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Almeria leaned back against the wall, a sealed envelope clutched loosely in his hand and a torrent of thoughts rushing through his head. His other hand was fiddling with the collar of his uniform, which felt far tighter than usual.

His eyes flickered back down at the envelope, his thumb resting over the wax seal and nail attempting to dig into the pattern. He could feel the Air Force's sigma engraved in the wax, the crevices and edges pressed into the pad of his finger. It was a classified report by any means — though, some of the information he'd been entrusted had seemed to dance the edge of classified in his /personal/ opinion — but it was still vastly important.

Because of the Iadlain crisis as he liked to call it, several bases (including Tusa, after the disastrous Prison Raid) had to be withdrawn and decommission to conserve fuel. The reports had been delivered in full to nearly all bases that were getting the order — except for the isolated base between Koben and Song-Lu, and he'd been assigned the final order that would complete the deliveries.

Almeria knew that the new alchemy regulations were incredibly strict, but he hadn't realized how strict they actually were until he was handed his instructions and told to deliver it — without the use of a military air craft, because they'd used too much of their resources for the month already.

The messages had been a bit less important; nothing official, but there were definitely things that his superiors wanted delivered by him. Rumors, ideas, some things about possible routes to x and y and ideas on how to better deal with the alchemy cuts; things that weren't going to decide the fate of the empire unless the little details were ironed out and put together better.

The Song-Lu/Koben base was stupidly isolated, but leaving the people stationed there out of the loop just wasn't an option. Even Almeria agreed on that.

Why /he/ of all people had to deal with the issue was a question of its own and despite how it burned at his throat and ached to jump out, Almeria had swallowed back his question and agreed to the task when it was assigned to him.

Another sigh. He looked up at the lights, listening to the faint buzzing of the bulbs. The noise echoed in his head, cutting through his thoughts and making it near impossible to focus. A few people passed him — some he recognized, others he knew to be new — and one of the newbies gave a nervous, offhanded greeting that Almeria mumbled a quiet reply to. For a moment he considered passing the task off to someone else, but immediately crossed that thought out. It was his responsibility.

"Yeah," he muttered to himself, "where the hell do I get a craft to deliver this?"

For a second he came up with nothing. He was tired — flat out exhausted to be honest, his sister was getting married soon and she just /had/ to have Almeria help with the planning for some reason — and the day was dragging by and somehow disappearing at the same time. His usually sharp brain was dulled by a prolonged lack of caffeine and sleep (because of course the coffee maker in his area had conveniently disappeared when he most needed it; he was pretty sure someone in another part of the base had stolen it from how irritated the others had been) and while he would've snapped at anyone who attempted to imply he wasn't up to speed that day, he knew it was true.

But after a long, /long/ moment of silence he sighed to himself and practically dragged his hand down his face in exasperation.

"I'm an idiot," he hissed. "A damn idiot ... dammit."

He pushed off the wall, adjusting his collar again and taking a moment to orientate himself before heading down the hallway and back towards his space. Emilie; the girl he'd watched pilot (and nearly crash) an alchemy based (but not fueled) machine a month or two back. He'd been facinated by her air craft; it was rare to see something that didn't draw off a significant amount of alchemy these days. The last time he'd seen her was to loan off a book that had been collecting dust in his room for years before.

He was curious to see if she'd taken any tips — advice? Ideas? — from the book to improve her machine; it was a fair enough reason to seek her out, and on top of that it was a way to get his letter delivered as well.

When Almeria swung back around, idly responding to the words from his co-workers in the room, he found the coffee pot to still be missing. A few other members shared his expression, looking fairly exhausted as well, and Almeria ignored the urge to groan aloud. Instead he collected the things he'd dropped off when he first entered, not bothering to say goodbye in his hurry.

Emilie still owed him for that book, and he knew just the way for her to repay that debt.

I'm so sorry. This is a prequel to 4nimecub3.deviantart.com/art/A… and 4nimecub3.deviantart.com/art/A… and is what lead Almeria to seeking out Emilie's help. I didn't go too into detail on the messages, because I had some trouble thinking of something that would fit into this, so I hope this is OK.

I actually wrote this awhile ago and finished the picture about a week ago, but my computer had an issue and was out of commission for awhile. This was all written awhile ago and I haven't gone back and edited it since I haven't done much of anything in regards to the group for a few weeks. Please excuse any discrepancies ;-;

Emilie belongs to 4nimeCub3 I hope this suffices for my part! Thank you for reading.

Description

Almeria leaned back against the wall, a sealed envelope clutched loosely in his hand and a torrent of thoughts rushing through his head. His other hand was fiddling with the collar of his uniform, which felt far tighter than usual.

His eyes flickered back down at the envelope, his thumb resting over the wax seal and nail attempting to dig into the pattern. He could feel the Air Force's sigma engraved in the wax, the crevices and edges pressed into the pad of his finger. It was a classified report by any means — though, some of the information he'd been entrusted had seemed to dance the edge of classified in his /personal/ opinion — but it was still vastly important.

Because of the Iadlain crisis as he liked to call it, several bases (including Tusa, after the disastrous Prison Raid) had to be withdrawn and decommission to conserve fuel. The reports had been delivered in full to nearly all bases that were getting the order — except for the isolated base between Koben and Song-Lu, and he'd been assigned the final order that would complete the deliveries.

Almeria knew that the new alchemy regulations were incredibly strict, but he hadn't realized how strict they actually were until he was handed his instructions and told to deliver it — without the use of a military air craft, because they'd used too much of their resources for the month already.

The messages had been a bit less important; nothing official, but there were definitely things that his superiors wanted delivered by him. Rumors, ideas, some things about possible routes to x and y and ideas on how to better deal with the alchemy cuts; things that weren't going to decide the fate of the empire unless the little details were ironed out and put together better.

The Song-Lu/Koben base was stupidly isolated, but leaving the people stationed there out of the loop just wasn't an option. Even Almeria agreed on that.

Why /he/ of all people had to deal with the issue was a question of its own and despite how it burned at his throat and ached to jump out, Almeria had swallowed back his question and agreed to the task when it was assigned to him.

Another sigh. He looked up at the lights, listening to the faint buzzing of the bulbs. The noise echoed in his head, cutting through his thoughts and making it near impossible to focus. A few people passed him — some he recognized, others he knew to be new — and one of the newbies gave a nervous, offhanded greeting that Almeria mumbled a quiet reply to. For a moment he considered passing the task off to someone else, but immediately crossed that thought out. It was his responsibility.

"Yeah," he muttered to himself, "where the hell do I get a craft to deliver this?"

For a second he came up with nothing. He was tired — flat out exhausted to be honest, his sister was getting married soon and she just /had/ to have Almeria help with the planning for some reason — and the day was dragging by and somehow disappearing at the same time. His usually sharp brain was dulled by a prolonged lack of caffeine and sleep (because of course the coffee maker in his area had conveniently disappeared when he most needed it; he was pretty sure someone in another part of the base had stolen it from how irritated the others had been) and while he would've snapped at anyone who attempted to imply he wasn't up to speed that day, he knew it was true.

But after a long, /long/ moment of silence he sighed to himself and practically dragged his hand down his face in exasperation.

"I'm an idiot," he hissed. "A damn idiot ... dammit."

He pushed off the wall, adjusting his collar again and taking a moment to orientate himself before heading down the hallway and back towards his space. Emilie; the girl he'd watched pilot (and nearly crash) an alchemy based (but not fueled) machine a month or two back. He'd been facinated by her air craft; it was rare to see something that didn't draw off a significant amount of alchemy these days. The last time he'd seen her was to loan off a book that had been collecting dust in his room for years before.

He was curious to see if she'd taken any tips — advice? Ideas? — from the book to improve her machine; it was a fair enough reason to seek her out, and on top of that it was a way to get his letter delivered as well.

When Almeria swung back around, idly responding to the words from his co-workers in the room, he found the coffee pot to still be missing. A few other members shared his expression, looking fairly exhausted as well, and Almeria ignored the urge to groan aloud. Instead he collected the things he'd dropped off when he first entered, not bothering to say goodbye in his hurry.

Emilie still owed him for that book, and he knew just the way for her to repay that debt.

I'm so sorry. This is a prequel to 4nimecub3.deviantart.com/art/A… and 4nimecub3.deviantart.com/art/A… and is what lead Almeria to seeking out Emilie's help. I didn't go too into detail on the messages, because I had some trouble thinking of something that would fit into this, so I hope this is OK.

I actually wrote this awhile ago and finished the picture about a week ago, but my computer had an issue and was out of commission for awhile. This was all written awhile ago and I haven't gone back and edited it since I haven't done much of anything in regards to the group for a few weeks. Please excuse any discrepancies ;-;

Emilie belongs to 4nimeCub3 I hope this suffices for my part! Thank you for reading.