he stays in the cold

“Damn it. Damn it…”

The general grumbled and hissed under her breath; low sounds that were entirely lost to the howling wind and the hail crashing into blankets of snow–and occasionally, onto her cap.

She had her arms crossed tightly to her chest as she trudged through the miles and miles of lavender blizzard, feeling stiff and shuddery and slightly pissed off.

Viala hated the cold.

Who the hell wants to operate when they can’t even feel their own fingers? At least in the heat you had full sensation, she figured. But it wasn’t like she was going to throw her cap down and complain about it. If she didn’t want to be out here, she wouldn’t be. She could leave him behind, and perhaps if it was just another soldier, she would’ve. Loyalty could only go so far for those who couldn’t handle the reality of the job. She had a job to do, and risking her life for a stray soldier after the battle was already over, was not necessarily part of it.

But this wasn’t just another soldier. This was her mistake.

This was..

“No, no no, no no no..”

She tilted her chin up a bit as she heard the distant sobbing of a high-and-soft voice that sounded out of place amongst the gore of fallen soldiers.

Viala cursed under her breath once more as the back of her new hire came into sight, knelt over a man that was undoubtedly dead, along with everyone else in the field aside from herself and a hopeless medic.

The hopeless medic whom she feared would be out here.

It was obvious from the moment a soldier pointed out that one of their own, alive, was still out in the tundra. A quick glance around, revealing that the medic wasn’t hovering nervously near her, told her more than she needed to know. But she prayed to all that was good that it wasn’t him–because damn it, this was only his second trip out.

She sighed and walked right through the gentle puff of fog that left her lips, keeping her sights set on the soft-hearted man. Not wanting to scare him as she got closer, she made her steps more pronounced. The snow crunching beneath her boots would’ve been enough to alert any enemy of her location from miles away, but the medic seemed entirely oblivious.

She scrunched her nose a bit. What if it hadn’t been her out here, but a demon straggling behind?

She sighed. But it wasn’t. That was all that mattered for now, she thought.

Still seemingly unnoticed, she came to crouch down at his side. His thick bangs, not yet styled into their middle part at this point in time, were pressed against his face from the force of the wind, obscuring the side of his face that was closest to her. But the visible half of his face was all tears, redness, and sorrow.

He didn’t look at her, he didn’t even stop crying, but she knew that at this point, he was aware of her being there.

Even as he finally addressed her, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the aurorian soldier that lay in front of him.

“General,” he stammered out softly, and all it took was that one attempt at her title to be able to tell that his stutter was much, much worse than usual. He could hardly get his words out between his ever-persistent stammer and his attempts to stop sobbing, “I’m sorry, I know I’m late, I’m sorry..”

Whether he was apologizing for being late to returning to camp or being late to the body, she wasn’t sure. Most likely, it was both. It didn’t matter anyway.

He continued on before she could even think of responding.

“This isn’t, I-I didn’t.. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble, if I d-id,” his voice cracked with regret, and his face knit together as he began to cry harder. It seemed he hadn’t yet pondered the possibility of her getting a penalty for this. She wondered if he had thought of the possibility of his own punishment for being out here. She wondered if he would have even cared if he had thought about it.

He hiccuped and covered his mouth with his hand, and the general felt the corner of her lips twitch, fighting the urge to visibly cringe. She hadn’t even said anything and he was already crying worse than before.

“It’s alright,” she finally murmured, concluding a moment of silence that had lasted just a bit too long as she struggled to think of the right words. They were in the army, for gods’ sake, she wasn’t used to having to do this. Because it wasn’t normal.

He might not have pondered the possibility of her getting in trouble, but she had. Well, maybe getting in trouble wasn’t the right phrase to use; rather, hiring someone unqualified and letting them get traumatized and quit, or fall in the field, would reflect poorly on her.

She had hired him, despite his lack of experience, despite his soft heart, despite his health, and if he fell, she had to fall with him.

(And whether she wanted to admit it or not, she felt a connection to the young medic; an unwilling inclination toward his heart and his drive, and to see him fall and know that it was her fault would be a blow to her own fragile heart.

But she knew that this frail medic had a fire inside of him. He had the will to save lives and turn his life around. She knew that strength when she saw it, and she wasn’t going to let it pass them by.

She had been given that same chance, after all.

And she’d be damned if she didn’t pay it forward, even just once.)

"How do you do it, general?" his weak whisper broke through her thoughts; a feat for how quiet his voice was. She hadn’t even noticed that his sobs had, for the most part, subsided to hiccups in the time that she had been thinking about her next words. "How do you pass by all the bodies you could've prevented and go on another day?"

Viala shook her head and stared softly down at her medic, fearful that his crying would worsen once more if she didn’t respond quickly enough. However, she knew her answer. It was just a matter of putting it to words.

“You can’t save everyone,” she whispered back, but upon hearing the weak sound of her own voice, she cleared her throat and tried again, speaking as normally as she could muster. "You can't save everyone,” she repeated. “No one can.”

She leaned a hand onto his shoulder and caught his gaze as he finally looked at her. “You can think about the ones you missed. But you need to.. gather that passion and put it toward the ones that you can save. Do you understand?”

The medic held her gaze for a moment, silent. No matter how gentle she tried to make her own expression, his soft features would win that war every time. He was gentle by nature; it was incredibly obvious in the way he walked, the way he talked. His face alone would have most generals turn him away at the door.

It made her wonder if he had the ability to make his expression look half as sharp as hers appeared on a regular day.

Rather than answering, his gentle gaze fell to the body that they were hovering over, and she followed in suit. It was one of their own, of course–though Viala wouldn’t have been surprised if she had found him kneeling in front of a demon instead.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his lips tremble. She lightly clicked her tongue.

“This’ll happen again,” she murmured, to which Insignia whipped to look at her; his eyes were still half-lidded with grief and exhaustion, but his brows were knit together with confusion.

Despite herself, she looped her arm around his shoulders and brought him to her shoulder. She sighed and rested her head over his. “You’ll be too late again, and you’ll lose someone. But you’ll save five times as many as you lost. You’re a talented medic, Insignia.. don’t lose sight of why you came here.”

She heard his breath catch, then she felt him press his face into her shoulder as his own shoulders began to shake with a silent sob. She wanted to close her eyes, but even the slight chance of a demon appearing out in the fog of winter kept her from doing so.

Instead, she stared distantly into the lavender and sniffled. Because of the cold.

“I’m sorry, general,” he finally whispered, and she glanced down a bit despite only being able to see the chocolate brown fluff that was his hair. “I can’t.. can’t imagine that you like doing this.”

She quietly shook her head, then loosened her grip on him to stand up straight. He lifted his glasses and wiped at his face with his maroon-stained sleeves, then blinked wet eyelashes up at her.

She offered her hand out to him. He took it.

“Get up, Insignia,” she hushed, “and raise your head high. We’ll walk together.”