SHARPE'S TEA ⚔ WRITTEN | VOICE | ACTION

[greenjacketed]

[ he's snug in a corner of the tea shop, with both a brew and a book in hand. the tea is strong; it's uncreamed and unsweetened, and yet it still somehow lacks the bite he's grown accustomed to through flanders, portugal, and spain. instead, this mug is as lightly spiced as the mugs he'd nursed on lonely nights in india. he'd been so much younger, then. and so much more foolish.

another sip and then it's time to get to it. in practice, his message has an intended audince of very few. but fear of his own sentimentality demands that he not approach anyone directly. and so he writes publicly, his script slanty and rough. unpracticed. it takes him a long time to carve out even a brief sentence: ]

Won't be around for a few days --- heading out, took the bloody shilling, got orders to march, &ct.
-- MJR R. SHARPE

[ he loops his pencil 'round the ampersand a few more times, chagrined by its childish slopes. he's no writer. not by any man's account. he's a soldier, he thinks. he knows when to kill and when not to kill, although that line was painfully blurred on the just-passed draft. he should know how to follow orders and protect the colours. but what on earth is a soldiering man to do with orders he didn't understand and no colours to speak of? it gives him a notion. a question, at least.

switching to voice: ] I suppose the village does not have a flag of its own, eh? Don't seeem proper. Perhaps it would've done no good in that last [ shit-hole/dungheap/disaster ] battle. But in future...?

[ he hesitates. he waits. and he lives his day as anxiously as any other day spent waiting to be deployed. a mission, this time? aye. perhaps it'll sooth his nerves and erase from his mind the bloody great cock-up of vaskoth. finally -- if the journal or the tea-shop won't do, feel free to encounter him elsewhere. he's bound to be in good spirits come the evening -- but he bloody well won't drink a drop. not the night before. ]

Comments

[the_other_leblanc]

How old should one be to speak of such things, Major?

[greenjacketed]

...Wait 'till you're thirty, lass. Then I'll allow it.

[the_other_leblanc]

I think I might manage that.

[greenjacketed]

[ he's a hipocrite, of course. he'd been well and truly jaded from such a young age -- or perhaps 'jaded' was the wrong word. but certainly more aware of the world's dingier corners.

he'd even managed to be somewhat happy in india. it was the bloody commission that did it. set up him for success and clipped his wings at the same blasted time. ]

I won't hold it 'gainst you if you can't. You are -- after all -- a Frog.

[the_other_leblanc]

[A failure, a funeral, extensive study and nightly arguments have her dim and flecked with rotten wounds yet. It will be a long while before they fester and turn her truly bitter.

Until then there's the work. Study. The few calm conversations now and then that help her smile.]

And we are known for being contrary, are we not?

[greenjacketed]

Contrary? Aye. And ruthless. [ for theirs is madame guillotine. ] And...and I suppose I could say more, but it wouldn't be fair.

[the_other_leblanc]

Say what you like, Major. I'll not hold it against you. What is, is, be it in the time you come from or mine. You've heard my opinion on ignoring the unpleasant.

[greenjacketed]

Ah. The time difference remains quite that obvious then -- eh?

[the_other_leblanc]

Your attire seems somewhat...dated.

[greenjacketed]

Are uniforms truly so different in the distant future? [ it's true enough that civilian clothing would evolve, but he was yet to see any uniforms not from the msf or some other enclosure. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

I do not know much of the military, but most uniforms I have seen are quite different. Those have been fairly shapeless and printed with a pattern intended to conceal the soldier wearing them.

[greenjacketed]

[ the intelligence officer had been saying something slightly similar.

but: ] 'S what the green's for, I suppose. Rifle regiments are skirmishers. We don't advance in lines but move forward independently and pick the -- [ crapauds ] -- enemy off. The green offers more concealment than the red.

[the_other_leblanc]

I never understood the more colorful military uniforms, at least not those worn in battle. It is the product of a different mindset entirely, I suppose.

[What little she'd seen in paintings and museums, at least.]

[greenjacketed]

...Batallions don't bother hiding. You can see a marching army from a distance. Cavalry patrols'll always have numbers in mind. No -- battles are more science and math than even I care to give'em credit. It's about who shoots more shots faster. And who stands and doesn't break. It's about hoping they loose their musket volleys before you're in range.

A colourful uniform identifies you. [ he plucks at his green sleeve. ] Rifleman. It means I'm a good enough shot to wear the colour and it'll put fear in the French Voltigeurs when we butt heads. A colourful uniform means knowing who's on your flank. Even the reds ain't just red -- they're red with coloured facings, y'see? The South Essex was yellow. The Highlanders wear kilts.

[ it's the most he's spoken all night, really. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

[A great deal different than the world of combat she knew of- and hers is only a surface understanding of how it was the military went about it's work. Aside from what historical studies that were required and idle discussion amongst her peers she didn't put much thought into that branch of the world. It was what it was, and aside from being informed now and then that what they were studying was applicable as a combat medic, there wasn't much for her to learn.

Perhaps it would bear a bit of study. After this? She finds herself curious.]

A very different means of fighting a war than how it is done in my time. [She blinks a bit at his coat, what he's said.] That would make you the second man I've met with sharp eyes in this village.

[greenjacketed]

[ a dry laugh -- as if she'd made a joke (unintentionally or not) that he'd heard a hundred thousand times before. ]

Not, I'm afraid, the best shot in my...regiment. [ it's weird to call it that, even still. ] But my rifle gets her fair use.

[ understatement. he's not as sharp as hagman, but he's nearly as. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

...that was not the word I intended to use. [Honestly. This instant translation is odd at times. She takes a steadying breath and attempts again, voice a little thicker in the accent for her use of English.] Keen. Keen eyes, that was the word I thought I had used.

[She quirks a brow.]

Ships I understand to be called women, but a rifle?

[greenjacketed]

...Why not? She's been a more constant companion than any woman I've known. [ not for their lack of trying, he's afraid. ] Saw me through Portugal and Spain and when I return, she'll see me through France.

No offense intended, of course.

[the_other_leblanc]

I was expressing curiosity, Major. I intended no insult.

[Such a clumsy language, English.]

None taken.

[greenjacketed]

[ he's surprised that she'd assumed he'd been insulted by the question but -- but perhaps he'd over-primed her to expect it.

sharpe sighs. ]

The truth is, Miss Adele, I ain't even meant to be carrying her.

[the_other_leblanc]

[That gives her pause. She's out of her depth enough in a conversation about the military but this seemed to go beyond that. Curious, terribly curious- but would she offend him in the asking?]

Do you mind my asking why that is?

[greenjacketed]

Officers don't carry long-arms. They give orders to the men who do.

[ and consequently -- and what he's not saying -- is that it isn't the officers who are meant to do the fighting. nor, of course, the dying.

not that they didn't die. it wasn't all shooting. there was always plenty of room for swordwork. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

Delegating combat rather than taking part, yes?

[Ordering from behind the lines, though from what he's said she doesn't know how that works for a group that has no lines.]

[greenjacketed]

Blowin' whistles, mostly. You hardly need to delegate with the rifles. They know their craft well enough. [ but his company had been attached to a redcoat regiment. they were a little trickier -- but he did his best. but his best was not worth a promotion, it seemed. ] It's more about keeping order off the field, for the men manage themselves on it well enough. Battle isn't the time for me to be enforcing rules.

But after? Aye. Then is when they need the carrot and the stick.

[the_other_leblanc]

Autonomous on the field and after they are but men.

[Military discipline is something she's heard of. Seen in shades with a few students that have relatives in the service. An accusation had been levied at her family of such a thing- but it was utter bullshit. A good deal of rules does not a disciplined household make. Keeping to them, that did. ]