, they didn't have anything to them if you didn't know how to use them. Adam knew what his strengths were. He knew which weapons found their way to his hands better than others. Knives, bows, daggers, anything small and fast that he could use while moving. The more mobile he could be the better he was with them. And if he could throw a weapon, that was even better. He tossed the knife up in the air, watching it sail effortlessly for the moment before catching it tip side downward on the tip of his finger. A trick he had learned ages ago, the tip didn't even pierce into his skin, leaving it perfectly balanced. No blood, no pain. He flicked his finger upwards as he then caught the knife as it flipped upwards, turning end over end, the handle of it feeling perfect in his hand.

There was another male, someone probably in the same predicament that he was in. Adam didn't have any friends here, no one wanted much to do with him since he was old and hadn't been in the legion. Given time, he might have actually made friends. But it wasn't something he was particularly interested in right now. He spared the other male a glance, the side-eye if you will. The machine beside him following him like an obedient dog. "What's the point of this place anyways? I hate it." He stated before he gave the knife a toss at the nearest dummy. It sank halfway into the wood where the head would be. It was an effortless toss, hardly any strength used in the throw. The sullen look on Adam's face would have told the other male everything he needed to know. He held a look of disdain and irritation at being here. He wanted to leave, but if this was the chance he could find his brother, he would take it.

Tags: edmundsimons
words: 623
Notes: yay muse

[Deleted]

i'm f i n e  (I always am) Life at the Rogers's house (and in New Rome and the Legion in general) had been somewhat uneventful for the past few months, which was what he wanted. Eventful to him meant going on a quest, becoming a traitor, participating in wars, and getting captured. Sure, the adrenaline rush had been interesting in a twisted sort of way, since the adrenaline rush that came with forging and training had evnetually died down with repitition. No, he was ready to not ever be involoved in anything life threatning ever again. One war had been enough, but the fates were cruel like that. Hopefully the next generation wouldn't have to deal with it. Hopefully his had gotten the brunt of it. Frankly, the demigods needed a break. A nice, century-long break where they could go out into the mortal world and not worry about anything. Where they could go into the Legion and get out. No wars, no quests, no psycho experiments, and no godly interventions. He wanted Art's life to be easier than his had been. He wished his life had been easier... but apparently the gods hated him (with good reason) and the rest of the Legion's generation (for not a good reason). Ah well, it built character... he supposed. Either that or made them spiral into a hole. It had done both for him. Rising in adversity helped the character; watching fellow soldiers die or getting seriously hurt had people spiraling. Only the good died young... but he was here: idiot traitor, still alive and kicking. Perhaps not as literally as before... but metaphorically. Alive to look after his family. Mildly just to shove his existence in people's faces. Hey, if anyone felt as if they didn't deserve to be alive... they could just look at him. He was probably rock bottom of the list. Perhaps Pluto just liked watching him squirm. Or Jupiter probably liked watching him gain family just to watch them die or worse. He watched the other male flip the dagger around. Cool tricks to learn if the person was daring enough and knew the ins, outs, and balance of their weapon. Edmund had to smirk as he heard the question. The guy reminded him a bit of himself before the Third War. "Something about 'protecting the demigods'. Although I more hear 'train to fight the gods' wars'." Which was how he had grown to feel about the Legion. If the Legion wanted to really protect them, they wouldn't put kids in wars. Sure, they protected them from the monsters in the mortal world, but what about the monsters inside of camp? That was if IF they got past Lupa. Some didn't even make it that far. Ed had expected to die a long time ago. He had established himself as pretty much a recluse. No friends. No attachments. No problem. He didn't need anyone, no one needed him. Once he was done with his service, he was out. And then that stupid quest had to come along and ruin everything. Ed's eyes followed the launched dagger, barely blinking as it landed a bullseye on the supposed head. Not bad. "You're not the only one," he said with a shrug. He unsheathed a dagger from his side and mirrored one of the guy's knife flips before throwing it at the same dummy and nailing it where its heart would have been. First cohort and months at Orthys made for good practice. And practice made perfect. Despite mastering the move, he had yet to ever use it on a person. As for him, he had been stabbed in the side, knocked in the head, had his rib shrunk, had his arm broken, had shrapnel stuck inside his body, and had almost had every bone he had broken ... but nothing through his heart. Not yet. Metaphorical, emotional stabs through the heart? Maybe. Okay, a few. But not like anyone really needed to know that. Or catch on that he actually had a heart. COMMENTARIUM: I liiiiiive VERBA: 660