Joshuan was not a very expressive gentleman. Perhaps that is what made him so successful in the military. His features were impassive throughout the entire thing, making his words calm and commanding even amidst certain defeat. Of course, off the battlefield, nothing ill could be said of his manners. He was raised a gentleman and therefore he behaves as thus. Perhaps it was a mixture of those two traits that led him to the place where he was now. Slow footfalls descended across the land, only the faintest crush audibly from his steps. The scene was a depressing one, and it was not something that Joshuan enjoyed, but he felt it necessary.
This place had not been easy to find, and neither did it seem an appropriate place to linger. Death was almost as palpable as it was in the midst of battle. One felt as though he could touch mortality in his moments spent here, at least that was the sense that Joshuan received. His lips tightened slightly, the stoic countenance taking on a more stern expression. Steel gray eyes gave away next to nothing about the emotions lurking just below the surface.
His clothing had seen better days. The right sleeve was sliced open around his forearm, hanging limp and thick with drying blood. The gash was slight in comparison to what could have happened - and of course very little was to be considered at this point. He would not bleed to death and that was all that mattered at present. His torso had taken a few injuries but none so bad as to warrant any outside attention. No, he could stitch himself up well enough for these wounds though he did not relish the thought. Most of the crimson that splattered his clothing was not his own. It belonged to fallen enemies and comrades. There was nothing that could be done now except to give them a proper burial. There were many he did not know and with the time they were given, not much could be done to identify the fallen whose bodies were mangled. He winced slightly, pausing only briefly before a fresh mound of dirt.
Pulling his cleaned sword from its sheath, he shoved it into the ground nearby, disarming himself before moving among the graves. He knew better than to let his guard down completely but this was a moment of honor. Surely all other warriors could respect that even if they were amidst the enemy's ranks. And who was he, anyway? No one would come looking for him. He did not appear to have any rank noticeable, though he had managed to rise to the rank of Colonel. And he had no real connections among the ranking to merit any serious consideration. No, he was considerably safe with his decisions - logic declared it so.
Joshuan lifted his left arm, rubbing his face with the shoulder of his sleeve, a streak of crimson and charcoal transferred to the material. The battle had not been pretty, but then there was very little that was pretty about war. The illusions are great for young children, but the reality of war was something entirely different to be reckoned with. And while this colonel did not enjoy burying his comrades, he found that there was very little else that he was suited for aside from war.
He carried his markers without comment, his light humming broke the dreary silence of the place, and for the briefest moment he relished in the fact that he was alone. He could not carry a tune to save his life - something he found rather embarrassing as he loved music and felt he should be inclined to talent. With a very off-key song on his tongue and a respectful countenance, he made his way to mark the most current grave sites. He waited only briefly at the graveside before turning back. Lifting his sword, he quickly sheathed it as though ready to be on his way, but immediately turned his attention to the sky.
Daylight was drawing to a close. He should be getting back to the camp, as he would be missed eventually. And of course he would hate to cause any undue worry on those who had seen him bloodied from the battlefield. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, his lips moving in a quick prayer - though to whom he did not know.
[ooc]Meh. It's a start. x.x [/ooc]
There was a strange calmness that settled across the military man - and though being so near death was disturbing, there was a odd blanket of life found among the graves. Joshuan felt the warmth of such a thought brush across his body just before feeling a gaze - odd since most occupants of this area were dead. Yet patience was something he felt inclined towards, especially since he was not sure he wanted his solitude intruded upon. Besides, it was probably one of the other soldiers come back to make sure he did not fall into any trouble. And then there was the voice.
Though he had not been so blessed as to have many conversations with her, the voice was still familiar. Everyone knew who she was - and it was Joshuan's truest wish to serve her to the best of his ability. His chest shivered as his breath seemed to freeze in his lungs. Slowly, he turned his head to her, eyes flashing only a moment with a brief flare of emotion - at least it was a flare for Silentron. His lip twitched into a firm line before he inclined his head deeply.
"Your prayers could never be ignored, my queen." What higher being would ignore the prayers of so honest and kind a queen as she was. Of course, his opinion had been quite biased. "And I hope the greater beings see it worthy to grant your request that mine are heard as well," He bowed slightly, enough to show proper deference.
His gaze flickered out over the graves once more. "I was just contemplating the difference between the glory of war heard about back home and the reality of burying comrades," He turned to look at her, "Of course such grim thoughts are always present on the battlefield." He shook his head slightly. Now was not the time to ramble about the psychological questions of child fantasy and reality. He mentally berated himself for the briefest of moments before coming up with something more substantial for conversation.
"But I sincerely doubt that is what you came here for," He pulled both arms behind his back, regretting his unfortunate appearance before recognizing that it was too late to change it. Why waste the regret on something that you cannot alter. He turned fully towards her. "I am at your command, my queen."