Re-Ignite (Open to All)

Another washed up business in Karanes. Despite being a part of Wall Rose, it stunk of cheap alcohol and was filled with ancient wooden tables that were chipped from use and warped from the humidity. It wasn’t a popular bar, and the food could have been better, but to an off duty scout it was a good way of saving money. René sat, slumped over at one of the tables. His eyes were half closed, not due to being drunk, but rather out of exhaustion. There was a buzz within the military and he didn’t know what it was about, but it couldn’t be good whatever it was. He was getting tired of the same old same old in the Survey Corps. He wanted some change, something new to look forward to. It wasn’t as if he was ungrateful for shelter and a job, but he really had no place in society where he could make a difference.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really gone on many missions and the Survey Corps had been awfully quiet with missions so he’d done his own personal research on things he cared about. He didn’t regret choosing the Survey Corps though, the MPs sat around barely doing anything and the Garrison was a bunch of drunkards that didn’t want to monitor the gates. He was trying to give his services to a noble cause. He snorted, rather disappointed in himself. Why was he even trying anymore? How was killing titans noble? Was he even making a difference?

In his bored state, he wasn’t sure of what to do exactly so he pulled out his sketchbook and flipped through the meager drawings that he started doing when he was a recruit. Some were scribbled out in embarrassment and others were proudly labeled. Still others were messy sketches that looked like frantic lines to anybody except the artist. His calloused hands flipped to a blank page. He could put anything on there he wanted to, even lies if that was what he desired. Pulling out the stump of charcoal he kept in his pocket (miraculously it wasn’t broken) he placed the point of it to the page and started sketching the titan he remembered seeing from the desert. It was different from the other titans he’d seen outside the walls. Possibly because it was in the desert. The guide had mentioned that titans there got supercharged by the sun. Did that affect the way they moved?

He started by drawing the basic form of the grotesque thing, making sure to include it’s teeth in detail. As he recalled, the titan had messy gray hair and a beard. Odd, but then again it was a titan so the possibilities were virtually endless.

Engrossed in his drawing, he didn’t notice who entered the bar next, but he sure would have been glad to see them despite not knowing them for long. The barkeep looked up from cleaning used mugs. Several of the glass ones already hung from pegs nailed into the ceiling. Seeing that it was nobody of interest or trouble, the barkeep went back to his usual business of keeping the business running smoothly. Pouring drinks for patrons, putting orders for food into the kitchen, managing tips and payment. It was a dull job but at least it provided income and kept the roof from leaking. Nobody wanted to come to a business that was rundown like that. Currently he was working on fixing the sign to the establishment as it was dirty and worn down. Newcomers to Karanes could barely read the letters on the board that spelled out “White Hare Burrow.” Most of the regulars thought that the name was too fancy for the place, but burrow certainly suited the bar. The lighting wasn’t good and some of the windows had been boarded up due to break ins. If not for people short on coin the place would have surely closed down by now. The section of Wall Rose wasn’t blooming.

In general Cora's days started the same. Wake up before the sun came up and work till she dropped in bed early in the night. Or late and then swear at herself in the morning. Atleast, that's how they had been, in the recent times it all had been a bit roughed up. Her usual schedule thrown around, and not just by the traveling. No, mostly by the fact she was simply fighting against herself and whatever problems she had more than against whatever other people had ordered her to fight against. Or protect. She had somehow still managed to do whatever she had to do in Karnes. Meet with one or the other potential employer of her bodyguards and do some vague stuff for the military. Escort, etc. Nothing special.

And so, like most days in the past, rather rough months Cora did do everything but what she had done before she had ended up caught in a cellar or before Auth had just died on her. More or less in her arms. So instead of standing up early and starting with maybe a few pushups, situps, training in general, she now got up way too late and started her day with any sort of alcohol she could find. Not all days, but most. Days like these she did not drink in the morning because she after all had to meet with a client. Before she had been that poster girl for the standard of what the military was aspiring to be. Disciplined, hard working, polite (most of the time, or atleast she was always sure she was). All round what anyone had wanted her to be. Now? Now on the other hand she was the exact opposite. She was more or less the typical distressed mercenary you could find anywhere hiding in a gutter in Krolva. Cora lived more or less purely of alcohol at this point, and so far it had worked. If you would ask her when her last proper meal had been she probably would not have been able to tell you.

Still, the alcohol worked most of the time, after all it kept her well intoxicated and as far away from reality as possible. Which was all that she wanted to at this moment. She did not want to face the horrors that waited for her. Alan's death, the cellar, Auth's death. It was easily summarized but Cora could not cope with either of the three. She had been in a dark period after Alan had died, but it was one thing and she eventually had managed to push it so far behind in her mind that she could go on with her day. The cellar? The cellar however? No. That was not something that was easily buried. She tried to! She had tried to, and for some time she had been quite well, for the circumstances of course. But then Auth's death had jsut catalyzed everything. Great. Why did that moron have to die on her? Even after all what Renn had said, with it not being her fault...she still did not fully believe him.

And thus, after a hard day of having to face reality and quite frankly now being more or less an alcoholic, Cora had ventured into the next bar she could find and ordered whatever they had had on hand. She was already shaking and sweating slightly, not even talking about the massive headache she had or the feeling of constant sickness. What was that? Annoying, that's what it was. Heavily annoying.
As she was waiting for her drink she spotted a rather familiar redhead sitting on one of the tables. He was scribbling something. Cora tilted her head, making sure it was actually him and leaned back, crossing her arms.
The bartender brought her the drink, and she nodded towards him as a silent thanks before walking over to Rene.

Cora put the mug in front of Rene. Even though 'put' was nicely said, she more or less slammed it onto the table. Unintentionally.
"Oops.", she said and let herself fall down onto the bench opposite towards Rene, "Good day to you, Mister Artist.", she joked and turned the book slightly so she could have a look at it. She sighed and mumbled something that resembled 'titans'.
Cora smiled at him awkwardly and emptied the mug within mere seconds.
"How have you been, Rene?", she asked, still having a rather awkward smile on her face.

Rac had been kicked from his last job a couple days ago. Currently, he had found a new one for a different bar owner. Of course, the new one didn't know the reason he was kicked out was because his manner of getting an unruly customer out involved almost killing the man and breaking down more of the bar than an entire brawl. Rac hadn't deemed to inform him, although it wasn't malevolence at work. No, he simply didn't think it mattered for anything, since he actually had no idea why he was kicked out at all.

He was however used to being kicked out. He just assumed that's what people did, kept you for a job for like a month at most then kick you out. Perfectly normal, right?


Right now, he was sitting in a corner of the bar, at a small table close to the door, without any drink in front of him. He never drank, it made people evil. If it were after his wishes, people should stop drinking altogether, but if so many people liked drinking... maybe it was good. Who was he to tell them otherwise, right? Just do it peacefully! Like that nice red headed fellow sitting and drawing! Why couldn't all customers be that nice!

"I ponder, portrayeth the scarlet-felled wight what?"

This had been a comment to himself. Likely, he thought he said it silently and softly. In truth, given the relative silence of the bar, probably over half of it heard. Undoubtedly (and unfortunately) Rene among those.
Better yet, he said it precisely at the same time as Cora in all her tall blond alcoholic once-impressiveness entered. She simply walked past, either not hearing, not wanting to hear, or just ignoring it, but Rac was determined. Or, rather, he wasn't, but couldn't help not commenting further. All to 'himself', of course.

"Proffers a mien of apparent malaise, this one. She ought to swill diminished aggregates of potations."

Once again, half the bar, including Rene and Cora, almost surely heard him. Rac, on the other hand, was firmly convinced he had been low-key and unnoticed. He also proceeded to stare at the two, being curious about them, especially about the woman's scars and wounds. His gaze did not look like one of curiosity, however; instead, it was much, much closer to one of murderous intent.

Meanwhile, Rac was pleased with his discreetness.

Now, he was busy 'turning ideas', as much as he was capable of doing that, speculating as to where she got those, why such a slender lady would look in such a bad shape, and about how she had to change her lifestyle, since it obviously made her very sick! The thought she might be drinking to escape from a reality was escaping Rac, fittingly enough. After all, he never drank, and thus had no knowledge drink could do something like that. Not that he'd need it, either. He was perfectly fine, a bastion of stability, after all!

And all perfectly sane!

A drink being slammed down in front of him broke René’s concentration. “Oops.” As he looked up to see who it was, he noticed a little bit of the alcohol in the mug dribble over the edge, and a person who he had not seen in a while fell into the seat opposite his. “Good day to you, Mister Artist,” and her hand slid across the table to look at what he was drawing. Normally, René would have stopped anybody from looking in his sketchbook. It was personal stuff that was in there. He was too surprised by seeing her though. Her hair was shorter now though, and she had a twisting scar that ran across her mouth. The right hand that was on his notebook was missing the pinky finger and the left hand clasped around the mug handle was missing the ring and pinky finger. Yet despite how ragged Cora Wolf looked, she wore an awkward smile. In the quiet of his disbelief, she chugged the alcohol in seconds. And then the awkward smile was back, preluded by a question, “How have you been René?”  “Cora! I didn’t think I would run into you here! It’s been ages!” He decided to not bring up her appearance. It was obvious something had happened and he didn’t know if she was sensitive about talking about it. Maybe just her hair?? He should at least answer her questions.

“I’ve been fairly good. As good as it can get here. I’ve been on a few more missions for the Survey Corps, and a few of my own. I found my cousin after so long. I didn’t even know she was still alive…” He shifted his hand so it was supporting his chin, the elbow propped up on the table. He’d decided to stay out of scout uniform and go with plain brown slacks and a pale green button down shirt, his trusty reading glasses hung around his neck. His normal boots that he wore for . He didn’t have enough for a quality pair of boots. Looking at Cora now… he was curious, but he didn’t want to press the issue. “What about you? You’ve changed a bit since we first met.”  He’d leave the change open ended, maybe she would give him an answer he expected, maybe not.

There was something that was bothering René. There was a man speaking in riddles in the corner of the room. And he obviously had his eyes trained on the two of them. Since getting back from the desert, the red head had kept the dagger close, especially considering how Gabriel had fallen asleep. If he was ever put in danger he wouldn’t have somebody to protect him. The man sitting in the corner was of an imposing size, he was much taller than the scout when sitting, and his was double the width of the lanky soldier. And like Cora, he had a gruesome scar lining his face. The only laughable feature that René would never ever mention in public was the bald top that crowned the man’s head. It glinted in the low lit bar, and if not for that René would have dragged Cora out of the bar with him and found another location to talk to her. The man was staring at them, and although René tried hard to not notice the stare, he could feel it boring into his back.  

Around the bar, the noise level was a dull roar. People were avoiding the man who sat in the corner. Most of the patrons were keeping to themselves, nursing their alcohol here and there. A couple of the younger drinkers were passed out, faced pressed to the wood, drinks spilled here and there. René felt sorry for the poor barmaids that had to clean the mess up. Personally he liked alcohol, but he knew his limits, and since he was preparing himself to stay up late talking he wasn’t going to drink anything tonight. Maybe just order a bite to eat.

While Rene was talking Cora quickly scanned the bar. There were only few that could be a possible threat to her and upon further inspection most for sure weren't. Apart from maybe that rather loud (and apparently oblivous to his own annoyance) dude sitting somewhere in the corner. He was talking something about potatoes. Or...Cora did not even want to decipher his speach. The way he was talking and behaving made Cora thoroughly ignore is existance, atleast that's how it seemed. She did watch him closely, but not by looking at him directly, but by using one or the other reflection in one of the other patrons' glasses, windows or simply how everyone else around him behaved.

Cora tilted her head as Rene mentioned his cousin, "Oh?", she just said while he continued talking about her, how he had not believed she was still alive and such. He eventually asked about her.
Cora leaned back in her bench and put her arms on the backrest of it.
"You have a cousin?", she scoffed, "Funny, I am not sure if my sisters are still alive either.", she scratched her head, "Anyhow. Life's had its ups and downs since we last met.", she wrinkled her forehead, trying to remember Alan's funeral, "The last time we met was at Alan's funeral, right?", it was a rethorical question she did not really expect any answer, "Anyhow. Got in a bit of trouble.", she vaguely pointed at her own face, "I was locked up in some pervert's cellar for...a good while", her voice had gotten way less cheerful than it had been before, "And Auth died.", she smiled weakly before clapping her hands together, "ANYWAY!", she said loudly but not nearly as loud as the weird guy in the corner had merely talked before.
"Let's not talk about me. Or that. Or any of my problems to be exact. I have enough trouble keeping those in check.", Cora grabbed the next alcoholic beverage from one of the waitresse's and payed her.
She drank it completly and happily stared at the empty mug in her hand for a short while, "So. You? Tell me. Why did you draw that titan specifically?", she gave him the best smile she could put on at this moment.

Cora enjoyed the burning sensation that trickled down her throat of whatever she had just consumed. The alcohol slowly filled her stomach and her blood. It was not as much but atleast her soaring headache slowly faded. It also felt like her heart rate had dropped a bit. After all alcohol was still a neurotoxin, slowed down more or less all the processes of the nervous system and thus when consuming it in large amounts over prelonged periods of time the body adjusted to it and just simply worked harder than it was normally to make up for it. And now, given that Cora had not had anything the whole day, or more or less the past 10 hours it showed signs of withdrawal. And neither of those were pleasant for her. Cora held out one of her hands and watched it tremble, but with each second longer that she just stared at it she could see it become better. It might not be visible to a bystander but for someone that had this much control over her body and knew it as well as Cora, it was obvious. Given that she had made it a habit of not drinking when on a proper business trip, she was now also more or less used to seeing how not drinking affected her. It started easily, a headache, then her hands started trembling. Possible nausea. If she had to put the bottle down, so to speak, for longer than a day, perhaps half a day the amount of halluzinations, both visual and auditory would increase. Unlike her usual ones that mostly included Alan and or various amounts of corpses those were capable of frightening her. Not by being especially gruesome, no simply by what they were saying. Destroying any piece of moral Cora had left.
She put the hand down again and took the mug, inspecting it as if she was trying to distract herself from something.

Rac kept staring intently at Cora, completely unaware of the effect this had on either her or Rene. In fact, Rac wasn't even realizing he shouldn't be staring, let alone realize he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was. She seemed both surprisingly happy about things and surprisingly sad. The sadness must've been due to the alcohol - or at least that's what Rac's brain thought to be the main reason.

As she started drinking, he shook his head and returned to his earlier posture watching towards the door. No movement, utter boredom. After what felt like ages to Rac - and like slightly over a minute to anyone else - he quickly turned his attention back to the odd woman in the bar. He finally noticed her missing fingers, and that raised even more questions. What an interesting person!

"Riveting, riveting. Cogitate I, howbeit, whence cam'st the abattoir-stigmata ubiquitous on her yet-quick corse?"

Obviously, as before, he was sure he was being a lot more subtle than he was. The barkeep was rolling his eyes, but at the same time, Rac was a huge amount of muscle hired for an insanely small pay, so putting up with something like this was a good deal to him. Eventually, Rac couldn't hold his curiosity still and simply stood up and paced rather heavily towards Cora. The barkeep had had bouncers sometimes need their fun, or some accounts fixed, and this would be an acceptable thing so long as he wasn't going to go overboard. Rac, he was sure he was moving softly and peacefully. Any other normal onlooker would bet serious money he was about to murder Cora and/or Rene, or worse. As such, in a few quick pairs of thuds he was over at their table.

Completely uninvited. Perfectly rude. Entirely oblivious to either of the previous.

Instead, he voiced curiosity.

"Why are thou third-adactylous? And why the gallimaufry of thy somatic existence?"

No notice of being sorry for intruding. No mention of a name, or question of one. Nope, all of those bits and pieces of normal human conversation thrown out the window. Obviously, the patrons around the table had shifted to further away, expecting Rac to become truly violent really soon.The fact he was well within Cora's intimate space was also not very helpful. Meanwhile, the man himself was nurturing childlike curiosity and had not even the slightest intention to harm anyone. But only he knew that.

"Are the libations the vindication? Why not imbibe in mere scintillas?"

Questions, questions. Most to remain unanswered, most likely, judging by the fact it was unlikely they'll ever be understood at all. If Cora even deemed to take the time and listen, that is, and not decide offense is the best defense. Not that Rac even considered her getting aggressive even a possibility. He was simply making friendly chatter, after all! Wasn't he?

Why did people always get mad at him for being nice to them? Did people not like friends? Maybe that's why everyone was so stuck up these days!

People were afraid of having friends! Good thing he was there to teach them friends are good, and help them out of their bad ways!


Like that nice fellow he helped with his drinking problem a few days back!


Obviously, Rac was forgetting the fact that man was currently in a hospital, with a broken spine. Yes, he'd likely never walk into a bar ever again, but that was more due to being unable to walk ever again than about the intentions being gone. Adding to the injury, he wasn't even particularly drunk; he simply didn't stand Rac's antics, and had tried stabbing him with a knife. It backfired, although in all honesty who could blame the poor man. Who would want someone talk fancy riddles to you while you were simply out in a bar for a drink and relaxation?

Cora snorted at the mention of his cousin, and he was annoyed only for a second until she continued. “Funny I am not sure if my sisters are still alive either.” René was surprised to hear that she had family. She’d always struck him as a lone wolf person, never having any relatives of any kind. Her disfigured hand went up to her scalp to scratch and her lips parted. “Anyhow. Life’s had its ups and downs since we last met. Alan’s funeral right?” He nodded solemnly, it was a pity, but he’d forgotten about Alan’s death in the panic of the desert. Cora continued, clearly wanting to move past this. “Anyhow. Got in a bit of trouble.” She gestured to her own face. At the mention of being locked in a cellar, his eyes widened. Clearly Cora had experienced a fair share of experiences since they’d last seen each other. Her voice had grown smaller as she stated this fact. “Auth died.” Auth… vi Rauco?  He couldn’t quite recall the name but if he remembered correctly this was the man who had bribed him into doing a job for him.

The sound of the air splitting jolted him out of his continuous thoughts. It seemed that as many endless thoughts that René had, Cora had much more to say. “Let’s not talk about me. Or that. Or any of my problems to be exact. I have enough trouble keeping those in check.” And as if to prove her method of keeping things under control, she snatched a mug of ale, tossed coin at the waitress and drowned it within the course of a couple minutes. She tapped the table, redirecting the conversation yet again. René couldn’t keep up with how fast she was going. “So. You? Tell me. Why did you draw that titan specifically?” He smiled, actually pleased to talk about his passion, rarely anyone was curious enough to ask. “This is actually a titan from the desert.” He pointed to the sun he’d defined in the corner of the paper. “Apparently they’re super-charged by the sun, like normal titans are but even more so! If I recall, the guide said they’d get faster in the day. There were two other people on the trip with me.” He tapped the pencil against his chin thoughtfully. That expedition had been a while ago, but not long enough ago to forget.  “The first guy was a two-bit bodyguard named Gabriel that couldn’t even keep watch and the other guy didn’t really give me an explanation of his job. His name is Mikael though.” He smiled, remembering the guide’s banter. “This titan actually almost killed us.”  Perhaps that sentence was worded with too much excitement. Oh well.  “Gabriel fell asleep and this titan was coming our direction at dawn and the guide ripped him a new one.” He placed the pencil down. “It was the first time I felt in danger when I  wasn’t doing my job.” Before he could continue his wonderful (wonderful?) conversation with Cora, the floor began to shake in evenly spaced thuds.

And there was the creepy man who had been sitting in the corner, talking to everyone in the bar, looming over the two of them. Instinctively, René shrank back. Up close and personal, this guy looked like he could kill you without even trying. Shit. Instead of trying to pick a fight like the scout had thought he would, he offered a question instead, improperly avoiding an introduction or reason that he was there. “Are the libations the vindication? WHy not imbibe in mere scintillas?”     HUH??   What was this guy talking about? Frantically, mouth hanging open in a rude ‘O,’ he combed his brain over for every single bit of language he knew. Nothing came to mind. Before he could think of anything else to say, he blurted out a bold “Who are you?” to the man towering before them. He was quite scared to meet the man’s gaze, which was full of bloodlust. The one time they met eye contact, he averted his gaze like a scared wolf pup would do when meeting the Alpha’s eyes. He was clearly outclassed here and he was no idea what to do. Looking over to Cora, he hoped she would have a better idea of what to do.

Cora did her best to pay attention to what Rene was saying. He talked about being in the desert, supercharged titans and a man named Mikael. Funny. She also knew someone named that way. Well, maybe it was just a common name? She wondered what he would say to her now, seeing her so different to how she was before she met him. Thinking about it, it was not even that different. Her problems had simply multiplied. Rather easy to grasp, just the outcome was a bit hard to handle for some. What about Mitsuo? How would he react? She could not even imagine it. He would probably burst out in tears, unable to understand why someone would do something like that to her, and that was with just seeing the way she looked, without even knowing the details. And if Cora could decide about it, she did not want him to know the details either. He would...it would destroy his world, and she did not want to be the cause of that.

The large man that had been residing in the corner and seemed to be a bit mentally challenged suddenly walked towards them and started speaking in riddles. Or simply a different language? He had stopped talking about potatoes and was now...talking about. What. Food? It sounded like food. Maybe Cora was just hungry but she had not a single idea about what he could be talking in the slightest. So she just stared at the man in disbelief, unsure how to react. His whole appereance was intimidating to most, but the way he spoke and was now looking at her made Cora unsure what he wanted. Vex just wanted to take a glass and smash it on top of his head while Cora did not agree to that. If he had wanted to hurt her, he would have already. He had clearly asked a question, atleast that was what Nec was saying. After all his tone of voice was indicating that.
Nec took over, while Cora was still more or less baffled and confused.

He lifted his hands up a bit looking at them, he had asked about the fingers missing. That was about as much as he had understood right now.
Nec looked at the man and lifted his hands up a bit more so the newcomer could have a better look at them, "Torture.", he simply said, raspy voice as always, as if he had just inhaled alot of smoke. Nec was still trying to decipher the rest of what the man had said.
"Could you rephrase the rest of what you have said?", he ended up asking him. Nec was curious as he had never really heard anyone speaking like that, so he did not want to miss the opportunity by Vex suddenly taking a glass and turning it into little pieces by shattering it on top of his head or nose.

As Rac waited for the answer, he noted the stunned look on Rene's face. He smiled at it softly, thinking it was because of his impressive demeanor and in general a compliment. Problem was, his 'soft smile' looked a hell of a lot like a murderer grin. It had the tendency to make things complicated. But then, the man asked a  very blunt question, and it equally bluntly made Rac realize the wrong of his ways!

"Oh! Myriad amends and woe to myself!" He had, after all, forgotten all about manners! The obvious sarcasm of his words was only obvious to others, since he hadn't intended anything of the like. Not even when he did a short, highly improper and mockingly-looking bow. "Sirrac Intyale va Dimvorn, by cognomen Rac. A rapture to acquaint you!"

Still smiling, but this time to himself, he was proud of having remembered to properly tell people his name. Now he only needed theirs, but since the interesting woman started talking, the thought flew instantly from his head. Especially since it was a man's harsh voice coming from her. Rac's eyes widened in awe at that, but quickly got the simple, one-word answer.

Inspecting the missing fingers slightly, Rac felt heavy similarity to the... woman?... in front of him. He tapped on the scar on his cheek, giving what he thought to be an equally simple answer.

"Congruent radix."

Then, the question to rephrase. Well. Admittedly, it was a question he was asked often; probably not as often as one might think (after all, few people gathered the guts to say it to his face), but still common enough that he recalled it. He also recalled most people who asked that to become aggressive, and instinct had stiffened his muscles as if to pounce. While he didn't realize it in the least, it wasn't a subtle change, and one that didn't look defensive in nature, either.

"Nugatory in this juncture." Short pause, as he realized it wasn't this particular context it'd be useless. "Evermore, Sisyphean. Or so supervenes from hitherto colloquies and kindred trysts."

There, she (...she?) now held the explanation. The fact it was even possible that she (...she?) wouldn't understand this one either didn't even cross Rac's mind. After all, he couldn't even tell their manner of speaking was different, let alone realize how, why or other such trivialities. He was too busy flipping around in his mind questions such as who would ever hurt a lady in torture, and why people did torture anyway. He's been through it, and he couldn't remember it having done very much.

Useless little thing, given he was exactly the same after it as before, minus the weird marks on his body called 'scars'. Apparently, people didn't like them much, because they looked away when they noticed them. Rac always wondered why. It's not like getting them was too hard; just a few days back, someone stabbed his arm with a knife, and now there was a scar. People panicked back then too, when he was walking around with the blade in his arm, since apparently doing so is against social norms or something. Why else would people mind such a thing?

The lady (...lady?) in front might know!

But people didn't like it when he talked of knives and blades. Maybe that wasn't okay either. He had to make her (...her?) a friend! Then he could ask things that aren't okay normally! That's why people had friends after all, so you could ask and learn everything in the world! Now, time to make a plan on how to become friends, since apparently being friendly never helped with it.

Odd, that.

Why did people not like it when he was friendly?

Cora’s voice was gruff, and it… it didn’t sound like Cora’s usual tone. René didn’t like the way the situation was developing, the man who had introduced himself as Sirrac Intyale va Dimvorn (what a mouthful!) had insisted they call him Rac, which was much easier to say. Rac was a rather odd fellow, his words were far more complex than what René could recall off the top of his head. You’d think you might need dictionary or other great source of words to communicate with Rac. He caught bits and pieces of the conversation here and there, but it seemed as though the heavily built Rac was ignoring him for the time being, his focus on Cora instead.  

Rac was… more or less unnerving to be around, his eyes seemed to bore into everything he looked at and his face shifted between a sneer and a murderous toothy grin. Although Cora’s voice had changed, so had something else about her. He couldn’t quite place it. Maybe he should ask her about it when this confrontation ended. He was unsure of how to handle Rac, or how to even talk to him. The man seemed to either enjoy talking in riddles, or he had just learned that way. None of it made much sense though, if he was educated, then why would he choose to keep talking in riddles. Did he and Cora know each other? No… that also didn’t make much sense. He wouldn’t have introduced himself to her.

The other patrons in the bar, including the bartender were glancing over at their booth, perhaps to make sure the two of them were okay and weren’t getting murdered. The tension in the dingey establishment was thick, and it filled the whole room. Something Rac had said stuck out to René though… “rapture to acquaint you..” he muttered quietly enough only the sharpest of ears could have heard him. The low buzz of people talking to each other cloaked the tavern and hid everyone’s conversations except for Rac’s robust voice. René glanced up at the mountain of the man in front of him. Was it possible that this man wasn’t picking a fight and instead wanted to be friends? Well. He could be murdered either way so it was worth a shot. “Nice to meet you Rac. Why don’t you sit down?” He slid over in the booth to make room for Rac, who looked at him while he spoke. God his gaze chilled him, it almost reminded him of the guide’s gaze.  

He was careful to not introduce himself in turn. He wasn’t entirely sure what Rac was capable of, and if his imposing size was a hint to his occupation, which was most likely dangerous, he was definitely at a disadvantage here. “So um… Rac how’d you discover the ‘White Hare Burrow?’” He thought that was a safe option of talk, and he did his best to use the best vocabulary he knew. Did he do it in order to understand Rac? Possibly. He waited for the man’s response.

Oh. How marvelous. That odd fellow in front of them talked in even more riddles after Nec asked NICELY to clarify what he had said. Apparently even though is speech was eloquent and less understandable to Cora than someone trying to talk to her with half a steak in her mouth his general IQ seemed to be on the same level as the room's temperature. And once Nec had realized that his interest in the huge bulky something in front of him dropped as fast as the amount of respect Rene would still have for them once he would find out about their drinking problem.

The man continued to say one or two more sentences and the only thing that Nec managed to catch was something about 'Syphilis'.
"No. Torture. Not...sexually transmitted diseases.", he gulped down another glass of alcohol he had fished from another waitress' tray. Cora was surprised at Nec even considering drinking, but did not comment on it. Esspecially as it was a rather bad one, it tasted like whatever soup they had wiped off the tables after a long night.
"We did not catch Syphilis.", he laughed coldly and Cora took back over, their facial expression changed from utter boredom to a plain depressed one as the thougts about the cellar came up in her mind again. She doubted she would be able to forget those horrors anytime soon.
And just as Cora was about to send away the hulky something (because she really could not stand someone around her right now that had more muscle in his pinky finger than brain in his skull) Rene asked it to sit down. Marvelous. Great. Brilliant. Life just seemed to be great these days. Weeks. Months.

Atleast Rene also took it on him to also keep a 'conversation' with whatever abomination escaped some mad scientist's cellar. Cora did not have the nerve to think about that right now. She just stared at her hand, it had mostly stopped trembling now that her vessels were more filled with alcohol and her body's cravings were slowly satisfied. She still felt as horrible as before, cold sweat running down her temples and a general feeling of sickness.

Cora leaned back and put her feet on the table, scanning the bar again. However, her feet did not stay on the table for long, as she suddenly took them down and hastily grabbed one of the bigger mugs that she had drunken out before. Cora emptied her just filled stomach into the mug and grunted unhappily.
She spat the rest of whatever she had just expelled from her inner organs into it and stared at it for a short while.
Cora placed it back onto the table and put her feet up again as if nothing happened. She crossed her arms and just stared into a random direction.

As Nec misunderstood Rac and more or less pointed it out, Rac merely got confused at it. Syphilis? Who had syphilis? Did the woman have it? She said no, but given he didn't say anything of Syphilis and neither did anyone else... maybe that's what she was truly sick of! That made sense! Torture never harmed anyone too badly, after all, and she looked completely worn out! She was ill, but because of the illness she was just too shy to tell!

As she insisted, Rac was more and more certain. Poor girl didn't like admitting her situation, and that's why she just insisted on the torture. She probably had been, looking at the scars, but not all that badly. After all, Rac had just as many scars and his torture wasn't all that interesting. The fingers probably fell off because of the illness.

Or wait, was it another illness that did that? Poor her! She had not one, but two different ones! Rac shook his head at her, in what he thought was a polite sign of empathy and affection, and looked like complete disapproval of whatever she said.

"Forlorn you are. You ought to descry a physic doyen, and anon."

Rene talked next, and Rac's attention darted to the redhead. He was interesting too, after all! An artist in a bar, peculiar to the extreme!

Rac was overjoyed as Rene said it was nice to meet him! One of the polite ones! They were always almost friendly, and sometimes they had even offered him jobs, like the one he was having now. It was pretty good in his opinion, guard this bar for the whole day, then get a free place to sleep and free food. The fact most people would also get a salary was over Rac's head.

And talking about job... as Rene invited him to sit, Rac realized the fact he was in fact supposed to be working. And he was slacking off! That wasn't acceptable! No, sir!

"Palliate mine contumelious intention, but I am in inquietude that I sine qua non resurge to mine weardian employ." He gave another of his 'smiles', another highly inappropriate 'bow', and turned to leave.

On his turning motion, Cora performed her puking stunt, and Rac was simply struck dumbfounded. That was not good! It was manner-less! Unladylike! In sheer bad taste! Nobody should ever do the like of that! Why did people drink so goddamn much?! The world would be better off without it!

"Halt thy vituperated, execrated wassail!" His voice was full of disappointment. Well, not quite. Truth was, it sounded as if he was truly mad and angry at her. In a way, that was true, but his actual emotion towards it was much more akin to feeling bad for her.

In a quick movement, he took the puke-filled mug from the table, marched with heavy steps to the bar, and slammed it down in front of the barkeep. Surprisingly little of the contents were spilled in this endeavor, especially given the slam had found a weakspot in the wood and literally made a bend in the thing, scaring every single customer that was still there, and leaving the barkeep speechless.

They were all wondering what on earth had there been between this woman and Rac before, since clearly they couldn't have just met. Nobody would get this worked up over someone they just met.

With that, Rac marched wordlessly back to his chair, collapsed into it (which threatened to break that one, too, but in an act of supreme willpower, the chair held true), and gloomily resumed his initial staring at things. He was doing an... interesting job at his job.

One the one hand, nobody would've dared even think about trying something. On the other, a good few people didn't like being around the brute at all, and quickly escorted their asses out of the tavern at the first occasion.

René was still urked about Rac. Luckily the scary bear of a man had declined his offer of a seat. He was able to decipher Rac’s reasoning as being that he had a job currently and he wasn’t supposed to be slacking. The man had bowed before he’d left the table. Odd, but certainly not a rude gesture like he’d expected from the man. There were so many ways that conversation could have gone wrong.

Just as he thought that he and Cora were in the clear, he whirled back around after hearing Cora retch into her mug again. René’s heart was thudding again, loud in his eardrums. He couldn’t even understand what Rac said, as his booming voice echoed around them and motivated René to squash himself as far as he could get from Rac. His shoulderblades were rammed uncomfortably into the wooden booth’s sides as Rac whisked the mug away, thundering over to the bar to slam the mug down in front of the barkeep, who jumped at the ruckus Rac was making.

By now everyone in the bar was watching the ordeal, and René wanted to become invisible and hide. Those closer to the bar, like René and Cora were, could see that the wood around the bar’s counter had warped where the mug had been slammed down. René’s eyes were wide with panic, and it was silent in the bar. Then the dutiful Rac returned back to the corner where he was previously and he dropped heavily into the chair, which buckled, but held true.

Several customers quickly left the business, casting wary glances back at Rac, perhaps afraid the brute was going to confront them next. René on the other hand, shifted out of his corner, his eyes still wide. Cora looked somewhat indifferent, her boots placed up on the tabletop and her face was neutral. Maybe this was a good time to take her away from this place, or maybe ask her about that gruff voice he’d heard earlier. He cast a shifty glance over to Rac, who was now minding his own business. “Cora… you don’t really strike me as being okay… I know you said you didn’t want to talk about your problems and whatnot.. But what was that gruff voice earlier? It didn’t exactly sound like yours…” He cut himself off, scared that he was asking a too personal question. Embarrassed about his prying, he averted his eyes down to his notebook, which was still lying open to the world. He flipped it closed, hiding the sketch with the unmarked cover of the journal.  

“And another thing if you are up to questions about you, since honestly I can’t think of anything interesting about myself,” he took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Cora’s eyes. “What exactly do you do for work and all?” He was remembering back to when he had first met her, she hadn’t worn any military insignia, and neither had the people with her. “The only thing I know for sure is that you definitely aren’t military.” He waited quietly, unsure of what Cora’s next move would be. He sure hoped he hadn’t angered her. She’d seemed pissed off, possibly even mad ever since Rac has wandered over and (as far as René had pieced together) questioned her on her the torture she had received.

The hulky man took her refilled mug and brought it back towards the bartender. In a nice and orderly fashion....he also seemed mad at her for doing the bartender's job and filling the mug again after it had been emptied. Whatever they had served her before probably did not taste any different than whatever she had just vomited. Yeay! Perhaps just a bit more acidic....they started wondering about how much you had to dilute it to serve it back to customers...and...they stopped thinking about it because it seemed far too easy. And who knew how gross people could be...she did not want to know what she had drunk in all those shady taverns.
Once the huge man had sat down again, the chair almost breaking under his weight, or his agressive sitting down again, Rene started talking. And asking her the most curious of questions.

Cora stared at Rene in disbelief, her eyes wide open. Possibly looking a bit too aggressive for how she had planned to look.
She blinked a few times before starting to chuckle, "Oh Shit. You don't know!", she laughed and took her feet off the table and her elbows on instead. She clapped her hands together and looked him dead in the eyes.
"Let me tell you a story youngling.", she laughed at her own joke for a bit before sighing quietly, disappointed in herself that she laughed at herself, "I am ex-military. And before I was military. I was ex-mercenary.", she chuckled again, clearly affected by the alcohol, "And now I am back to being Mercenary. I am one of the leaders of a group called 'the pack'. We got a deal with....", she waved her hand around, either indicating she could not remember the name or waving it off as if it was not that important who got her the deal, "the king I suppose? The state?", she made a 'pffffft' sound, "We are an outside branch. They hire us if they are in deep shit. We do not really do garrison work yet, but we do do scout and unicorn work here and there.", she chuckled and stared at Rene intensly, "If you are a good scout, we might even hire you. You get paid better. However you also get...punched more.", she smiled coldly, "Anyway. I got kicked out of the military even though I was a promising soldier because I got a little problem with my head.", she tapped said body part, "I got multiple people up in there and you heard one.", she leaned back, placed her feet back on the table and crossed her arms.
Cora mustered Rene, "I am surprised you did not know that.", she scratched her head, "I guess you were one of the lucky ones for not having to endure my crazyness.", she chuckled quietly and shook her head.
After a short while of letting mustering Rene, and letting him comprehend everything she had just told him she sighed.
"And about your question. No I am not okay. But so far I am surviving.", she chuckled, "Barely. But I am.", she looked up towards Rene again.
"Anyway. Let's not talk about myself. Why did you choose to be military? And why the Scouts? Do you have a secret love or fascination with titans?", Cora was genuinly interested in what he was going to have to say, but she also used it as an excuse to get away from talking about her and possibly getting her into uncomfortable situations. Which mostly meant her realizing what a failure she was.

“Oh Shit. You don't know!" Cora apparently found this hilarious and René watched her curiously. He was about to find out what he didn’t know. They locked eyes, and her intensity scared the younger scout. She was telling him her backstory, and he listened intently to what she was saying. Ex-mercenary, to ex-military, to mercenary again. He’d heard stories of famous mercenaries when he was younger and he knew about their work, though he wasn’t exactly sure if he could do that line of work. He mused over the fact that Cora was a mercenary group leader. “The Pack” huh. It fit her last name very well.

He paused his thinking when Cora said “If you are a good scout, we might even hire you. You get paid better. However you also get… punched more.” That wasn’t much of an issue with René, personally it’d probably be good for him. Cora said that she got kicked out of the military for her multiple personalities. It was surprising that she had multiple personalities, but he wasn’t overwhelmed with shock. She called him lucky for not knowing, which he had to disagree with. Being in the dark sometimes protected you from the ugly truth, but how were you supposed to fix that truth if you didn’t know it?

She’d suddenly stopped talking and he heard a question directed towards himself. “Anyway, let’s not talk about myself. Why did you choose to be military? And why the Scouts? Do you have a secret love or fascination with titans?” She leaned forward, the same curiosity that he’d shown earlier reflected in her eyes.

He took a deep breath, startled to have been even asked a personal question. Usually he was the one with 10 billion unanswered questions and he was never asked about himself. For once he was glad to explain. Smiling slightly, he began his tale. “You know how I talked about my cousin earlier? Well I lived with her when I was younger. I did know my parents before then, but they sent me away. I used to think it was because they hated me, maybe it’s true. I haven’t seen them since I moved in with my cousin in Wall Maria. They could be dead for all I know, for all I care.” He was surprised to hear the lack of empathy in his voice, and how he realised he’d grown since he was practically abandoned by his parents. “My uncle used to drink a lot. He’d get mad and hurt my cousin or me, though it was usually her. There wasn’t really anything I could do. One night it got bad enough that she told me to run, and so I just left. And I ran so much I eventually collapsed. A group of scouts nearby found me and took me and basically I felt like I needed to repay them for their saving me. Then again… I also really had nowhere to go when it came to doing something else.” He paused. “I don’t like titans. I’m convinced my uncle only drank as much as he did because of them. Back then I didn’t know… but he was ex-Garrison. There were roses everywhere in his house. I’m pretty sure he’s seen them up close before.”

He shut his eyes, pondering about his childhood. “To be honest that’s mostly all I remember. It seems like it all happened so long ago….and I’m not really sure how I feel about the scouts. I kind of got taken in by them, and so I’m really good with maintenance and stuff for 3DMG. Not as good as Mitsuo though, but if something is broken I can probably repair it.” René gestured to his notebook, looking back at Cora now, “the drawings… when I made my first kill and witnessed the death of a friend…. I was just so overwhelmed and I didn’t feel like I could continue being a Scout… but just drawing about what I’ve seen and what I do… it lets out stress.” He flipped open the book, leafing through the dozen or two drawings he managed to do. “My cousin taught me to draw so before, when I thought she was dead, it almost kind of a way of remembering her.”

Rene began telling her about his life. How he had been growing up with his cousin instead of his own parents. How his uncle had drunk too much and how he ended up running away. The drinking struck Cora. She saw herself in his uncle, having witnessed events that eventually got the best of him. And her, respectively. She wondered if he ever got out of this horrible life of his. And if she would get out of hers. Great. The plan she had had of not reminding herself what a failure she was had failed, all because Rene had an idiot uncle.

Otherwise...his childhood sounded nice. Mostly because he did not get hurt by his uncle but his cousin did. And even if...Cora stopped herself. While it was true that the pain she had recieved in her childhood had been much more severe, she was still happy about it and would not want to miss it. It made her who she was now after all. It had played an important role. After all. She would only be a thir-a fourth of herself without all that pain. Even though. She really did not want Alan in her head right now. He could have stayed dead.

Cora raised an eyebrow as he mentioned Mitsuo. That was true. What had that fellow been up to lately? She was curious. But on the other hand. She did not want to bother him. He would surely not take it well that she was 1. missing fingers. 2. being a drunkard. 3. Auth being dead.

Rene briefly mentioned 3DMG and then started talking about the drawings. Cora was fascinated with it. Stress? Drawing? Interesting. She used to like drawing. And then everything got fucked up. She sighed loudly, not realizing she had actually done it. She really hated herself lately.

"First things first: We are allowed to use 3DMG, but we use a modified version. Modified by Mitsuo Shimura himself. Secondly: do you know if he is well? THirdly...", she thought about it for a short while, "How...does...just drawing help you with that? The death of your friend? I do not understand. I mean. I drank so much since Auth's death that I do not even remember when it was and it still did not help. How would scribbling a few lines onto paper help you?", she leaned over, inspecting the drawings closely as if she could find some sort of secret destressing and getting over deaths formula in them.
After staring at them for a short while she suddenly moved backwards, "And it helped? You feel like you can be a scout again? A proper one? That like...does everything he has to do.", she chuckled briefly, "Like d-", she stopped herself, continue laughing for a very brief time, "Oh. I am sorry.", Cora continued as if she had not just made an incredibly tasteless joke. She had not really realized she had in fact said anything out loud, "So you are...back to normal again? You have forgotten your friend's death? Or have you stopped caring? Have you pushed it in the back of your mind?", She spewed out the words very quickly after each other and with the same curiousity of someone that had just seen a certain thing for the first time. Cora's eyes were wide open and impatiently waited for him to answer her questions. And in turn solve her issues.

Cora surprised René by going into more detail about “The Pack.” The mercenary group had intrigued him, but he wasn’t all for joining it. It was nice to know that Cora thought of him though. The thought of leaving the military had never occurred to him. There were a lot of things that hadn’t occurred to him. Cora spoke about a modified version of 3DMG that was made by Mitsuo. Huh, it seemed there were still plenty things that he didn’t know about the mechanic. He shook his head when Cora questioned him about Mitsuo. “I haven’t seen him in a while. I’m sure he’d hiding in his workshop tinkering though.

The question about how drawing helped him was the last thing he expected to hear from Cora. She talked about drinking after Auth’s death, and personally, René couldn’t blame her. He knew a lot of people in the Scouts resorted to drinking to forget about the daily horrors they witnessed.

“How would scribbling a few lines onto paper help you?" Cora seemed at a loss as she leaned over and flipped through his drawings. Her brows were knit in concentration. She flopped backwards into the booth seat. “And it helped? You feel like you can be a scout again? A proper one? That like...does everything he has to do. Like d-" Cora cut herself short, but René was sure she’d almost said ‘like dying.’ She laughed and continued questioning him. He’d never thought his duty of being a scout was to go out and die. "So you are...back to normal again? You have forgotten your friend's death? Or have you stopped caring? Have you pushed it in the back of your mind?",

He took a deep breath, realising that Cora was hurting after all that she’d been through. He wanted to be there for her, as a friend. “Drawing… it just allows me to get my emotion out onto paper and then forget about everything else. I’ve always been a Scout… ever since I’ve joined. Those deaths that I witnessed, won’t stop hurting. I’ve accepted that they’re dead, but I still care about them. Them being dead… I will never not care or realise that they’re gone. Losing somebody will always hurt, no if ands or buts about it. That there’s nothing I can do to bring them back. But….. I can still live with how I knew them. I can fight for them and carry on their legacy. And Cora, I didn’t sign up for the Scouts to become titan-fodder. I signed up because I believed I could make a difference. A significant difference. I still believe that, it keeps me going.”  

He looked at her, offering a melancholy smile that he thought would help cheer her up. “Witnessing death is terrible and all, but I like to think that if they could tell us one thing after they died, it would be to tell us to keep going. Nobody likes to see anybody grieve, and that’s not to say that grieving is wrong or anything, but coming to terms with facts… gave me an odd sort of feeling of comfort.”  

“In this world, where death is always lurking around the corner, we almost have no choice but to keep living until it’s time for us to die.”  René grimaced, glaring down at the hardwood table. His hands were folded neatly on top of it, and when a waitress swung by, he flagged her down and ordered a draft of whiskey. The drink was for himself. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with drinking in moderation, but too much of it and bad things happen. It’s never good to rely on any one thing.” By now the glass of whiskey was on the table, and René offered a quick thank you and payment to the waitress before she left. He swirled the amber colored liquid in the short glass before he took a sip. He was waiting to see how Cora would react.

Cora listened carefully to what he had to say. Drawing helped him get out emotions? But was it not better to bury those away deep inside. After all emotions got her where she was now in the first place. If she would have stuck with what she had promised herself after Alan's death. Which was to stay away from others and just stop caring because she was the fault after all of their deaths after all...this would not have happened. THen she still would be fine! Cora completly ignored the torture she had went through in her mind it was not that important. She was good at not thinking about that right now. Atleast that was she told herself. In reality the whole ordeal was what had made her unable to cope with Auth's death after all.
It did surprise her that he said that the deaths won't stop hurting. Another weird way too look at things. Alot of what he was saying did not make much sense to her right now. How could he fight for a dead person. THey were dead. And as he had said before, there was no way to bring them back. She continued just looking at him, confusion written all over her face.
Rene smiled and Cora was still so dumbfounded from before she smiled back. Or tried to. In realiy it probably came out very awkward. But then he actually said something that consoled her a bit: 'keep going'. Mh. Interesting take on it. Maybe that's what Auth would have wanted. But. Did it matter? He was dead. And it was her fault. Just like Alan's death was her fault.

“In this world, where death is always lurking around the corner, we almost have no choice but to keep living until it’s time for us to die.”, Rene ordered himself a drink. Seemingly not as unaffected by all the deaths as he pretended to be. Or maybe she just misunderstood him. It was not like Cora was esspecially good at telling people's emotions unless they were somewhat harmful. Then she could.

Cora leaned back and looked mustered Rene. And his glass. Then back to Rene. She crossed her seven fingers briefly before quickly taking them apart again and scratching her head.
"I don't understand. You are confusing. How.", she stopped trying to formulate the words properly in her head, "Why do you want to get out your emotions? Those just make everything bad. And. Why...why do you care about what...what the dead people would have said? They are dead. They are gone. Nothing to bring it back and all that you are stuck with is the incredible feeling of guilt because it was all your fault in the end. They will never come back.", she scratched her head again, "I do not understand funerals either. It's just a body. Once it's cold and stiff there is nothing that reminds you off them anymore. Just toss it out to the wolves, they would be happy about it.", she stopped again, trying to think of something to make him understand better, "My brother. For example. When they weeded him out because he was too weak. I don't know what they did to the body afterwards? Partially because I was getting beaten. But that does not matter, "She waved her hand around, "He might have as well ended up on our dinner plates. He is dead. Him. The part of him that is somewhere inside his husk...is gone! Why do you care about that?"
Cora put her elbows on the table, "But even without that. Back to...", she sighed loudly, "I- I just don't know.", she crashed her head on the table and looked up to him after one or two seconds of just letting it sit there, "But. You are drinking too. You can't cope with it either. The only difference is that you drink a bit to make your day better and that I drink alot to just forget that there was a day at all."

Cora was worse off than he thought. Her face morphed into confusion before she began to interrogate him. She didn’t understand what he was trying to say, and she called him confusing. Talking about the dead and dying would wreck anybody. Sometimes it was best to ignore it, but it was always going to be a truth.

He began slowly. “Emotions are…. Difficult. True they make things bad, but letting them loose or killing them off completely won’t be the answer. It kind of depends on the situation. Sometimes you have to let your emotions work and other times you have to ignore them and overcome them. Letting them out in my drawings helps me focus on not showing them in my job. I have to make split second decisions, and sometimes emotions cloud what the best option for humanity is.” He paused, lifting the glass to his lips again to down another sip. Really he hadn’t ordered the alcohol as a coping method, he’d ordered it so he could pace himself with answering the bombardment of questions that Cora posed.

“It’s important to remember the dead. You’ve learned from and about them right? Aren’t their lessons still important to you? I think that by not forgetting about them and their teachings, you can keep them with you. They kind of…. Made a foundation of your thinking or morals. They might have taught you something that’s important to you. And unless you directly killed somebody, it’s never your fault you killed them. People make choices all the time, sometimes there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

At the mention of funerals, he put down his glass on the table. “Sure they’re dead and all, but funerals are more for the living than the dead. I always thought of it as a send off for them. We’re there to remember their accomplishments in life and kind of…. Gather together as a community of people who knew them. We can kind of commiserate together about the death and heal.” He shrugged, muttering a quick, “not too sure though, I haven’t really attended many funerals.” At the mention of her brother, he was a little confused and turned off by what was said. “Cora….. I….” He was sort of at a loss for what to say. He wanted to offer his condolences, sure. But he was also sure that it was when Cora was younger, he didn’t know anything about her past and he was sure she didn’t want to tell him. “I care about that because you grew up with him. You still might have learned something from him, and you guys might have been close. I don’t really know. But you had a…. A relationship with him, and you knew him. Wasn’t he important to you? Besides, if he did teach you something or if you were close, what he taught you is still with you!” Cora sighed loudly, and then she slammed her head onto the table, saying a “I- I just don’t know..” René couldn’t help but sympathise with her, but before he could console her she picked her head up and challenged him about his drinking being the reason he was coping.

“Cora, it’s okay to not know all the time. I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. And you’re right. Drinking is… difficult. Why do you want to forget there were days at all? Is it really awful enough to want to forget? What if you forget something important?” He leaned forwards, his eyeglasses swinging against his chest. “I’m not trying to make you relive anything bad, but I’m curious. Why do you want to… or feel a need to.. forget?

Cora did what she had done before, listening to what he had to say, silently critiquing him and then once he was done letting out all her concerns about what he had said. Whether or not it had made sense in her eyes.
She had to make split second decisions as well and that's what made the whole alcohol deal difficult, clouding her mind and slowing down her reaction times. But still, consuming large amounts of alcohol did get her emotions away which were posing far more of a problem for her than the alcohol was.

“It’s important to remember the dead. You’ve learned from and about them right? Aren’t their lessons still important to you? I think that by not forgetting about them and their teachings, you can keep them with you. They kind of…. Made a foundation of your thinking or morals. They might have taught you something that’s important to you. And unless you directly killed somebody, it’s never your fault you killed them. People make choices all the time, sometimes there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

Now this was a surprise to Cora. How was it not her fault? She was the reason both Auth and Alan died. Auth died because he protected her. Or...did he? The night was blury. How...when...when did it change so much? She...she should remember it. He died after all. He had died protecting her. Or. Or did he do that? Shock was written on Cora's face. She could not comprehend the fact that the night was so blury, or that she was slowly forgetting it. Did she even remember how Auth was? What about Alan? No. That was clear. But she did keep Alan with her after all. Very close even. Closer than one might want.

He adressed her directly and unlike before when she was asking him all sorts of personal questions he now returned the favor. Not to Cora's amusement either.

"Why do you want to forget there were days at all? Is it really awful enough to want to forget? What if you forget something important? I’m not trying to make you relive anything bad, but I’m curious. Why do you want to… or feel a need to.. forget?"

Oh no. So many questions! And all of them concerning the fact that she was an utter failure! How would this poor drunk woman deal with something so personal! Would she reply in a joking manner making her seem more okay than she was? Would she try to play it off? Or would she jsut admit to how much of a disgrace she had become? Cora did not know.
You should maybe not talk about yourself in third person. It is weird.
Oh fuck you. I am having fun while trying to think of an answer tha-
We got it. You hate yourself. And you should as well.

Nec more or less forced her to remember the cellar. The images popped up again. The same men, the same actions. It played like a fast forwarded movie in her head. Waking up. The first few hours of fighting, pulling on the strings on the chair. Laughing the pain of the whipslashes off. The smile on their face as they had found a way to torture her better. Her finger getting skinned to the bone. Cut off. The other one. How they had forced it up her throat. The vomiting. The continous vomiting. The third.

She cut herself off, smacking her head on the table violently. A blue mark appeared on her forehead, which would slowly turn bluer and bluer over the course of the conversation.
"It is more pleasant to forget important things than to remember how Auth's death is my fault. Or Alan's. Or-", she stopped and stared at her missing fingers. Cora did not want to talk about it, but it was clear what she meant.
"Apart from that. I got Nec to remind me of the most important things. He is good at that.", while she was praising him now, she also hated him for it. Esspecially after reminding her of those eleven days.
Cora shifted the conversation to something more lively in her opinion, "Oh. Wait. I got something funny to show you.", she giggled in anticipation. It seemed as if she had just made a knife appear out of nowwhere after she had just pulled it out of one of the random folds of her clothing. Cora played around with it for a while, seemingly concentrating on something before making the beginning motion of a throw. Directly aimed towards one of the customers sitting somewhere behind Rene.
It seemed as if her hand was cramping, the knife fell out of her hand and she held onto the table, her nails scratching along the surface, leaving marks behind. Her body cramped together before finally relaxing again and took a very straight posture.
"We are not doing that, Cora. We will not do that.", her body said with Alan's voice. Only minor differences would be heard from someone that had been close to him, "He has done nothing to you."

Nec… so that was what one of her other personalities was called? Interesting. Death was obviously a tough topic for both of them, so René decided he’d stay away from it as much as possible. That and any other personal questions he could dodge. It seemed like Cora was getting more and more sad and agitated about it.  

He was confused about when she mentioned that Nec reminded her of things. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain, which he’d probably caused her some by now. The conversation they were having was loaded with tender subjects and the tension of the conversation was thick. Suddenly, Cora was giggling and talking again. Maybe she had found a new thing to talk about. “Oh. Wait. I got something funny to show you.” René nodded and was prepared to wait for a minute or two while she looked for whatever she had to show him. And then a knife was in her hand, faster than he’d prepared for. She fiddled with it, the low lights of the bar glinting over the metal of the blade, and then the knife was held tight between her fingers, and her arm was extending. The knife was aimed towards him. The point was evily sharp, and he stared at it for a moment before closing his eyes. The breath caught in his throat, and his heart thudded like a titan’s foot-falls. He was fully prepared to let Cora cut him open right there and then, he didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t carry a knife of his own with him, he thought he’d be fine, and he would disarm her, but there was the table and she was a trained assassin so that probably wasn’t the best course of action considering she’d most likely overpower him easily.  

The clatter of the knife on the table shocked him out of his petrified state. He watched in horror as her nails dragged across the table, taking chunks out of it on their way to the edge. He watched her scrunch and contort together before it snapped straighter than the slightly warped table in front of them. And suddenly a very familiar voice came from Cora’s mouth.

“We are not doing that, Cora. We will not do that. He has done nothing to you.”

He leaned forward, searching for words for his emotions that he didn’t know how to express. “A……”  he swallowed back the knot in his throat. “Alan…..?” He tried again, his voice shaky with shock, and perhaps a little bit of worry for Cora. When she said she had voices in her head this wasn’t what he pictured. “How did…? What did this…? Is Cora okay????”  He couldn’t believe what was happening, and confusion ran through his head. “Did you stop her from… from throwing the knife?”

His eyes were wide in anticipation with what Alan? Cora? would say next. He wasn’t really sure who would talk, or if this was all a ruse. How could it be a ruse? How would Cora have learned to replicate Alan’s voice months after his death? Alan was here, that was a definite.  

“How did you get here?”

Alan, or well...Cora's body with Cora's interpretation of what Alan was like looked at Rene, he was getting used to being in charge. Lately he was not much in charge as Cora had not killed anyone or done anything Cora's Alan would disapprove off.
"Rene! It is good to see you! It has been a while!", he said with a cheerful voice, "Cora is fine.", he did not sound as cheerful anymore, knowing that Cora had had the full intention to kill someone right then and there. She knew that if she was just pretending to do it that he would not end up coming out and stopping her, "She is too amused at me stopping her from throwing knives around."
Alan smiled at Rene. Unlike most of Cora's smiles today it was a warm genuine smile, he was happy to see an old friend. Or atleast, that was what Cora's Alan believed. Obviously Cora did not know anything about their relationship and if any question would be asked her Alan would not be able to answer it.

Nec was rather curious how this whole thing would go. After all Alan usually only came out briefly, stopped all of them from what they were doing and then disappeared back into the corner of Cora's mind none of the others really wanted to step into. Esspecially not Vex, Vex and Alan did not get along at all. It was horrible. They were like complete opposites in some ways.

Alan on the other hand was utterly disappointed in Cora. Why was she doing that? She knew very well what he was thinking and had always thought of actions like this. She knew it just too well. She knew how badly it had hurt their relationship as she had ended that man's life in the underground. She vaguely started to remember Alan's anger. How he had not understood her back then. How he had just seen her as a machine with no piece of humanity in her. 'Monster' was how he had called her, and he had not been wrong with it either. She was a monster. She had always been a monster. A man made one, to give her some excuse, she had not always been this way. But she still ended up a monster. That was the reason she had ended up in the cellar after all. 'You will answer to your actions' is what he had said. What Alan had said. And. And she did. She had brought that nightmare onto herself. It had been her fault alone. She deserved all of what had happened to her. Why was she even pitying herself right now? He was right, he had been right.

While Cora was slowly drifting off into the dark corner Alan had emerged from he was still smiling at Rene. Somewhat satisfied with himself to have pushed Cora into the back of her mind. Cora's twisted and toxic version of Alan was happy with seeing his former friend and now host suffer, all out of the right reasons in his mind. Cora's Alan was barely a shadow of what the original one had been. A sick mirror image, only resembling the former friend of Cora's in voice. But she did not realize that. And neither would others if it did not come to the particular subject of what had happened to Cora. Rene had come dangerously close to asking all the wrong questions. 'How did you get here?', it was not okay to ask such a thing. Asking questions about the cellar was wrong. Neither of the four wanted to talk about it.

"How did I get here?", Alan suddenly said, "Cora needed me.", it was vague and hopefully enough to keep Rene from asking about it.
Alan smiled once again, the same warm smile as before, it slowly faded and he looked at Rene as if he was not too sure about who he was, "I-I am sorry, Rene...but...but I do not remember how we met...could you help me?", sadness filled his voice. In Cora's head Rene and Alan had been close, and Alan not remembering how they met and who Rene was to him was devastating to someone that so deeply cared about his friends usually.

Alan’s….. (Cora’s???) smile warmed him from the inside. But at the same time, there was something creepy about it. It put him off, but he didn’t know why. Alan repeated his question. “How did I get here? Cora needed me.” Weird…. Really really weird…….

Alan had never struck René as the sort of person who would stick his neck out for somebody. Out of the short amount of time that he’d known Alan, he was quite sure the MP captain would never personally help somebody that came to him. René was reminiscing about the quest that he’d been sent on. To find Mitsuo Shimura, a Survey Corps Engineer that could make his feeble ideas for an advanced cannon shot become reality. He’d been foolish back then, inexperienced and wistful. He hated the way he used to act, cordial around everyone. Now... Things had changed since Alan had died. He was different in many ways, but only someone who’d known him since he was a young scout would notice anything. He muttered to himself, quiet enough that he hoped Cora/Alan couldn’t hear it from across the table. “Why would Cora need you to help her? You’re dead. Even when I came to you for help, you basically turned me down.”

He shifted angrily in his seat, sipping his drink more heavily now. No matter how hard he tried to control his doubts and demons, sometimes it was just no use. It was so easy to slip into madness. It was so easy to turn to something for help and fall into the trap it was. Normally around other people, he wanted to be a good example, but lately he was starting to think that it just wasn’t worth it. People could choose to do whatever they wanted no matter what you did to try and stop them. He smirked, tilting his chin at Alan/Cora when she… they??? asked him if they remembered how they met. How they met. It all felt like ages ago.

René had never been close to Alan, but he’d wanted to. It pushed him over the edge, and he finally spoke the truth that he’d been trying to avoid this whole time. Speaking his mind, which he tended to shy away from out of fear that people wouldn’t like him. “You really don’t remember?” He spoke softly at first, averting his eyes from Alan/Cora. “You don’t remember my ridiculous, stupid, wasteful dream of technology that I couldn’t hope to make alone? You don’t remember how much of a green-leaf cadet I acted like?” He spat the words, low enough that only the tables directly near theirs would have heard. He wasn’t keen on causing a disturbance after the issue with Rac that happened not much earlier.

In his anger, he leaned forward, splayed against the table. “You really don’t remember??” Letting out a sigh, he fell back into the back of the chair, cradling his drink with his left hand and taking a long swig. “I came to you for help with an outrageous idea. You were reluctant to help me since you didn’t know how. You told me to go to Mitsuo. Mitsuo Shimura. And I spent the night searching for a person that I didn’t even know what he looked like. A useless quest. They only gave me so much information and in my idiocy I didn’t know how to handle it” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tightly, clearly frustrated at the situation with Alan/Cora.

“Truth to be honest I don’t know how to handle this right now…” Trailing off he bit his lip. Unsure, unstable, full of questions. “I’m still caught up that you’re one of Cora’s personalities….” he decided saying against the word ‘now.’ The only thing that had stuck out to him since the beginning of the conversation with Alan, had been that he’d been in Cora’s head since his death. “And that ‘Nec’, that Cora mentioned is one too, right? Are there any others?” René wanted to press Alan while he had the chance, if Cora wasn’t giving him information, he’d have to get it somewhere.

Alan heard Rene speak words, but only managed to catch bits and pieces that he could not piece together properly. Even if he would have heard them, it was not like Alan would have understood it. He would have been able to properly answer the first part of his senetence...but neither of the four in her mind actually wanted to talk about that.

However Rene got quite passive agressive within the next words he spoke. Nec was surprised at that. Did he really not realize that this Alan was...in no way close to the actual Alan? Of course he would not have the same memories. Of course he would not! So why was Rene getting so worked up over it? Nec suspected that hearing someone dead speak...was after all not the easiest thing to handle. It was not like Nec understood Rene in any way, but he atleast...understood what could be the problem.

Rene looked very displeased with Alan being part of Cora. He shut his eyes, pressing the lids together. Nec mustered him, noticing the few freckles on his nose. It made him look funny in some way, but he could not really pinpoint it out properly.

"Truth to be honest I don't know how to handle this right now...", he said and bit his lip. Nec still continued watching him. Alan listened with a worried expression on his face. Had he really hurt Rene by not remembering how they met?
He sighed as Rene asked about the others, "Yes, one more. Vex. He is a bit...he is perhaps the worst part of Cora. Illiterate, animalistic, cruel. He is not really the smartest...", Alan smiled faintly while Vex started shouting inside their head about how it was a lie and that he was in fact more than capable of reading. With Nec's help. How Alan was new and how noone liked him, not even while he had still been alive. Alan ignored it. Nec ignored it. Cora ignored it.
"Nec is cold. I am not sure he has feelings apart from maybe hunger.", he chuckled quietly, "And you know Cora."

Alan leaned back and looked at Rene for a short while. His expression changed to a wide grin as Cora took back over.
"I am sorry for just interupting your conversation with Alan. He does not really like being 'out' so to speak. If you have questions however, ask me, I think I can force him out? I am not sure to be honest. I am happy if he is not here, it's bad enough that I am seeing him sometimes.", Cora stretched and mustered Rene the same way all her personalities seemed to have done before.
"Well. What do we talk about now, eh? I think I have asked you enough personal questions for a day?", she chuckled.

Alan answered his question about Vex, saying that he was the worst part of Cora. “Illiterate, animalistic, cruel. He is not really the smartest…” Alan smiled but René was thinking that being illiterate wasn’t the worst thing. Everyday he was reminded about how lucky it was that he knew how to read, many people didn’t and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. Unexpectedly, he got an explanation on the other of Cora’s personalities, Nec. “...cold. I am not sure he had feelings apart from maybe hunger.” Nec sounded rather mysterious to René, and he wondered that if Alan and Cora could ‘take the reins’ so to say, could Nec and Vex also do that?

Suddenly Alan was smiling widely at him, but at he spoke René realised that it was Cora now. Her voice was back, and René let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding in. What would he have done if Cora hadn’t come back? Would he have just kept talking to Alan? Would he have left? Hell the chat with Rac was easier to comprehend than four different people fighting for control over one body. “I am sorry for just interrupting your conversation with Alan. He does not really like being ‘out’ so to speak. If you have questions however, ask me, I think I can force him out? I am not sure to be honest. I am happy if he is not here, it’s bad enough that I am seeing him sometimes.” Boy you sure learn new things every day… The more he learned about Cora, the more he was getting curious about The Pack.

“Well. What do we talk about now, eh? I think I have asked you enough personal questions for a day?” To René it seemed like Cora was always laughing at something. Maybe she found everything funny, or maybe she was crazy. He parted his lips, bracing himself for possible backlash at an open-ended question. “What can you tell me about The Pack? You mentioned that they were a mercenary organization, and that they use modified 3DMG, but what do they do exactly? Are they only in Krovla? Are you their leader?” He didn’t expect himself to be so excited about learning more about Cora’s line of work, but the eagerness in his voice stood out more than he intended.

Instead of missing half of Cora’s reply this time, he listened eagerly, his brown eyes sparkling with interest as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table and his right hand cupped under his chin. He felt (and probably looked like) a kid in a candy store, their face aglow with wonder and awe. This was one of the few times he felt like he didn’t have to worry about his response or what Cora would think of him. When she was done with her explanation, he excused himself quickly and grabbed his now empty whiskey glass to return to the bar, placing it much more gently on the counter than Rac had. On his way up, he hadn’t noticed that his sketchbook had been dragged towards the edge of the table and fallen open on a drawing. A drawing of a legend that even René hadn’t seen in person before. The drawing was based entirely off of stories and fearful scouts spouting their nightmares to the younger inexperienced soldiers. It had wild, shoulder length hair, and was (as well at René could draw) chiseled. The most frightening aspect of the drawing, was whatever it was oozing from its skin. In his small, cramped writing, he’d written blood near that and emphasized that the titan had glowing red eyes.