Raven has never been very proficient in any kind of music, singing or playing instruments. But that doesn't stop him from breaking into song around the campfire or in a tavern, and it usually ends in either him making a fool of himself (which he really doesn't mind) or others joining in.

There's nothing quite like the feeling of a bunch of men all singing together at the top of their lungs, even if the sound is terrible enough to wake the dead

It's a common thing, is it not?

Left-Right-Left.

A chant, muttered by marching men. Soldiers, doing what they were told, common ground known as each step solidified thoughts, actions, ideals. All of it said in that one universal chant. Left, Left-Right-Left. What else would it mean? What else could it possibly represent to a person?

Alexei's mind was a harsh, cruel reality. It's thoughts twisted upon as shuffling feet pounded the words into his head until he found himself brokenly whispering the mantra. Trying to carry on out of the city. Broken foot-falls growing sagged until he couldn't carry on. His body wavering, back hitting harshly against the wall with a sufficient smack.

Whispering words pounding in his head, ears bleeding from the unheard song of left-right-left. A man of the military is never truly free, not when it is where his family still rests. Not when it is where he would wish upon wish to go back. But hate himself if he did, did fall into those same temptations, those curses of a worse life, a worse empire.

Send ♔ for an angry voice mail

[Text] Somers and Geamon put snakes on my practice quiver! Capt' do somethin´!

Send ☼ for a promise

Flynn was growing steadily accustomed to the sound of papers shuffling. His fingers moved with steady grace as his files shuffled together. His penchant for organization was his saving grace in managing the hundreds of loose papers that crossed his desk every week.

It took only a few minutes of shuffling until he found the file he was looking for. He was alarmed by its thinness--from what he gathered, she'd just shown up on the scene out of nowhere and found a position in the Schwann brigade, of all places.

He had moved this meeting a bit higher up in the order than he'd intended; his curiosity got the better of him.

Casey. He turned the name over and over in his brain. There was an irony to that.

-

He took a moment in the mirror, straightening up his pauldrons until they were positioned at just the right angle. He thrust his shoulders back, staring intently at himself in what he hoped was a businesslike manner.

"You bare a familiar face, child...step into the light, that I may see you.."