Wings of Freedom

Tick tick tick tick

you never wake up late

It's always 6:55 that my eyes will open. The same time it's been since I was 12 and uncaring of what I'd make of myself. Lying in bed still took a few more minutes though, it always does. My body is still clockwork and every millisecond lying down is a chance to remember the muscles you have, the clothes you wear and the fact that your rations will be cool by the time you get to the mess hall.

I pass the mirror to get to the closet. It's 4 feet from the bed and reminds me too much of myself. Cold and quiet and with an apathetic steel gaze which stops people making an effort to be with you. They're not looking at you, they just want to see themselves.

The cupboard was wooden, I always did fear fires, it had iron handles and plating on some of it, though. It looked like a scrap yard rebuild and I'd wondered who had commissioned it. It was given as a gift instead of taking upon an offered role of Corporal to me. That was 4 years ago.

Patrol starts in 20 minutes.

Uniform for the lamplighters was a plain white top, some grubby and torn but never mine, an issued pair of dark grey trousers, grained with linier streaks, thick socks for cold nights and thin socks for all other times due to the boots' tendencies to rub at the heels. Then came the long coat. The defining feature with a flat collar and gold decorations on it's otherwise black material. There are two main holsters for the belt, one for the torch, standard issue and the other for a my specialised colt with alchemised bullets. There was a brass chain that lead to a pocket watch in the top left pocket though I usually preferred to tuck mine in.

The mess hall was located 4 hallways down. It's not much of a pain, bu...

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Stepping up to the counter a metallic voice started chirping. Oddly though, it did have a more pleasant sound partly masking it which was slightly musicbox-esque. The source appeared to be a bird shape with it's wings clamped in an upwards position but it's neck was still open to reveal all the tiny cogs that made it sing

I stifled an awed breath, I hadn't seen something so intricate since the clock tower and this was such a small scale...

"Oh, a customer?"

The man at the counter raised his head with darkly circled eyes and skin the colour of cedar planks. His hair was a dark brown, messy and almost certainly completely filthy but he looked young and fit and far too tired for his good.

"I'm here to pick up a package. It was ordered two fortnights ago under Hanji"

"Military! Oh, that makes sense. Hold on a second"

He reached into the desk he was