We All Wear Black

[Reiner Dornkirk]

"We All Wear Black"
35 Ash, 122 Steel
Location: Classified

► Show Spoiler

Now that he’d finally connected with the part of his family he’d spent his life worshiping, Reiner felt like an imposter. In his black Zaichaeri Defense Corps dress uniform with the cap tucked under his arm he remained near the rear of the courtyard, as the proceedings began. It didn’t feel right to claim a seat, when there were so many people far more important than a ZDC private from the East End slums. There were people who actually knew and loved his relations. They deserved more courtesy than a fan boy who admired them from afar, holding onto news clippings and making a veritable shrine to relatives who were perfect strangers. He’d always been so proud to be a Dornkirk, but now that he was among those who hadn’t needed to legally change their surnames to that of their mother, he wondered whether they would see him as a stalker rather than an ardent devotee.

He hated that his focus was fixed upon his own insecurities, when the reason he was here was to join with others in common grief. Even if he hadn’t known Brenner, Melchior or the Lady Sylana, he’d dreamt of them for so long that it felt, in a way, as though he did. And in a way, his loss was the greater, for never being able to actually realize that dream. The others present could look back on the good times they’d shared with the deceased. Reiner would never meet some of the most influential idols in his personal pantheon. Still, he saw familiar faces at the front of the proceedings. Lord Stefan, tall, tan and handsome was with his Angevin bride. Their brother in law, Eitan Angevin, stood grimly by with his own family. He’d seen them on a dais from afar not so long ago, when he’d attended Brenner’s speech at the Presidium before being sent to the Northern front.

When things were underway, Reiner was relieved that his self doubt didn’t obstruct him from feeling the weight of what was happening. The service was moving, as it ought to be and he was honored to have been invited. He wept for their loss, for his own and for Zaichaer’s. He’d never shed so many tears in his life as he had since that dread day, when the country to which he devoted his life and service, was sundered by magic most foul.

He joined the receiving line, allowing other mourners to precede him in the queue and patiently waiting for his turn to offer his condolences. Anxiously aware that a placard on his chest broadcast the family name he adopted, he kept his eyes downcast as he approached Eitan’s family. An errant tear forced its way free as he lifted his gaze to meet Eitan’s.

“My name is Reiner.” He offered his first name, hesitating to bring more attention to his last at a moment when it would beg uncomfortable questions in a public setting. “And I’m very, very sorry for your loss, Captain Angevin.” He slid his hand free of its glove and offered it to the ZADC officer before him.

[Eitan Angevin]

It had been easier to cope with the loss of Brenner Dornkirk when he had pulled his strangely preserved skeleton from the rubble. They had been in danger and Stefan had been understandably overwhelmed. It hadn't been easy, but it had been easier to ignore it when there were countless things that needed to be done and he still recovering from near death and constant stressors. When it came time to memorialize the man who had been his best friend and, at times, his only friend, there was nowhere to hide from his feelings.

No, there was duty. His eyes were gleaming with unshed tears as people began to pay their respects to Stefan and Delia, and then Eitan and Lucrece, but nary a tear fell. Many had fallen and many would, but for today, he was strong for his wife, for his sister, for his brother-in-law, and for Stefan.

Eitan was strong for everyone these days. A more senior Watcher had yet to be found, and those presence had no desire to seek leadership from one of the chapterhouses when the Order of Reconciliation was a fundamentally Zaichaeri organization. Ambition had made him Seeker; happenstance had made him their leader. Captain Merovech was a more senior member of the Zaichaer Air Defense Corps, but he and the captains of the other ships that had come to join them, military and otherwise, had chosen to defer to him. Perhaps it was his name. Perhaps it was his relation to the Dornkirk name. Perhaps it was his willingness to sacrifice his life just to hold the line.

There was new growth all around them, though, and for that he was proud. The coven witches were behaving, and his Watchers and Minders were learning from them. The refugees were showing their Zaichaeri grit and patriotism. Lucrece's rounded belly was a matter of pride at this point, and a symbol of hope for many. Stefan's child was the last daughter of Zaichaer; Eitan's child would be the first of their new era.

He was stronger now, too. His tour of duty had shown him violence, but this had harrowed him, hardened him, tempered him like steel.

So many times, he had asked himself, "What would Brenner do?"

Eitan Angevin still cut an impressive figure in his white dress uniform. His face was leaner, his cheeks hollower. Remnants of boyhood had slipped away.

He was shaking a hand and processing words when his eyes read another name, and then cut up to seek familiarity and meaning in the face he saw. He was shorter than Brenner, his colors and shapes different, but he imagined he saw something of Brenner, something of Stefan, something of Melchior.

"Your name is Dornkirk," he murmured in response, loud enough that only he, the boy, and his wife could hear it. No, Reiner Dornkirk was a man, but younger, and though he had a manly set to his jaw, he likely hadn't seen anything at all to prepare him for this new world. Then again, who had?

Lucrece squeezed his arm and when he looked to her, she gave him a gentle, yet pointed look and nodded toward the young man.

"Ah, pardon. Luca, this is Reiner Dornkirk. Ah, private first class, it seems. Private Dornkirk, my wife, Lucrece."

"How lovely to meet another Dornkirk as we say farewell to too many. A pleasure to meet you, Private Dornkirk." She offered her hand, and then, "Would you be so kind as to do me a small favor? I believe my husband needs a moment. Perhaps you could take him aside for a drink and some fresh air?"

[Reiner Dornkirk]

Reiner blinked, taking Eitan's initial reply for chastisement. It stung a bit, but after moment's thought he considered the weight of the words.

"You're right." He replied, with a firm nod and took his hand in a grip as sturdy as his newfound resolve.

"My name is Dornkirk." Whether or not Eitan had meant it that way, it was an edifying thing to hear in a moment where he felt like he needed that kind of clarity. If Brenner's best friend regarded him as a Dornkirk, that was good enough for Reiner.

"Please to meet you, Milady..." He offered a bow to the officer's wife, and upon standing upright and lifting his gaze to meet hers he grimaced, "Despite the circumstances that led to our introduction." He added, pendulously. He took her hand, momentarily unsure what to do with it. It didn't feel right to just shake it like he had Eitan's. He wasn't accustomed to such genteel company and now he wished he'd been paying more attention to what the people in front of him had been doing, but after an awkward beat he leaned down to kiss her hand. It was a stiff, awkward gesture and he rose from it wish a flush to his fair cheeks.

"Oh!" Taken aback, he looked from wife to husband as if seeking the approval of the man, before obliging the woman, but it was really a gesture born of his befuddlement at being so out to sea in this setting. "Of... of course, Milady." He afforded Eitan a tight-lipped smile, and gestured.

"I... saw them setting up refreshments over that way. Shall we?" Pausing for a brief beat, he then started to make his way down the path.

Indeed, on first glance, Reiner didn't bear a striking resemblance to his well-heeled cousins. He'd been born a Strauß, and to his chagrin he took more after his father than his Dornkirk mother. His hair was darker than Brenner's or Stefan's and his skin paler, with a delicate upturned nose that gave his face a quality that looked from some angles cherubic and from others impish, rather than the more masculine, aquiline noses of his half-Gelerian cousins. His voice was a bit higher and set more forward, boyish but with a slight rasp that gave it character. He mitigated his peasants accent, but didn't go so far as to feign a posh dialect. He spoke like a Zaichaeri everyman.

Despite the many contrasts, a few of the family similarities were discernible rather quickly. There was the swoop of his hair, the stern, military posture observed more religiously as he was hoping to appear taller as well as professional. There were mannerisms, too. It was clear he'd been crying, but just as clearly he was ashamed of that and although he was a deeply emotional creature, he adopted a mask of stoicism similar to the one Brenner often wore. It seemed to fit Brenner more neatly than Reiner, for whom the endeavor was more aspirational.

As they strolled at a leisurely pace, Reiner tugged his glove back on and put on his cap.

"It was..." Reiner hesitated, not even sure what sort of a small talk was acceptable in these murky, majestic waters. He was desperate not to fuck things up, now that he finally had his in. "...very thoughtful of Lord Stefan to invite me. It means the world to me that I'm able to be here."

[Eitan Angevin]

If his manners were found wanting, neither Lucrece nor Eitan gave any indication thereof.

"Thank you, love," Eitan said quietly, leaning in to kiss her temple as she leaned into receive it. She moved gracefully to catch stand with Delia and Stefan as the more formal sort of receiving line dispersed into more informal conversation and reverie. It was strange with the new, mixed population that remained in this mobile Zaichaeri fragment or colony. There were some blue bloods, some rust bloods, some Order, some Military, some Coven. It was predominantly human, of course, although not entirely. The future was uncertain, but they would face it together.

Though young Dornkirk had a few strides of a headstart, Eitan's long legs ate up the space between them until they were walking side by side. It was strange; he didn't seem like a social climber, but rather someone truly affected by the death of his brother-in-law.

"He is that," Eitan agreed mildly with a faint smile. At the bar, he waved off the airman playing bartender and reached behind the bar for a particular bottle and a pair of specific glasses. Most of the alcohol had come from White Knight Hall, anyway, and this had been part of a small collection set aside for whenever Brenner would visit. He poured and explained what was happening before pushing a glass to Reiner.

"Brynn's favorite Gelerian schnapps. You don't have to like it..." Again, the faint smile. "He had particular tastes. But it seems appropriate for a family toast. If Melchior didn't embrace you, well, Stef surely will. To fallen heroes!"

He raised a glass to Brenner Dornkirk, thinking he would take this one under his wing as a sort of tribute to his lost friend. Perhaps he was sentimental, after all.

[Reiner Dornkirk]

Reiner smiled at the affirmation. It was vindicating, if not surprising, to hear his favorable view of his cousin validated by one of his nearest friends. Reiner was savvy enough (or obsessive enough) to know that their families were aligned now- Linked by blood. The Angevins were estimable servants of Zaichaer and early supporters of the Dornkirks. Although Reiner had no great love for the Old Guard who held a stranglehold over the power structures before men like Melchior Dornkirk started to rise the ranks, the Angevins had been gatekeepers who saw fit to let them pass. And he knew that this one didn't have the easiest of climbs, even if he had been head and shoulders above Reiner Strauß in terms of privilege.

The young private sidled up to the bar beside Eitan, and watched him deftly manage the scene before him- dismissing the barman and pouring for them himself. Reiner smiled to himself, appreciating that he wasn't relying on servants to wait on him hand and foot, as he imagined many in his position would have. Even in times like these.

"Brynn?" He tilted his head, "Oh- was that a nickname of Brenner's? I... never actually met him." There was great shame in that, it seemed. He glanced down at the bar and the drink Eitan had set out for him.

"Gelerian schnapps..." He shrugged, "Never tried it, but I'm game." Reiner was a twenty-two year old soldier, so he knew his way around a liquor bottle, but he tended to drink domestic. Not purely out of xenophobia, but also due to the price of imported products. Besides, if he was going to drink foreign, the Imperium seemed like the way to go. He knew his cousins were half-Gelerian, so he figured they'd picked up the habit from that heritage.

"To fallen heroes!" Reiner responded, with solemn enthusiasm and enough volume that a few others in their vicinity raised glasses in their direction as they drank. It went down hard, thicker and sweeter than whiskey, but with that kind of a burn. It was enough to make him wince, but the subsequent herbal notes that prickled his tongue in the aftermath were pleasant enough.

"Interesting..." He said, holding the glass up and swirling the contents appraisingly. "So, I um... I gather you've heard of me, then? I've... heard of you, too. Obviously..." He offered a sheepish smile, "To the heroes we still have, Captain Angevin." It was a more intimate toast, quietly delivered but his hazel gaze was pointed upon Eitan's countenance as he raised his glass for his second sip. He even managed not to cringe this time.

"This place... What you all did..." He put the glass down on the bar, and absently reached for one of his coat pockets, but he just let his hand rest atop it. "It's so, so amazing. I can't believe I'm here. The boys back at the barracks are never gonna believe a word of it." After a moment he dropped that hand back down onto the bar top.

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan smiled at Reiner's reaction and his many questions, some of which he answered for himself. The elder soldier didn't mind him running his mouth a bit; it gave him a chance to take his measure. His nerves were made clear when he began to gush, and then there was the toast that Eitan appreciated, but felt bittersweet all the same. He raised his glass in good humor and sipped his schnapps.

"Thank you," he said with what he hoped was humility. "We all did what was required of us. Fortunately, it seems to have worked for the time being, and we will continue to work toward survival and then... thriving. And what you are doing is commendable as well. I have been aware since I was a boy that Melchior left family behind in the Grungeworks, but I was encouraged not to ask too many questions about the family affairs of others." He frowned. "A shame, really. I would have liked not to have been the youngest of us growing up. Brynn and I shared a birthday, though he was my elder. But Stef did mention you, that he was inviting you. I thought it was a good idea, bringing the remaining Dornkirks into the fold if possible."

Though he didn't say it outright, he had suggested bringing the cousin onboard as well as any of his extended family as had survived. Stefan felt so alone, and if nothing else, his daughter would have more family to adore her. Perhaps Eitan might suss out a bit about the young man to see if that would even be an option. They hadn't wanted to split Zaichaer's remaining citizens, but Stefan was the highest ranking member of the government. Perhaps the armies would follow them, or perhaps generals would seek to carve out their own territories as warlords. It was difficult to say what a man would do when the chips were down.

[Reiner Dornkirk]

"Of course." Reiner replied with a nod, "Should we sit?" He gestured to a nearby bench and, once he had Eitan's approval, he snagged the bottle by the neck and pinched their two glasses with his other hand. He waited for his ranking officer and social better to choose a side, before sitting on the other and placing the glassware between them on the seat.

"Zaichaer ain't goin' nowhere, Sir." He furrowed his brow, and glanced at their surroundings and realized the irony of his phrasing. "Well... I mean, we're survivors. And if that means Zaichaer takes to the sky, well... To me that just seems like the next step in our Manifest Destiny." Were he more comfortable in present company or deeper into the bottle of schnapps, he might have added that it was a nice, big 'Fuck you' to the pidge city in the North, but he kept that to himself for now.

"Me? I'm just a grunt, sir. But I'm proud to crawl through the dirt, so men like you and my cousin can soar in the sky and save our people. We're all just fightin' the good fight in our own lanes, way I see it." He poured them both a bit more from the bottle, and took a sip.

"5th of Cinderfall." He replied reflexively, and after a beat cringed at himself. "I... may not have known you guys, but I tried to keep up as best I could. Sorry, I know it probably seems a little weird, or... I don't know." He took another, larger sip eager to take the edge off his nerves. He reached his hand back to the same pocket as earlier, and this time he pulled open the flap and stuck his fingers in to withdraw a pack of cigarettes and a brass lighter with the ZDC logo on the front. He held both items in one hand, which he rested on his lap.

"Remaining Dornkirk. Singular, I'm sad to say. My folks didn't survive the... Whatever it was, either." He'd been trying not to seem too much a thrall to his habit, but these were difficult times. He opened the pack and pulled out a cigarette. "You mind?"

"Anyway, it'll be nice to meet Stef-... er, His Lordship, when he finds the time." Reiner sat upright and craned his neck to look around and see where Stefan might be, at the moment. He was a bit nervous the man would forget all about him, but it would have been perfectly understandable given the circumstances. Reiner couldn't even rightly hold it against him, even if it would have broken his heart.

"Would you mind tellin' me a bit what he's like? That Dienerin fella's a real tight-lipped type. I just kinda want to get a feel for what to expect." He trying to armor himself as best as he could against the likelihood of making a fool of himself, though he would let that part remain in the subtext.

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan nodded and they sat. His smile went through several permutations, but never quit his face as the young Dornkirk spoke. At the mention of his birthday, he let out a surprised laugh.

"Fifth of Cinderfall, indeed." He waved away the apology. "I don't pretend to know your life or your mind, but I can see how your cousins might have lived a life you aspired to. Wanted to emulate. I'm a bastard... most of the time, I wished Melchior and Sylana would adopt me so I could be a Dornkirk. And I've always worked hard to earn the respect of a man who would never deign to give it. Families are complicated. Your uncle crawled through dirt to build his estate, so I suppose you do have the Dornkirk spirit."

Despite his dress uniform, he managed to look relaxed on the bench.

"I don't mind if you share." There was a note of sadness there as he recalled many a fag bummed from Brenner. "My condolences. One of the College of Minders' best remains with us and she is actively investigating the explosions and the rifts that brought the Dread Mists. We will understand what happened if we can, the better to protect ourselves and our children from another such attack."

Once he had his own cigarette lit and had taken a bracing drag, he considered.

"Call me Eitan, yeah? This is a social event and you're family. We are technically on an airship so if there's an emergency and I give you an order, I'll expect a aye, sir, but otherwise..." He shrugged. "I'd wager Stefan will say something similar to you. He doesn't stand on ceremony, and he would rather tinker with the airships than make political decisions or fight a battle. He's a doughty airman and a fine shot, but the ZADC figured out early that he could best serve the State with his mind. And that is what I admire most about him. He sees things differently, sees how things work. And no, I'm wrong... What I admire most about him is... well, I shan't be able to decide. He is strong, generous, and loyal. He is proud of his family and his people, but doesn't seek authority or adulation. If you respect him, say so, and then move on. Be straight with him; he will appreciate it. I do believe he wants to reconnect with you, but that is something for the both of you to decide. He has his daughter, but other than that, you are the only blood he has in the world."

[Reiner Dornkirk]

"Heh..." Reiner nodded at Eitan's apt assumptions about his perspective. From another source he might have been more embarrassed, but somehow it didn't feel as vulnerable coming from Eitan. And he didn't get the sense that the captain saw him as some sort of gold-digging opportunist. That wasn't him. In the recent edit of his dreams, he met his extended family after making a name for himself in the war that never was. He envisioned shaking hands with the notable Dornkirks, when he was a notable Dornkirk. When he'd pulled himself up by his bootstraps, just like Melchior had and moved out of the same house where his uncle had grown up in similar squalor.

"My uncle was a genius..." Reiner demurred, "I'm..." He chuckled, "...not. But I'm a patriot, and I'm not scared to put my life on the line for a cause." He nodded, offering the pack to Eitan for him to pluck one out for himself. The lighter was finicky. He had to shake it a few times before it finally offered a low, weak flame. Probably low on fuel. Hardly surprising, given all the cause he'd had to chain smoke lately and how hard it was to find replacements without fighting through dread mutants. Ultimately it got the job done, and he took his first drag with relish and relief, sending plumes of smoke forth in a sigh.

"I don't understand any of it. Fuckin' pidges." He took another quick puff, and then let himself lean back on the bench with his elbows resting on the backrest. Cigarette hanging between the fingers of his left hand, and his drink swirling in the right.

"You got it, Eitan." It felt a bit odd, having prepared himself to be overly formal and painstakingly deferential with his superiors. He'd peppered Dienerin with the kinds of questions he didn't seem to answer begrudgingly- The sort about decorum, like forms of address. It was nice to get a pass for the moment, though.

His smile broadened as Eitan went into detail about his cousin. He took a few sips of schnapps and a few drags of smoke, while he elaborated, but made sure to acknowledge with nods when advice was posed.

"Sure, sure. I don't expect... or even want you to put words in his mouth or nothin', I just..." He sighed, "I don't want to fuck this up. This ain't how it was s'posed to go, y'know? But it's where we are, and... Yeah, wow. You don't think about things like that until you do, and then once you realize... It's like... Fuck." It had taken Reiner a while to process how truly alone he was in a world without his parents. He had friends in his unit he'd take a bullet for, but nobody he expected to be close with five years from now. He didn't have a girlfriend, and he'd been out of town long enough that the kids he grew up with were scattered. Probably many of them were dead.

"Since the blitz, all I've had to keep me company is rage." He lifted both hands, "And these." He nodded to the cigarette first, and then the liquor. "I ain't fishin' for pity, or nothin'... I know it's that way for most people, nowadays, but it's fuckin' hard." He took a sip of the schnapps. If the taste wasn't growing on him, the feeling sure was.

"How've you been holdin' up, Eitan?"

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan would agree that Melchior had a particular genius; Leir had sought to play it to his own advantage. He didn't know if the men had ever been genuine friends. They both had their ideas about blood and breeding. Their sons were genuine friends, though. Perhaps some things required generations to change. Others, they now knew, changed quickly. There was quite a bit of nodding, noises of assent and understanding.

"I think," he began carefully, wanting to address some of what Reiner had said before he answered his question, "that Melchior felt like he had to put distance between himself and where he came from trying to gain the acceptance of the blue blood. For better or for worse. I think Stefan has the privilege of standing on his father's shoulders. He doesn't have to distance himself from where his father came from. He doesn't have to distance himself from you. And when the shit hit the fan, he did what he could to protect as many of the workers at the Windworks as he could, and their families, only sending Dienerin off to collect his family. And then, he reached out to you. I don't want to blow smoke up your ass..." He exhaled a stream of blue smoke. "But seems to me he would like the chance to get to know you. Just be yourself. He can be prickly, awkward. But he always does the right thing as he understands it."

He paused. "Anyway, hopefully that's the last of my advice..." He laughed. "I sound like I know anything." He rubbed at his chin, glanced down at his glass, then elected another drag instead.

"I don't even know how to answer that question. One minute, preparing for war with Kalzasi. The next, explosions, a rift, two rifts, and the world turned upside down. I thought I was a goner there, and didn't mind terribly, knowing Brynn was gone, Stef had run out beyond the wards with a fucking gun, trying not to assume the worst about my wife, my sister..." He shrugged. "Rage. Aye. I've got my rage. But I've got some family, at least. I've got duty. People depending on me. That helps. Being needed. Being necessary. I was an ambitious prat, but I didn't want all this... not this way. I feel survivor's guilt to be sure. Why should I survive and not my friend? I suppose I can understand why the pidges' thralls worship their gods, wanting to believe there's a divine plan. It certainly makes no sense to me. Everything.

"So I suppose I'm fortunate Stef survived. He's smarter than I am. Glad to be making a difference for the better... I don't know that I'll ever be all right again, though. You know?"

Eitan glanced at the young ground-pounder.

"How about you?"