Rest and Reluctance ll Xeno & Septima
( @sxptimavxctor ) Heavy shit, as always. Xeno reflected about that afternoon’s Aversio meeting. There was something increasingly stressful about the once-exciting meetups. But, i suppose, that’s the nature of war. It hardens even the most carefree of people. He took a deep, calming drag of his cigarette as he leaned against the exterior wall of the Aversio headquarters. He admired the smoke, the way it danced lazily towards the sky, melting into the semi-dark nothingness of the afternoon. He wondered how long it would be, how many more atrocities he would have to witness, how many more heartaches he would have to endure, before he found himself just as ruthlessly apathetic as the Aversio leaders, impassioned only by the prospective suffering of their enemies. It was so contrary to his own nature. It was one of the things Xenophilius feared most about this war, aside from the obvious physical dangers. It was so easy, in times like these, to lose one’s self entirely. Xeno already had a horrible suspicion that this war was changing him into someone he would hardly recognize by the end. That was, if he even lived to see it. He took another drag of the cigarette.
Through his hazy exhale, he noticed that he wasn’t the only person outside. Another Aversio member had joined him while he was lost in his contemplation. The woman seemed equally consumed in her own concerns, hardly noticing him. With absolutely no subtly, Xeno observed her keenly. He looked her up and down, not bothering to disguise his action. His habit of blatancy people watching had earned him his fair share of angry looks and rude hand gestures over the years, but he never seemed to care that it annoyed people, or made them uncomfortable. The more he looked at her, the more fascinated he became. Perhaps it was the after affects of the meeting, but the woman looked taught, like a painfully wound spring, ready to snap or leap into action at any moment. Xeno mused that he didn’t think he had once in his life held his back as straight as hers. He glanced down at his skinny blue jeans, scuffed boots, and black t-shirt, with its testimony of burn holes, and realized how starkly it contrasted her outfit. Just looking at the woman seemed to sap his energy. He didn’t breach conversation with her, but simply continued staring as a frown formed on his face.