Past Imperfect

Plain, Fancy and Glorious

Plain, Fancy and Glorious

It was just one farm in a loose knit co-op of many. It wasn’t the biggest or the most profitable looking but it was greener then any of the others they’d passed. The fields behind the simple home were filled with shades of green dappled with gold, oranges, reds, and even blues. It was more color then most of them had ever seen one place at one time and certainly the most living green. Even the fallow fields were alive with small birds and animals munching on whatever food was present without a fear of the humans living so near.

No one had the courage to ask the Commander why they kept marching past farm after farm. You didn’t question orders. It wasn’t until they arrived at the farm to be warmly greeted by an elderly couple that they understood why they hadn’t stopped earlier. They were welcome at this particular farm. The old farmer opened his well and told them to take all the water they needed while his wife went back into the shack that passed for their home with the intention of baking up a mountain of biscuits for their visitors. This was a safe place, as safe as things ever were, for them to make camp. The rest was as welcome as the cool, fresh water filling their canteens.

The Commander barked out familiar orders regarding setting up camp. They got to use the couple’s barn as a base. Shasta found it comforting to have a solid looking building at her back after all the weeks of traveling out in the open. She was city girl, born and bred. All these wide-open spaces made her feel completely out of her element. She watched her comrades setting up their tents, twirling a utility hammer. Her tent was already up; not that she was going to use it unless it rained. It was just too hot for the tent.

"Ya done with that, Shast?"

She didn’t even look up; she just handed the hammer to Varenn Skye one of the two other women in the unit. The third, Glory Roberts was the junior medic. Shasta knew about much about Varenn and Glory as they did about her which was little more then nothing as she made a point to keep to herself during off-hours. Any questions about friends or family back home had always deflected by blank looks or the simple words; ‘Don’t have any.’ Hardly anyone ever bothered to ask twice.

"How do you manage to get done with your set up so fast?"

There was Varenn, some called her Anne, trying to be ‘friendly’ again. Shasta straightened to a stand. "I don’t get distracted." She let her gaze follow Varenn’s and sure enough it led to Ricoh and Mikkaill Gideonn, the twins. "They look the same as they did five minutes ago, Vee. Get your gear up before the Commander comes back this way." Her comment brought a blush to the other woman’s cheeks and she got to work putting up her tent.

"Do you even like men, Shasta?"

Glory wasn’t a bad woman. She was going to make a damned find medic someday but every once in a while Shasta just wanted to plant a facer on her. "You mean for something besides target practice?" She turned her calm brown eyes to meet Glory’s blue orbs. "Do pardon me for having something better to do with my life then laying on my back with my legs in the air."

Varenn’s head popped out of her tent, garnet colored orbs wide. "Hey, she just asked if you liked guys, Shasta. I swear, sometimes you are about as friendly as a rabid trokk."

Shasta looked from one woman to the other. Glorious Glory is what some of the males in the unit called the young medic. Deep blue eyes fringed with dark lashes. Chocolate brown hair pulled back in a ponytail that still looked lustrous even after the hours of marching. Even in the standard Legion green, Glory had a figure that made most men turn around and look twice. Then there was Varenn with her unusual garnet colored eyes and locks of burnished silver. Her figure was nothing to sneeze at either. She may not have been as curvy as Glory but she was younger and had a few years left to fully mature. If she’d had the energy, Shasta might have been inclined to be jealous of the other women in her unit but she could never manage to work up the strength for it. She knew what she was called by the men too, plain.

Brown on brown
Frump and frown
Ruby on silver
Stand and deliver
Blue on sable
Willing and able
Plain, Fancy and Glorious.

It really sucked as poetry went and if she was supposed to be insulted by it she wasn’t. She didn’t any problem with the face staring back at her in the mirror. Her short hair wasn’t just brown; it was a cinnamon shade that took on more red the longer she was under the suns. Her eyes were a deep bronze color, which flowed to a molten gold encasing her pupils. Let them think she was plain, she liked it that way. The less Shasta was noticed the better by her way of thinking. Her eyes finally landed back on Varenn. "I’ve got guard duty up the road. Put the hammer in my tent when you’re done with it."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

Shasta could see the frustration in Varenn’s eyes but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She picked up her rifle, pulled her cap down on her head and headed off to do her guard shift wondering what being friendly had to do with being a soldier.

Stay tuned, more tales from Past Imperfect to come.

All Times of Tribulation information, places, and ideas are copyrighted by their creator Todd Rourke.

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