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As a sceadu soldier in a human army, she had the unique perspective to be both partial and impartial to both the races. To be fair, she'd joined the human army only to gain tactical access to the areas where humans would find civilian presence to be odd. Then again the sceadu were not civilians to begin with, they were not even human despite their similar external and internal appearance. This little part of their physiological similarity made it easy to blend in among humans, who with their limited senses, limited knowledge and limited intelligence could never differentiate between their own and the sceadu.
Being a sceadu soldier was entirely different from being a human soldier. Humans fought in small bursts, a skirmish here, a blast there, but didn't always leave damage in a lasting way, not the way sceadu did. The sceadu with their Gifts, or Abilities could single handedly cause more damage than an IED could in a few seconds. The sceadu could literally tear, bend, twist and turn space and time itself given enough power or preparation. The wars of the sceadu could not be seen or felt by the humans directly, but indirectly it affected them much worse than it did the sceadu.
Because the sceadu were ancient, almost older than time itself and aged so very slowly, that the traditons they had and their laws changed very little with time. The sceadu had ancient laws for combat, laws for war, laws for peace, laws for vengeance. But the worst of all was that all the factions of the sceadu race that fought, claimed to fight in the name of Our Goddess, the Ancient One. Though unlike human gods, She lived, She has not come to stay in our presence for more than tens and hundreds of millenia. Atleast not in any way that is conspicous to all the sceadu. The Ancient One is ever so sad, all the shrines and Temples that throve with her blessings, are now ghost houses haunted by the spectres of Her once freely given love, Her lovingly given blessings. Even so all her warring children have become blind to that, blind to even the reason they wage wars.
Bound by Her own rules, the Goddess cannot interfere in the wars of her children directly. But unable to bear the senseless killing of her children by each other, She decreed one law above all, that no war, not battle, no war should ever last more than ten years at a stretch and that between each war there should be gap of atleast 27 years. This law that was upheld since its decree, was broken when the last war started, a full 12 years early. Just as she, Joyce had just turned seven when the war had begun in earnest.
Not that wars were easy or anything but, the brutality shocked her when she joined the frontlines at sixteen. To her young inexperienced eyes it seemed to be senseless cruelty to involve humans, even those who had no part in their war. Just because some sceadu factions thought humans to be their pawns. Their world of shadows that humans were ignorant of caused them endless harm and pain. That feeling of terror that humans occasionally experience, that odd nightmare they have for no reason is triggered by their subconscious of subconscious minds, trying fruitlessly to warn them of the monsters lurking around and amongst them.
There were things that she would do anything or give anything to forget. Things that brought new meaning to the word horrifying, the stuff of her worst nightmares come to vivid and excrutiatingly detailed life. Things that if she couldn't forget, then she wished to erase from the memories of time itself. These hideous memories that ate at her heart from within itself. Feeding a grief and rage so deep and boundless that she shivered just thinking of it. The feeling of being helpless, of being incapable of helping herself let alone anyone else.
And something worse than that was the fact that she had perpetated more than her share of these unspeakably horrifying things, things that stained saiwala an unclean black grey, and which would remain so for all her life getting buried further and further; staining and rotting her saiwala from within its core, till everything became rotten and broken. Worthless to all, including herself. It was so so so unclean, dirty. No amount of Purging would help, no amount of penance would unstain her dirtied and rotten core. The rotten core that carried her self hatred and the love for Banríona, for tír lay entwined with the newer, growing parts of saiwala, corrupting it slowly like an infected wound slowly poisons the body. The war, both human and sceadu that had left her saiwala, her soul so ravaged and broken, that she had almost given up on life, but for the duty she never let herself forget.
Nestled between, around, inside, outside, below, above, surrounding that rotten core was the connection that flared brightly, so very brightly between her and Sherlock. It brought back her to life, that depleting core starting to Pulse with life again, very slowly shedding that black-grey sludge off to show the cleaner parts of her saiwala, not that he ever understood that. For someone so observant, he was also somewhat blind, for which she was thankful. She shuddered thinking of the day she shot that cabbie to save his life, he had no idea how close he had come to being erased from existence. She had known then that trouble was brewing, and Sherlock somehow would be in the centre of it, as always. Then what little hope had she of leaving him alone, when his existence could be erased.
Not only did Sherlock help purge her saiwala, her sister Harriet did help too. Theirs was bond forged from blood, sweat, tears and love. The mutual love of their viszály, the love for their clan, for their parents brought them closer, no matter their personal differences. Her sister had her beacon when she was at war, as she was Harriet's beacon when she came home after both had done their duty in the war.
Now here she was, on the brink of war again, both in her professional and personal life.
Terrifying, didn't even come close to describing it. Both humans and sceadu were in danger, and she didn't know what to do. A Comhairle Cogadh was about to be set up and she was clueless as to how to explain the situation to the Strămoşi. The situation that was partly of their making, with the Goddess angry, they couln't even hope for her blessings. The situation was dire.
If this wasn't enough, Sherlock seemed close to figuring out these things about her. She didn't know if this meant she had gotten careless or that his ability was becoming better. She didn't know which scenario she preferred. But for now she breathed deep and prepared herself for the enslaught of the demanding, unreasonable and scared Strămoşi. Tucking away all her emotions and weaknesses beneath the many layers of shields of her saiwala, she walked in head held high. Time to face the men and women of the Comhairle Cogadh. Time for war had come and she along with her fellow sceadu dhaoine would be ready to fight.