Sketching the Unknowns (Open social)

[Faclan]

(For those of you who are unaware of the location I suggest looking up the Tomb of the Unknown, for more specific information this is what took place just before the thread begins; Changing the Guard and will likely happen again during the thread if the talking continues for awhile.)

(Also from looking up the halo timeline I suspected there would be many more tombs on the location itself of the unknowns. But I only found one major 'war' war in the timeline. That being the inter sol-system war of 2160 with Earth against the Jovian moons. Obviously there would likely be one for the Human Covenant War but I assumed there would be far more. And perhaps the Arlington cemetery was replaced or destroyed in the 530 years from now til then. But for the purpose of this thread I decided to keep it as I listened to a little history brief on this at work and then did some research when home and found it very interesting. It is a somewhat what if scenario as I doubt the UNSC would let an Alien this close to such a historic site but hey thats what fun none canon stuff is for.)

April, 2554 - Arlington County, Virginia. America, Earth.

Atl Gel - T'vaoan Artist
Arlington Cemetary visitors steps, with empty space around him
Witnessing ancient traditions

"Orders acknowledged." Click clack.

Atl had to give these humans huge amounts of credit. As far as he had been told and been able to look up these orders had not changed in around six hundred years. And those troops still marched back and fourth over the same peice of ground that they always had. In front of the five tombs. The mat he could tell had been recently replaced but the stone around it had been literally worn down through nothing more than their shoes and years of walking the same ground over and over again.

It was to the point they had to take rising steps. But still they kept in rhythm and step as the three Humans turned to salute the five marble slabs and the large main memorial one. The guard being relieved was even female! Which was neat as Atl had assumed that most of the military had been something the males were tossed into by the females. But thats what hearing about the war from your warrior elder sister and reports was all about. The T'vaoan in an unmarked red zip up jacket as well as cargo shorts as he respectfully stood as the main guard and the female click clacked off the memorial grounds. 

Waiting until they were fully gone Atl was standing longer than most other Humans before he sat back down on the steps and retrieved his tablet. Returning to the piece he was composing about this location. It was humbling to say the least so far. He was used to things like Gel's vault. Or Hul's prizes boat exhibit. Places stepped in history and pride. But this was something more...selfless? How it was not about these guards or the people it was about the memory of those who were gone and had never been sent off properly. It was touching really. The Kig currently sat off to the side and not directly in the middle as he helped portray the angle he was working on. With the monument on a slant with the guard walking toward the viewer of the artwork. Old uniform and old stripped down rifle and all. But he tapped the stylis against his beak as he tried to work out what to put over the tombs. He wanted there to be some kind of visual display of what each one was about. But he didn't know what they were besides the most obviously newest tomb. He could guess what that was for. A sketched out MA5 rifle currently placed on it as well as a helmet. His feet crossed on the step below him as he went back to working on the guard. Glancing up and down as he worked on getting details.

It also helped him respect the guards because unlike all the other Humans they were not giving him death glares. They just were focused on their job. As he said, respectable.

[Cabel]

[Inner Colonies: System: Sol System: Planet: Earth: Date: April 2554]

[Location: Arlington County, Virginia, United Republic of North America: Earth: Captain Mark'Spade' Sorelson]

The Aging Marine, Retired once the War had concluded had far more spare time on his hands than he'd honestly known what to do with and the notion of having sat idle had been alien to him. He'd been a Marine for thirty-five years, and had only spent a short time of his life on Earth as a Civilian before Enlisting in the UNSCDF's Marine Corps to have spent his life fighting on one Moon or Planet. He'd spent a little over nine years during that time on the grounds of Ft. Lewis-McChord in the capacity of a Drill Instructor and later a Senior Drill Instructor where he'd fallen in love, married and had three children. His children had grown older while he'd been away, with several having married and had children of their own meaning he'd become a Grandfather while fighting in a trench or in a city on some distant mudball. He'd barely been able to wrap his head around that, but he'd been forced to fully acknowledge it when the War had concluded with the Elites -- or the Sangheili having become their hard fought Allies he'd been forced into Retirement. The Brass had explained that while he'd served his Country through an illustrious career he'd surpassed the required Retirement age, and if it hadn't been for the need for experienced Officers he would have been given his papers long before.

Mark had loved his wife Alyssa, his children Erika, James and Jason to his Grandchildren, but it had been hard to shake old practices. He'd woken up each morning at oh-four-thirty to change into his PT Gear before heading out for a nice PT Run of thirty-two kilometers with the grounds of Ft. Lewis-McChord running almost parallel to the chosen trails before he'd set off into the woods and would always return back to the House he'd raised his Family in. He'd been careful enough to avoid waking any of his Famliy that may have been staying with them, but had found he'd needed that time alone. His world had changed with the still present ruins where skyscrapers had once stood to rebuilt neighborhoods and city blocks to his own Retirement, and though there had been a part of him that had wanted the War to have ended there had been another part of him he'd been forced to recognize that wanted to get back into the fight.

He'd opted to have taken a trip to visit the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier to pay his respects, to watch the old Ritual of the Changing of the Guard in person and to finally see the various sites on his own home world he hadn't been able to in all the years he'd been away. Standing behind the ropes in his old Dress Blues, an Honor he'd at least been allowed to have kept with his Peaked Cover resting firmly on his brow he'd paid his respects to the Fallen and had reflected on the sacrifices of those that had come before during the Ritual of the Changing of the Guard. He'd saluted for the duration of the Ritual having expected and imagined the same from the Fallen interred within the Tomb and that the Guards would have appreciated.

* * * * * * *

"I'm glad you came," Mark said, quietly. "Thank you," He hadn't wanted to interrupt, or startle the young Kig-Yar obviously focused on what he'd been able to ascertain from the angle and from where he'd stood as a sketch -- a well thought out and detailed one -- of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier with the Changing of the Guard.

Having stood in silence until the Ritual had concluded, he'd turned pivoting on his heel with the leather soled dress shoes polished to a high sheen despite the age had been muted on the concrete in a manner to respect the somber nature of the location. The sight of a Jackal or a Kig-Yar sitting on a step created by the layered concrete a bit farther from the Tomb would have been a source of alarm or even suspicion during the War, but he had to remind himself the War had been over and at least the Sangheili and the Kig-Yar had become their Allies. There hadn't been a doubt in his mind the Kig-Yar had wanted to visit the Tomb to take in its nature, and to pay his own respects.

Crossing over to where the Kig-Yar sat focused on a tablet he'd held, Mark at first had been a bit surprised there hadn't been Plasma lances launched in his direction. Growing closer, he'd realized that for once he may not have been alone and that there might have been another that had shared the same mind.

[Faclan]

Atl Gel - T'vaoan Artist
Arlington Cemetery visitors steps, with empty space around him
Err...hi?

Not looking up when he picked up the quiet words Atl assumed like nearly everything else he had seen and heard it was not for him. After all it wasnt mutters under breaths that they assumed he couldnt hear or more open hatred directed at him. So clearly not for him. He had seen the obviously military older human out of the corner of his eyes before but had tried not to stare or pay much heed really as he didn't want to accidently cause some faux pas that could get him thrown out before he was finished.

Shifting over a little on the steps as the circle of space moved with him Atl worked on trying to read what was written on the large monument. But it was very worn away. And without getting closer or with some kind of light change he doubt he would be able to work it out. That was a shame. He was sure he could find that on on Waypoint however. So he looked down again to go back to sketching before he saw some shiny shoes stop just to his immediate right.

Uh oh.

Clipping the stylis to the side of the datapad he clicked save before flicking the picture away and hitting sleep mode. Already assuming he was about to be told to leave or expecting more heavily armored boots to show up to make him leave. Immediately. But as he was putting the tablet under his arm he looked up and saw it was the same older Human from before. And a glance back at the patrolling Tomb Sentinal he confirmed for himself that it was a different formal uniformy dealy (Army vs Navy I think is different formals.)

But he tried to keep a friendly face as he dipped his beak up at the Human standing next to him. "Afternoon Sir...Shall I step away from this monument?" Different uniform but probably still had far more authority in this situation that some Alien.

(Sorry for the wait Cabel .)

[Cabel]

"You don't have to move," Captain Mark Seamus 'Spade' Sorelson said. He'd managed to say it both in English, and attempted to say it in the language Bep had taught him. Though, for all he knew his pronounciations had been butchered and he'd told Atl Gel that his mother at oatmeal for breakfast.

He'd held respect for the Kig-Yar ever since Big Bird helped them out on that fetid Jungle Planet, and on thinking about Big Bird or Bep's name and that moment in history Mark had honestly wondered what life would have been like if Bep had lived. He'd missed the gentle Kig-Yar, that had been more afraid of being around a bunch of Humans in a burning Jungle near a downed Pelican. He had been honest that if he'd known about ONI's actions towards the Kig-Yar that he might have been able to have at least helped him, and stopped ONI from exacting its pound of flesh.

"You're more than welcome to stay. I'm sorry if I startled you. May I join you?" the Aging Marine asked. "I brought my Family here at times, or at least in the years I was stationed here on Earth. I hope they continue the Tradition with their children, and their grandchildren. The Men and Women interred can't be forgotten, and their sacrifice can't either,"

"I hope you can continue with the Tradition,"

[Faclan]

Atl Gel - T'vaoan Artist
Arlington Cemetery visitors steps, the space shrinking rapidly
Pleasant surprises.

Judging from the small amount of expression and scaled and beaked face would show Mark could probably guess that what he had tried to say had made very little sense as Atl then confirmed it. "I would suggest not attempting that again Sir without getting to know the Kig in question. Several would get very irate with attempted language like that. Its often seen as mockery." But he didn't have to move, swell. So he put his bag back down and then added. "No offense meant or taken however. Just wanting to let you know."

He was a little surprise when the Human asked if he could sit and Atl just nodded as he himself sat back down. "I don't control this location Sir, of course you can." Flicking the tablet back on as he loaded up his sketch and looked up at Mark as he explained his reasoning for it all. Making Atl just kind of shrug as he responded. "This kind of monument is rather new to me actually Sir. We Kig-Yar often have things of this nature to victory or great conquests of the pasts. Remembering something that could be seen as less than good for your Nest would be unheard of. Rather we would honor our fallen with feasts and games and then be glad they are now to the Eternal Seas."

He tapped the end of his beak and gave a head bob as Mark sat down. "Atl Gel. If I may know your name," flicking his eyes around Marks uniform before spotting the double silver bars. "Captain?" Though that last name may spark something in Marks memory. Intel reports of War time battlefields of a high value target often pictured screaming in golden armor firing a focus rifle at something or leaping through the air blades poised.

[Cabel]

"My apologies. I meant no offense, and I appreciate the warning. I'll remember it. Thank you," Captain Mark Seamus 'Spade' Sorelson said. "I thought my translation needed a little work,"

Taking a seat near the Kig-Yar Atl-Gel on the steps, Mark held a new respect for the Kig-Yar and his thoughts went back to that fetid jungle planet with Bep or Big Bird as he'd called him.

"I had the Honor of meeting, and managed to get to work alongside a Kig-Yar during the War on some jungle planet. He tried to teach me some of the language to help with the language barrier. Bep was a good man,"

"This Monument was first Dedicated to those Fallen that couldn't be identified following the First World War that raged for nearly five years from July Nineteen-Fourteen to November Nineteen-Eighteen between European Empires with entire generations laid waste. The Final Design wasn't finalized until nearly two decades following the end of it, and for each following War the remains of those Fallen that can't be identified lay interred beneath. The Tomb isn't Dedicated to a single name, but to those that made the Sacrifice," he explained. "It's our way of remembering. History can't be forgotten, and those that put their own safety aside can't be forgotten either,"

"It's a Tradition dating back hundreds of years to a War when men lived underground afraid of shells above their heads and chemical weapons -- gas so deadly and until that time unimaginably horrifying even decades after men still carried the scars. Gas whose effects weren't even fully understood where a man would drown in his own lungs, would vomit or would die in such a way that his own comrades would wish for the same. It was a War that many claimed would be the last, and that it would be the end of all Wars," the Seattle-Born Marine Veteran continued. "The Men and Women you see, the Sentinels, guard the Tomb and carry through the same Ritual their Forebears did. The Sentinels would rather die than allow that Tomb to be violated,"

"An Honor, Atl Gel. Your guess was correct, and your knowledge of UNSC Ranks was spot on. I'm Captain Mark Sorelson, UNSCDF Marine Corps, Retired. I commanded Alpha Company in the One-Twentieth MEU, Echo Company in the Fifty-First Regiment, and a host of other Units," Mark said. He hadn't quite been able to fully wrap his head around being Retired on some days, and there were lessons he'd learned in the Corps that hadn't left him. "My Marines referred to me as Spade. I never left a Marine behind, and I'd dig in rather than run,"

The name Gel had brought back memories of a high value target in golden armor holding a rifle screaming while cutting down Marines or Army personnel unlucky enough to be in the crosshairs. There had been countless Covenant he'd laid the iron sights of his own rifle on through the War, but there were a few that had stuck out either forcing him to be haunted by them or for him to have recalled their very features even with his eyes closed.

"I believe we've met in the past or it was someone else that shared the same Clan name. I harbor no more hard feelings or resentment. I can't, or we wouldn't be sitting here," he'd say.

[Faclan]

Atl Gel - T'vaoan Artist
Arlington Cemetery visitors steps, the space shrinking rapidly
Family funtimes?

"Its a touch more than just translations. But hopefully in this new galaxy where we are all more connected you'll be able to learn if you really want too. I suspect I was even worse when I was learning your English. Then again you Humans have so many different languages its staggering to me." Back to his work he started to make the lines of the little rope around the Tomb Guards right arm before looking back over as Mark sat down and spoke again.

"Bep huh? Sounds like a Ruuthian name. The Ibie's tend to favor extra bits and we T'vaoan of course have to have the most elaborate names cause we're just the best." He rolled his eyes in a rather exaggerated manner at that. Making the large orbs pretty much spin in his skull. Likely a human quirk he knew off but not the more subtle bits of it. "Glad you had good experiences during the War however Sir - better than several I knew had and have seen here who look like they want to gun me down. But I doubt it will ever really go away." Clicking save as he shook his head. "Shame."

Flicking the image off the screen he opened up a notepad like app on the pad and started to scribble down...something. Mark would likely guess it was the Kig-Yar written script but it looked like just a bunch of really sharp angled lines. Likely what could be made with their claws in surfaces that could hold the shape so it had to be rather deliberate. "Nineteen...fourteen? Aecors swell," he muttered as he kept recording. Likely shocked by how old this monument actually was. He shuddered when the horrors of the gas attacks were revealed to him but skipped down a line to record that. "First one...gas." At least he had what to put on the first tomb at least. "Tomb Sentinals - good name," more muttering as he wrote. Before finally putting the stylis down and chortling, sounding almost just like a songbird call, as he looked back at Mark.

"Oh Sir I only know the ranks because those little bars," pointing at the Captains mark with his middle finger, but hard not too when you only had three. "Are very popular decorations on Eayn these days. As they are shiny and come in so many colors, sizes, and shapes. I believe its ummm...Major? The one thats a little flower? Thats especially popular to have on collars. In fact your UNSC bird symbol is used a lot as well cause well bird." He blinked. "That was a lot of letters and names to be sure Captain Mark. Sorry if I don't remember all of them."

Though Atl would noticeably deflate when it was revealed that Spade knew of the Gel name. Making him sigh and look down at the ground. "That would be my older sister...Kael Gel - Champion and current Commodore of not only my clan but my family itself. The perils of family and being from the family itself not just under them in a clan." He glanced up and shifted a little away from Mark. "I umm...hope she didn't kill anyone who you knew well. I can't really apologies for her actions however." A little shrug. "If it makes you feel better we are not on good terms as her attitude of might and conquest pushed me the cowardly artist away."

[Cabel]

“You've managed to pick up more of the inflections, slang and the mannerisms of English far better than many humans that were born speaking it. You've done well, but you don't need me to say that,” Mark said. He'd found Atl-Gel's studies into learning the language of a once hated enemy to be impressive and found him Honorable.

“There will always be those that harbor hard feelings, human, and those of the former Covenant from the Sangheili to the Kig-Yar and the Unggoy,” the Retired Marine Captain explained. “My Clearance allowed me to learn the names of some of the species, and though the original Briefings had been for the purpose of learning what kind of small arms, to artillery, to heavier weapons, armor and other things most of the rest I've forgotten. I've only retained the names of the species, some of the names of their worlds in hopes that maybe one day during the time I have left and the time you have left that we'll be united in the sanctity of life and in remembering the costly lessons,”

“A Ruuthian name?” Mark asked. “Ibies and T'Voans...sounds similar to the Hatfields and the McCoys. I didn't mean to poke fun at it, or even dismiss whatever rivalry there seems to be between those Clans. In our own history, the Hatfields and the McCoys were two Families -- extensive Families that fought during the American Civil War. Their feud took to new heights following the end of hostilities, and their feuds became legendary. Two Families bound by so much hate for each other, and though I'm certain History has recorded what the real reason had been at the time it's been forgotten over the Centuries,”

He'd smirked, chuckling a little at his new Kig-Yar friend's attempts at sarcasm and the human sigh. Mark had to admit the gesture had more of an impact on the Kig-Yar, having captured the very meaning behind that sarcasm far better than even some of the Marines he'd had the pleasure or displeasure of having trained in Boot Camp.

“You've managed to do that far better than even many humans that I've known, and you could give more than a few jokers a run for their money,” he'd say.

“I didn't have that many good experiences in the War, Atl Gel or would you prefer Atl? I don't want to offend you, and I want to make certain that you feel welcome. I want to at least be a friend,”

“There were days and nights that were more still and quiet than others, but the conflagration -- incoming and outgoing artillery, incoming needles, grenades, the smell of burned ozone from your Plasma weapons to the smell of cordite, gunpowder and oil dominated the other days,” he explained. “I treated those Marines around me and under my command as my fellow Brothers and Sisters. If I could teach Rookies -- the Privates fresh from Boot Camp a thing or two in keeping their heads down to maintaining their own Rifles I thought of it as a good deed. I saw more young kids still in their twenties to veterans scarred from slogging through the mud to having to beat back their position from being overrun break and call their Mothers when the shelling became too much. Everyone has their breaking point. I came close a few times, but I always had my fellows around me and I could recite the Hymn of the Republic and the Marine Corps Hymn,”

“I thought I'd lost a good friend to a shuttle accident of all things. We'd served for decades. I'd fought in his command to commanding Companies of my own in his Regiment and Expeditionary Unit. He was a Colonel, given a promotion to Brigadier General, but I thought I'd lost him. I had to attend the Service following his Cremation, and it nearly did break me,” Mark said. “I had a building fall on me on a Planet called Refuge. A piece of rebar pierced my thigh, and I did end up losing it. I have a lovely Titanium Prosthesis in its place, but there are times I can still feel it -- the leg and the rebar. I kept going because I had,”

“I'm afraid you're right about the hard feelings, the animosity between our species. It's too ingrained. Entire Generations grew up with only one thing to look forward to, to fight or to die -- many times it wasn't even in that order,” the Retired Captain explained. “It's why I'm glad you're here. I'm glad we're having this conversation. I served the Corps for thirty-five years. I loved it, but dirt washes off easier than blood. I'd rather know peace for the remainder of my days and I hope you can know that peace of your own,”

“Eayn? The UNSC Rank Pins are popular? Why does that sound like the United States of America and Europe following World War Two? I'm glad that at least something is popular, with it being the rank Pins rather than the reaching for a Rifle or loading the bellies of craft with bombs,” he'd say. He'd listened to Atl's description of the Rank Pins, and for a moment thought it was inwardly amusing the description of the Major's Oak Leaf and the Silver Eagle of the Colonel.

“The Oak Leaf and the Silver Eagle. The little flower? I'll have to remember that,” he'd smirked in good humor. “The Oak Leaf is popular...who would have thought? I would have liked to have made the rank of Major before Retirement, but for an old Devil Dog to rise through the ranks from being a Private to a Captain finds that being a Major isn't in his future. It isn't a problem. I only wish I'd been able to make it, but I wouldn't have wanted to do all of that paperwork that came with it. My place was on the field with my men,”

“I have a tattoo of the UNSC Eagle on my left shoulder. I decided to have it carved my first Tour on the moon of Echidna and decided to get it before I hopped a transport back here to Earth in twenty-five twenty-two. The lines, and ink are still very clear,” he'd said. “I'm glad it's popular on your home world. It's a good sign,”

“I wouldn't feel bad about not being able to remember the letters, or the full title. It's mostly a formality these days, but many of the veterans hold onto it as a badge and rightly so. I still haven't become used to being Retired. I was only allowed to continue serving after I'd reached the mandatory retirement age due to a shortage of Officers, of Veterans and that the UNSC needed every rifle it could get its hands on. Following the end of hostilities, the Corps gave me my papers and my retirement pay,”

“Your older sister Kael Gel? I've heard women in any species can be frightening, and effective in the field, but if this Kael was how most of the Kig-Yar women are you're more courageous than I thought. That isn't a prideful boast. I mean it,”

“She didn't kill anyone that was truly close. I had only a few close friends, mostly Survivors and Veterans, but I saw plenty of young kids being taken out. We had a saying, that it was better to not know the names of the Replacements until they had managed to survive as little as their third deployment. It made it easier on the Veterans, even if does sound cold,”

“Please. I'm the one whom should be Honored by being here and in speaking with you, Atl Gel. If there was any fault, it was mine. By bringing up those memories, I had unknowingly caused some of those same hard feelings,” Mark said on seeing the Kig-Yar starting to shrink. “You aren't your Sister. Her disgrace, and her anger is not yours. You don't have anything to be afraid of or to be ashamed of. If she were here now, I would say the same and would stand next to you and the Tomb Sentinels in defending this place. You would so Honor me,”

“I know this is a little gesture for my mistake, but if you wish we could go to a local bar that I know of for a few drinks or a meal? It'll be my treat. I'll pay for it,” he asked. With the exception of Bep loving Steak sauteed with onions, lemon and a little liver on the side, he hadn't exactly known if Kig-Yar drank beer. “If anyone says anything, let me know. I still have more than a few friends around here, and if they still have an issue I can still use my Drill Instructor voice to force them to at least soil themselves and to run out -- in that order,”

[Faclan]

"Well the hard feeling stretch back further than this war as I think it wouldn't be hyperbole to say that all the Covenant client races hate each other." Atl bobbing his head as the edged of his mouth peaked up in a smile. "Almost a thousand years of subjugation will do that too a species. Forced to work alongside others in the same boat as us and treated just as bad. Its a shame that the relationship between the Unggoy and the Kig-Yar went the way it did. With how populace the two of us were if we had worked together we may have been able to topple the Covenant hundreds of years ago." A snort. "That would have been a legend to remember. Especially with how damaging the various Unggoy Uprisings were and the few dalliance's with defiance we had. Often led by a Pirate leader or some other old world clan nobility." A shrug. "But we'll never know as we were too busy hating each other. Then the Yanme'e were also forced to serve, as were the Lekgolo. I think only the Jiralhanae joined willingly? But thats only because they were all still on fire. The Sangheili and San'Shyuum I'm not sure about. Never looked too deep into it."

He set the pad down as he listened and then added. "I was fortunate in that my Nest, clan if that would be easier for you to understand, was large and we are known for our warriors. So I was never forced to serve and could instead learn and study. Its what got me interested in your race. I'd like to think that one day we will all get along but with so many warships still around for the taking and surplus weapons so common you are just tripping over them I doubt it." Atl giving a heavy sigh as he shrugged. "My Species will likely keep the hate alive a long time as I'm sure even as we speak Pirate fleets are being formed with the huge glut of former soldiers needing work. But all the races are likely doing that."

A head tilt and an eye narrow at these tale of those two families as Atl wrote down likely how he thought they were spelt. Not that Mark would know as it was in the Kiggle script. "Never heard of that before. I'll have to see what I can find on waypoint. But thank you for the compliments. I watched several documentaries? I believe they are called. To help me see how humans talk and gesture." Doing some odd looking finger guns. "Its a nice change from the formal and boring way I was brought up to act being a Scion of Gel. And either works. Atl will likely be easier to say as well." He opened his beak to continue before it closed again. He was going to say that it would be nice to not always be called a Gel...But he was. He didnt want to turn his back on them despite disagreeing with them. His hand moving to rest against the pin in his backpack below his legs as Mark continued.

"Sorry to hear about your old friend Sir - and your injury. Though you seem to be well adjusted." He reached out to put a hand on Mark before stopping and pulling back. Looking a little unsure about that action. "But looks can often be deceiving. I just hope you have some friends who can help if it still hurts you on a personal level."

"I'm glad Ive been able to find a few Humans to talk with as well. It is mostly older Humans too. They seem to have had the experience to see that not everything can be told by looks or species. In fact an old Human was the reason I wanted to come to this planet." He reached down and pulled out the old Titanic pin and held it so Mark could see it. "They loved having someone to listen to the history of their family and gave me this for being a good listener. The tale of that comparatively tiny vessel always fascinated me since I first heard it."

He slipped it back into the messenger bag before he looked a bit more downtrodden when Kael was brought up again. "I'm not sure if you are aware but we Kig-Yar are a matriarchal society and culture. So her being the big boss is normal. And she had many things to say about me growing up. The cowardly artist brother putting shame upon the name of Gel." He scratched his red vocal sac. "Thankfully recently she has lessoned this stance but it still hurts. I appreciate you not judging me based on her actions however. Having a war hero or war criminal depending on who is asking about them tends to force a lot of actions from people."

He looked completely floored when Mark asked if he wanted to go for a meal. And took a good five seconds to respond before he gulped and hopped right up to his feet! "If you are willing Sir that sounds wonderful! I'll put a few of your credits in as I got some Gekz transferred over before landing here." He slipped the data pad back into the messenger bag before pulling out a small book. "I'll just need to try and find out the ingredients of those items before I eat them. I'd hate to get horribly sick when you are being so kind to me."

[Remnant]

(A 'what if' scenario, had MacAddy survived his illness long enough to see the end of the war.)

Gary MacAddy, "Retired" SGT
Arlington National Cemetery
Old Faces, Old Places

Two years. Two years since the end of the war. Two years since the Worker's Lung was suppose to claim him. Two years since MacAddy had last seen Sorelson, the man that got him where he is today. What was suppose to be a lone walk to the old memorial to contemplate, has turned into an unlikely reunion. There, on the steps. Sorelson wearing a set of dress blues, similar to the ones MacAddy currently wore. Beside him stood a curious creature. One of the former Covenant species, from what MacAddy could tell. MacAddy arched his eyebrow, but walked towards them anyway. He attempted to contain another one of his coughing fits, to no avail. His lungs burned with fire, like molten glass that moved throughout his body. He was used to this pain by now, having dealt with Stage III for years. Yet this wasn't Stage III.

"Boss," MacAddy said, addressing Sorelson with a crisp salute. "Been a long time."

MacAddy nodded to the... bird, for lack of a better term. Years of warfare and he never bothered with Covenant names. Now it's back to bite him in the ass. "And what do I call you?" MacAddy asked his feathery friend, in an effort to be social and polite.

[Cabel]

“I'll cover it, but if you're adamant in pitching in it is appreciated,” he'd say. If Atl Gel wanted to pitch in, he wouldn't argue. He wouldn't put the Kig-Yar in an embarrassing situation, and wouldn't make it so the Kig-Yar's offer wouldn't be dismissed either.

“Boss,” a voice from his past chimed in. Mark had turned his attention to Sergeant Gariland 'Gary' MacAddy, an old friend and equally as Retired. The Sergeant had carried the nickname of Mac-Daddy among his Marines, and Mark had even found the nickname aptly described the man. He'd proven to be one of his best Sergeants, and he hadn't been one that Mark had wanted to cross personally either. “Been a long time,”

“Sergeant,” Mark said, with a smile and stood to greet his fellow Marine. He'd returned the salute, raising his hand to his brow before dropping the salute. “At ease. It has been a long time. I'm Honored, and glad to see you're still around. I mean that. I hope we didn't interrupt your plans in respecting the Fallen,”

“How is your Family doing?” Mark asked, knowing Gary had deeply cared for his Family. He'd recalled Gary had only accepted the Order otherwise known as the Ferraux Precept and enlisted in the UNSCDF Marine Corps on the condition his Family had been taken care of. The fact the Outer Colonist had outlived the prognosis of the Worker's Lung delivered by the Doctors hadn't truly surprised Mark, but at the same time had proven to him that both men had made the right choice.

[Faclan]

"It would only be fair as this is more a business meeting rather than a relationship one. So one side should not carry all the financial burden." Atls feathers floofing out at this before he smoothed them back down. At least thats what all the females had told him when they latched or he latched onto them. Then again it was likely because of his Nest that they either assumed he would pay or it was proper for them too since he was the more important one. Relationships are weird. Besides splitting the costs would be simpler in the long run and hopefully show that he wasn't some freeloader like many assumed about him as an artist. He looked down into one of the pockets of his backpack as he picked it up to nod to himself. He had a small stack of credits in there.

The bag just being hoisted over his head before another Human arrived! Atls head turning almost 180 degrees around to see the new comer. Hopefully that wasnt too weird for them as he gave a nod and a little backwards wave before his body turned to match his heads position. "Nice to meet you friend of Mark." Though he stepped to the side to let the clearly old friends have a more direct line to each other as he tapped the end of his beak and bowed his head. "Atl Gel or just Atl if you would prefer Sir." He didn't seem to think it was necessary to include a little 'Kig-Yar specifically a T'vaoan bit' but that could come later if needed.

Atl taking the time the two talked to flip open the small notebook and start to skim through the script. Looking for where he noted down common Human food additives and if they were ok for him to eat. Tapping a pencil on his beak as he looked over these vital notes.

[Remnant]

Gary MacAddy, "Retired" SGT
Arlington National Cemetery
From Bad To Worse

"Nah, you haven't interrupted any of my plans. Family's doing well. UNSC's been coming through on their assistance and Addison just turned 12 this past month. Hell of a birthday party, that one." MacAddy said to Sorelson.

"Nice to meet you as well, Gel." MacAddy nodded to Atl Gel.

MacAddy motioned his head away from Atl, wanting to speak to Sorelson in a moment of privacy. Leaning in close to whisper, MacAddy broke the news. "Glad I found you when I did. Got some shitty news. I've hit Stage IV, lung rot." MacAddy coughed into his elbow, staining his uniform with a speck of blood. "Treatments were going well until a couple of months ago. The progression was quick and sudden. Doc's gave me a prognosis of six months at best, a few weeks at worst. That was two months ago." MacAddy said with a very grim disposition.

"Do me a favor, boss. Take care of my family, if you don't mind. Make sure they're in good hands. You're probably the one person I trust the most in this galaxy. The wife already knows about the prognosis and I just broke the news to Hank and Dezzie last night. I figured the boys would be able to handle it better than Addison. That being said, I don't know what to tell her. I haven't even told her about my condition yet. She's too young." MacAddy had a tear welled in the corner of his eye.

After they finished speaking, MacAddy walked back over to the Gel. "Sorry for the disruption, friend. Personal matter. How are you today?" MacAddy asked.

[Cabel]

[Inner Colonies: System: Sol System: Planet: Earth: Date: April 2554]

[Location: Arlington County, Virginia, United Republic of North America: Earth: Captain Mark'Spade' Sorelson]

“I'm proud of her, and I'm glad she was able to see her twelfth birthday. I'm glad for your entire Family, and I'm glad they're being taken care of. I can make more calls to a few friends of mine that can give a some more help. The Corps looks after its own, and I make damn certain to look after my brothers and sisters in Uniform,” Mark said. “You've known this part from the moment I spoke with you on Reach that I made it a point to never leave a Marine behind. I still make certain of that,”

“Damn,” Mark swore quietly. He'd agreed to step aside for a private moment with MacAddy, and listened the news that no man -- that no one should have been told they had to live with. He'd remembered quite a few Patients under the care of his Mother when he'd been a little kid to the countless men and women of the Uniform regardless of Branch being given news -- a diagnosis they either held firm against the prediction or gave in.

He hated above all else seeing anyone he'd fought next to in pain, and he'd hated having heard it from his old Platoon Sergeant. Unlike the Covenant on the Field and the Insurrectionists before them, neither of the two men had been able to have leveled a rifle -- in any of the lines fielded by the UNSC against it and Mark -- being the hard ass his reputation had forced him to become -- had to be far more understanding and compassionate with the other man. If he could have, he would have saved his Marines the pain and anguish brought upon them.

“They'll be taken care of. I'll make it my own to see that they are cared for, and that no one will gainsay them or you. You have my word,” the Aging Veteran Marine said. He hated having to write letters of the Fallen, and he hated the hand the Galaxy had thrown them. His Marines had deserved far better.

“I'll do one better. I'll make them a part of my extended Family. My Father's still around, and with both of our reputations no one will say anything towards them or think negatively. We will make that happen, and I would be Honored to have you as part of my Family as well. You earned that on the Field, and this is only a formality,”

“Our youngest children are the hardest of all when it comes to news of that nature, and from experience they can take more than even a General with their lapels full of Stars. When I had to break the news I'd been transferred from Earth to Reach, I asked my wife if she could help me. I didn't have to ask when it came to it though. Alyssa was never one to shy away from that,"

"I'd discuss it with your wife, and see what she thinks. The worst thing you can do is to not let Addison know. She'll either become silent, unapproachable and withdrawn, or she'll cry like a banshee. You have to let her understand. Spend what time you have with her, and your Family. Let them remember the Man you've always been. Let them remember the caring, loving Father that could snap the neck of a bull, could take up a rifle to protect his own against whatever the hell the cosmos threw at you, but could be gentle with them,”

“If you want me to be there with you, I will be,” the Retired Captain said, offering his hand to the other man.

[Faclan]

"Likewise sir, congratulations on your chick gaining another year." Due to his races greatly increased hearing when compared to Humans Atl took several steps back so he wouldn't be eves dropping. Letting them have their private talk as they clearly had a long history and Atl was a new comer. A literal alien! At least to them. So he moved back to the steps as he took our his thermos and took a gulp of tea before humming as he looked over the memorial from where he was.

Higher up than before he noticed that there was some garden details behind the tomb and yet no-one seemed to be walking there. How odd. Replacing the thermos in his bag he pulled out his notepad again and flicked through some pages before he presumably arrived back at his page of notes for this place as he recorded that down. It was likely part of the mythos of this place but it was still very odd to him that so much space was there and not being used. Perhaps it was to mean something? Like out there were more graves he couldn't see? Oooh that was good! More scribbling notes before the friend of Mark came back.

Atl still writing as he turned and bobbed his head - try to show a smile with a beak. "Quite well - I was not expecting to be able to get this close to something important in your history. I hope I can give it the proper justice and reverence in an art peice. I hope you and Mr. Soreelsun? Sorry if I mispronounced that. Had a nice chat. Will you be willing to join us for a lunch? If Mr. Sorlesen is fine with it that is." His arm feathers poofed out as he kept trying with that name.

[Remnant]

Gary MacAddy, "Retired" SGT
Arlington National Cemetery
Lunch!

MacAddy took the his former Captain's hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you, Boss. This means more to me than you can possibly imagine." MacAddy said, very appreciative of Sorelson's offer to make the Sergeant's family part of the Captain's extended one. " I definitely want you there, if you don't mind." MacAddy finished, the gears turning in his head on how he was going to discuss with his wife on how to approach Addison.

Turning to the sketch-artist next to them, MacAddy's stomach grumbled slightly in response to the Gel's question. "If the Boss doesn't mind, then I'd love to join y'all for lunch. I'm rather famished." MacAddy chuckled. He scanned the local area, looking for a nearby restaurant or food joint that would cater to the three of them. Whatever the trio wound up eating, MacAddy didn't care. He was well known for having a bottomless pit for a stomach, with no filter for what goes in it.

[Cabel]

[Inner Colonies: System: Sol System: Planet: Earth: Date: April 2554]

[Location: Arlington County, Virginia, United Republic of North America: Earth: Captain Mark'Spade' Sorelson]

“I've never left a Marine behind,” Captain Mark Seamus 'Spade' Sorelson said. “I'll be there, Gary,”

He'd felt that using or addressing the Man with his Nickname would have been a less personal touch, mostly since that Nickname had been forged on the Field. Sergeant MacAddy needed him, and Mark wasn't about to let him down.

“Short of the Marine Corps Band, I'll show up in my Dress Blues,” he said. He'd felt the need, the Occasion had warranted the Dress Blues and it hadn't been for his Vanity -- not that he'd had any left. He'd left that behind on some fetid Jungle or Mudball that had forced him to shed that overeager Private fresh from Boot into a hardened, grizzled Devil Dog even Hell and the occasional Barber hated.

“I don't mind if you join us, Sergeant. You're among friends. It's a Day to Celebrate, and to Reflect. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather spend that with unless our friend Atl objects,” Spade said. He had a feeling Atl wouldn't find it troublesome to have another Marine join them for Lunch, and given the Day's Solemn Nature the Aging Marine had intended on paying for the Meal.

“There was a time I'd correct you, but Mr. Soreelsen works. It's close to enough. I'm a Retired Captain, but I've never been a stickler for Regs among friends. If you were fortunate, or unfortunate to have been assigned to my Training Platoon or to the Companies I led, I'd be there at Oh-Four-Thirty banging the inside of a Trash Can with a Baton to make sure Mr. Sandman had been understanding or I could be a Pain-In-The-Ass if you happened to be an inept Higher Ranked Officer,” he explained. There were Days he missed being a D.I. and later a Senior D.I., but he'd turned his love for the Corps into a lengthy Career which saw many Marines return home to their loved ones.

“I know of a Diner about a twenty minute drive from here that Serves the best Seafood, Steak, Burgers, Boston Clam Chowder and quite a few other things found on the Menu. I'd frequent Thompson's Diner whenever I'd have to attend a Briefing at the Marine Camp at Quantico. I was never disappointed,” he explained.

[Faclan]

Blinking when Mark said he was around friends Atl huhed. That sure was a huge change to be considered a friend already. But they had talked about some rather personal subjects so he guessed it was fair. And the humans had lived through the war, unlike him. So perhaps they forged friend connections quicker? A bit against what the Captain had said earlier about not learning names in case they did as he shrugged to himself. Maybe he was just a little loopy? That would make sense as well and with what he lived through Atl wouldn't hold it against him at all. "Its your planet so I don't believe I have much say in things to object too. I'm still pleasantly surprised that you are inviting me at all." He quipped about Mark before he was given a mini lecture on what life was like during training and the war.

Honestly it sounded a lot like the Gel keep in a way. Early up, strict schedule, and likely punishments if you stepped out of line. But here wasn't the place for a discussion about his own version of that when there was food to get too. So instead he just nodded and added, "sounds similar in a way to how I was raised. But that can be compared too later." Before he made a cheeping whistle at the mention of sea food.

"Oooh, fish and the like sounds lovely. It was a large part of the diet back home and I'm curious to see how you prepare it on this planet. And unfortunately all of this," he gestured to his beak face and teeth. "Make it a bit tricky with some of the more complex words in your language. So you could correct me all you'd like but I may not be able to get it." He shrugged. "Like Sangheili and their," exaggerated exhale over his tongue. "Peh sounds." But he still seemed upbeat and smiling, just trying to pass along information and not annoyance.