Helena Tommel's Story

Jason eased his way through the crowd to one of the available seats with his sister.

"I didn't really expect so many people to turn out for this," he told her.

He had to lean in close to talk over the din created by the drone of murmuring voices.

"Do you see the other candidate yet?" he asked. "Mom and dad haven't stopped talking about him all month. They think he's going to finally bring some civilization to this place."

He nodded towards their parents seated a few tables ahead. His sister had only been two years old when they moved to Windcrest, and Jason himself had been born here, but their parents were both of the south. Like many of the southern immigrants, Gregor and Diona Tommel were strong supporters of Franklin Brice's seemingly southernish ideals and modern dress. When one looked at Brice, they saw a politician. When one looked at Sigurd... well... no amount of tidying up by his secretary could take the barbarian out of that man.

Jason wasn't as sold on the matter as Gregor and Diona, but that's why he was here to watch the debate. He would be lying if he didn't find an element of inspirational charm about Sigurd, but he had his parents lectures over the years whispering other views. As a member of the Windcrest Militia, he had a vested interest into the safety and comfort of the people of Windcrest. Childish fantasies while fun to entertain were little more than a dying ember in the wake of a changing world.

Helena took a seat with her brother rolling her eyes as he spoke. "You know I'm not into this kind of thing. I know nothing about politics. I don't care about politics. And dragging me to this political baby tantrum isn't going to make me interested in politics, Jason." Her words, while they might have been full of disdain that she was here, weren't disdainful to her brother. Her tone showed more of a 'it's a hassle for me to be here and I don't want to be here' vibe with a hint of annoyance at her sibling for so easily dragging her here.

"Have mother and father said anything to you about me yet. If they hadn't heard I was pregnant before, they sure know now." She'd caught the look her mother had given her once she'd seen her son, and then her daughter appear. Her eyes had traveled all the way down to her stomach and back again before she'd lent in to her husband.

She was sure that the whole place knew by now that Diona's daughter was back and pregnant, unwed and without a man at her side. Well screw whatever her mother thought. She wasn't going to entertain the woman with trying to get in her good books and back into the family just for her mother to make her a permanent outcast or something just as ridiculous. She didn't need her mother or father or anyone (well, maybe Jason). She could do this alone.

"I don't even know who the candidates are, Jay." She often called him Jay. Her own little nickname for her baby brother. "Like I said, I know nothing about politics. So no, I can't see the other candidate yet."

Jason continued to talk quietly with Helena over the din of the crowd.

"They haven't said anything, but I just told them you were back in the city," Jason explained. "I didn't mention..." he gestured to her swollen abdomen. "I figured that was for you to tell them you decided you were good and ready." Come to think of it though, the heated arguments between his parents about everything but Helena suggested they likely knew, and were venting out their frustration through unrelated topics rather than discussing their daughters 'condition' openly.

Any further discussion was quickly stemmed as the second candidate finally appeared and the debates could begin to get underway.

Jason frowned briefly at Franklin's flippant arrival to being late, followed by the swig of hard liquor. Recreational drinking was a time honored pastime in Windcrest, but letting loose in the local bar after a hard days work was a far stretch different than showing up to work drunk - or in this case to a governmental debate.

He leaned in close to Helena.

"Is he drinking?" he asked.

Sigurd was what was more aptly known as an abusive drinker rather than an alcoholic. He drank to get drunk - very drunk - but Franklin showing up late to his own debate in the middle of the afternoon with whiskey in hand was liable to garner him a reputation as an outright alcoholic, which was a far stretch different than cutting loose with the buddies at night.

"I don't care if you tell them. I'm not planning on going anywhere near them." Helena spoke as she glanced over to the two people that were known as her parents before looking at the podium where the candidates would start their debate. "They disowned me. They don't have the right to know my business and I'm not going to cause drama and interrupt their little pampered lives. Plus, they wouldn't want a bastard under their roof. I'm not married. I'm not involved with anyone and I'm certainly not going to be involved with anyone."

She smiled a bit, probably at the thought of such rebellion.

"And you can tell them that if they have anything they want to say to me, they can come and say it to my face. I'm a big girl now, you know. I can deal with it. Oh, and let them know that I'm back here to bring my child up. Not to grovel for forgiveness to them."

Finally it appeared that the two candidates had arrived and even Helena was shocked to hear her brother ask her if one of them was drinking. That certainly looked like he was drinking. Even without the fact that he'd announced that it was whiskey. So much for voting for that man. It didn't matter what he said now, she wasn't going to vote for either men. That was final.

"I knew this would be a waste of my time, Jay. Why did you bring me here again?" She asked, annoyance lacing her tone.

Franklin gave a glance to Sigurd, noticing he had no intention of moving, and shrugged. He gave a nod to Nina before standing and patting his chest for a second to smooth his appearance. He looked to the Seer and lowered his head slightly, showing the great legend the respect he had earned from all of Windcrest. When he picked up his head, Brice looked out over the crowd, letting his eyes go out of focus over the mass of bodies.

"Windcrest's and the rest of North Aslund's Isolationism has been a grace to this land. It has kept us strong, and prideful. United are the people of the North in our accomplishments against the nature of the very land we choose to inhabit. And thus I can not deny the proof that our solitude has been a factor in our prosperity...."

He paused, letting his hands slip behind his back and placed the back of his left into the palm of his right.

"But the question is not whether or not our being Isolationist is a good thing, but rather, can we even consider ourselves Isolationist any more. Do we not have the refugees of the southern lands amongst us? Did we not recently endure the unprovoked attacks of the sociopaths that tend to gravitate to the south? True it may be that we have dealt with these incidents, showing the strength of our people, but can the families of those considered casualties say the same? Is not one Northern loss too much? I do not propose that we break our solidarity, but rather, we prepare ourselves for when the rest of the world breaks it for us."

"Mmh," Regndropi nodded as Brice finished, his voice a murmuring grumble. He looked quickly to Sigurd, his sharp eyes as hard and cold as midwinter ice.

"Olafson!" his voice boomed, "since you've seen fit to go out of turn, perhaps you'd now like to tell us what you think of my question?"

Sigurd stood up, clearing his throat with a booming cough and removing his helmet, throwing it with a loud clang onto the table in front of him. He'd made his point that he would chose the time to talk, and not the other way around, his stubbornness was leagues ahead of that of the most stalwart of goats.

Sarangerel had called him a goat once, that had been an apt name.

"You think we want to get involved in the chaos of the other towns? No. We've stood as a people strong against the tide of invaders, monsters and soldiers for how long now?" Sigurd raised his broad shoulders in a questioning shrug.

"Not just that, but we are far from cowards who stand by when others suffer! How many people have we allowed to live here since the founding?" Another a shrug and the Sigurd's voice only got louder and more aggressive. The spite of the man known as Franklin Brice trying to trick him with those... political words.

"I wouldn't be the man I am today if we were truly isolationist. It is a far cry to accept those people trying to escape those troubles than going to go find those troubles in the other cities, it's why most of you are here! To escape the chaos." Sigurd's veins pulsed as he felt the urge to break something.

"We are like... A ROCK! We have weathered the elements time and time again and it only makes us stronger. A VERY STRONG ROCK." Sigurd finished, clearing his throat again and sitting back down his chair and thumping his fists against the table.

It was better than calling the town a goat.

Jason shook his head at his sisters words. "Don't you see, it's not about liking politics," he tried to explain to his sister. "It's about this being our home, and our votes will determine which of them will represent us to the rest of the world. They will be our voice." He gave her a playful nudge with his arm. "Don't you want a say in who gets to speak for us?" he asked her with an arch of his eye.

He had tactfully avoided the rest of Helena's words for the time being.

He nodded his head towards Architect to direct her attention that way. "Mom and dad think that one will bring a bit of the south to Windcrest. Police agencies, more military, regulations on the mining industries," he explained. "Don't tell them I said it, but I half think they just figure if there's police agencies up here, then I can retire from the city militia and find a safer line of work," he said with a grin. "Not that I would," he added with a wink.

He liked his job well enough, and if the day came that the city militia was disbanded in favor of formal police agencies, then he would likely just change careers to that of an officer.

"Frankly I think they just miss everything they lost when they moved up here. A lot of people do."

He nodded to Sigurd next, trying his damndest to get his sister interested in the candidates. "And that one's a favorite of the native born, if you can't tell," he told her with amusement.

Helena wasn't listening to a word the contenders on stage were saying. She didn't give a damn about any of them. Not one damn. he didn't care who spoke for them. Her vote wouldn't make much of a difference anyway. It was one vote. It wasn't like they were depending on her vote to see who actually won. Though, maybe she'd find out who her parents were going for and go for the opposite to really piss them off.

"If they miss the South so much, they should go back down there. Maybe then I'll be out of their dirty view and they can stop looking down their noses at me." She told him, frowning.

She looked at Jason. "Who are they going to vote for? Have they said definitely. I might go for the other one just for the hell of it. Piss them off some more. Might as well make a bigger disappointment then I already am for them." She smirked, once again glancing over at the snobs that were called her parents.