This Soil ⌖ n.h. [slow updates]

chapter two

Niall woke up mumbling obscenities under his breath at the biting cold. He curled his body in on itself, flexing his toes in hopes of regaining feeling in them. Of course, his socks were wet and muddy, just like every single other piece of attire he had donned, and subsequently, every single appendage that he just so happened to own.

Mud. Never would he sling mud ever again, whether that be figuratively, or literally. He regretted every mud pie he had made as a child. No more putting plants in freshly wet soil. No more laying on the ground, simply because that involved touching dirt. When this dreadful war was over, he would not do so much as say the word "mud" aloud. It was everywhere.

In the bottom of his boots, making squishing sounds when he walked. Caked into his hair when he would run his hand through it, something he tended to do when he was nervous or frustrated. Plastered to his uniform. Catapulting itself into the rations. Niall now nearly had a phobia of the stuff, hating it more than the Germans. Maybe this is how they're gonna get us, he thought to himself. Not by blowing our brains out, but by forcing us to live in these God-forsaken trenches until we go bloody mad. It seemed quite reasonable to him.

Of course, he suffered in silence. There was enough moaning and groaning going on amongst the ragged soldiers sentenced to waste in the trenches without his input. Besides, he'd simply be wasting his breath. Any complaints he had, had already been voiced by the others.

Slowly Niall truly awoke and began what had become his day-to-day activities. The soldier that had been laying beside him, a tall, good-looking young man named William, followed suit.

"Aye, Irish," William mumbled, the morning husk to his voice obvious. He was still laying down, lazily eyeing the fellow soldier before him.

"Yeah?" Niall responded, as he stretched, yawned, and then began to lace his left boot, since its strings had been tugged loose in the night.

"Got any of your chocolate left?"

Niall rolled his eyes, then leaned over to grab a (of course, mud-covered) bar wrapped in (formerly) white paper. It was a little less than halfway gone. He tossed it to William, who greedily snatched it up. Once he'd unwrapped the candy, he raised an eyebrow at Niall.

"Didn't eat very much of it," he commented.

"And why are you complaining about that?" Niall challenged.

William swiftly broke off a piece and popped it in his mouth. "Not complaining," he said through his chewing. "Just curious."

Niall shook his head. "Can't stand to eat it. Looks too much like mud."

William snorted. "Tastes a bit like mud, too."

Niall laughed. "Everything tastes like mud."

The two men still had a bit of time before the sergeant roused everyone for the day, so therefore they were free to do as they wished. However, being stuck down in muddy trenches, there wasn't much to do but make conversation.

"You know," William said as he continued to chow down on the chocolate, "I've heard that the German trenches have it all. Electricity, beds, toilets."

Niall chuckled. "And who told you that? A German? Have you been fraternizing with the enemy?"

William rolled his eyes. "That's just what I've heard. Listening around."

"Yeah, well, we also heard that America wouldn't even join this war," Niall pointed out. "And now look at us."

"Shoulda stayed in Ireland, I guess," William suggested.

Niall shook his head. "No. Believe it or not, I volunteered."

"You volunteered to serve a country that isn't even your own?" William asked, turning to face Niall, as he had previously elected to lie back down and stare at the sky. However, now he studied Niall incredulously.

"You don't understand," Niall replied. "I'm proud of where I hail from. I really am. But I'm also proud to be American now, too." He plucked a particularly large clob of dried mud from his uniform and flicked it away. "I'm both. Irish, and American."

"Just as I am both ready and eager for this war to be over so that I can get out of the dirt?" William supplied.

Niall laughed again, low under his breath. "Not quite."

William sighed as he strapped on his heavy, metal helmet, unintentionally reminding Niall to do the same. "All I know is, if this war keeps dragging on in the goriest stalemate there ever was, nobody's gonna be proud to be American. Or any part of the Allied Forces, for that matter." He sat up with a small groan. "In fact, I'm starting to think that no one truly wins a war."

Niall stared at his aquaintence, taking in the profound statement. However, he still made no reply.

William stretched and stood. "Then again, what do I know?" His now casual tone contrasted deeply with what he had only just spoken into light. "After all, I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."

Not too far down the line, Sergeant Stevens woke the first soldier for morning stand-to, and Niall prepared himself for what was to come. But they weren't on the front lines yet.

--------------------------------------------
a/n: so, this chapter, just like the first, is
a.) introducing you to a main character
b.) giving you a small taste of their personality, and
c.) setting the foundation for events to come
so, idk, i hope you didn't think that was too boring.

your votes and comments make me develop breathing problems in the best of ways remember that