paint your bluest skies the darkest grey

Anju

tried to wash you down with something strong
But the taste of blood remains

Anju sweeps in still draped in her Dragoon regalia, hair messy in a way that makes it clear she simply yanked her hair tie out moments before walking in the door. Though she cherishes her rank as Captain, meetings like these are admittedly sometimes difficult to work into her schedule given how few Dragoons there still are even this long after the war. Wherever Anju sees slack she normally picks it up herself, but she is only one woman, and the duties are never-ending.

Nevertheless she is present and accounted for, and the conversation is...nonexistent? Okay, she hasn't missed much then. Lena's soft touch seems to be accounting for whatever is bothering Sohalia, so Anju leaves the healer to it, choosing instead to sit and remove her sword so it doesn't jam into her side. "I assume our goals will have changed now that Safrin is away," she opens with plainly, too awkward to linger on anything but business.

Cold, empty mattresses and falling stars
My, how they start to look the same