Norse Gods and Body Art... (Open)

[Durant, M.]

1341 Hours, April 1, 2543 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \
Dragon Tattoo Parlor, Shopping District, Saint Rose, Reach,
Epsilon Eridani System

Durant's eyes were fixed on the plastic covering of his new tattoo. Beneath it was the insignia of the Marine Corps, emblazoned on his chest in fresh obsidian ink. He smiled. The artist had done an excellent job on the details, from the feathers on the eagle to the font of the sigil, drawing the tattoo exactly the way he had wanted it.

He winced as he shifted, the skin beneath the body art still raw from the needle that had etched hot ink across his bare breast. It was a sensation he was quickly growing accustomed to, as this was his third tattoo in a month. The first had taken longer, and, had been far more painful. Covering his right arm from wrist-to-shoulder was a mural of the Norse god Oden. It cost him over seven hundred credits to get the job done, and roughly four sessions; but, it was well worth it.

The final tattoo of note in his spree of body art was that of his homeworld, tattooed along his forearm, and had only taken roughly an hour to do. The picture was surprisingly detailed, much to his liking. His tattoo artist, Ludwig, seemed to be extremely talented. Though he wondered why the man had not yet volunteered to serve in the military (what with the war going on), he was glad that, at the very least, the man was around to make awesome artwork upon the canvas of the human form.

"That'll be three hundred credits," Ludwig stated plainly, his voice laced with a thick German accent.

Michael nodded and reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. "I'm making you rich, aren't I," he asked jokingly.

Ludwig nodded. "I'm rolling in the credits."

The Lieutenant chuckled as he forked out the money for the tattoo, and tossed in a little extra as a tip for having done such a great job. Ludwig smiled and accepted the cash, setting the tip aside in a jar. "Have a great day, sir."

With that, Michael stowed his wallet in his pocket, grabbed his shirt, and pulled it over his head. Once that was done, he made a beeline for the door. As he stepped outside the parlor, he decided that it would be prudent to personally thank the Company Commander for recommending the place to him. So far he was satisfied with their work.

And that made all the difference in the world when it came to tattoos.

[Faust, M.]

"Durant? Lieutenant Durant!" Faust called out, sounding equal parts surprised and delighted to of bummed into her LT whilst enjoying some desperately needed down time. It would of been hard to tell from a casual glance at the Corporal that she was in the military. She wore civilian clothing, blue jeans with black trainers with a white shirt, the top button undone. Her blonde hair had grown down till it was just past her shoulders, not as long as she preferred but getting there. In her left hand she carried a shopping bag. She smiled at him as she walked over, half tempted to salute him. "Getting another tattoo? Or are you thinking about it?" She asked with a glance at the tattoo parlor. The Corporal had been thinking of getting another one herself yet nothing appealed to her just yet. Michelle had pretty much dropped off of the grid the moment furlough had been announced. She longed for some time to relax and a bit of privacy. That's why she got herself a room at a rather fancy hotel. Or at least to Michelle's eyes it was fancy.

She had been on good behaviour since no one needed to get her out of any MP cells this time. Faust in fact had not seen much of anyone from the company or the platoon since she'd left the base. It felt good to see a familiar face, she'd bumped into Wilkas a few days ago whilst at a restaurant, which was funny because her unexpected appearance almost scared the RTO to death. She knew she possessed a reputation, but beneath all the tough, dangerous and deadly exterior, she was quite nice. Though still tough, dangerous and deadly. In a way it felt strangely odd to be able to let her hair down so much. Perhaps, maybe that was why she wanted to have some time to herself. Time where she could relax somewhat, without needing to follow orders or give commands of her own. Plus a king size bed all to one's self happened to be a delightful thing to sleep in, especially with a deluxe memory foam mattress and soft feather pillows. Michelle did not know how she could go back to sleeping in a cryotube or even a bunk again. Faust decided to not check her account to see how much she had spent on paying a full month at her hotel. It was not going to be cheap. Something she had accepted shortly after seeing the overly lavish and fancy bathroom. Still, having hot water everyday, a long and private bath. These were luxuries she could easily get used to, though she doubted they would be something she might get to enjoy for as long as might wish to. 

"How are you finding your furlough?" She inquired, hoping the LT might be enjoying it as much as she was. In a way Michelle did not want it to end, but sooner or later they must return to the fight. The war would not win itself, especially without Oscar Company. No amount of alien horrors could ever even dream of defeating Oscar Company. 

[Durant, M.]

No sooner had the Norseman started on his way to his car did he run into a familiar face.

Well, semi-familiar.

"Durant," a voice with a thick German accent called from behind him. "Lieutenant Durant!" Michael recognized the voice as soon as he heard it, though he was surprised by the elation in Corporal Faust's tone. Rarely was the fiery Aryan known for her chipper disposition, and to see anything but anger and discontent in her was an odd sight to see.

She also was hard to recognize out of uniform. It seemed the woman had seized the opportunity what with a month's leave to let her hair down and be a normal member of human society. The transformation was particularly staggering for him, though he imagined he didn't exactly stick out either.

Since the beginning of leave, Mike had stopped shaving and cutting his hair. This resulted in him growing quite the stubble along his jawline, and longer than regulation hair. Though, the latter part wasn't that difficult to accomplish. Marine Corps grooming regulations for males were particularly strict. Anything outside of two inches on top of the head was a mortal sin punishable by a mandatory visit to the local barber.

"Morning, Corporal," the Lieutenant greeted, smiling at the much shorter woman. By comparison to him, Faust may as well have been a dwarf. "My leave's been well so far. Though, I must say I cannot wait for all this to be over. The gods put me here to do battle and command troops. I don't care too much for garrison life."

In truth, he'd been going crazy the moment the battalion had rotated back to Reach. Garrison life for any Marine was exceptionally terrible, but it was especially so for infantry officers. His job mostly consisted of leading PT, doing paperwork, and planning out training regimens to keep his Marines combat-ready. Unfortunately, though, the nature of the beast was that he rarely had the opportunity to actually lead any of the field exercises.

That privilege generally fell upon his platoon sergeant. Since Sabre's death, Staff Sergeant Mason had assumed the billet as his second-in-command and enlisted liaison. The man had done an exceptional job of keeping the Marines in line while basebound, and led the majority of the training events in the Company's training evolution. About the only time Durant actually took the helm was during Company FTXs, where all three platoons came together to complete a simulated mission.

In contrast to his utter distaste for the "planet-side" Marine Corps, Lieutenant Hernandez seemed all too happy with how things had to be. The more he worked with Third Platoon's commander, the more and more he believed the man should have chosen another profession. He was a paperwork machine, and seemed at his best when dealing with problems from behind the safety and solitude of a desk.

Though, to his credit, his performance as a combat leader of Marines had seen marginal improvement. Though, Durant wondered how much of that was actually Hernandez, as the real man behind the platoon had been his sergeant last deployment.

"I trust your leave has been pleasant thus far?" he asked the woman, mostly out of obligation than genuine interest. As it was, most non-combat related subjects interested him little. There was a war going on, and he felt that all they were doing was wasting time. There were better, more productive uses of their time, and more essential places for them to be than in the rear with all the gear.

Reach was far away from the war, and Durant longed to be where the fighting was.

[Faust, M.]

 She nodded in agreement with him, pleased to hear that his leave had been going well. "I agree sir, the war is not going to win itself without us hey?" Faust was itching to get back into the fight. She didn't share Durant's religious beliefs, but she respected him greatly. He happened to be one of the few officers she had served under that she actually liked. Hell, she admired him. "With you leading us Sir, this war will be over by no time." If Michelle ever possessed any doubts over humanity's eventual victory against the alien menace, she never showed it. At least to her eyes, he cleaned up pretty nice, not that it really mattered to her what he looked like. "Yes sir, I've been at a hotel. It's really nice." She said the word nice as if Michelle happened to be uncertain of it. It was fancier than she used to. Yet, she felt as though she could get used to it. It was kind of the last place anyone would expect to find her. It was not exactly her usual way to blow off steam, that normally came in the form of boxing. But she had to admit, the change was a nice one. She doubted she would be able to afford to stay there a second time for a long time to come. It was not what one would exactly call cheap. 

For a few seconds Faust looked uncomfortable before inquiring. "If you are free sir, would you like to grab some coffee? I know a great place a short walk from here." She meant it as a friendly gesture. This was a side of Faust that few in the platoon or indeed the whole company saw, the smiling, surprisingly calm and not shouting Faust. There was also something that she felt like she needed to get off of her chest, and Durant was one of the handful of people she trusted enough to talk about it with. Barely a handful of officers made it into the small list of people that Michelle trusted, most of the people on that list were from Oscar Company and in her platoon and fireteam. Yet it was not a subject Faust felt like raising with anyone of them either. She knew all too well what the company was like for gossip and chatter. The last thing she wished for was for this news to be passed around. It would be insulting, it was private after all. Nothing to do with the rest of them. She needed to get it off of her chest, to clear the air as some would say. Besides, it would be nice to have a cup of coffee with a friend, even if said friend happened to be her own commanding officer. 

[Durant, M.]

Durant considered his plans for the day in response to Faust's offer for coffee. Aside from stopping by a local gym and grabbing a bite to eat before returning to the hotel he was staying in, his slate was clean. Unless something happened that required him to return to the base, he had all day to do those things.

After a moment, he nodded with a smile. "Very well, Corporal," he said. "A cup of Joe sounds outstanding."

The sudden shift in her appearance and demeanor since the beginning of their final leave was still a hard pill to swallow for Durant, and it made him reasonably curious as to whether or not her general attitude around base and on deployment was some kind of cleverly crafted ruse to purposefully intimidate those around her. Not that he hadn't seen another side of her before. Michael recalled the evening that she had come to him for advice after the bridge debacle from FROST DRAGON.

Even still, that side of her had still carried a lot of anger with it, to which she was especially known for. This side of her on the other hand was a total one-eighty degree corkscrew turn, and Durant found it rather staggering. Were it not for the fact that he was familiar with everyone under his command to at least a marginal degree, he likely would not have recognized her. Her features were the same, relatively speaking, but the way upon which she carried herself was not.

Mentally shrugging, he decided it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Corporal Faust had suddenly turned over a new leaf over the course of their furlough, he would accept it and give himself time to acclimatize to it. However, if it was temporary, and she returned to the same stoic ball of raging hate, anger and discontent... well, at least things would be normal, and there'd be no need for any adjustment.

Michael gestured for Faust to lead the way, as he had not the faintest clue where the coffee shop was, and gods knew he had no intention of getting lost in a place like Saint Rose. Everyone in the city would have a good laugh over it at his expense. After all, lost lieutenants were a dime a dozen, apparently.

"So how'd you come about this coffee shop, Corporal?" he asked in the spirit of small talk.

[Faust, M.]

 Faust felt herself smile when Durant accepted her offering of a cup of coffee. For some reason she thought that he might refuse, declining the offer. "You'll love it sir." The corporal insisted, hoping that her words might yet prove true. At his gesture she led the way. It made a distinct change to leading the way under whilst on deployment. No one shooting at her, no one shooting at Durant or any others in the platoon or indeed the company. She might manage to get use to it, though she probably would find it boring in the end. It was a short walk, they passed a couple of shops, one which she briefly slowed her pace to study the shop's windows. There were a couple of board games, the kind of things which her younger brother collected and played. She shook her head, a slight frown crossing her features at the thought of her younger sibling. She glanced at Durant, before voicing her reply. "I came across it the other day after I visited..." There was a short pause. "A couple of shops." Faust said without giving away too much detail. 

They turned a corner and came across the coffee shop, 'BIG JOE'S HOUSE OF JOE.' The shop did not look overly busy, but it was flamboyantly decorated, fake marble columns with ivy curled up around them stood by the windows. She opened the door, leading the way inside for Durant. There was a large rich oak counter to her right, with all the devices required to make all manner of coffees and teas, windows showed fancy cakes, biscuits, tiny but overly filled sandwiches... It looked like the least expected place in which Faust might be caught dead in. The floor was black marble, the air played a strange mixture of classical music and some German rock.  The walls were pine wood, but all but obscured by all manner of decorations, paintings, pictures of famous people, a unit of marines, a UNSC flag, a few fake heads of dangerous alien predators. Michelle stopped and glanced over at Durant, suddenly feeling self conscious. "Isn't it great?" She declared, trying to sound encouraging. "The coffee here is the best I have ever tasted." She insisted. There were a few other people in shop, a couple who glanced in their direction before returning to their drinks or whatever they were doing previously. 

She headed to the counter, aiming to place an order. The server looked up from his work, he was an older, large gentleman, portly. He smiled broadly seeing Michelle. "Hey!" He greeted her warmly. "Welcome back Michelle! You've brought a friend hey?" There was a teasing glimmer in his eyes. Much to her surprise, Faust's cheeks turned red. It was not like that. "Hey Marvin. Yeah, he is here for the coffee. A friend from work." The gentleman nodded seeming to understand, he smiled at Durant. "It's okay. I'm Marvin, so what can I get you...?" He trailed off as he paused to hold a seemingly giant hand out for Durant to shake. "Always a pleasure to meet another marine." He had been a former one, or at least that was what he told Michelle. 

[Durant, M.]

When the portly fellow approached the pair as they made their way into the coffee shop proper, Durant quietly sized him up. While large, he looked to be strong -- built like an ox, moreso -- and carried himself with a smile and distinguishable pride. His gait was unmistakeable; rigid, yet somehow relaxed, as he put one foot in front of the other, marching to a cadence no one but himself could hear.

For those whom knew what to look for, spotting a veteran of the military was as easy as spotting a bird in the sky. Despite outward appearances, which would throw off an untrained individual, Durant picked up the sibtle clues that pegged the man as a former serviceman. If there was one thing the Lieutenant was adeptly familiar with, it was warriors like himself; to include those whom hid in plain sight.

The man -- Marvin, according to Faust -- offered his hand to the Lieutenant. Mike reciprocated the gesture and gave his hand a firm shake as he looked the man in the eyes. "First Lieutenant Durant, Oscar 1/12."

It was a rather formal introduction despite the informality of the setting, but it wasn't something the Lieutenant could exactly help. He was a Marine, and had the professional demeanor drilled into his head by the parade of officers and drill instructors that had molded him into the present-day warrior he had become. He was proud of his station as a platoon commander, and even more proud to be a part of Oscar Company.

The Fighting Irishman was perhaps the best role model a warfighter could ask for. It was an honor and a privilege to serve under him, and he'd vowed to never let the man down. No one else in the battalion garnered as much of his respect and admiration as Captain Flannigan, and he hoped to someday be in his shoes as a company commander.

Returning to the situation at hand, Durant smiled at Marvin politely. "I'll take a cup of coffee," he said, likely sounding very plain. He wasn't exactly a cocoa efficienado, and was ignorant to the many varieties of coffee that existed in the galaxy. "Black, no sugar, please."

After the man was through taking their orders and had marched off to make them their drinks, Durant turned his attention to the Aryan woman that so many in the platoon feared. "How are you liking your new billet as assistant squad leader? I hope your new fire team isn't giving you any trouble."

He was mainly referring to Lance Corporal Furby, a Marine whom had garnered himself a reputation as an incessant whiner and general pain-in-the-ass. How Davis had put up with such a motley crew was beyond him. After he'd been promoted and handed off to another unit, Faust had been moved to First Team and bumped up in terms of her billet. The first team leader of every squad shouldered the weight of additional responsibilities, and as she was the senior-most team leader in First Squad, Faust became the recipient of that greater responsibility.

So far he'd heard good things from Sergeant Stone, whom was the most vocal NCO he'd ever met. The man possessed no qualms with telling the blunt and honest truth, no matter what his audience was. There had been some scuttlebutt in the past that he'd even barged into Flannigan's office on a handful of occasions, seemingly on the war path. Michael wasn't quite certain he believed those rumors, but if there was one thing he'd learned about Thomas Jeremiah Stone, it was that he was full of surprises.

[Faust, M.]

Faust was quiet, unusual for her or at the very least out of character for her. After a few heartbeats she seemed to recover her voice. "It's okay sir, no they aren't." Michelle would never of allowed such a thing to occur. Truth was, the vocal corporal happened to not be enjoying the extra responsibility. Even though the rest of the company did not know it besides Durant, Faust possessed her own private doubts about her abilities as a leader. Her father had been an excellent officer, Michelle an NCO. "I don't think anyone in the company is crazy enough to try and give me trouble." She couldn't help but chuckle at the idea. The blonde marine glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure there was no one from Oscar besides them present before looking at Durant, her eyes serious. "My brother is joining up." She said abruptly, Faust shook her head. "I... I don't think it is a good idea." Michelle spent most of her school years having to protect him, or rather protecting him because rage got the better of her when she saw someone take a swing at him. She found much to her surprise that the words came out easily. Michelle imagined it would of been difficult for her to discuss it, to bring up the topic with him. She wanted to hear Durant's advice, for his opinion on it. In a way, Michelle kinda wished he could stopped her brother from joining. Yet, deep down she knew there was no way to stop it.

"I guess I'm simply worried about him. He is my little brother after all and..." She sighed, shaking her head slowly and sadly. "It's something that's been bothering me though." Marvin reappeared with their drinks, Durant's black coffee and for Michelle her usual, a coffee with a shot of ginger syrup. She sipped the coffee and watched as he headed off to clean part of the shop. "You would not of thought we were siblings, he's... Quiet, shy, not... Not a fighter." Michelle eventually managed to say. "He shouldn't be a marine." She was dancing around the point, Michelle did not wish for him to fight, did not want to lose her brother, for him to get hurt or worse... Killed. Yet she found the words refused to come, she had yet to admit that. Even to herself. She did not mind opening up to Durant, something that she would never of done to any other officers she served with. They would never of believed it even if she told them in person. 

[Durant, M.]

Michael indulged himself in a sip of coffee as he listened to the real reason Corporal Faust had asked him to accompany her. He quietly scrutinized her as she spoke of her brother, describing him as her polar opposite. Where she was loud and brash, he was quiet and shy.

The crux of the issue came to light at the tail end of her efemeral spiel. Faust did not believe her brother was Marine material. He considered her words for a moment, indulging in another sip of the steaming hot drink in the meantime. As per usual, he needed to tread carefully. This was, after all, a subject that hit close to home for the woman.

"You say your brother isn't warrior material," he began, his tone almost matter-of-fact. "Who are you trying to convince? Your brother or yourself?"

He waited a moment to gauge her reaction before continuing. "Before I joined the Marine Corps, some would have remarked that I was not suitable material for the Marine Corps. My place was at the head of a multi-million credit corporation, not on a far-off battlefield commanding troops into glorious battle."

That was the truth. Few people that had been in his life had approved of his decision to follow the warrior path, and many said that he would wash out by the end of the first week of Officer Candidate School. His parents had been the most vocal objectors to the future he had laid out for himself. They wanted him to take over the family business, or do something else worthy of the Durant name.

The military was not an option for his family. It was beneath them. That is why they had disowned him when he'd finally signed his contract and shipped out to OCS. They wanted nothing to do with their son and his misguided ideals.

"I understand he is your brother, and you care for him, Corporal," Durant continued, keeping his eyes locked upon hers, "but it is clear to me he had heard the warrior call. If he feels the urge to answer the call, who are you to deny him the right of every man to partake in glorious battle? To fight the good fight?"

He held up his hand. "You say he is quiet and shy, and use this as justification as to why you believe him not to be a fighter. Perhaps, he has never had a cause worth fighting for? You must always be weary of the quiet ones, for they are the people that are most dangerous when faced with adversity. Oden has called upon your brother to serve, and Oden would not call upon him if he did not believe him to be worthy. The gods, Corporal, smile upon him."

[Faust, M.]

She frowned in disapproval at his first reply, but this was Durant, an officer she liked and a man she would follow into the depths of hell itself if he but asked her. Faust decided instead to let him continue and finish. Michelle looked completely stunned when he told her the manner of his birth. A multi-million corp? Yet he chose to be a marine? Admittedly an officer, but still a marine? Michelle sipped her drink when he finished. "I just... I just don't want him to get killed." He's not like me, or our father. A thinker rather than a fighter. She hated how Durant happened to of raised many good points, points which any argument she might manage to cobble together swiftly floundered against it. "I... Thank you Sir, I... I didn't bring you here to talk about that. I... It just came out. Been eating at me since I found out." She admitted quietly to him. Faust felt a bit better about the whole affair, thought it did not mean that Michelle needed to like it.  She despised how it was out of her hands however, maybe her brother would be a good marine, but... It felt as though a secure and innocent part of her life was falling apart, dragged into the mire of war. 

"I can't say I hold much faith in the gods Sir, but I'm glad you're my LT." She smirked at him. "Also don't tell my ex CO that..." Faust's opinion of her previous LT before she joined Oscar was less than polite and couldn't be said without excessive use of curse words. In short, they had not gotten on. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, talking if somewhat briefly and accidentally to Durant about her brother's recruitment. She sipped her drink again, seemingly lost in thought. 

[Durant, M.]

Durant scrutinized the woman before him as he sipped on his coffee. Faust found herself in a tricky spot. Her brother wanted to be a Marine, and being the older sister, that caused her to worry for him. While Durant understood the concept on principle, he was unable to relate to it.

Beyond the fact that he had no siblings to speak of, he also viewed the warrior profession as an honorable path to follow. The fact that Faust had a differing opinion on the matter only served to baffle him, and clearly that had not been her intention. She had hoped to find sympathy for her stance, clearly, and instead had found the opposite. However, she did seem to give his advice sincere consideration, much to his surprise.

He raised good points. The decision was her brother's to make. If he decided to go through with it and enlist, there was nothing she could do to stop it. No matter how badly she'd want to.

"I understand you're concerned for his safety," Durant said. He took another sip from the mug. "It's natural to worry for the one's you love. However, you cannot assume he will be killed if he joins, nor can you use that as an excuse to not support him. If he answers the warrior's call, the best you can do for him is be supportive. Life is hard enough without feeling like you're going it alone."

The table fell silent then for a moment. When Faust broke it, it was to thank him for his advice. Michael regarded her with a warm smile. Part of the reason he'd taken the leap to become an officer was for moments like these. Sure, he enjoyed leading Marines into battle, but mentoring them was just as important. If his platoon was to remain effective in the field, he had to make sure there was nothing keeping them distracted back home.

Distractions led to mistakes, and mistakes led to casualties.

That morbid thought aside, Michael chuckled at Faust. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Corporal," he replied with a smirk. "And rest assured your secret is safe with me."

Most people thought of Faust as nothing more than a hothead. It was moments like these that made Durant realized there was much more to a person than their outward appearances. Faust put on a good show, portraying herself as the perpetually angry and terrifying NCO. She'd almost managed to convince him that was all there was to her.

But over time he was able to see her for what she truly was. Aside from Mason and Sergeant Stone, there was no other Marine he would rather have at his side than Faust. She knew what needed to be done and made damn sure that it did, even if it meant occasionally breaking her foot off in someone's ass. That kind of attitude was exactly what he wanted to see from his NCOs.

"Word is we're in for another lengthy deployment," Durant said suddenly, setting his mug down in front of him after having taken a particularly large sip from it. "It'll be my first full deployment, as you know. I'm both looking forward to it, and apprehensive."