[ And if Gates is unconcerned with the risks at hand, then it's his head. He's a soldier like the rest of them, and when the time comes he'll fight. He'll follow orders, as the rest of them are expected to do. With their SO nowhere in sight, Ortez isn't going to be the one to reprimand him in his stead.
Not tonight.
Strangely quiet out there. Maybe it was the day of the year -- not that the Covenant recognized a human holiday, naturally -- but it almost seemed peaceful out there. A moment's respite in the blood and madness of the fight.
And even so, it did little to set him at ease. Every part of him still felt tense, waiting for something. For action, movement, order. Something. So Gates wasn't the only one feeling a little restless. ]
I understand that, Ortez. All I'm trying to say is a little nip from a bottle isn't going to make you fall down drunk and incapable of fighting the Covies. God knows it might even help with this surly-ass attitude of yours.
[In truth? He doubted it. Samuel Ortez probably didn't know how to remove the stick up his ass long enough to unclench enough to do something as human as share a drink with his squad mates.]
'Sides, they could just decide to glass us from space and all of this would be a moot point. [Well, that was certainly a cheerful thought, now wasn't it? Gates was a big fan of gallows humor unfortunately and just threw that out there without a care in the world.] I've seen how they treat their own men. They let those fucking Hunters just chew through the slow ones like they're just more meat for the grinder. I doubt they'll care about a few Grunts of Jackals. Not to mention a bunch of filthy heretics like us, Ortez.
[In the darkness his teeth gleamed in a lupine smile that was all teeth and vicious humor.]
[ To that, Locus says nothing. If they die, they die. That's what soldiers do. Meanwhile, he doesn't plan on abandoning his position. They'll hold this little spit of land until they're overwhelmed or the planet is glassed, but either way he'll have done his duty. Served his purpose.
The chances of which were extraordinarily high.
His eyes darted back towards Gates where he crouched, all teeth and sharp edges, like one of his blades. He'd die. They all would. And the weight of that threatened to swell up past the numb acceptance he'd nailed in place now and then. He might not like Gates, but--
Swallowing once, tightly, his eyes darted to the side. Then, quietly, he took his hand off his weapon to reach out for the canteen. ]
[Call it battlefield fatigue or something else but after years of this constant bloody war but Gates had come to terms with his own mortality a long time ago. Now, he treated death with an irreverence that probably would have seemed strange to outsiders. But for a soldier, sometimes it was the only way to keep hold of your tenuous sanity when facing the shit they faced.
There was a very good chance they would die here. Or maybe they'd live to see another day because they had defied how many other times?
Isaac sat there in the dark with his knife-sharp smile which kicked up a few degrees when he saw Sam's hand reaching for the canteen. Their fingers brushed as he exchange the canteen with Ortez and his bared fingertips were icy in the night air. Like many people in their squad, Isaac had opted to cut his tactical gloves back so there was no chance of the material getting tangled with the trigger guard of his weapon or interfere with his range of motion in combat. That meant of course that they were exposed to the elements in weather such as this but the trade-off was worth it in his mind.] Atta boy, come join us on the Darkside.
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lightofdawn) wrote2016-12-10 10:34 pm
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[ And if Gates is unconcerned with the risks at hand, then it's his head. He's a soldier like the rest of them, and when the time comes he'll fight. He'll follow orders, as the rest of them are expected to do. With their SO nowhere in sight, Ortez isn't going to be the one to reprimand him in his stead.
Not tonight.
Strangely quiet out there. Maybe it was the day of the year -- not that the Covenant recognized a human holiday, naturally -- but it almost seemed peaceful out there. A moment's respite in the blood and madness of the fight.
And even so, it did little to set him at ease. Every part of him still felt tense, waiting for something. For action, movement, order. Something. So Gates wasn't the only one feeling a little restless. ]
no subject
[In truth? He doubted it. Samuel Ortez probably didn't know how to remove the stick up his ass long enough to unclench enough to do something as human as share a drink with his squad mates.]
'Sides, they could just decide to glass us from space and all of this would be a moot point. [Well, that was certainly a cheerful thought, now wasn't it? Gates was a big fan of gallows humor unfortunately and just threw that out there without a care in the world.] I've seen how they treat their own men. They let those fucking Hunters just chew through the slow ones like they're just more meat for the grinder. I doubt they'll care about a few Grunts of Jackals. Not to mention a bunch of filthy heretics like us, Ortez.
[In the darkness his teeth gleamed in a lupine smile that was all teeth and vicious humor.]
no subject
The chances of which were extraordinarily high.
His eyes darted back towards Gates where he crouched, all teeth and sharp edges, like one of his blades. He'd die. They all would. And the weight of that threatened to swell up past the numb acceptance he'd nailed in place now and then. He might not like Gates, but--
Swallowing once, tightly, his eyes darted to the side. Then, quietly, he took his hand off his weapon to reach out for the canteen. ]
no subject
There was a very good chance they would die here. Or maybe they'd live to see another day because they had defied how many other times?
Isaac sat there in the dark with his knife-sharp smile which kicked up a few degrees when he saw Sam's hand reaching for the canteen. Their fingers brushed as he exchange the canteen with Ortez and his bared fingertips were icy in the night air. Like many people in their squad, Isaac had opted to cut his tactical gloves back so there was no chance of the material getting tangled with the trigger guard of his weapon or interfere with his range of motion in combat. That meant of course that they were exposed to the elements in weather such as this but the trade-off was worth it in his mind.] Atta boy, come join us on the Darkside.