[Backstory] Songbird

The Crossed Keys was the old mess bar near Sentinel's Tower. Reserved for Skirmishers, their families, it was often busy and always a good place for company if you weren't able to take the time to head into the 'Rest or Gardens.
 
Robyn knew it well. It was perhaps one of her earliest memories, sat on her father's knee while her mother sang songs on the small raised dais in the corner. Then, as she grew up within the Tower, she often came here as a teen and then a recruit, enjoying the company and the music that often played - even playing and singing herself when encouraged.
 
It was at the Crossed Keys that Robyn met Faith Martell.
 
After a few pints and much cajoling, Caine persuaded Robyn to take the stage. Taking a moment to tune the bar’s own lute handed to her by the owner (a well-worn thing that had seen many a player) amidst some good-natured jeering from her squad, she struck a tuneful chord to test it and launched into a bright folk-song. With no one else looking to step into the spotlight, she finished a set of four songs of varying paces, the last a bawdy ballad with much audience participation.
 
Handing the lute back to the barman, she gladly took the free beer offered to her, and turned to go back to the table, but was stopped by a pair of striking hazel eyes.
 
“Whoa! Steady there, songbird, you’ll lose your beer.”
 
Robyn blinked. The woman in front of her was beautiful, with a bright smile, sparkling eyes, skin as dark as chocolate and looking as smooth, with long dark hair tied in a practical braid. It took a moment for her brain to catch up. “Songbird?” she asked, confused.
 
“Yeah! Your friend told me your name, and you’ve a beautiful singing voice, so I think it suits you.”
 
Robyn looked over to where the woman was gesturing where Elyn was audacious enough to give her a cheeky grin and double thumbs up.
 
“Then you have me at a disadvantage…”
 
“Faith,” she answered.
 
“Faith,” Robyn repeated. She could feel herself flushing even under her tanned skin, and Faith must have noticed.
 
“Come on,” she said. “Join me for a few drinks. I promise I won’t bite. Where did you learn to play like that?”
 
Despite the initial awkwardness Robyn felt, it didn’t take long for her to enjoy Faith’s company and personality. Faith had joined the skirmishers after some years with the Guard. She’d wanted to join as soon as she was of age, but her father forbade it, but after he passed, Faith found herself free to be as adventurous as she liked.
 
Robyn found Faith dazzling, and also surprised at how comfortable she felt around her. They spent much of that leave in each other’s company, and then started writing each other letters between deployments, sometimes even on deployments.
 
It became almost a game when each of them would leave a letter for the other at each Outpost. Sometimes it was literally a game, with some letters having codes and puzzles. They didn't always know each other's deployments, so the letters were rarely received in order, but that was part of the fun.
 
What was a fast friendship evolved quickly. They understood each other - they knew the wastes, knew the danger. Robyn soon understood what Hamish meant about their dreams being so different, because this? This was something else.
 
She was teased for it, of course. Those in her squad and her friends saw the difference immediately, and never let her forget it, but she didn’t care.
 
“I haven’t seen you this happy for this long, since, well. Ever,” Hamish commented during one of her visits.
 
“You must have done,” Robyn protested, thinking of their time together, amongst others.
 
“Not like this. This is different.” He smiled warmly. “It suits you. Have you told her you love her yet?”
 
“Shut up!”
 
Eventually, those words were said, and said a lot more, written and expressed in as many ways they could find, from letters to gifts to just simply being together. It was exhilarating and terrifying, just like being out in the Wastes, wanting to chase the next adventure.
 
Then the terrifying became reality. There was a reason some Skirmishers avoided love entirely. Robyn had only imagined losing Faith once - in fact, they’d spoken about it only once, and that was enough. It wasn’t that Robyn was unrealistic about the dangers and probability - she’d known enough people die out there after all - but that she was too scared to contemplate it again, as if even considering it was powerful enough to make it come true.
 
If only willing the danger away was enough to stop it. Robyn felt something was wrong when Quinn called her into his office and the captain of Faith's squad was there. It felt like all the warmth had left her; her stomach was like lead, as he told her what had happened. She’d fought like a wild beast, as fiery and passionate in battle as she was as a person. In the end, it wasn’t enough, and she fell behind. If there was a body, there was no time to recover it, as was becoming more and more common with each expedition.
 
After the captain left (Robyn found enough awareness and energy to salute as he did) Quinn reached into his drawer and wordlessly handed Robyn a letter. He guided her to his chair, coaxing her to sit down, but saying nothing, leaving her in respectful silence while going about his duties around her.
 
Robyn turned the letter over in her hands a few times, wondering if she really wanted to open it. Clearly, Faith had prepared for this. Even if the Skirmishers fell apart tomorrow, Quinn would always be Robyn’s family.
 
“Did she… say anything? When she gave you this?”
 
Quinn paused from making notes as he was shelf-stacking. “Only that I was to give it to you if something like this happened. Told her that thinking like that weren’t healthy, and she said she knew; that you’d talked about it, but she just felt better having it, even if it never got used.”
 
Robyn nodded mutely and silence resumed around them. With a deep breath, Robyn snapped the seal, and took another breath before unfolding the paper.
 
My dearest Songbird,
 
I hope you never have cause to read this. I know you - you won’t have written anything like this because you know more than anyone that things change. But I also know that you will want to read this, because you know how important it is to say goodbye.
 
The letter made use of all the space available, talking about the time they spent together, the fun they had had, that she hoped Robyn would keep living, keep having fun, and keep singing. Robyn read the letter twice, and then folded it up silently, tucking it inside her pocket. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she took a deep breath. Keep singing. As if she could ever find a note to sing anymore.
 
She wasn’t sure how long she was sat there, motionless, but it was long enough for Quinn to have made tea. “I’ve made your bed up,” he said, pressing a mug into her hands. “You can stay here tonight. Figured you’d want some space from the barracks. No need to thank me,” he added when Robyn tried to open her mouth but struggled to find the words. “Can’t do much in times like these other than be there for people.”
 
Robyn mustered a wobbly smile. “Ain’t your first round of this, huh.”
 
“Won’t be my last either. Nor yours. That don’t mean you can’t cry when it happens, girl. Or that you stop feeling altogether. Plenty of life still left in you and those around you, so you enjoy it while you have it.”
 
It was sound wisdom, and Robyn tried to keep it in mind in the following days and weeks. Faith’s other wishes stuck in her head too - keep having fun, keep singing - but both were hard to accomplish by herself. She mustered enough strength to sing at the service, watching Faith’s dress blues on the pyre in lieu of a body, as was custom, but afterwards, singing lost its appeal. Any requests in the Cross Keys were met with an apologetic smile and a small shake of the head.
 
Fun was also a bit trickier to make, but not impossible. The brilliant joy that was once relentless and infectious became a rare sighting, and she became more serious in general, though not immune - with the Stormwalkers around her, she couldn’t escape fun entirely after all. On expeditions, she was more vigilant than ever, hopeful that her luck would hold when with her family so she could do what she could to keep them safe.
 
Every now and again, Faith would come up as a reminder - not just in the stars they’d picked together which Robyn could see most nights, but also in the form of old letters, still waiting at outposts that had not been visited since Faith’s passing. The first one delivered was like a punch to gut; Robyn hadn’t expected them to still be delivered, but after all, why would the Outposts know to stop them? It wasn’t as if an undelivered letter simply vanished because the writer did.
 
Eventually, Robyn tied up Faith's letters and locked them away, only re-reading them on the anniversary of their meeting, if she was on leave for that date. It took a long time for Robyn to brave singing in front of anyone other than the Stormwalkers again - what was an almost monthly occurrence became a rare event.
 
Robyn learned that grief came in waves. It didn’t mean they hurt any less, but recovering from each one became a bit easier. Sometimes singing would help, others it would feel like prying open a wound herself. She wondered some days if her father had to go through the similar after her mother passed. The thought of having a small child at the same time as all this, and leaving the family you had in the Skirmishers as well? She had to count her blessings where she had them, and be grateful she had the chances to do what Faith wished. Keep living. Keep having fun. Keep singing.
 
So far, one out of three wasn't bad.