>>5311950>>5312997You don't move. Instead of being pulled along and swept up within Oracles words you close your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you fought through the lingering foulness. Laying your trembling muscles to rest, you feel the oily coating discarded with a layer of your mind. Raw and clean you return your gaze to the world. The older pilot watches you. His damned orbs impenetrable, you couldn't conceive his thoughts. You turn, watching across the carriage. Your eyes meet the young girl. She would find herself in the same situation you had been. Test after test. Trail and countless days of trauma. Broken long before she ever found herself on the battlefield. The young child never broke your gaze. Even against the boisterous words of her brother. You take another deep breath, through your teeth you try to filter the oxygen. It only left them feeling greasy. You swallow the hard air and advance on the old man and his grandchildren. To your surprise Oracle follows, without hesitating he keeps a slow pace matching your own from a handful of feet away. Observing you, like some wild animal. You wondered just how much he could parse from your mind.
The older gentleman glances up as you step before the trio of family members. His eyes cautious. They linger on your face, reading whatever he could before flicking to the beret. Those old eyes harden. You notice them move onto the other pilot, Oracle keeping himself at a safe distance. Clearly unwilling to directly participate in your plan. Nevertheless he was interested in observing. "Hello! Who are you!" The boy cut through the friction. Pivoting on his seat he faced you with wide enamoured eyes, his sister was less certain. You wouldn't assume, but she seemed to understand what you were. Just like her grandfather her eyes focus on your beret. On the grim skull. You would do what you could, to help them.
The older man did nothing beyond watching while you move, you take a knee. Addressing the two children face to face. "Howdy. I'm Corporal Mortimer, but you can just call me Morty." You would be lying if you didn't feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. These were normal children, something you once were. Their minds unmolested. You felt embarrassed, as if they had something you could never possess. It pained you to accept the thin sliver of jealousy within you. "Hello Morty, I am Mila. That begins with an M too ya know." The girl spoke up, seemingly coming out of her shell. "I'm Anton!" The boy spoke up loudly, clearly annoyed by his sister's brazen behavior.
