The Invasion of Eden's Hollow



Original poster
It started with marching as the Ilakya trrops approached the small town of Hollow's Eden. Quickly, it escalated and bullets were exchanged- the screams of citizens trying to stay out of the way laid heavy in the air. After clearing out the military presence, only five citizens died and perhaps a dozen were injured. Still, their presence was far from welcome.

They quickly took over the town, taking their food and water and anything else of use. Sigmund had been in combat that day. It only confirmed how much he hated this war. The smell of blood and fear, the disgusted and upset faces of the citizens. The dead's faces all seemed to be replaced with that of relatives.

His stomach churned, but by the time he saw their faces again they reverted back to the faces of strangers. After moving the bodies and helping some of the wounded. His shirt had now efficiently been stained with blood and filth. He realized how tired he had grown and found himself sitting against a tree as he took in all that happened today.

It wasn't a happy day. After camp had set itself up, he found himself wandering inside of the town. He hadn't a chance to change his shirt, so he was depending on the medic band on his arm to possibly instill some trust in the general public.

He took a seat in a restaurant, ordering a cup of coffee. He needed it.
((I'm sorry it took me so long to reply, my damn internet crashed:grumpy:))

Anya had been visiting a friend in town when the soldiers arrived, as soon as she saw them her heart froze. As their very few soldiers tried to put up a defense she had tried to call out, to warn everyone to get inside. When it was over she had seen them moving the bodies of those they had killed, she had known everyone of them. She wanted so badly to yell to scream at the soldiers, but could only cry silently as she watched them being taken away. She hated herself for that, for being to afraid to stand up to them.

Most citizens were either hiding in their homes, grieving or trying to act normal as if nothing had happened. Clarie the owner of the only restaurant in town was one of those people, she had run into Anya on the street and begged for her help. Clarie's waitress was at home grieving for her brother, so she needed Anya to fill in. Although the thought made her sick, she owed Clarie so sher agreed.

As she had expected no one came in, at least not until the afternoon. One of Ilakya soldiers waltzed in and ordered a coffee, his shirt was stained with blood. He had some nerve coming in here like that, acting like he owned the place.

She didn't want to serve him but was afraid what would happen to Claire if she refused, so she brought him his coffee. Placing it on the table in front of him, she looked away from his face "is that all you wanted?" She said softly, her voice unsteady.
((no problem! :D Sorry it's a bit short.))
Sigmund frowned as she seemed to refuse to look him in the eye. He lowered his gaze and scratched his head. "Ah.... um." He suddenly realized how insensitive it was just to walk in somewhere like this. He had just gotten done taking care of the bodies of strangers, strangers this woman likely knew well enough. He began to feel regret crawling back into his heart. In attempt to fight the terrible feeling away, he finally answered her question. "Coffee's fine."

Nervously, he tapped a finger on the table. It was a bit of an awkward situation. "...sorry." He said as he finally looked back at her. Tiredly, he pushed his hand through his hair. "I'm surprised you'd be working tonight." He said, biting his lip slightly.
((That's okay :D))

Anya noticed that he too avoided her gaze, so he should she thought angrily. He confirmed all he wanted was coffee, and as she was about to gladly walk away he mumbled something. Sorry? Was he serious? Emboldened by her anger she looked at his face, her face calm. "I don't work here I'm just repaying a favor to the owner." Her voice held barley contained fury, "her regular waitress is at home mourning the murder of her brother."

She eyed the blood on his shirt once again, she fought back tears. "Maybe you should change your shirt, in case you run into any of the victims families." She said quietly, sorrow now slowly replacing her anger.
Murder. Ouch. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The way she looked at him was conviction enough. "...yeah." He said, taking a sip of the bitter liquid.

"I'd like to." He admitted, pinching a bit of the fabric to inspect it. "I literally just got a break from tending to some of the soldiers." He unbuttoned it, leaving it open. He had a undershirt on thankfully. He hoped that'd be good enough to draw attention away from the disturbing stain.

"They wouldn't let me into camp to change." He was about to add that they all thought he was cursed as a medic and thus anyone treated more than a cut by him seemed to think they'd die. He wanted very much so to explain that he wasn't happy with what happened, but instead he opted to take a large sip of coffee.

He noted the tears forming in her eyes and bowed his head a bit. There's little he could possibly say to right this situation. Despite a lack of involvement in casualities, he was just as guilty as the same person who pulled the trigger. He only assisted the cause.
Tending to the soldiers, that must mean he was a medic. She wondered if he'd tried to help the civilian casualty's, she wanted to think so but highly doubted it. "Not very popular huh?" She mumbled under her breath, at the mention of not being allowed in his own camp.

She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, it didn't do much to distract attention. If anything it made it slightly worse, for some reason she wondered if the blood would permanently stain the shirt. This made her feel like crying again, but she forced herself to get it together.

She stared at him in silence for a moment, it seemed she was having an internal battle with herself. After a few moments she sighed quietly then walked off, disappearing into the back of the restaurant. After a while she returned carrying and old but clean mens shirt, she returned to the table. "Here" she said quietly, as she handed it to him.
Sigmund shrugged. "They're a bit superstitious." He thought a moment, then frowned. "Not that I've done anything to deserve it, but still." Still, the young woman looked very much still in despair. He glanced down at his shirt, thinking to himself it was the best he could do, when she disappeared. He looked up, his brows furrowed.

Somehow, he managed to upset her. He took a large sip of coffee, the liquid now cooling down quite quickly. It was when he set down his cup that he saw her walking towards him, shirt in hand. "You don't have to..." He shut himself up, accepting the gift. He bowed his head deeply, knowing how difficult he'd find it to give something to someone who just was involved in pointless slaughter of people he knew and grew up with.

"Thank you." He said, pulling the stained shirt off and then respectfully folding it into a square on his lap. He then changed into the well loved shirt. He didn't know how to possibly respond. "I think that's a bit better." He said, a polite smile paired with polite words.
Anya shook her head, "I didn't do it for you." She said quietly, though that wasn't entirely true. She told herself that it was because the bloodied shirt would upset everyone, and that was true. However she had also done it because in spite of who he was, she was kind and couldn't herself.

Anya sat down opposite him, a hard look on her face "why are you here?" "I mean half of the people in this town didn't even now we were at war with your country, and this town is too small to cause any trouble to the capital."

She didn't know why she was asking him, she doubted he had any answers. But in truth he was the only soldiers she wasn't scarred off, she didn't know why. He didn't seem to have the malice radiating off him like the others did, so she felt like she could talk to him without him being violent in response.
((>< sorry I went missing for a bit! I've been having a bit of a rough time, but I'm back. :D))

He gave a slow nod. Her words, while understandable, stung somewhat. "Right. I gotcha." He brought the mug up to his mouth and sipped it as he watched her sit down. He frowned, knowing he couldn't really explain much about the war.

He didn't know and he knew that alone would be an insult. No one wanted to hear that five innocent people died for what might be nothing. He grimaced. "Unfortunately," He said, very unsure about what he was going to follow up with. "I don't know." He bit his lip, letting the moment hang a bit with the importance it surely deserved. "I'm only a medic, not a commander. I do know that the army was growing desperate for resources..." He set down the cup on the table.

Folding his hands into one another, he looked her straight in the eye. "They wanted to set up a base. We needed food." He said, his body tensing up as he braced for a few harsh words being thrown his way. He looked away, his eyes looking at nothing in particular as he leaned his chin onto his now propped up hand. He sighed. There was much more to explain, and while he really wanted to, he wasn't sure it would be appropriate. All he wanted to do was apologize and leave.

It's not as if he relishes insulting foreign citizens with his presence.