#arc.devone1

[archyuna-blog]

everything that could

@arcjintae

Ripples on the surface of the water gave away the unsteady hands that held the glass. Scared? Still. She blamed the quivering on her injuries. Her body ached, bruises blooming on her skin. Nothing life threatening or too serious, but she needed some time to heal, physically and mentally. She was still trying to process what happened, but a part of her didn’t want to, anything to not relive the mistakes she made. Yet, despite how much she tried to put it from her mind, every move of her limbs or attempted smile only reminded her.

They were still new to this, mistakes were to be expected, right? It’s not like she was an utter failure, except she was. It could have gone better, and it didn’t. It also could have gone a lot worse, and that’s what terrified her. She was comfortable here, it was home, it was all she had. She didn’t have to be well-acquainted with every single arcana here for them to matter. She knew their faces, become accustomed to the muttered hellos or nods of acknowledgment in the halls. They were familiar faces, and even if she was at odds with some, the prospect of not seeing them felt so much worse. She couldn’t look anyone in the eye though. It was embarrassing to say the least, and downright humiliating to be one of the ones who failed their mission. And she had the injuries to show for it.

It won’t happen again.

She already knew that failure meant extra training, and she was fine with that. Even if there wasn’t, she’d put herself through it anyways. This can’t happen again, she won’t let it happen again. She refused to be a burden on anyone, but she also knew that she still needed time to heal. As her feet took her to the training rooms she could hear the familiar voice inside. Not at all surprised to find him there, but certainly concerned. She opens the door, sighing a little to herself, ignoring the quivering in her hand as she raises her glass to drink from it.

The cool liquid stings a little against the sides of her lips, a sensation she hasn’t quite gotten the hang of, and her skin itches underneath the bandages. Still, she’s standing, and she waits for a few silent minutes. There is so little to say, and yet so much. They both knew what happened, and they were both painfully aware of what went wrong. It’s hard to look at him. If she wanted to see her mistakes laid bare before her, all she needed to see was this.

Her knees start to ache so she finds a spot in the corner to sit down, still sipping quietly at her water. As the silence ticks by, she’s at the end of her patience, and throws the liquid from her glass. It only takes moments for her to add to it’s volume, and a small flick of her wrist has it weakly shooting across the room, nothing more than a gentle splash against Jintae’s skin. It’s meant to be an annoyance, something to interrupt his training. And yet, while she has his attention, she’s hesitant to speak. Her gaze is focused on the floor, she can’t look him in the way, but she finally speaks, in a small voice.

“You should probably rest a little ...”

[arcnora-blog]

the blame game.

@archansol ; mission failure prompt. timestamp: 06.06.2016 location: remote mongolia situation: dire

when the arcana are sent in to regain control of a compound from enemy combatants, nora's first concern is "what the fuck am i going to be able to do here?" and honestly, she's realizing now, in the middle of outer mongolia, that this was a valid concern. her skills, such as they are at this tenuous point, are very much geared towards, well infiltration. sneaking. sleuthing. so when she's faced with armed men, her reaction is to fade immediately from tangible existence, becoming a hologram of herself to avoid the rain of bullets that threaten her. she makes a break for it at that point, all ghostly energy propelling her away from the front lines of the conflict, until she's essentially just drifting uncertain around the edges of the battlefield.

the smell of blood and smoke and ash is thick in the air and she's entirely terrified, in one way or another, ends up latching on to her partner when she finally finds him again. being paired with hansol feels, additionally, like something of a sick joke. what's he supposed to do to help her? or she to help him? its insanity, and she finds herself pushing her hand back through her hair in a nervous movement, despite the fact that both her hand and her hair are entirely intangible, so it flickers and shifts as though she might be some kind of hologram- or a ghost, more accurately.

"well this is going straight to hell in a handbasket." she drawls, borrowing an expression her mother had been fond of once, nose scrunching slightly as she glances sidelong at the other, the stoic look on his face. "the fuck should we do now? i'm like, 90% sure this is not going to work out." she admits, swallows. "why'd they send us out here anyway, what fucking good is it if you bleed out and i can't get shot - who am i supposed to fight, like this?" she groans, pushes her hand through her hair, pauses to becoming tangible once more, conserving energy. "should we -can we just get the hell out of here?" she mumbles, tucked around a corner with the sound of stamping boots and gun fire in the distance, loathe to admit she's nervous, but she is. its an early mission and she's underprepared. she glances at the other, pale skin, dark eyes. "you look like you're five more badguys away from bleeding out."

[arcjinwoo-blog]

zovlontoi khürtel.

( @archansol​ )

          a couple of days in ulaanbaatar was spent mostly cooped up in their hotel room to go over the plans, to memorize the key figures alongside the satellite images of the compound. with the apparent political issues, and the sudden recession of the country, jinwoo couldn’t help but feel as if something was missing — they didn’t even have the blueprints, the enemy headquarters either smart enough at technology or too traditional to leave an electronic trail. they hoped it was the latter.

          the capital was crowded enough not to pull attention to themselves, yet when they headed towards the southern borders in an old jeep, jinwoo felt himself get uneasier — unsure about the plan, regardless of how many times they’ve gone over the information they had. far away from home, as the endless desert steppe stretched out in front of them, his hands on the steering wheel tightened only a fraction while he willed himself to do up to his part as the emperor, to feel responsible and confident about what they were going to do.

          they had to jog up the last few kilometers to approach the compound unnoticed and when they made it to the outer ring, the high temperatures had already taken their toll on jinwoo. the shirt clung to his skin, the guns strapped to his belt digging into his waist. on the other hand, the nagging feeling in his mind was pushed back to a corner, too focused on the task at hand to worry about what was going to happen.

           as they’d planned before, most of the soldiers guarding the gates had lessened in number during the afternoon, some taking their breaks and some going to the nearby mines to patrol. thanks to their skill set, getting in through the last few didn’t pose much of a problem as they managed to get rid of the guards they’ve encountered. jinwoo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once they put the bodies so that they wouldn’t be found, stuffing them inside security cabins.

          now, if they could just make it to the center and reach the weaponry ( grenades, rpgs, alongside other weapons that would certainly cause more trouble ), their task could be accomplished before the sunset. signing to his partner so that they could advance forward, jinwoo thought that maybe his previous doubts were unfound. maybe it was simply him being a cynic rather than some sort of instinct.

          he found out soon after that it had been some foolish thinking. — just as they stepped inside the building, loud alarms started to blare throughout the whole compound, red lights flashing as the building started to close itself down.

          “fuck, we’ve been made —” jinwoo cursed under his breath as he took in their surroundings. one hand went to his pocket to his phone to notify the collective that they were going to need extraction. fast. bullets flying over their heads, he instinctively curled a hand around the other’s wrist, pulling him towards one of the crates. “take cover, now!” he yelled, phone going up to his ear to receive further directions about what the hell they were going to do.