Well, that was a pretty tight vote, on most of the fields. Definitely a different result than I was anticipating, but I like what we wound up with.
Time for the promised lore dump. Hopefully this is informative!
You nod, satisfied with your appearance. You initially considered twintails, but after thinking it over, you settled on wearing your bright salmon-colored hair in a short ponytail, leaving your bangs to frame your face and bright red eyes. You're a bit on the short side, but your small frame packs a punch, testament to the effort you've put into this for the past four years... Even if it's sometimes gotten you mistaken for a boy. And for better or for worse, you've wound up having to reuse your standard white and navy-collared school uniform, even if it's getting rather tight around your small but distinctly pointy chest. Your family is hardly dirt-poor, but neither are you really in a position to afford a more fancy outfit just for the occasion, and your parents reasoned that you'll probably be given an official uniform once you arrive, anyway.
Adjusting the hairclip one more time, you grab the small bag with your belongings and head out to breakfast, giving your room a final parting glance; uncertain how long it may be until the next time you see it. There's a certain sense of melancholy to the moment, but it's by far outweighed by your anticipation for what is to come.
***
Breakfast is a stilted affair. Your parents are clearly trying hard to be supportive and proud, but perhaps naturally, they're hesitant to send their only child off to a war zone. You can't help but remember a conversation over a newspaper you'd accidentally eavesdropped on one morning, shortly after the incident...
"They say the fifth one vanished. They found her mech, but it was empty."
"So... she's probably dead."
"Nobody knows either way, do they? What does anyone know about these monsters, really?"
"That they're hostile and out to kill us all."
"Isn't that the truth. I'm glad Lesya is safe."
"You can't think she was serious, right? If she actually met one of those things, there's no way she'd still be here now."
"I know she was frightened and crying when she came back to us, and she's been scary quiet ever since. I don't know if she's telling the truth entirely, but I do think that, whatever she experienced out on the beach, she believes that is the truth." It was frustrating, that they didn't trust you on such an important matter, but then they'd always treated you like someone four years younger.
"Oh, no."
"Honey, what's wrong?"
"It says they're preparing to institute a draft. 'Non-Mandatory'... isn't that an oxymoron?"
"Hmm. 'Each city is urged to recruit ten volunteers; girls of eighteen years or older, to serve in the Defense Corp. against our unknown attackers. Fear not for their safety, as the powered mechanical armor used by our defenders will be mass-produced, for a stronger and more effective army. We only ask for ten volunteers per city per year, but if there are deficiencies we will institute more compulsory recruitment measures to make up the difference.' Yeah, that's real nice."
"It's four years until Lesya turns eighteen. I pray the war is over before then."
You hope it is as well, on account of the lives already lost... but at the same time, you very much suspect it won't, and that suits you just fine as well. You have plans to make.
***
Things flow more easily once they've taken you to the train station; tearful farewells and hugs and promises to write every day. And then you're boarding, finding a window facing the platform so you can say goodbye once again, yes.
And then you're off.
The station was already on the edge of the city, so it doesn't take long for the buildings to fall away. The railroad climbs along the red cliffs, providing you with a final breathtaking vista of Skvarzava, the cliffs on either side, and the sparkling sea beyond. You even think you can see your house from here... And then the train enters a tunnel and your view is replaced with rough rock and the occasional wooden supporting beam.
Soon enough the train emerges again, having turned northward in the tunnel; now that you're topside, you're traveling through wide grassy plains stretching east and west, with mountains in the middle distance. You gawked at the view plenty when you traveled to the capital a few months back, so instead you settle in and root through your bag, pulling out a map. The map is of a valley, shaped like an off-kilter diamond; with one city, Barasson, in the very center and four arrayed around it in each of the cardinal directions. Krasnaya among the peaks to the north, Diphaci in the middle of the eastern forest, your own Skvarzava at the south end where it meets the ocean, and Cauterets to the west. You frown at the last one. Definitely an older map, though you wonder if it predates the barrier as well. You trace a finger in a rough oval around the edges of the valley and the small bit of sea at the bottom, approximately where you'd guess the invisible yet encompassing wall resides.
---
The valley land of Mzendzyovka started from humble means; a tent city built by hopelessly lost midieval refugees grew into a flourishing and self-sufficient tiny nation; benefitting from the greater world's advances while remaining safe from the nastier upheavals due to its insignificant size and sheltered location.
Then the barrier went up, and for fifteen years that self-sufficiency was put to the test as experts scratched their heads on why the valley was suddenly completely cut off from all outside contact. Just when people were starting to get used to the claustrophobic confines, the enemy appeared. Mzendzyovka's peaceful existence became a flaw as they struggled over several bloody months to hold back the tide, and just when the alien machines were on the capital's doorstep, hope arrived.
Reverse engineered from the wrecks of downed enemy robots, five mechanical power armor suits and their gifted pilots became symbols of hope, taking mere weeks to regain lost ground and holding the line against the admittedly weak attacks since. Until, at the end of the war's second year, a full army poured forth, headed by a massive and unfamiliar type of opponent. It took all five of the mechs to take it down, and while they were distracted, the rest of the army dispersed into the prairie, heading north and south and east to attack the three locations most distant from the war.
That was the day when you had been attacked. That was the day when one of those first five pilots, Anastasia, saved your life and only apologized for having done so. That was the day that led you to where you are now, on a train that was just pulling into the central station in Barasson.
---
It's a simple swap from the north-south line to the east-west, though the train headed to New Cauterets is considerably emptier. Four girls are already waiting in the car the conductor directs you to, each in opposite corners.
The first girl you lay eyes on is... bouncy, in several senses of the word. She has an unruly mop of carrot-orange hair over a round and grinning face, mischievous eyes darting back and forth between the other, unreceptive passengers. She's wearing a white long-sleeved top that only reaches just below her rather excessive bustline, with an undershirt of chaotic zebra-like black-and-white striping to cover her somewhat chubby midsection. Her thighhighs and garish orange miniskirt do absolutely nothing to conceal how thick her thighs are, or the width of the hips they support. Yet she also seems quite fit, with her muscular upper arms providing the most tangible proof of hard strength existing under the welcoming layer of pudge.
The second girl is seemingly her total opposite, a curled-up runt staring unblinkingly out the window. She's wearing tight black leggings and a massive navy-blue peacoat that she's all but drowing in, and while her hime-cut long black hair cascades glossily down her back, her disposition is most comparable to that of a corpse. She's got her slender legs hugged tight to her chest, while sleeves that extend at least a foot past where her hands must be hang down in front to obscure her form. What little of her skin you can see doesn't seem too terribly pale and her face isn't as gaunt as you'd expect, but she's still clearly closed herself off from her surroundings.
The third girl isn't as closed off, but still seems distinctly standoffish, sorting through a deck of cards in her lap with a disinterested look. Her thick bob cut is a snowy white that reminds you of your memories of Anastasia, and she wears a slim black wrap dress with a pale yellow ascot and frilly cuffs. She too is part of the stockings club, straight vertical black and white stripes that remind you strangely of a convict's outfit; the only real splash of color is a red vertical headband that separates her bangs from her sidelocks. And though you wonder how much of it is influenced by the dress's shaping, you find yourself somewhat envying her subtle but effective hourglass.
The final girl seems more your speed, wearing a simple tan button-up blouse with an overly-long green tie and knee-length flannel skirt. Her legs are perfectly bare, albeit quite stick-like and seem far longer compared to her body than they should be; she's clearly still growing out of her gangly teenage proportions, and has... no chest to speak of. Forcing yourself to look upward, you realize she's watching you with an expectant and friendly smile, one that induces a strange level of guilt in the back of your head. Her hair is a bright lime green, pulled back into a pair of long twintails at the nape of her neck.
Who Do You Sit Beside?
> The Bouncy Girl. She seems like the most outgoing of the bunch, and the conversation should be interesting.
> The Quiet Girl. She's not shown many signs of life, but you're really curious as to what could be going through her mind.
> The Card Girl. She seems a bit unfriendly now, but you're familiar with that saying about books and covers.
> The Gangly Girl. She strikes you as simple and straightforward, reliable and easy to talk with about nothing in particular.
> Address them all. Maybe you shouldn't sit down right away, but instead try to get a group conversation going.
> Go find your own corner. With the heady mix of emotions today's already filled you with, you're not sure you're up for a conversation.
Introductions!
>"My name is Alexandra"
->"but you can just call me Lesya."
>Let them introduce first.
What To Talk About?
> Ask what's on her mind. As sure an icebreaker as any.
> Ask what brings her here. Your train has a destination, after all.
> Ask where she's from. By the same token, she started out somewhere, right?
> Mention you're joining the MDC. You don't know that the same is true for her, but you may as well bring it up.
> Write-In
