After things had gotten bad, Artie had left 1919 and the RS.
She needed some time alone, away from all the drama. But without these places, she had no home. And so she decided to take up a new refuge- this time in a monastery.
There, for many months, Artie worked to calm her nerves, and the raging war within herself. Days spent on long walks, or sitting by a babbling brook and meditating, or practicing tai chi. She took up sparring again, this time with a new master. Something she hadn't done for years now. She found the practice exhilarating. Being able to be taught, and to listen. To use her hands, and her mind, and her whole body in the exercises. To use the staff and the sword again- for something other than the intent to kill. The daily chore regimen was even a relief, and she spent hours happily scrubbing the stone tiles in silence.
But not everything was happy. She missed 1919 and the RS. The smell of the grass, and the fountain, and the trees. She missed her friends and family. Their faces, their voices, their smiles, their jokes, their hugs. And she missed her Captain. She missed his shouting, and his pacing, and the way he stressed words at random when he talked. She missed trying to reason with him, and making jokes at his expense, and his utter cluelessness towards them. And the way he always smelled of coffee at all hours of the day.
It was time she began home again.
She needed some time alone, away from all the drama. But without these places, she had no home. And so she decided to take up a new refuge- this time in a monastery.
There, for many months, Artie worked to calm her nerves, and the raging war within herself. Days spent on long walks, or sitting by a babbling brook and meditating, or practicing tai chi. She took up sparring again, this time with a new master. Something she hadn't done for years now. She found the practice exhilarating. Being able to be taught, and to listen. To use her hands, and her mind, and her whole body in the exercises. To use the staff and the sword again- for something other than the intent to kill. The daily chore regimen was even a relief, and she spent hours happily scrubbing the stone tiles in silence.
But not everything was happy. She missed 1919 and the RS. The smell of the grass, and the fountain, and the trees. She missed her friends and family. Their faces, their voices, their smiles, their jokes, their hugs. And she missed her Captain. She missed his shouting, and his pacing, and the way he stressed words at random when he talked. She missed trying to reason with him, and making jokes at his expense, and his utter cluelessness towards them. And the way he always smelled of coffee at all hours of the day.
It was time she began home again.
