The fire burned bright at the center of Camp Taoyi. The 'endless flame', that's what they called it: a single large torch, about the size of five soldiers, placed atop a rough stone pedestal. Every night, before sunrise, a single patrol was chosen to go and relight the flame at the center of the torch. It became a tradition, like many things in the Fire Nation did. It also became the first thing anyone saw when entering Camp Taoyi.

Surrounded by a deep water moat (and by the looks of the strange ripples in its surface, the moat might have had a few residents of its own), the only way into the Camp was through one of four drawbridges made out of sturdy, unbendable metal. Those wanting to head in would send a sign- one that changed occasionally- and the people inside the camp would draw out the bridge. The trip over the moat was smooth, effortless, calm. Nothing unlike the rough dirt inside the camp, capable of making even the most experienced driver grunt and groan as their bodies were jostled all around (especially due to a few Agni-damned potholes).

The outer rim of the Camp was dedicated to barracks, mess halls, and two secluded lakes where soldiers could take baths. Each barrack was a long rectangular structure split into several big rooms occupied by around ten soldiers. They could do whatever they wanted with the beds- some of them liked to stick them as close as possible to the walls and save up spaces for late night games of Pai Sho, whilst some wanted to prioritize giving each soldier as much private space as possible- as long as they followed two rules: no personal decorations, and always clean up before morning checkup.

After that was the command rim, made up entirely of buildings dedicated towards the men who made Camp Taoyi work day in and day out. War rooms and scroll libraries were right next door to private quarters and private baths. The only thing common soldiers were expected to visit in this rim were the medical offices, known for its 'open door' policy and for the fact medical officers found a particular delight in reporting soldiers to their superiors in case their injuries weren't 'worthy of their time'.

And finally, the rest of the camp was dedicated exclusively for war. A tank garage took up most of the space, yes, but the rest had been fashioned into a training camp that would make even the Fire Lord proud, with plenty of space for soldiers to practice every single one of their skills, from archery to swordsmanship to firebending to getting yelled at by their superiors. All of it revolving around the endless flame, meant to inspire the soldiers into fighting for a higher purpose.

That's what they were all there for, anyway. No one in Camp Taoyi expected to be called upon when the time came to invade Ba Sing Se or the Northern Water Tribe. No, they knew they were there to 'protect Fire Nation interests in occupied territory', whatever that meant. They knew they were there for a different reason. For all intents and purposes, the soldiers in Camp Taoyi were there to build the future of the Fire Nation.

Your arrival in Camp Taoyi was a rough one. Whether you were taken there in shackles or with a single rope binding your feet, be it in the comforting darkness of a tank or in the chilling void of a closed down cart, the journey was rough. Which is why you might have found some solace when you were unceremoniously removed from your vehicle and taken to the Processing Center, one of the smallest buildings in Camp Taoyi.

Though the outside was nothing more than a serviceable mess of bricks and stone, the inside was designed to transmit a single message: you belong to the Fire Nation now. Large banners with the emblem of the Fire Nation hung from the ceiling, blocking the few windows and whatever light could come in from outside. The building as a whole seemed to be tilted towards the back, where a large Fire Nation emblem lied, etched onto the wall in beautiful gold.

And right before it was a simple desk with a chair, a scroll, an ink bottle and a pen.

A man stood before the desk: Captain Heng seemed to be at the prime of his 50s, although he looked as young as a Captain could be (save for a few growing wrinkles spread across his angry complexion and clear white skin). He had a short mane of unruly black hair that gleamed with sweat, and a trimmed mustache was pursed upon his thin, chapped lips. To top it all off, the man's brown eyes seemed to be perpetually stuck in a vicious glare, with a small scar crossing his right eyebrow- the finishing touch to an already pissed off visage.

Captain Heng tapped his fingers against the side of his imposing Fire Nation armor, as if to draw attention to the strange black scarf he had tied around his waist, a Fire Nation medal placed on top of the knot. He watched as each of you were placed before him: some allowed to stand up, some forced to be on their knees as your shackles were removed, and some just roughly pushed until you were all standing in a sort of line. "Let's get this over with," Heng muttered, his deep voice akin to a badgermole's dying growls. All around you, soldiers took formation, their eyes watching over you, daring you to act.

He turned towards an official wearing light armor (who seemed to shiver in his boots at the mere sight of Heng's glare) and motioned at the desk. The official sat down, took a deep breath and nodded. "As of now, you're all property of the Fire Nation military. You will live, breathe and die for our great Fire Lord Ozai. Some of you chose to be here, to those, I say welcome. Some of you had no choice but to be here, to those, I remind you all this is not a prisoner camp. If you are not a soldier, we have no use for you and will dispatch you immediately."

"This is your lieutenant- come out here, boy." Heng snapped at a different figure in the Processing Center. One of you, but also not one of your kind. "Miao Qian. Lieutenant Miao Qian. As far as you all are aware, this man is Agni, for all I care. He will speak, and then we will take your names, and you will all be officially soldiers of the Fire Nation." Heng continued, clearing his throat at the end of the last sentence.

Heng's wave might have directed your attention at the other people in the room- those not clad in armor, of course. Kneeling besides you were two men, one short and stout, the other rather tall and rotund. Both seemed rather similar (they both had green eyes and were clad in the raggiest of clothes possible, a very faint green identifying them as members of the Earth Kingdom), except that the tall fat one had a pencil thin mustache sprouting from under his nose.

Another man knelt, though not by choice: his arms and legs were shackled together, as was his mouth, covered in a mask fit more for deer dogs than humans. He was wearing what seemed to be a dark red prisoner's uniform, which covered most of his brown skin. Long, wild black hair also covered part of his face, leaving out only one black eye glaring up at Heng.

Finally, there was a fourth man standing tall and proud, as if he had been bred for this very purpose. He seemed mere seconds away from saluting Heng, and thee fact his light red clothes weren't dirty or ragged or even wet could have contributed to it. His hair had been recently shaved until it was only a small patch of brown covering his head. There was a tiny smile on his lips, as small as his beady dark eyes, which were brimming with glee at the sight of the Captain.

Out of harm's way, another figure observed the proceedings. Sitting down on a rocking chair, an old man with grey hair and an even grayer walrus yak mustache watched everything carefully, a thin smile on his face, his eyes seemingly closed as if mid-laugh. Chief Medical Officer Koken wore a strange combination of both armor and light wear, as if he didn't expect to be sent to war, but wasn't going to be caught with his proverbial pants down any time soon. "See, Amka," He whispered to a person besides him. "I think it's time you've spent some time with our fellow soldiers."

Miao Qian - Processing

Qian nodded once as the captain beckoned him forward. This was it then. His first command, one of the three squads for which he would be responsible. Their lives, so to speak, in his hands. It was hard not to be humbled by that.

The lieutenant stood at a height of 1.90 m, his build wiry. He wore the standard uniform of an army lieutenant, save for one small alteration, the Miao sunburst that adorned his cuffs and collar. He had his hands neatly folded in front of him, holding a sheaf of papers. His skin was clear of any obvious blemishes or scars, a sign of his inexperience. His expression he kept carefully blank.

"Good morning," he said. "I am Lieutenant Miao Qian, and I will be the one responsible for your squad."

One finger drummed the sheaf of papers patiently as he give the words a moment to sink in. This was a varied bunch, he would need to exhibit some flexibility in their handling.

"As the captain said, we will shortly take your names, after which we will have you take the oath of service to Fire Lord Ozai and the Fire Nation. Once you've been formally inducted, we will assign you your sleeping quarters, uniforms, and explain your various duties."

He smiled, in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

"Are there any questions before we proceed?"

Kyōko – Processing Centre

Most of Kyōko's time on the cart was spent with her eyes tightly shut and her hands firmly clutching her small bag of basic equipment, which she knew buried within was the familiar comfort of her mask. Direct contact was next to impossible now, she knew—she would savour every moment she could on the rare occasion she would find an opportunity to touch it—but for now its hidden presence was all she'd have to have.

The thought of inspection almost drained all the colour from her face, but she swallowed back the bile that threatened to lurch out from her throat and readjusted herself as the cart went over yet another large bump.

The beacon of flame... hurt to look at. For the sake of strength she tried her hardest to keep a steady gaze on it, but the light was blinding to her and she eventually tore her eyes away from it; teeth gritted as she minutely shook her head. Usually she could deal with it (if she couldn't then she wouldn't even be able to firebend) but in this case the intensity was overwhelming due to the sheer concentration of fire in one place.

Thankfully they passed by it soon enough, and she felt a dull dissociation from herself for a moment once they had stopped the cart. To the point where she forgot how her legs worked. Luckily their... escorts made her remember. Specifically by forcing her to.

Nonetheless, she idly noted she had made it in. She found herself staring at the banners for most of the walk inside, but she soon registered the presence at the desk in front of them. A mere sidelong glance was given to those in the line beside her—a piercing gaze that flitted across the rough location of each person's face—before she looked forward again, remembering to keep her posture straight and unyielding.

Was it like that here?

It might've been different.

The... Captain? Was the only person she bothered to really pay attention to. Apart from when directed to, of course. Though the older man in the corner caught her eye, and his seemingly calm and friendly demeanour caught her off guard. She stared at him like a startled deer for a good few seconds—internally stressing over whether she should even try to smile back or just dismiss him—before remembering her place and rigidly swivelling her eyes ahead again; resisting the urge to purse her lips.

The Lieutenant, at least, seemed to at least be trying to be respectful. But the slight vagueness of his questioning meant she found it difficult to think up a reply to him. Should she say "no", since she didn't have any questions? Or shouldn't she say anything at all, unless of course she had had a question?

Eventually, Kyōko elected to stay silent, and instead glance towards her fellows again to signify both to them and to the Lieutenant that she had nothing to say yet.

Shou Wei; Processing Center

"Get up! Go on, you soil-sniffing rat! Move along, they're waiting!"

The cries from outside the building suggested the arrival of a prisoner. The screech of chains confirmed it. In came two soldiers, pushing through their comrades, dragging a bound man whose arms and feet were encased in rusty chains. They glanced at the new recruits, looked around until they found Heng, and then snapped to attention in a smart salute.

"Reporting from Luchan Camp, Sir!" said the first, a strapping lout with meaty arms and a small head. "We've got the transfer here."

"We were told not to take his irons off until instructed," said the second, a thinner and more tired-looking fellow. "He's an Earthbender, Sir. Trained."

The prisoner could barely lift his head. His legs hung beneath him, black and blue, and the rags on his body were crusted with brown; brown dust and dirt and dried blood. His hair was long and stank of sweat. Around his waist was a green-black robe, torn and tattered and lined with dirty gold.

"My name is Shou Wei," he croaked, mashing words through parched lips. "I was of Ba Sing Se. I have come to serve the Fire Nation."

The first guard glanced at Captain Heng, his beady eyes flashing in fear, then twisted the prisoner around by the hair, snarling in disgust at the matted mass.

"You speak when you're spoken to, rat!"

Flecks of spittle splashed Shou Wei's face, leaving droplets on his crooked nose and mangy stubble. His jaw trembled in pain, but he said nothing.

"Apologies, Sir," said the second guard, bowing deep to Captain Heng. "He's been like this all the way here. He has... pretensions. Keeps talking about old books and ancient rites and dead Emperors, surrendering to the superior ruler and all that stuff. Thinks he has a choice."

"Beat the tar out of him, Sir," snarled the first. "That's what I'd do, if he weren't a soldier now."

"He is a soldier now," said the second, a bit sharply. "We'll take our leave, Sir. Glory to the Fire Lord."

"Right," said the first. "Glory t' Ozai."

He threw the prisoner to the floor, raised his foot to give a parting kick, then clearly thought better of it. The two left the room with their heads held high.

Shou Wei lay there, feet scraping, arms jangling, struggling to get to his knees. At last he rolled onto his haunches and propped himself against the wall, looking at Qian with that distant stare. Like a man in the desert, resolved to die quietly of thirst.

It was a while before he could speak.

"No... no questions, Sir. Thank you."

Edited by troydenite on Jan 14th 2020 at 11:01:51 PM

So on the other hand Gen was having a great time heading to Taoyi. His first chance to drive good ole 140484 was in transit to the camp, and the cockpit, to him, didn't feel claustrophobic at all—it felt like being where he was supposed to be, up at the front at the wheel of such a beautiful machine. Not close, but cozy. The gentle rattle of the machine grinding over the yielding terrain filled him with confidence for the days ahead. All he needed at this point was a real uniform, right now he essentially had a provisional one, the simple cloth uniform of the tanks' proving grounds from home, which was itself just an engineer's uniform with the unit patches ripped off.

Gen pulled himself out of the tank and proudly smiled at the burning beacon that greeted him. To him it felt like the certainty of the glorious future of the Fire Nation, the guiding hand that saved him and so many more people. That same fire stoked his tank, steady and bright and beautiful.

Less steady and bright and beautiful were his squadmates. Yikes. Prisoners of war converted to warfare? Men in chains? Sad state of affairs. By contrast he was beaming, as if one's vision swept over the rest of these sad people and up to him, fists on his hips in a power stance. He gave Miao a salute.

"Happy to be here Lieutenant! I won't let you down sir!" He declared, proud to speak here. "I did want to ask, would I be able to be consistently assigned Tank #140484 sir? I test drove it when it was built and I'm very familiar with it."

Processing Centre

Taoyi lay within the Fire Nation's boundaries, but for Jian it may as well have been a completely different country. From the cheap thread that clothed his body to the unfamiliar faces that accompanied him in the cart. From the stern atmosphere that choked their arrival to the haggard state of the road, so unlike the refined merriment of his home.

No, not his home. Not anymore. Thinking of it like one would only cause him regret.

The journey had been thoroughly unpleasant, and Jian could already feel the soft skin of his legs and behind bruising from the cart's turbulent travel. However, if there was one thing that Taoyi and Jian's place of origin had in common, it was that complaining led you nowhere but down. He used to be complacent and docile: now, he must be complacent and strong. For the great Fire Nation, et al.

The roaring fire at the centre of the camp was a single point of familiarity. No matter where Jian's journey may take him, he would have his flame as an ever-faithful companion. The thought was a small comfort as the cart came to a stop, its inhabitants roughly deposited onto the untamed earth. This was it, the point of no return. No chance of him sneaking past the drawbridges, not without a fatal blow to the back.

Distracting him from the morbid thought was the realisation that one of his travelling companions was a woman. It had been difficult to tell in the darkness of the cart, but now, with the morning sun blazing overheard, her long hair and curved chest were unmistakable. Women were not allowed in the international army, and yet here one was. It was because of that disparity that Jian couldn't take his eyes off her, mesmerised by the sway of her hair as they and the rest were led into a small building.

Once inside, Jian was quick to regain his bearings and stand like a proper soldier should; straight-backed, hands clasped, eyes forward but intent on the conversation. When men from the army would come to meet his father, that was the stance they took, and he imitated it as best he could. The white-haired lieutenant, the beaten and bound captives by their feet, the woman with the fierce eyes and the boy with the upbeat demeanour; while Jian had not one question, but many, he kept them stowed away for now. His eyes burned with a curiosity that he couldn't hope to quench, but otherwise he may as well have been a statue for how much he was making his presence known.

Whatever Heng's actual intentions were, the matter of the fact is that the instant Miao Qian stepped forward, the Captain proceeded to cough into his fist. "My throat-" He began, before his words were interrupted by another cough, this one aimed at a dirty white cloth he had pulled from his pocket. "-it must have had a reaction." He added quickly, placing the cloth before his mouth, the coughing suddenly stopping.

Keen eyes might have spotted Koken leaning back on his chair, chuckling at the mention of a 'reaction'. "Heng sure loves his theatrics." The old doctor muttered wistfully to the woman besides him. "It's why I didn't want you to stay with him, Amka." He whispered to the woman again. "Only a fool places their hopes with the old."

Gen's joyful noise elicited a spark of recognition from the large man. "You built it?" He asked under his breath, still kneeling, still trying to seem like a respectable recruit. "I think I might be your engineer." He asked, a noticeable curiosity in his tone matching Gen's eagerness. The lithe one kneeling besides him just sighed at that display.

Luckily, Heng's cloth was high enough to hide what was a clear smile at the sight of Shou Wei being shouted down by two officers. "It really is a sign of the times," He grunted, shoving the cloth back into his pocket and glaring a hole into the back of Miao Qian's neck. "When the worst thing about your recruits isn't that one of them is a woman." He let out a heavy chuckle, his eyes turning now towards the eager Gen. "You're not even a soldier yet, boy. Be quiet."

That response prompted the man in double shackles to grunt, his brow furrowing more and more as he rocked against the chains holding down his arms for the first time. "Oh, yes." Heng chuckled out loud and lowered his voice to a whisper, a snake-like one, aimed at the back of Miao Qian's ear. "I've heard about that one." He then raised his voice immediately, snapping back into general mode. "Silence, prisoner! Show some respect to your Lieutenant. You know our deal."

The dark-haired man quieted down, his eyes now focusing on the ground before him, his rage shoved back into the deepest recesses of his heart.

Qian - Processing

Whatever the lieutenant's thoughts at having to speak over his captain's coughing, he gave no outward signs of being perturbed.

He nodded attentively as each recruit gave their response. As previously assumed, this was a varied bunch. He made a mental note of Shou Wei. It was well and good to desire to serve, but if he was motivated by old orthodoxies that meant his true master was not the Fire Lord. Or perhaps this was simply his prejudices speaking. The man was of the Earth Kingdom after all, with all that entailed.

The mechanic's enthusiasm was plain to see. As for the request, it was something he might look into later.

"Such matters are the province of the commander of the logistical company, but I may lodge a request to have it assigned to this squad."

He nodded. No one else seemed to have any pressing matters, so it was time to proceed as per protocol.

"Very well then. If there are no more questions, please give the scribe your names."

He gestured to a certain someone sitting with papers and a brush. He shuffled through his own papers afterwards, double-checking the oath of allegiance, that all the words were correct. He had the thing memorized, but the process calmed him anyway.

Kyōko – Processing Centre

There was a notable absence of reaction from Kyōko, her eyes flickering unsurely over all those in the room again in order to definitely make sure she was allowed to move now. Once she was sure of it, she somewhat awkwardly stepped forward towards the scribe—initially hesitant before she caught herself and made her movements more rigid and consistent.

“Kyōko,” she vocalized, pausing a moment as her mind worked through the minor conundrum of whether surnames were necessary or not. If these were official papers, then better be safe. “Himura. My surname.”

She wasn't sure what else to say, so she lingered a moment to sort through some things. For one the attitudes towards her seemed to be of varying extremes. The comments she obviously couldn't miss, but she didn't really care as long as they didn't actually obstruct her from doing the job she'd been trained for. The looks of fascinated confusion? She had no idea how to deal with them.

Jian received one of her patented piercing looks, though this time it was a glance—eyes notably wider than before. This look then flicked over to Qian in almost a desperate, begging fashion—she was still situated by the scribe, not sure whether she was allowed to stand back in line or if there was something else she had missed. She didn't really want Captain Heng to see that.

'Better late than never' was a term Dao Ken never really understood. If you were late to do something, you weren't doing it right! Especially when the thing in question was important, like being a part of the war effort, or laundry.

That's why when he finally entered the Center - after being waylaid right outside due to superior officers wanting to taunt him for reasons he couldn't really understand (maybe it's a hazing thing?) - Dao Ken practically launched himself across the floor towards whoever looked the most like they were in charge, which, in his own little head, directed him to Big Chen.

Dao Ken landed in a traditional low bow, his knees and hands digging a small trench as he skidded to a stop in the dirt. Though, not his hands exactly; the boy had thick metal cylinders attached at his wrists, like bulky gloves that kept him from actually using his hands.

"Forgive meeeee!" Dao Ken shouted once he hit the ground. "I didn't mean to be so behind the crowd, sir! I have no excuse, sir, or wish to use one, sir! It's my own fault, and I only hope that I can make it up to you! Sir!"

Processing Center

The look on Big Chen's face was one of terrified confusion, and in fact, he didn't say a single word, choosing instead to let his eyes dart from Dao Ken to the Lieutenant, back and forth, back and forth. "Uhm, I..." He muttered, his deep drawl making it seem that he was at an even bigger loss for words. "I'm not—"

"He's not the Lieutenant, dumbass!" Little Chan piped up, puffing up his chest to try and make the best out of his wiry frame. "Does he look like the Lieutenant? Or are you really just that stupid?!" He would have gone and kicked Dao Ken in the ass, but a sharp cough from Heng silenced him immediately.

A cough that was actually another disguised laugh. "Do as your Lieutenant instructed." He hissed, the edges of his lips curled upwards in a mocking gaze.

The scribe- who looked to be the same age as Jian, and looked severely out of place amongst the other veterans- placed his brush on a large ink pot and motioned for the soldiers to step forward. "Tell me your name and—" He began, his voice still slightly squeaky from young age, but Kyoko was faster. "Right. Once you finish telling me your name, please stand to the side, before our emblem, and prepare to take your oath."

Heng stood besides the scribe, staring watchfully as each soldier gave their name and took their place before one of the largest Fire Nation flags on the center. The prisoner who had been bound by his arms, legs and mouth was released, though shackles still held down his balled up fists. "Daiko." He grunted to the scribe, taking his place in the line and glaring... at Jian, of all people. "You don't look like a soldier." He hissed under his breath. "Are you just another noble, trying to prove his mettle."

"Nonsense!" Piped up the one who had been standing tall, and who had introduced himself as Haruki to the scribe. "He doesn't look like a noble." He added, taking his place in between Jian and Daiko. "I would know." He smiled. "My father knows the War Minister. And I've even seen our Lieutenant before! But him? I've never seen him!"

Big Chen was silent and slow, almost giving the word 'Big' as his name before a simple glance from the scribe made him correct himself. "Sorry for my brother." He added in a low whisper to Dao Ken, before turning to Gen with the gentlest of smiles. "I really hope we get to see your tank. I've never met someone who built a tank. I've only met people who built carts... and... and bigger carts."

Little Chan made sure to go first, pushing everyone out of his way, giving the soldier a curt reply and trying to stand besides Kyoko, grinning at her. "So, what's a girl doing here, hm?" He asked, cleaning his teeth with his tongue. "Wait. You don't got a husband in the army, do ya?" He then jabbed a thumb at Shou Wei. "He ain't your husband, right?"

After all recruits had introduced themselves, their names etched onto the scribe's scroll, he stood up and quickly stepped closer to the flag. "Close your hands into a fist and place it above your heart," He demonstrated it. "And say it after me: I swear to dedicate my life towards the Fire Nation and to our glorious Fire Lord Ozai. I swear to defend the Nation from the savages bent on destroying our peaceful way of life. I swear to burn in the name of the Nation and in the name of Ozai. If I turn against my oath, may my family suffer in shame for a hundred generations." He then held out his fist, and bowed. "You are all now soldiers of the Fire Nation."

Kyōko – Processing Centre

“No. I'm not married,” Kyōko answered, relaxing a little now that she actually had some form of instruction to go on and moving to where she had been directed. Little Chan received a rather blank stare before she registered his point towards Shou, and she quickly shook her head. “Not to him either.”

Now for the oath taking. Seemed easy enough. As directed, Kyōko placed her closed fish above her heart, and attempted to follow along to the best of her ability. Though primarily her concerns where whether or not she was doing it too quickly or not.

Thankfully, she managed to keep a consistent, steady pace throughout most of it.

“I swear to dedicate my life towards the Fire Nation and to our glorious Fire Lord Ozai. I swear to defend the Nation from the savages bent on destroying our peaceful way of life. I swear to burn in the name of the Nation and in the name of Ozai. If I turn against my oath, may my family suffer in shame for a hundred generations,” she recited, before dropping her hand back to her side and seeming to smile in a barely perceptible manner. An invisible weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, and she momentarily took solace in the fact that she had at least become a part of this division officially. Though whether she'd remain had yet to be seen.

Either through her fault or theirs.

Almost as an afterthought, she bowed back. Though it seemed less like an automatic mirror and more of a genuine expression of respect and thanks. Even as she straightened up again and resumed her more disciplined stance she remained visibly lighter in mood.

“To answer your question, I was transferred,” she semi-whispered down to Little Chan, electing to elaborate on her rather clipped response before. “They decided I was needed... elsewhere. Now I'm here.”

She frowned a little, glancing around the room.

“It feels bigger here...”

Processing Centre

Though Jian was able to retain his composure for the most part, even when the newcomer burst in and threw himself down at the wrong man's feet (in a previous life, Jian would've raised a fan to his lips to hide a chuckle), he was unprepared for the piercing stare that the woman- Kyōko- threw his way. His cheeks flushed red- out of embarrassment, he insisted to himself, and not the usual reason that a man would blush at receiving a woman's attention- and his eyes darted around the room before finally settling on a thoroughly uninteresting corner. There they stayed until the recruits were called forward to profess their names to the scribe, something that Jian did quietly while the others were distracted with the newcomer's antics.

"Jian. Um, no surname."

From there he took his place below the banner, trying his best to remain stalwart even as the prisoner shuffled up besides him with a harsh glare and harsher words. Haruki replied before he could, and while Daiko's words had stung, it was Haruki's that flung Jian into a panic. Had he met Haruki before? No recognition came to mind, and it was doubtful that Haruki could recognise him without the waist-length hair and layers of make-up, but there was always the chance...

Covering up his sudden terror with a cough, Jian righted himself and forced his gaze forward. "My affairs are my business alone, and not to be shared so easily. Unless you would be willing to trade your own for the information, then I humbly suggest that you not inquire further." His words were strong, his tone practised, but Jian hoped the altercation would end there, as he feared he would crumble under greater scrutiny. When Heng instructed them to recite the oath, Jian did so eagerly, hand dutifully placed over chest:

"I swear to dedicate my life towards the Fire Nation and to our glorious Fire Lord Ozai. I swear to defend the Lord- the Nation from the savages bent on destroying our way of life. I swear to burn in the name of the Nation and in the name of Ozai. If I turn against my oath, may my family suffer in shame for a hundred generations."

Once done, he followed Kyōko's example and offered a bow of his own- his body tilting at the waist and ramrod-straight otherwise, a single fluid movement that was clearly not his first time offering one.

Edited by whizzerd on Feb 1st 2020 at 3:37:56 PM

Processing Center

A sharp throat clearing sound snapped Little Chan out of his leery stare at Kyoko and slip right back into his oath. A new form slid in besides Kyoko, that of a seemingly small young woman with dark skin and wiry brown hair, although closer inspection would note that her apparent size was a result of her slightly inwardly hunched stature. Before anyone- including the seemingly outraged Heng- could speak up, the old doctor who had been watching from afar stepped in.

"This is my protege, Amka." Koken explained, one hand pulling on his long beard, perpetually smiling eyes not even flinching at the sight of Heng's stare. "She has served the army well for the past few years... and has even nursed a few of your own boys back to life, Captain Heng." He turned to Lieutenant Miao, smiling even more. "She would like to join your squad, Lieutenant. I believe you would gain a lot from a dedicated nurse. And she'd learn a lot from you too."

Amka gave Kyoko the tiniest of smiles, almost imperceptible. "Hello." She whispered, before turning to Miao and snapping back into her usual 'attentive' mode, which came with its own frown and stare. She bowed to Miao, keeping her head low until he spoke.

Little Chan, meanwhile, kept leering at Kyoko, watching her dutifully. "Good thing ya got transferred here. Don't worry, Little Chan is gonna keep you safe."

Watching Jian and the others perform their oath, Daiko simply placed his shackled fists before his chest, repeating the oath along with them- but with a clearly dispassionate and uninterested stare in his face. As he finished, another piercing glance was sent towards Jian. "I can tell you're not gonna last here." He muttered. Was it a warning or a snarky comment? His angry glare made it hard to tell.

Haruki, on the other hand, bowed along with Jian after the oath, smiling down at him. "Don't listen to that dirt-loving scum. You're a proud Fire Nation citizen like me, right? Well, people like him don't understand the importance of fighting for our Nation! I can tell Agni has smiled upon us, since we were so lucky to serve our Fire Lord right now, when he needs us most."

Crap, okay, Gen needed to defuse this. How could he or anyone do right by the Fire Nation with everyone like... this?

"Hey we should all come see the tank!" Gen interjected, trying to distract everyone from any sort of conflict. "Maybe we should paint it together to make sure you can spot ours in the heat of battle."

Processing Centre

One woman in a squad was already incredulous enough, but two? Were he not caught between Haruki and Daiko, then Jian wouldn't have been able to tear his eyes away from the two women.

As it were, however, he was careful not to let his gaze drift, especially not in the direction of either man. It was already nerve-wracking enough just to be here without getting himself trapped in the middle of a conflict between fellow soldiers (even if one of said soldiers was rather... unconventional). With a smile that was more neutral than happy, Jian replied quietly to both, "Perhaps conversation would be best kept until after the induction."

It was the coward's way out to be sure, delaying an inevitable confrontation, but with his new superiors breathing down their necks Jian didn't dare do anything to make himself stand out. He was helped along quite nicely by the boy with the interest in tanks, his name still unknown to Jian but his exuberance leaving an impression nevertheless.

"I have no wife," said Shou Wei, and then nothing, because his lower lip cracked at that very moment. A fine stream of blood ran down his cheek. He winced, and then collected himself.

"I swear to dedicate my life towards the Fire Nation and to our glorious Fire Lord Ozai..."

He did not stand, because his legs had already given way. He did not speak loudly, because his voice had gone. But his eyes were clear and haggard and completely focused, like orbs of polished flint set in white tapioca cream, and his oath was the fervent murmur of the true believer. When he spoke of his family's shame, it was more than formula; it was as if he was willing to turn, personally, his loved ones' lolling heads.

He sank into a deep silence, his head on his chest, his eyes closed. It was as if he had achieved sexual congress with no emission, as the sages claim to do.

"If he truly is the Son of Heaven," said the rank prisoner, stewing in his own scabs and sweat and weighted down with the weight of his irons, "the Fire Lord will save us all."

Kyōko – Processing Centre

“Hello,” Kyōko responded in kind to the other woman, a little confused in regards to her presence yet deciding not to dwell on it. Little Chan's comment gleaned naught but a blank look, and she only glanced at him briefly before staring ahead again.

“Yes. I will.”

Her body twitched instinctively as the one in shackles seemed to give out, and she seemed to be wanting to help him despite the fact she remained mostly still. A more concerned version of her piercing glare was directed at Shou, before she mentally sighed and quickly ducked down so as to hook him under the arm with her own—standing up just as quickly yet careful not to let him stumble as she pulled him up with her.

“Stand up,” she half-whispered, glancing at him again. Her grip was stronger than her slim form would suggest. “Lean on me if you have to.”

She wondered if she was crossing a line. She realised she didn't particularly care.