[The days are a blur for Messer, but for Kaname, they're long and drawn out and way too short all at once. His decisive battle, waiting for news on his condition, the following attack, hasty preparations for retreat, gathering supplies, mapping their routes, planning for everyone...
Sleep's been nothing but an afterthought. A few hours here, a couple there, twenty minutes between briefings, most of it unrestful. It's worth it, she knows. The girls and their pilots escaped safely and reached their intended destinations. Communications were set up to allow them that knowledge before being cut off entirely for the foreseeable future. She knows and trusts them. They'll be fine.
Running on fumes, it's not even herself she's worried for. It's Messer, running on worse than that, sheer force of will and determination to get them there safely. Kaname hates that he knows, just from a glance, how tired she is. The packs she carries-- a backpack, duffel bag, hip satchel-- are less than what he shoulders, which doesn't take the firearms into account: a machine gun and handgun for him, a handgun for her.
Brows knit together. Walking behind, she can see the strain their packs are putting on him. More than once she's offered, asked, to take something from him, anything at all. Each time she's met with staunch refusal over their almost three mile journey from the plane. Judging from their walking speed and time elapsed, they're about a quarter mile off. Small blessings.]
That's a relief. [And it is, for her own peace of mind regarding both of them. Luckily, previous communications informed her that their lodgings are set up. It's the bare minimum of course, but there's a comfortable place to sleep, some food, and privacy, away from the beaten path. They both need the rest.
Looking at him again, Kaname forces herself to speed up. This time she simply reaches over to take a bag from him, no longer requesting.]
foamy mouth guy!!
Sleep's been nothing but an afterthought. A few hours here, a couple there, twenty minutes between briefings, most of it unrestful. It's worth it, she knows. The girls and their pilots escaped safely and reached their intended destinations. Communications were set up to allow them that knowledge before being cut off entirely for the foreseeable future. She knows and trusts them. They'll be fine.
Running on fumes, it's not even herself she's worried for. It's Messer, running on worse than that, sheer force of will and determination to get them there safely. Kaname hates that he knows, just from a glance, how tired she is. The packs she carries-- a backpack, duffel bag, hip satchel-- are less than what he shoulders, which doesn't take the firearms into account: a machine gun and handgun for him, a handgun for her.
Brows knit together. Walking behind, she can see the strain their packs are putting on him. More than once she's offered, asked, to take something from him, anything at all. Each time she's met with staunch refusal over their almost three mile journey from the plane. Judging from their walking speed and time elapsed, they're about a quarter mile off. Small blessings.]
That's a relief. [And it is, for her own peace of mind regarding both of them. Luckily, previous communications informed her that their lodgings are set up. It's the bare minimum of course, but there's a comfortable place to sleep, some food, and privacy, away from the beaten path. They both need the rest.
Looking at him again, Kaname forces herself to speed up. This time she simply reaches over to take a bag from him, no longer requesting.]