The Beauty/History of Scars.(Closed/Victoria)

She couldn't remember if she'd ever had this much paperwork when she'd been the division's second in line. Regardless of if she had or not, she found herself buried in paper. Pulp-based product with ink made of vegetable matter written in a language she was capable in but sometimes struggled with. For someone who was fluent and native in the language perhaps this pile of paperwork would have only taken them part of a day for her because she often had to reread a line to make sure she understood the context completely it took longer. It wasn't that she was fluent. She was but only conversationally and only audibly. In terms of written ability, she could string a sentence together and get her point across but reading often left her faced with a character she didn't know, had forgotten, or had multiple meanings and she was forced to try and pick out the context by the surrounding characters.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose bellow where reading glasses rested. This was ridiculous in her opinion. How much data did the instructors insist on pumping her about the recruits? Most of these recruits were Joe and Jane average. Nothing remarkable. Nothing of note. At one time perhaps a long write up for some noble brat would have been a reason for some of the profiles but since those families had been gutted of any merit, a thought that made the Gaulish woman smile slightly, there was no need. None of these kids she predicted would amount to much within their first century if they lived that long. The whole point of the instructors sending her dossiers of the recruits the fifth would take in was to allow her to balance squads out. These training corps needed a reasonably balanced pitch in her opinion. The elite status came after you had learned all that there was to know about the job and had a few decades under your belt. That and she needed a rough measure of their ability to hand off the trainee squad leaders so progress could be measured. 

A chill cut up her spine as she sat there. It was autumn now. Where had it come from? It seemed that only weeks ago she'd... the thoughts stopped dead there. No, she wouldn't venture into that pit of emotional turmoil tonight. Not when she had work to do. Standing from her chair the burn-faced blonde stirred the nearby brazier before slipping a shawl over her shoulders. She'd woven this one. Woven it to resemble ones worn by the women of her people, in her time, long ago, so long ago that she was certain she was the only one of her kind left. So it fell to her. To her and her alone to carry on her people's traditions and rites. If only in small ways like this simple shawl with its simple tartan pattern. 

Retaking her seat she continues to move through the paperwork. Quietly the wolf began to sing to herself in her ancestors' tongue. She was safe in this. Knowing that she and she alone knew the gibberish sounding words. True some of the words lived on in various languages throughout the world. But not enough survived to make what she sang of clear for any who heard it. 

WC- 557

He had decided against laying upon a rooftop for the sunset, instead he'd made his way to the seated officers building. Making a stop along the way to acquire himself a vintage scotch, his drink of choice despite hardly ever touching a bottle. Why he even went through the trouble of finding one to match his age never really crossed his mind. Maybe it was the sight of the familiar label that called out to him, even if his memories of it were only of watching old men drinking it.

Malix had come all this way, there was no point of just walking past. The hollow sounds of his footsteps echoed through the hallway, its only company the swishing sound of his uniform. His slow pace gave his mind time to wonder about how many people have come through here before him? If the ground itself could speak of its own history, what would it be able to show him? A city in ruins from the invasion of Tova? or perhaps an office romance cut short by an interruption? How many stories have played out in these halls, and in the ones before it?

It had become clear that the past was on his mind, not just his own, but the past of everything. History was told by victors and through interpretations of people trying to understand a time they could only speculate upon. Here in a city of the dead, was boundless opportunities to converse with people from those eras long forgotten. 

Before him was the door to the 4th seat, with no hesitation his left hand raised up and readied to knock. The sounds of singing could be heard muffled by the door, a language familiar but foreign carried the tune. It was entrancing, Suddenly he found himself held still, as he listened. It wasn't often someone found themselves listing to songs of old without a ceremony or a going to a show. Malix no longer felt the need to knock, instead he was enticed to lean against the wall to let his ears be soothed by the melody from beyond the threshold. Still he knocked though, lingering outside someones office was sure to lead to an unpleasant interaction.

knock, knock, knock. The sound vibrated through the frame into the office, as the young warrior stood there quietly for an answer. A bottle in hand, and no real idea what to say to get any sort of conversation started.

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The knock startled her for a moment. There was no doubt that whoever was on the other side of that door had heard her singing. Not the first time she'd been caught singing. She thought she sounded terrible but it was whatever. She knew few newer songs so when she did think it was safe to sing she had to sing songs from her time or not long after. There wasn't any embarrassment from this turn of events. No quite the opposite. She felt nothing beyond a curious feeling about who it could be on the other side of the door.

She would do one thing, though. Removing the reading glass she had perched upon her nose she folds them and slips them into a desk drawer. "Enter," was her simple command as she rested her chin on her left hand'a palm. Curling her fingers up so the tips pressed lightly against her unmarred cheek she continues to skim through a recruit dossier. Replacing the losses sustained in the past weeks was going to be a task. It would take a long time for her division to be back to full combat strength with a solid core of veteran shinigami. Perhaps the division would never recover? That was a thought she had trouble accepting as a possibility. 

Adjusting her tartan patterned shawl the ancient war hound made marks on the papers of the pup most recent to fall on her gaze. Solid scores in all the right places but as with the rest nothing of memorable quality. A full regiment of infantry training, squad tactics, battle doctrine, survival skills, and advanced combat discipline training. The later was meant to break them of any bad habits gained in the academy. Much like how fifth seat Kirigiya was prone to the dramatic looking moves and overly flashy wasted movements best suited for action films and something the humans called anime all recruits, even herself, required heavy instruction in combat skills in order to make viable soldiers. This was why fifth division didn't consider recruits full members till they had completed a set amount of combat missions. Or served a period of time without interruption. Much was needed to make a soldier a true soldier. Unfortunately, in the process, many would simply wash out or worse be killed. 

Plenty of washouts from the fifth had gone on to serve plenty of divisions in her millennia and a half of service. The current acting captain, third seat Nanami, while obtaining a full rank of soldier her first go around had washed out of the fifth and had gone on to serve elsewhere for a time. Then, as some tended to do after they had gotten over the savagery of the job, returned to the fifth and had been with the division ever since. It happened. There was no shame in it. In the greater scheme of it all, many shinigami traded around divisions all the time. Very few served the entire length of their career with a single division. Yet, here she was. One thousand five hundred and some years into her tour of duty. This was why she had been able to buy as much land as she had with cash upfront. And even further still enough to pay for all of the materials she'd not been able to make herself out of pocket as well. Now... she had other means of cash earning besides her pay as a shinigami.

Shifting to another paper she skips the name and age parts, worthless info to someone who would likely directly interact with these recruits and who would not utter their name till they earn their rank. She wasn't arrogant or elitist. She simply had so many recruits per batch of graduates and so many more in various levels of training that she simply could not possibly hope to remember them all. Which was terrible. Yes, she did learn a few names from time to time, Malix came to mind as she skipped this dossiers personal info section and cut straight to the part that mattered their combat scores. Though such instances were few and far between. The last one besides Malix, had been Kirigaya and that was simply because he'd made himself known and put her in a position where she'd needed to flatten him. Now, by some miracle, he'd become fifth seat. She did not doubt however, that Malix wouldn't come knocking again for that covetted fifth seat.

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Beginning to enter the office, the man spoke softly yet clearly."Recr...Soldier Malix, here to offer you a drink and congratulations on claiming the 4th seat." Honestly it was probably a bit overdue, but considering how short her stint at being the 'Iron Fist' was, it was probably better that he'd waited till things seemed to settle. How painful would it be to have a mild celebration on a new title or position just for someone to knock you out of place. Even though these two have both aimed for a seat, only one of them has ever been successful. Though this was still the beginning of the mans career, or at least a horribly long beginning leading to a swift end.

Quietly his eyes scanned the scenery before settling on the she-wolf perched at her desk, chin in hand while it seemed she was reading through some paperwork. Seeing as only her scarred cheek was the only one showing, his mind raced with possible ways she could have earned that stripe. Surely there were plenty more scattered across the woman's body but none visible. For most people, a mark like that upon the face would make others turn away, and distract them from the true beauty of it. Where scars are viewed as ugly to many, the young man found them appealing, proof of a life of combat, or at least interesting tales.

Slowly approaching the desk he'd lift the bottle in order to give her a clear view of it, while offering it to her. Either to take, or deny at her leisure. If she didn't accept it, then he could always offer to just buy her some drinks and keep the bottle for himself. Unless she got onto him about the whole thing, then it would pretty much signal this whole attempt as a colossal failure at trying to obtain a friend. Despite them both being considered loners, even someone who despises others still needs someone they can talk to.

You could only see an every so slight smile upon his lips, for he didn't like to be overly formal, but at the same time he didn't want to give off the impression that he considered them equals. He doubted they'd ever truly be on the same level. Not because he didn't think he could reach her level, but because of just vast levels of experience, Often had he heard that the Wolf of the 5th is one of the longest standing members of the division. How long exactly wasn't very clear.

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A green eye cast to the bottle extended to her by the younger shinigami. "No thank you Katir. I have much to do and alcohol will help me do none of it," the voice with a subtle hint of the classic Celtic nuances carrying the stones of many nights with little enough sleep. The eye's returned to the paperwork. "If that's all you needed.." she began only stopping long enough to make notations on the present recruit, "then you may go. If you need something else... Please ask."

Scribbling her signature while stifling a yawn the Gaul shuffled the paper across her desk to the completed pile.  And so began to process again with another name. Another being whom she would likely never meet face to face. With whom she'd likely never serve. She had her squad of men whom she distributed work too. Whom she knew by face and name. Gone were her days of teaching the recruits directly. And recently she'd stepped down from her role as an instructor from the academy. With the recent devastation leveled by the hollows her duties with her division trumped those at the academy. She'd written what she thought to be most important in a manual and had it distributed to the students within her class. They would have to rely on their own wiles and merits. 

Stopping as she set the most recent report in her stack of completed the burnt blonde eyed the young shinigami again. He'd remained where he'd stopped for several minutes. Quiet. Patient. Respectful of the duties of his superior. "Did you need something?"

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The bottle lowered until it sat flat near the corner of the Wolf's desk. He simply took it as a no to a drink, not the gift itself. Need, need, need, she repeated the word. No doubt as a means to ensure nothing of importance was to be brought up at this very minute. No, this visit was more of a casual thing. The young American spoke softly, "I understand you're quite busy, and I didn't need anything. Just a bit curious as to how you got that stripe." As his words flowed he took a finger and traced his own cheek to indicate which one he was curious about. 

A carefully chosen choice of word, Stripe over scar. Stripe makes it sound more elegant, and earned like patches on a military uniform. Scar makes it seem distasteful, but many people viewed them as such. Reasonably he understood he was probably not gonna get a history lesson, though he'd hoped to get a bit of one. At least enough to ask about other things to keep the conversation going. Unfortunately it would distract her from her work, but a small price to pay for the pleasure of company. That is, if his company was enjoyable.

Though, he could just as easily be given a short answer, then urged to leave. Whichever happened, he was ready to either take a seat in the chair opposite of her desk. Or to turn and quietly leave from where he came. As to what he'd do if he had to leave, there was always stargazing in solitude as usual.

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Stripe? What was the boy talking about? Casting her eyes on him as he traced a line down the right side of his face. It took a second for her mind to register just what he was talking about. Shaking her head while a slight smirked parted her lips she returned to her paperwork. Though she supposed he at least deserved an answer. There wasn't a real story to it. She wasn't the type to create an extravagant lie either especially when combat reports about low ranking patrols like that incident.

"Ogawa and I were on patrol in Southern France. Our route pulled us through an old Roman town which had been inhabited since who knows when and expanded through the centuries. We were passing through the historic Roman part of the town when we were ambushed. Initially, it managed to break up our formation but we rallied and were able to push it back away from human tourists and out of the historic area and into the river. It feigned incapacitated and nearly took my head off with a close range cero. I managed to just get clear. Sadly, I wasn't quick enough to get completely out of the way and sustained this injury," she stopped thinking about what else to say about the incident. "We killed it obviously. That's about all there is to it. Everything covered in the after action report if you want to know more."

She returned to scribbling on the various dossier pages about various things regarding the recruit in question. Scribbling her signature she slips the pages into the outgoing pile while sliding another in front of her.

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A dedicated worker it seems, as Malix watched her smirk and immediately return to her work. In the next few seconds he listened to her recant a short tale, basic patrol ambushed. Lines get temporarily scattered but reform and push the threat away from civilians, feigned defeat leads to a blindsiding attack that could have proven fatal. True it answered his question, but the minimal details made it clear that similar inquiries would lead to similar results at this time. Surely she wasn't hiding information either since she offered the idea of reading the incident report.


Now that was an idea, though the temptation to read through all the reports would probably cause him to lose a day. The notion of reading what he could just learn through pleasant conversation seemed like a cheap substitute.

"A Cero huh?" his mind, just for a moment, recalled his own encounter. Marred his chest pretty well, and his leg. A quick shake of his head flung the memory from his mind. "I don't suppose I could get the details from you over a few drinks? It'd be much better to listen to the story instead of reading it." His lips curled into a grin as he made the proposition. Showing off his most genuine smile as possible, while still standing at the edge of the desk. "Preferably when you don't have a stack of folders to comb through."

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"I don't drink with my subordinates Katir," she said flatly not looking up from her paperwork, "The story isn't anything beyond what I told you. Patrol in France, ambushed, scattered and regrouped, pushed the target back, nearly had my head blown off and the following destruction of the target. If you're that interested I highly suggest the after action report. It will be your best source of details. Now if you have no further questions take your bottle of booze and go about your evening."

Scribbling her signature on another report she sighs. "Look, I don't mind the company. But I don't have time tell you in depth tails about my career. Nor is it proper for me to share a drink with a person under my command. You must understand Katir that while I appreciate the offer of a drink and company I simply do not have time at present to do so." Shifting another recruit, this made something like thirty recruits reviewed in the past couple of hours, into the completed pile and pulling another in front of her.

"It will be days mostly likely till I am through this stack and by then I will have more. The losses we incurred in the invasion must be replaced. So I expect I'll be getting reports from the academy concerning seniors and juniors over the coming days. So I do believe your best option is to simply read my service record," she pointed out. No sense in giving the lad false hope she wagered.

WC- 255(2099)