The old-fashioned horsehair brush scrubbed vigorously across the black leather. The worn boots had accumulated a fine layer of dust in the three months of disuse they had sat in the disgraced soldier's close. Dashiell was determined to have his gear shining by the time he had to stand before the tribunal and determine the next phase of his future. It felt like an age since he had last donned his uniform. While it fit just as snugly and comfortably as always, he felt extremely out of place in it. After all, the last time he had worn it had been at the disciplinary hearing that had sentenced him with six months of community service and dismissed him from active duty in the meantime.
Everything had to be perfect. No wrinkles, no dirt, no smudges, or creases. His face was shaved, his visor cleaned, his jaw set in a firm and expressionless mask expected of the soldier he had been born and bred as. There was not a single line of Dashiell's body though that belied the acidic fear and anxiety boiling beneath the surface with no means to escape. He knew everything was on the line and while he could act like it didn't bother him, it terrified him to his core.
He had sat rigidly, patiently awaiting his turn to be heard, where every passing minute felt like the tightening of a noose about his neck. He had no way of knowing if this was the last time he would even wear his uniform. For all he knew, he would be deemed a lost cause and unfit to ever return to active duty. A dishonorable discharge was a far worse fate than execution and he knew it. It was a fact that had been drilled into his head since he was very small. He would not bring dishonor to his family name. He would not bring dishonor to his uniform. He would not bring dishonor to himself.
The Colonel had been a cold parent and had run the Feldspar household with an iron fist not dissimilar to the soldiers under military command. Little Dashiell had had little opportunity to act out in his youth. Back then he had relished the lifestyle though. He had loved the sense of superiority that came with being the son of a military official and from a long line of soldiers. He loved his country and his family's service to it. Only once he had gotten older had he slid from the pre-made path and begun to find a sense of individuality in the hands of one Reese Plantina. Colonel Feldspar had hated it. Dash could still see the look of utter loathing on the werewolf's face when he had brought his partner in career and life home.
In fact, it was not too different from the icy, golden stare he was receiving right now. He squared his shoulders and entered the tribunal chamber when summoned, refusing to allow the Colonel's gaze to deter him. He should have known of all the superior officers in all of Libra Station, Colonel Feldspar would be there to hear his case. This was the way things went and he was going to have to stand on his own two feet whichever way the world spun him. He couldn't expect his own flesh and blood to save him after all.
The trial was as long-winded and painfully stuffy as all court proceedings ever are. Military ones were only moreso suitably dreary and garrulous because of the additional need to squash and make an example of possible "rebellious loose ends." Dashiell's trial for all that was said and done resulted in a classic government decision: results were indeterminate and Dashiell would be required to serve out the remainder of his sentence before further judgement regarding his future could be made. He would have laughed had it not been for those amber eyes burning a hole into head with their ire.
He knew what to expect the moment he exited the chamber and the other werewolf swung into view. Dash tensed, his gaze locked straight ahead as he saluted the Colonel. "Just what do you think you were doing in there?" the hardened soldier hissed. “Do you think this is a game, Dashiell? Do you think this is all one big joke? You were raised better than this. Do you think your actions are without consequences? Have you forgotten how this affects more than just you? I’m up for promotion and your actions reflect incredibly poorly upon my record. I can’t save you or your career. You need to get your act together and show some initiative if you don’t want to end up serving the next, what 20? 30? Years behind bars. Is that what you want? Because that’s what they do to rabid dogs like you.”
Dashiell’s nostrils flared as he stood and took the brunt of the Colonel’s anger. Years of control had trained him to stand in tense silence as opposed to bark back at this particular individual. He would only get an even bigger earful if he dared after all.
“-fighting with not one, not two, but three other soldiers. Two of which are your former Duo comrades. What were you thinking?”
“With all due respect, that was three months ago-”
“I don’t care if it was three hours ago, Dashiell,” the elder werewolf hissed back, completely cutting the man off. “Ever since you started messing with that harlot, you’ve toed this path of self-destruction. I won’t have it! You will get your act together and you will not disappoint me. Is that understood?”
“Yessir,” he responded firmly and without attitude.
The Colonel’s gaze softened and she reached up a hand to place on his unmarred cheek. The action caused him to flinch and look at her wide-eyed and tense. “I only do this because I want what is best for you, Dashiell. The least you could do is show some gratitude.”
“Yessir.”
“And come home for dinner once in a while. Your father misses you.”
“Yes, Mother,” he murmured back even more softly, his head dropping slightly as if defeated. “Thank you, Colonel for your attention in this entire affair.
“Mhm,” she replied dismissively as her son saluted her once more and she dismissed him from her grasp.
Dashiell was more than happy to fade back into the crowd. His mind felt overcrowded with buzzing thoughts and concerns. The uniform that he had worn every day for years felt hot and tight upon his body now and he longed to tear it off with the way his body felt engulfed by flames once more. Dealing with his mother was always an exercise in ultimate patience but that coupled with such indecision left him completely off-kilter. It was like being adrift in space with no thrust and he loathed it.
Every breath was becoming a bit harder to catch even as he fought to keep his composure and appear steady and stable. Dashiell just kept telling himself if he could just make it to a bathroom, or a closet, somewhere where he could be alone for a few moments then he could let the maelstrom of emotions loose. Telling himself that though did nothing to truly keep the devil gates of his heart sealed shut against the raging onslaught. He was just about to completely breakdown when his spinning head caught a glimmer of familiar gold.
His eyes locked onto theirs and in that moment it was as if he had just broke the water’s surface and could breathe again. Dashiell’s feet were moving without thought and his arms were crashing around them in a tight embrace. He didn’t even think about whether it was right or wrong because in that moment it was just so right. He didn't know why they were there and he didn't care. They were, and that was enough, more than enough actually. He sighed heavily, the tension finally leaving his body as he took in that blessed scent of clean linen and water.
This was home.
