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Horn rubbed the back of her head, groaning at the sharp pain. The fall hadn’t killed her, at least, but she had no idea where she or her weapons were. The distant din of fighting was still audible from way above, but it was far off, blocked by rubble and debris. Hopefully, the intensity meant the artillery barrage hadn’t caught many of her men. At the very least, Horn noted as she stood and brushed herself off, there was enough light to see somewhat, even if it was dim. So the first thing was to-.
“No, no no, not again, not again.”
Horn’s ears flicked at the sound - a voice down here with her. Panicking. She couldn’t easily tell who it was, but it had to be one of her comrades. No one else was there with them. Cautiously, Horn made her way closer to the voice, crawling over some debris to reach the opening where-
“...Mandragora?”About thirty feet away, the feline spun round, the usual anger in her eyes replaced with utter fear. Having joined their troop after her rescue by Misery, Horn had gotten all too used to Mandragora’s malice and snark, with their little agreement only to cooperate until they dealt with their mutual enemies - so that it would be one of them to kill the other. But the sheer panic and fear in her voice now… this was different.
“No, NO!” Mandragora scrambled away, back against the wall, as her eyes darted erratically.
“Hey, it’s me-”
“Stay back!” A piece of rubble flew past Horn’s head, sending her stumbling a few feet back. Why was Mandragora so scared? Hadn’t they both agreed to a truce?
No. That wasn’t it.
Carefully, making slow movements, Horn drew an emergency flare from her jacket, gingerly lighting it and rolling it a couple of feet forward, lighting the space in a gentle, red light.
Stepping back some more, until there was fifteen feet between them, Horn sat down.
“See? There’s space around us. We’re okay.”
Mandragora, able to see around her now, began to slowly calm down, her breath slowing as she closed her eyes. Horn sighed in relief as she kept an eye on the Feline, still staying back.
“...you don’t have to pity me.”
“I’m not.”
“Hmph,” Mandragora didn't bother to grant the Lupo a look, instead keeping an eye on her hands. Horn, for her part, watched the red lights dance across the steel and rebar around them as her mind slowly wandered.
…tap. Tap. Tap tap tap tap-
“Can you stop?” Mandragora snapped, as Horn momentarily stopped her tapping against the metal floor - though she didn’t respond to the jab, still idly staring at the lights.
…
“Oi,” Horn turned this time, raising a brow. “What’s going on.”
“What do you-”
“You’re staring at those lights like you’ve been put into some fucking trance. Clearly, there’s something else going on, or did you finally knock a screw loose on the way down?”
“And why are you concerned?”
Mandragora hissed back. “You forget our deal with that bump, too? End of this all, one of us takes the other out,” Mandragora retreated a little, sighing. “That chance is keeping me sane right now. So… I don’t want anything happening to you in the meantime.”
Horn was silent for a moment. Then, she just about stifled a chuckle, knowing that was the closest thing she’d get to concern from Mandragora.
“I guess… this is the first moment I’ve had time to think in a long while,” Mandragora said nothing. No snide remark, no jab. Permitting her to continue. “Although, that’s my own fault, really. I’ve been… trying to avoid a situation like this.”
“...that being?”
“The quiet. Being… alone with my thoughts. There’s so much that’s happened over the last year, and if I stop to think about it for a moment, I… worry it’ll be too much.”
Why was Horn telling her this now? Mandragora contemplated it for a moment before shaking the thought away. She was the only one here, after all. There couldn’t be much more reason.
“Months of resistance, barely a night's sleep, trying to keep my men alive and hoping day by day. Capture, losing my men in Hillock,” Mandragora froze momentarily, expecting a jab at her. Yet Horn didn’t pause. “But through it all… I kept driving myself to finish what my men helped start in Hillock, ensuring I did my duty to them, saw the mission through. Yet, ever since ending up in Londinium, all I’ve felt when I stopped to think is. Doubt.”
“Eh?”
“Well, we’re fighting our own men,” Horn sighed, scratching at her neck. “Sure, plenty of them are just the Sarkaz. But there’s still Victorians there, serving in command, fighting on the frontlines. At the end of the day… it’s our own men we’re fighting, too. And it was Victorians who invited the Sarkaz in the first place. We only went into Hillock in the first place because of a shipment stolen by our own men for a vendetta, so…” Horn sighed, pinching her nose. Mandragora just rolled her eyes.
“Pretty sure you’re just seeing the truth of your rotten country now.”
“And you? Did you get Dublinn right the first time?” That made Mandragora flinch, and she went to retort… but could only let out a tired sigh, slumping back against the wall. Leaving the two back in that same, distant silence again.
…
“What about the people?”
“Huh?”
“You said it yourself, right? Nobles let the Sarkaz in; soldiers bent their knees to them. But what about the common folk?”
Horn thought for a moment. The common folk. Some had conformed sure, yet… Eartha had been the greatest resistance to the Sarkaz so far. So many people from different walks of life trying to save their homes. Even those not part of the resistance had still resisted in their own ways, from hiding resistance members to selling bits and bobs for cheap. Doing what they could…
“...and what about your people?”
“My people?”
“Well, you’re not Victorian, are you?” Mandragora let out a shocked chuckle.
“You know saying that could get your head lopped off, right?”
“Whoever wants to is welcome to try.” That earned a proper laugh.
“Well… I don’t want what that Draco’s building to be what Tara ends up with. After so long under the heel of Victoria, for her to sucker up to thieves and collaborators who sold our country out in the first place… we deserve better than that,” Mandragora growled, clutching her arms. “And once I’m out of this godforsaken city with her head on a pike, I can make sure of it.”
“I see. So that’s your plan, huh?” Horn smiled warmly. “Only if you take me out, that is.”
“As if that’s an if.”
…
“Ah, the flare’s going out,” Horn stepped up, walking over to the sputtering flare and chucking it to the side as she lit a new one, going to set it down.
“So what’s your plan?”
“Mine?” Horn looked up from the flare as she set it down.
“Yeah. Seeing as you think you’ve got a shot at me, you must have a plan, right?”
“A plan,” Horn sat down at the flare and crossed her arms, kicking the flare a couple of feet forward. Mandragora either didn’t notice how she was closer now or didn’t care enough to comment.
“I want to watch football.”
“...you’re shitting me.”
“Huh?”
“Football? That’s bloody it?”
“No, no,” Horn laughed. “I’ll probably end up trying to make sure things go in the right direction here after all the trouble the nobility have already caused. Maybe head back home when things have stabilised, try to get my father to finally get involved. But… I’d like to watch football. A proper league.”
Mandragora hummed thoughtfully at her response. “I guess there hasn’t been one in a while, huh?”
“Not since the coup, no.”
“Mad… you support anyone?”
“The Gunners.”
“What, Dial Square?”
“Yeah, them. What, do you support Totten?”
“You think I’d support a Victorian team?” Mandragora scoffed. “Phoneix Lodge.”
“Hmm, fair,” Horn nodded, before cursing. “Bloody flare’s going out already.”
“You’re probably doing it wrong. Here,” Mandragora scooted over, snatching the new flare from Horn’s hands and kicking away the old one. Lifting a pebble, she struck the flare to light it, setting it down, sitting down there and there. “There you go. Aren’t you meant to be trained for this kinda crap?”
“Hah, hah.”
Silence fell between them again - less painful than the last two, as both looked up at the ceiling. They’d been talking for so long, that neither had noticed the sound of fighting stop… or the sound of digging start.
“You think that’s our lot coming for us?”
“Our lot?” Horn raised a brow at Mandragora.
“Shut up. Whilst we’re working together, it’s ours. Soon enough, it'll be yours again.”
Horn rolled her eyes. “Well, hopefully. It’s that or the Sarkaz.”
“So we might have to bust our way outta here, huh?”
“We might.”
“Good,” Mandragora stretched, tapping the ground. “I could use the exercise after all this twaddling.”
“Agreed.”
So, the pair waited. Five feet apart.