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Author Topic: Emery Deorwine  (Read 296 times)

Emery Deorwine
« on: April 19, 2018, 11:31:16 PM »



NAME: Emery Deorwine
NICKNAMES (IF ANY): Em
DATE OF BIRTH AND AGE (AS OF YEAR 845): May 6th, 817 [28]
PLACE OF BIRTH: Shiganshina District, Wall Maria
GENDER: Female
MEMBER GROUP: Cadet Corp Training Instructor 
FACE CLAIM: Astoria Pendragon


I was there when the Wall fell. All the bricks, all the stone just... crumbling in on itself. A face had peered over the border, staring back like the pits of hellfire it had sprung up from. It was my home, the only place I've ever felt completely safe, and it was collapsing right in front of me.

Working Garrison at the time, I watched it all burn. The beasts flooding into the streets, their gangling and sickly forms cracking over their limbs as they reached for the closest villager to chow down on. Their teeth made the most awful clicking sounds, and the screams-

I... I couldn't save them. They swarmed like wasps, hornets intent on destruction, and I was out with my small squad to try and stop them from claiming anymore lives. Talk about an uphill battle. It was doomed from the start. Half of the people I had trained with, dispatched over to Garrison because they failed the Top Ten or did not want to be apart of something greater like the Survey Corp, were partially drunk. Some rusted from a lack of training, their blades slow; reflexes even sloppier.

We never stood a chance.

They picked us apart one by one - us, Garrison slackers who had never had to fight a real Titan one day in our entire lives. I had always expected better for myself, always wanted to be part of the expedition outside the Wall where I could make a difference. But I shied away, turned to emblazon my back with the bloody red roses of cowards; architects. 'The only safety' within the bait village I grew up in.

I knew what had happened to my brother. Seven years older then me, he had become a member of the Survey Corp; enlisting behind our father's back and running away to do something our mother was not proud of him for. Four winters later he comes back in tatters, bundled up in a rag we know had to belong to his uniform.

It's green, has the patch of the Wings of Freedom so proudly stitched into the back of the cape. It was torn up, then. Bloodied and shredded like the only piece of him we ever got back.

I... I couldn't bear to stare at the hand that had once belonged to my dear sibling. I should have known something was wrong when the letters stopped coming in. His face, never again would I get to see his bright smiling face. The voice of a young man that always tried to abide by the best he could.

That's why I had been with Garrison, why I was fighting a losing battle. My brothers and sisters in arms were either escorting villagers out of the gate or flickering by my side as we turned our blades onto the towering menace. We were the distraction, the more I think about it. And being a distraction to save lives is what cost me my leg.

I banked too far, ignored Ian's warnings as the bite that was meant for him caught me instead. The hulking strength of a monster's jaw clamped unceremoniously around my lower leg, and trapped between its teeth, I prayed to the Wall to make it quick. Death, however, did not come sweetly, or even claim me in its iron claws. No. There's was the undesirable sensation of bones popping, all the ligaments and muscle tearing apart around my knee, and before I could make sense of what had happened, the ground was rushing up to meet me.

Air, darkness. Blackness smashing straight into my brain. I could remember Ian screaming, but I never knew what it was. The sensation of hot sticky blood greeted me as I took what I thought was to be an eternal slumber.

It's funny how life could change so fast in such a short instance. Fading in that quiet place, there was my mother and father flashing through the failing memory; such disapproval in their eyes as I run away to join the Cadet Corp. I couldn't let my brother's death be in vain, but they never saw it that way. I realize in the end they just wanted to make sure their remaining child was not lost to a violent and gory end.

Too bad I never got to apologize for that. Their death came swiftly after the Wall fell, from what I heard. The ailing couple too slow to run to safety. Of course I was unaware of this until I was waking up from the black out and found my sight to be adjusting to some makeshift medic's hospital further within the territory of Rose.

The doctor there, white haired and slow, peeled back the sticky and tarnished covers to show me what went all wrong. And it was almost a heart attack that ended my newfound grasp on life. From the knee down, my right leg was just... gone. All gone. Swallowed up by some monster that had then probably been slaughtered or still roaming free.

It took me months to learn how to walk again, and while everyone was reeling from the loss of the Wall and their families that came with it, I was coming to terms with a stripped position. Superiors from the Garrison came in when I was still recuperating, barely able to hold myself up against the bedside, when they informed me the grim prospect.

You'll never be able to properly fight again.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was still capable of swinging a sword, still able to drift along the sky, but... they were reassigning me. No use having a one-legged soldier running around who could barely stand on their one remaining leg. Be happy you're even alive, the one man had told me before disappearing into the sunset; roses on his back withering with every step he took.

Sometimes, I wish I had just perished along with my comrades. Ian, mother, father, dear brother. Their faces were all I could remember. If I died, their death was in vain too. But I simply could not help the negative thoughts.

As soon as I was capable of 'walking' - which, in all honesty, was just leaning against a cane and hobbling like some crippled woman far too old for her age - I was finally reassigned. They shuttled me off, tossing me far away to the boot camp where all children learn how to become hardened soldiers.

It brought back to many memories, painful and joyful. They needed a former soldier to fill in the role of an instructor, and because I was still capable of service but not the kind the world needed, they chose me for the job. Instructor of Battlefield Medicine. It rang like a title over my head, but it really was just an Albatross weighing my neck down and breaking my back.

So ironic. A woman in charge of battlefield medicine who couldn't even save her own goddamn leg. I didn't like the pitiful looks the cadets gave, so in turn, I gave them no pity. I had never taught before, but it was not too hard to learn. Instruct them for a while, show them the proper technique of stitching up a wound or wrapping gauge around a bite. I taught them the differences of infections, how rot could kill as easily as dehydration.

The barracks were, and still have been, my home for years. I've no longer a place to return to, and that's why this journal will forever travel with me. That's where I belong - between the pages. The leathery, dog-eared pages after my brother's neat cursive font that detailed so much about his time in the Survey Corp.

The life I lost for this... this charade of a former solider. I train kids to fight just so they can die at the end of some overgrown beast.

But now, I realize, it's better them then me.

There's no way they'll let me slay another Titan for as long as I live.




YOUR ALIAS: Vertebrae
AGE: 19
TIMEZONE: Pacific

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Re: Emery Deorwine
« Reply #1 on: April 24, 2018, 06:09:52 PM »
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