"Breaking the ice" he says to himself as he ends up finishing ironing his coat. He picks it up and so smooth and crisp, it was definitely prefect. He walks next to him and places the perfect ironed coat on the table and turns to him and says "You don't need to fold this, it gets a coat hanger" as he reaches on the top shelf and gets an old school metal coat hanger and puts it on the coat. Hearing the ding of the dryer, he rushes over and takes Rin's suit and instantly goes to work on suit with the hot iron. "Phase 2 complete and the final phase begins!" he says as more steam is produce as he goes to work on it. "I got a lot of stuff in that you wouldn't know what to do with to fiddle around with he says to him" he says to him as he irons trying to get peel that shell even more back on Rin, of course, this is Laurent's plan...get Rin to open more and then have him open up his feelings and then he'll be ready to go against Devil Eye and this the mad salesmen knows is going to take time....
Rin allowed a small quirk of his lips, turning the smile into more of a sly grin. "I can't wait to figure it out," he says, almost teasingly.
He really WAS excited, now that he had somewhat recovered. He would have time to... to think later. But for now...
This galaxy was so... different. Though they had no intergalactic means of travel- according to Montagne, that is- they could be advanced in other things.
And there seemed to be a lot of machinery here.
He always did like the challenge of unknown hardware, after all.
He really WAS excited, now that he had somewhat recovered. He would have time to... to think later. But for now...
This galaxy was so... different. Though they had no intergalactic means of travel- according to Montagne, that is- they could be advanced in other things.
And there seemed to be a lot of machinery here.
He always did like the challenge of unknown hardware, after all.
And with that Laurent was soon finished with Rin's suit after a good steaming and pulls it up and says to Rin "Alright Rin your suit is ready" he shows it to Rin and it looks perfect, it looks better than new, the faded color pops and is brighter even though dark as steam slowly comes out of it and Laurent adds "Let me warn you though that this will feel 100 times better than those clothes ever will. This will feel as if the Gods and Lords came down and then touched it with there powers to create this gift of the divinity and that is only touching it...don't get me started on how it's going to feel when you put it on...it'll feel almost climatic as if you where laying in heaven it self" as he gives Rin a flirtatious wink at the climatic part as he gestures him to take it.
"It is yours" he adds lastly just waiting to for his expression on that magical piece of art he did to the suit.
"It is yours" he adds lastly just waiting to for his expression on that magical piece of art he did to the suit.
Rin's hand shot to his mouth- ack, too late. The giggle that was abruptly cut off was... Childish. Like... Like the sound of amusement he would indulge Vaxur with when he actually did do something funny. Or stupid. Same thing.
I must be more exhausted than I thought, he mused. He doesn't just laugh otherwise.
Yes, it was a LAUGH. NOT a giggle.
He hummed appreciatively, studying his bodysuit. The dirt from his two previous missions were totally and completely gone, leaving behind the pure black that made it look as good as new. He reached out with his hand, taking the offered fabric.
It was really soft.
"Thank you," he whispered, genuine.
I must be more exhausted than I thought, he mused. He doesn't just laugh otherwise.
Yes, it was a LAUGH. NOT a giggle.
He hummed appreciatively, studying his bodysuit. The dirt from his two previous missions were totally and completely gone, leaving behind the pure black that made it look as good as new. He reached out with his hand, taking the offered fabric.
It was really soft.
"Thank you," he whispered, genuine.
D A E D A L U S – Nasser Station
Ketin, who had been frantically pounding the airlock door, ceased and allowed himself to stumble back slightly, looking for a moment as if he might fall backwards to sit on the floor, but regaining his balance at the last second. There was a look of something between panic and regret in his eyes when he finally tore them away from the door to set them locked on Nirix’s own lavender orbs. He ran fingers through his hair, just below the base of his ears atop his head, as was apparently a mannerism of anxiety or panic in him. And there was a sense of frantic panic.
”I hurt him, Ny’.” He said, with a deep and genuine heartbreak in his voice, soft and half-breathed. His eyes locked on hers – regret saturated the azure and red-gold, brightening the colors into intense points of shimmering light in the ambient illumination of the cargo docks. Not far around the corner, the carnie’s preventative measures were coming down, and life was returning to normality at a startling rate.
But at that moment, the whole Galaxy seemed condensed into that one moment, that contact of windows from one soul to another.
He shook his head, looking down at the floor. The break seemed to shift time itself as it began once more to flow, as reality fell back in upon that instant of the clarity of pain. ”I hurt him real bad. I…I…he didn’t need to be hurt. He needed help.” Though soft, the intensity of his words was apparent in the measured cut of them. The way each syllable was stinted, the pitch high, but vague.
”He needed help. That’s the only reason he was coming after me. He, he…He ws hurting, and I only hurt him more.” Hands slid down, he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. ”I wanted to help him. It…” He shook his head again; ”It didn’t matter that he was coming after me. If he wanted to hurt me…that doesn’t matter.” Anyone else might have sounded bitter or resentful, but in Ketin’s words there was only truth, conviction, utter belief. It didn’t matter. He believed that with all his heart – just as he believed that the person who tried to capture or kill him didn’t need to be beaten, he needed – apparently – to be helped.
”What matters is that he needed help, a-and I tried to help, but all I did was make things worse. I don’t like to hurt people, Ny’, especially when they’re a-already hurting…”
Again, his heterochromia eyes – locked with hers. One as deep and warm as a vast, lonely, shimmering sea, the other illuminated in hellish tones invoking evil and destruction. Fire and water. That which burned, and that which healed – but wasn’t it that unnatural red-gold that stood out so much more? So much brighter, more powerful – the dominant feature of his face, the thing that everyone saw first. The eye of a Devil, of a creature which could only torture and destroy and relish only in the suffering of others.
”But all I do is hurt people! A-all I ever do, no matter what I do I just end up making things worse for people who don’t deserve it. And a-all the while, the ones who DO deserve it, the people who SHOULD be hurt, and reminded every day about how they don’t deserve the @#$%ing air they breathe just keep hurting people and getting away with it!” His voice broke, but he bit his lip almost hard enough to draw blood and tore his eyes away from hers with a sudden ferocity. His hands were shaking at his sides. He’d always hated that. He shoved them into his pockets, took a few deep breaths, focusing on the floor with all the intensity of a man trying to shove a thousand lifetimes of regret into the back of his mind and bury them under lies he’s almost trained himself to believe. Almost.
He shook his head again – this time almost pityingly, an air of complacency, of acceptance. Some of the aura from before returned as he flipped the switches and worked in silence to reset his brain to the default – yet despite that most typical of routines, the result was – indeed – some of that aura from before. How much easier it seemed, he mused – so much easier to flip back to normal after letting some of it out, instead of biting down on his tongue and relishing the taste of the blood as another reminder.
Yes, he would be okay. When he turned back to Nirix, just like before, there was no manic oblivion in hollow, glazed eyes – there was the soft, gentle complacency, acceptance of the way things were, contentedness with himself and the world around him. He had bounced back – but instead of bouncing to the extreme opposite, he had bounced back to where he had been just after talking with her in the truck.
He gave a chuckle – a rueful little laugh, with a real smile that played at the corners of his lips. ”You got a point though. He was trying to hurt you.”
A slight wince. He hadn’t meant to phrase it that way. Hadn’t meant to let it slip that it was only when someone threatened her that things became really serious. Only when it was her on the line, when someone had the incredible, detestable gall to try and do harm to his Nirix. Serious enough to make it so that even when he wanted to help them, even when there was some minute chance of him doing good instead of evil he still drove a dagger into the attacker with all the brutality and hate and precision of the monster he was. He struck hard, struck at the heart, struck at the weakest point, aiming to destroy the bastard in a single, decisive blow. To do the right thing – to kill-
But his grin only widened slightly. He wasn’t letting himself go down that path – not this time. Maybe next time. But not this time. The grin turned into a more earnest laugh as it occurred to him the absolute preposterousness of what he had just done. A man had attacked him with plasma blades intent on turning him in to the single worst fate he could possibly have imagined – and just when he seemed to have won, he went chasing after his attacker and apologizing.
Yes, he had to admit it was pretty funny. The laughter bubbled up more, a little more, before finally petering off with a contented sigh. He nodded. ”Yeah, let’s go get those tickets. Maybe on Menard’s Grove there won’t be anyone looking for as much trouble as we are.”
Ketin, who had been frantically pounding the airlock door, ceased and allowed himself to stumble back slightly, looking for a moment as if he might fall backwards to sit on the floor, but regaining his balance at the last second. There was a look of something between panic and regret in his eyes when he finally tore them away from the door to set them locked on Nirix’s own lavender orbs. He ran fingers through his hair, just below the base of his ears atop his head, as was apparently a mannerism of anxiety or panic in him. And there was a sense of frantic panic.
”I hurt him, Ny’.” He said, with a deep and genuine heartbreak in his voice, soft and half-breathed. His eyes locked on hers – regret saturated the azure and red-gold, brightening the colors into intense points of shimmering light in the ambient illumination of the cargo docks. Not far around the corner, the carnie’s preventative measures were coming down, and life was returning to normality at a startling rate.
But at that moment, the whole Galaxy seemed condensed into that one moment, that contact of windows from one soul to another.
He shook his head, looking down at the floor. The break seemed to shift time itself as it began once more to flow, as reality fell back in upon that instant of the clarity of pain. ”I hurt him real bad. I…I…he didn’t need to be hurt. He needed help.” Though soft, the intensity of his words was apparent in the measured cut of them. The way each syllable was stinted, the pitch high, but vague.
”He needed help. That’s the only reason he was coming after me. He, he…He ws hurting, and I only hurt him more.” Hands slid down, he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. ”I wanted to help him. It…” He shook his head again; ”It didn’t matter that he was coming after me. If he wanted to hurt me…that doesn’t matter.” Anyone else might have sounded bitter or resentful, but in Ketin’s words there was only truth, conviction, utter belief. It didn’t matter. He believed that with all his heart – just as he believed that the person who tried to capture or kill him didn’t need to be beaten, he needed – apparently – to be helped.
”What matters is that he needed help, a-and I tried to help, but all I did was make things worse. I don’t like to hurt people, Ny’, especially when they’re a-already hurting…”
Again, his heterochromia eyes – locked with hers. One as deep and warm as a vast, lonely, shimmering sea, the other illuminated in hellish tones invoking evil and destruction. Fire and water. That which burned, and that which healed – but wasn’t it that unnatural red-gold that stood out so much more? So much brighter, more powerful – the dominant feature of his face, the thing that everyone saw first. The eye of a Devil, of a creature which could only torture and destroy and relish only in the suffering of others.
”But all I do is hurt people! A-all I ever do, no matter what I do I just end up making things worse for people who don’t deserve it. And a-all the while, the ones who DO deserve it, the people who SHOULD be hurt, and reminded every day about how they don’t deserve the @#$%ing air they breathe just keep hurting people and getting away with it!” His voice broke, but he bit his lip almost hard enough to draw blood and tore his eyes away from hers with a sudden ferocity. His hands were shaking at his sides. He’d always hated that. He shoved them into his pockets, took a few deep breaths, focusing on the floor with all the intensity of a man trying to shove a thousand lifetimes of regret into the back of his mind and bury them under lies he’s almost trained himself to believe. Almost.
He shook his head again – this time almost pityingly, an air of complacency, of acceptance. Some of the aura from before returned as he flipped the switches and worked in silence to reset his brain to the default – yet despite that most typical of routines, the result was – indeed – some of that aura from before. How much easier it seemed, he mused – so much easier to flip back to normal after letting some of it out, instead of biting down on his tongue and relishing the taste of the blood as another reminder.
Yes, he would be okay. When he turned back to Nirix, just like before, there was no manic oblivion in hollow, glazed eyes – there was the soft, gentle complacency, acceptance of the way things were, contentedness with himself and the world around him. He had bounced back – but instead of bouncing to the extreme opposite, he had bounced back to where he had been just after talking with her in the truck.
He gave a chuckle – a rueful little laugh, with a real smile that played at the corners of his lips. ”You got a point though. He was trying to hurt you.”
A slight wince. He hadn’t meant to phrase it that way. Hadn’t meant to let it slip that it was only when someone threatened her that things became really serious. Only when it was her on the line, when someone had the incredible, detestable gall to try and do harm to his Nirix. Serious enough to make it so that even when he wanted to help them, even when there was some minute chance of him doing good instead of evil he still drove a dagger into the attacker with all the brutality and hate and precision of the monster he was. He struck hard, struck at the heart, struck at the weakest point, aiming to destroy the bastard in a single, decisive blow. To do the right thing – to kill-
But his grin only widened slightly. He wasn’t letting himself go down that path – not this time. Maybe next time. But not this time. The grin turned into a more earnest laugh as it occurred to him the absolute preposterousness of what he had just done. A man had attacked him with plasma blades intent on turning him in to the single worst fate he could possibly have imagined – and just when he seemed to have won, he went chasing after his attacker and apologizing.
Yes, he had to admit it was pretty funny. The laughter bubbled up more, a little more, before finally petering off with a contented sigh. He nodded. ”Yeah, let’s go get those tickets. Maybe on Menard’s Grove there won’t be anyone looking for as much trouble as we are.”
A R D E L L A – Abandoned Imperial Bunker
Would she have died if it meant catching the Devil Eye?
No.
It pained her to realize this – but it was the truth. It had been made her goal in life to catch him. She had chased him with all the passion in her body – she would have done anything to bring him to justice, even if it meant her becoming a redundancy with no job left to do. But…she wouldn’t have died, if that’s what it took. She would have lived to fight another day, to capture the Devil Eye and go on living to bask in the satisfaction of a job well done.
Would she die if it meant that Christofer would live?
Yes.
But in the end, death wasn’t always a choice. Was it?
Sometimes it was an inevitability.
It had been stressed at the Academy. Everyone was born to know that they would die. If they did not accept the fact, if they deceived themselves into believing they would live forever – when they died they would have never lived at all. To live forever was to tax the resources of the greater good – that most vital of entities – the greater good. It was why anyone did anything on Ardella. The life of the individual was, of course, valuable – but worthless in comparison to the greater good.
That was what her life had been dedicated to – the greater good not only of Ardella and the Galactic Empire, but of the whole Galaxy. The greater good of purging that most terrible of evils from mankind. The Empire’s biggest mistake.
But if she was designed to complete that task, to purge that mistake, and she had failed – didn’t that make her the Empire’s biggest mistake?
Nobody feared Death on Ardella. Most embraced it. Some prayed for it. Some lived for it.
There had been an archaic old term they used for it – even Royanna, with her passion for history, wasn’t sure where it came from – but it was said to imply the last, glorious moment before death. The one act that made their life worth living. Everyone was valuable once they were dead, especially if they had done something worth dying for. It was supposed to symbolize the ending of long warmth, the final moment of brilliance and glory before night and cold descended forever. They called that moment
The Last Light of August.
Royanna did not know what or possibly who ’August’ was – nobody did – but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that a life worth living was always concluded in The Last Light of August.
What had her whole life been?
Failure
After failure
After failure.
So many people had believed in her. Trusted in her. They had expected great things from her. They had supported her, raised her up to the lofty position at which she could fulfill the expectations of her supporters. She had been given every resource, trusted, trusted – and what had they all gotten for their dedication to her? Their belief in her?
Nothing.
She had failed them. Time and time again. Men had entrusted their lives to her, and she had killed every one of them. She was a waste of resources, of space, of air, a waste of time. She had failed to serve her purpose. She was a defective machine – and what use was a defective machine?
None.
Except that it could be discarded and replaced with a better one.
In being discarded, in disappearing forever, that defective machine was no longer a burden. The parts could be used to build a new machine. Or the space it once occupied could be used for some other useful purpose. When the machine was discarded, that was its’ Last Light – the final act which validated its’ existence in entirety.
What was going on in his head, she wondered – as red lights flashed, as still more soldiers in black came rounding the corner with weapons raised – as, in her adrenaline induced fury she spun to end two more lives in bursts of blood and brain matter spattered against old, white walls. What was he thinking? Was he stupid? Was it worth it to die for someone who was stupid?
She wanted to die. She wanted her Last Light of August. She wanted to have lived for something. Her chances of survival were clearly virtually zero now anyway. IT had been stupid when she tried it the first time, but this time – this time might be different. This time was for real. This time she would shove the boy into the waiting arms of the robot, then charge back down the hall and hold them off as long as possible. She’d kill every last one of them. She’d blow each one of the wretched pieces of @#$% into oblivion for so much as considering to harm her Christofer.
But what was he thinking? They stumbled along down the hallway, a half-dead woman praying for the other fifty-percent and a staggering corpse who probably wanted the same thing.
That was stupid. Why would he possibly want to die? Why would he go running down the hallway and trying to bide her time? What, die in a blaze of glory? Become a dazzling light before burning out into eternal darkness and cold? Stupid boy. Stupid. Dying like that wouldn’t mean anything. What good was it to die, even if it meant some small benefit to the world, or to someone else? A ridiculous philosophy. He needed to live. Nothing mattered if he didn’t live.
No. He could not be allowed to go trying to validate himself in so stupid and pointless a manner as dying to bide them time.
He was going to go with the robot and the other woman. He was going to make it to safety. And she would double back and burn out her Last Light of August. That would make it all worth it.
Then it hit her.
It hit her with all the ferocity of the high-caliber bullet from the gun of a Special Agent. She stumbled, tripping over her feet with the sudden explosion that would change everything.
This –
This –
THIS was her Last Light of August!
It seemed to take an eternity, tripping like that, falling to the floor just behind the boy who shuffled along like a zombie, but was still alive. An eternity to think about everything she had done wrong. Everything that had led up to this single, decisive moment.
Had it all been worth it?
What came after ‘August’?
August was life – everything after was death. The Last Light was what you did right before your death. It was the culmination of everything you did before you ceased to exist – focused into one single act that would proceed until the end of your life.
So this was her Last Light of August. How could she have been so blind?
Her eyes were open when she hit the floor.
This was it.
This had been it the whole time.
He thought he needed to die to serve a purpose – but he was wrong.
What he needed to do was keep living. What she needed to do was give him that chance, by any means necessary. Her whole life, her whole existence, everything she had done would be worth it if he kept living. It would all be worth it if she spent the rest of her life keeping him safe. She’d done that, hadn’t she?
Yes, she had achieved her Last Light of August. She had found the thing that would take her to the grave with the satisfaction of having been worth something.
The white walls, flashing red, faded to blackness in an instant.
She would protect him. He would keep living for her. They would both achieve worth this way. It was so obvious. It had been obvious all along.
She lingered for a single microsecond on the brink of consciousness, but it might have been a decade. That last moment was bound to drag on.
That last moment before
Would she have died if it meant catching the Devil Eye?
No.
It pained her to realize this – but it was the truth. It had been made her goal in life to catch him. She had chased him with all the passion in her body – she would have done anything to bring him to justice, even if it meant her becoming a redundancy with no job left to do. But…she wouldn’t have died, if that’s what it took. She would have lived to fight another day, to capture the Devil Eye and go on living to bask in the satisfaction of a job well done.
Would she die if it meant that Christofer would live?
Yes.
But in the end, death wasn’t always a choice. Was it?
Sometimes it was an inevitability.
It had been stressed at the Academy. Everyone was born to know that they would die. If they did not accept the fact, if they deceived themselves into believing they would live forever – when they died they would have never lived at all. To live forever was to tax the resources of the greater good – that most vital of entities – the greater good. It was why anyone did anything on Ardella. The life of the individual was, of course, valuable – but worthless in comparison to the greater good.
That was what her life had been dedicated to – the greater good not only of Ardella and the Galactic Empire, but of the whole Galaxy. The greater good of purging that most terrible of evils from mankind. The Empire’s biggest mistake.
But if she was designed to complete that task, to purge that mistake, and she had failed – didn’t that make her the Empire’s biggest mistake?
Nobody feared Death on Ardella. Most embraced it. Some prayed for it. Some lived for it.
There had been an archaic old term they used for it – even Royanna, with her passion for history, wasn’t sure where it came from – but it was said to imply the last, glorious moment before death. The one act that made their life worth living. Everyone was valuable once they were dead, especially if they had done something worth dying for. It was supposed to symbolize the ending of long warmth, the final moment of brilliance and glory before night and cold descended forever. They called that moment
The Last Light of August.
Royanna did not know what or possibly who ’August’ was – nobody did – but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that a life worth living was always concluded in The Last Light of August.
What had her whole life been?
Failure
After failure
After failure.
So many people had believed in her. Trusted in her. They had expected great things from her. They had supported her, raised her up to the lofty position at which she could fulfill the expectations of her supporters. She had been given every resource, trusted, trusted – and what had they all gotten for their dedication to her? Their belief in her?
Nothing.
She had failed them. Time and time again. Men had entrusted their lives to her, and she had killed every one of them. She was a waste of resources, of space, of air, a waste of time. She had failed to serve her purpose. She was a defective machine – and what use was a defective machine?
None.
Except that it could be discarded and replaced with a better one.
In being discarded, in disappearing forever, that defective machine was no longer a burden. The parts could be used to build a new machine. Or the space it once occupied could be used for some other useful purpose. When the machine was discarded, that was its’ Last Light – the final act which validated its’ existence in entirety.
What was going on in his head, she wondered – as red lights flashed, as still more soldiers in black came rounding the corner with weapons raised – as, in her adrenaline induced fury she spun to end two more lives in bursts of blood and brain matter spattered against old, white walls. What was he thinking? Was he stupid? Was it worth it to die for someone who was stupid?
She wanted to die. She wanted her Last Light of August. She wanted to have lived for something. Her chances of survival were clearly virtually zero now anyway. IT had been stupid when she tried it the first time, but this time – this time might be different. This time was for real. This time she would shove the boy into the waiting arms of the robot, then charge back down the hall and hold them off as long as possible. She’d kill every last one of them. She’d blow each one of the wretched pieces of @#$% into oblivion for so much as considering to harm her Christofer.
But what was he thinking? They stumbled along down the hallway, a half-dead woman praying for the other fifty-percent and a staggering corpse who probably wanted the same thing.
That was stupid. Why would he possibly want to die? Why would he go running down the hallway and trying to bide her time? What, die in a blaze of glory? Become a dazzling light before burning out into eternal darkness and cold? Stupid boy. Stupid. Dying like that wouldn’t mean anything. What good was it to die, even if it meant some small benefit to the world, or to someone else? A ridiculous philosophy. He needed to live. Nothing mattered if he didn’t live.
No. He could not be allowed to go trying to validate himself in so stupid and pointless a manner as dying to bide them time.
He was going to go with the robot and the other woman. He was going to make it to safety. And she would double back and burn out her Last Light of August. That would make it all worth it.
Then it hit her.
It hit her with all the ferocity of the high-caliber bullet from the gun of a Special Agent. She stumbled, tripping over her feet with the sudden explosion that would change everything.
This –
This –
THIS was her Last Light of August!
It seemed to take an eternity, tripping like that, falling to the floor just behind the boy who shuffled along like a zombie, but was still alive. An eternity to think about everything she had done wrong. Everything that had led up to this single, decisive moment.
Had it all been worth it?
What came after ‘August’?
August was life – everything after was death. The Last Light was what you did right before your death. It was the culmination of everything you did before you ceased to exist – focused into one single act that would proceed until the end of your life.
So this was her Last Light of August. How could she have been so blind?
Her eyes were open when she hit the floor.
This was it.
This had been it the whole time.
He thought he needed to die to serve a purpose – but he was wrong.
What he needed to do was keep living. What she needed to do was give him that chance, by any means necessary. Her whole life, her whole existence, everything she had done would be worth it if he kept living. It would all be worth it if she spent the rest of her life keeping him safe. She’d done that, hadn’t she?
Yes, she had achieved her Last Light of August. She had found the thing that would take her to the grave with the satisfaction of having been worth something.
The white walls, flashing red, faded to blackness in an instant.
She would protect him. He would keep living for her. They would both achieve worth this way. It was so obvious. It had been obvious all along.
She lingered for a single microsecond on the brink of consciousness, but it might have been a decade. That last moment was bound to drag on.
That last moment before
Before…
Before...
she recovered her senses.
And scrambled to her feet
And shoved the kid in front of her around the corner.
Yes. This was her Last Light. This was the last thing she would ever do - because she was going to do it for the rest of her life. She was never going to let that kid out of her sight. As long as there was a chance that he lived, she would live. When her time came, so be it - she'd have spent the whole last moment of her life doing what she knew to be the most important thing she had ever done. She was going to make it a very long moment. Her Last Light wasn't going to be a dazzling explosion of heroic death - it was going to be a slow, but warm candle. It was going to be a long twilight. That other part of her life was over. This would be the last thing she ever did. This she had realized in that moment before tripping over her own feet in the desperate stumble from a perceived enemy who was not there. No soldiers nor Special Agents had rounded the corner after they had stood.
Body trembling, hands shaking, eyes as wide as they had ever been, frantic, almost terrified, utterly desperate to reveal a revelation that had been revealed to her straight from Space itself. Everything made sense now. She had learned, in that moment, the truth of everything. It all came together. The passion in her eyes, the impossible intensity that bordered on total panic in her face, the hungry urgency – it was all far more intimidating than she had been moments before, when furiously shaking him.
She had grabbed him again, but by the shoulders now. She was insane. Mad with whatever she had been trying to get out all this time, what she had been trying to say, but never having a way with words, never being able to voice the final truth that had been building inside her all this time - before now. She had spoken of it – mentioned it, even thought of it, indirectly. Yet it had not occurred to her until that moment, and she had not had the words.
”W-we BOTH have to keep living for each other, Toffi!” She stuttered, trying to get the words out before the revelation slipped from her mind – however impossible that might have seemed at present. The urgency, the fear, the epiphany in her voice was strange. She had to tell someone – had to tell him – she had pieced together the most complicated mystery she had ever faced, and she had to get the truth out quickly!
She sounded like a madwoman.
”W-we have to both stay alive for eachother – d-don’t you see?!”
Holding him by the shoulders, her grip was white-knuckles, but she did not shake him. She looked with her own dazzled, half-panicked eyes directly into his – she commanded every ounce of his attention in that moment without so much as trying. ”My life is worth living if I keep you safe. Your life is worth living if you keep me sane! Or, or, or j-just being there. Everything in, in, in both our lives has led up to this! This – this, you and me, looking out for each other – that’s what makes l-life worth, worth living! Don’t you get it?! Neither of us can die! If one of us does the other has no purpose! Don’t you see? Don’t you?!” her breathing was hard and shallow. Only now did she take a hand off his shoulder for a short moment to wipe some of the disturbing quantity of blood from her face, and that only because it had begun to trickle to her lips. The hand went right back to his shoulder in less than a second.
It was as if she were trying to talk her way out of a bombing. Trying to convince the shooter not to shoot. Trying to convince the whole Galaxy of her new revelation with only seconds to do it in.
Her wide eyes, her desperate, semi-frightened, half-crazed expression bored into him, searching, hungering, desiring with a furious passion for validation of this mad new theory. He had to say something. Anything.
All this time she had been contradicting herself. But no more. The truth had been revealed. Now she needed to make sure – absolutely and wholly certain that he knew it too. The mad prophet ranting his revelations to the dazed and distraught.
Her hands, trembling, might have begun to hurt digging into his shoulders – suddenly she lunged at him – attacking again? Royanna lunged and clamped her arms around the stunned boy’s neck, and back, and buried her face in the sweat and blood matted fur of his neck. She clung to him with the same desperation and ferocity that drove her. Nuzzled into him, pressed herself into him, clung like her life depended on it – like both their lives depended on it.
”P-please Toffi – you’ve got to understand it! I NEED you!” She half sobbed, pleading, into his neck, voice muffled by the fur but still audible, at least to him. Trembling as she leaned into him, pinning him to the wall there with the force of her wild grip alone.
It had quieted down. The alarm had ceased blaring – the red light still flashed – but gunfire had ceased. No more soldiers came rounding the corner. If there were more, they were elsewhere in the facility. This ‘eye-of-the-storm’ calm seemed to have fallen over the two of them alone. There was nobody else in the universe, just them, her clinging to him as if to let go would send them both drifting off into space. As if everything depended on it. As if, even with this grand new realization, she still feared immensely the possibility that she might go unheard, or shoved away and told she was a fool. Maybe she was a fool. But she didn’t care in that moment. Clinging to him, nuzzling into him, knowing in her heart that if they only stuck together, if she only made him understand, if he only returned that embrace with even half her own fervent passion – that everything was going to be okay.
And scrambled to her feet
And shoved the kid in front of her around the corner.
Yes. This was her Last Light. This was the last thing she would ever do - because she was going to do it for the rest of her life. She was never going to let that kid out of her sight. As long as there was a chance that he lived, she would live. When her time came, so be it - she'd have spent the whole last moment of her life doing what she knew to be the most important thing she had ever done. She was going to make it a very long moment. Her Last Light wasn't going to be a dazzling explosion of heroic death - it was going to be a slow, but warm candle. It was going to be a long twilight. That other part of her life was over. This would be the last thing she ever did. This she had realized in that moment before tripping over her own feet in the desperate stumble from a perceived enemy who was not there. No soldiers nor Special Agents had rounded the corner after they had stood.
Body trembling, hands shaking, eyes as wide as they had ever been, frantic, almost terrified, utterly desperate to reveal a revelation that had been revealed to her straight from Space itself. Everything made sense now. She had learned, in that moment, the truth of everything. It all came together. The passion in her eyes, the impossible intensity that bordered on total panic in her face, the hungry urgency – it was all far more intimidating than she had been moments before, when furiously shaking him.
She had grabbed him again, but by the shoulders now. She was insane. Mad with whatever she had been trying to get out all this time, what she had been trying to say, but never having a way with words, never being able to voice the final truth that had been building inside her all this time - before now. She had spoken of it – mentioned it, even thought of it, indirectly. Yet it had not occurred to her until that moment, and she had not had the words.
”W-we BOTH have to keep living for each other, Toffi!” She stuttered, trying to get the words out before the revelation slipped from her mind – however impossible that might have seemed at present. The urgency, the fear, the epiphany in her voice was strange. She had to tell someone – had to tell him – she had pieced together the most complicated mystery she had ever faced, and she had to get the truth out quickly!
She sounded like a madwoman.
”W-we have to both stay alive for eachother – d-don’t you see?!”
Holding him by the shoulders, her grip was white-knuckles, but she did not shake him. She looked with her own dazzled, half-panicked eyes directly into his – she commanded every ounce of his attention in that moment without so much as trying. ”My life is worth living if I keep you safe. Your life is worth living if you keep me sane! Or, or, or j-just being there. Everything in, in, in both our lives has led up to this! This – this, you and me, looking out for each other – that’s what makes l-life worth, worth living! Don’t you get it?! Neither of us can die! If one of us does the other has no purpose! Don’t you see? Don’t you?!” her breathing was hard and shallow. Only now did she take a hand off his shoulder for a short moment to wipe some of the disturbing quantity of blood from her face, and that only because it had begun to trickle to her lips. The hand went right back to his shoulder in less than a second.
It was as if she were trying to talk her way out of a bombing. Trying to convince the shooter not to shoot. Trying to convince the whole Galaxy of her new revelation with only seconds to do it in.
Her wide eyes, her desperate, semi-frightened, half-crazed expression bored into him, searching, hungering, desiring with a furious passion for validation of this mad new theory. He had to say something. Anything.
All this time she had been contradicting herself. But no more. The truth had been revealed. Now she needed to make sure – absolutely and wholly certain that he knew it too. The mad prophet ranting his revelations to the dazed and distraught.
Her hands, trembling, might have begun to hurt digging into his shoulders – suddenly she lunged at him – attacking again? Royanna lunged and clamped her arms around the stunned boy’s neck, and back, and buried her face in the sweat and blood matted fur of his neck. She clung to him with the same desperation and ferocity that drove her. Nuzzled into him, pressed herself into him, clung like her life depended on it – like both their lives depended on it.
”P-please Toffi – you’ve got to understand it! I NEED you!” She half sobbed, pleading, into his neck, voice muffled by the fur but still audible, at least to him. Trembling as she leaned into him, pinning him to the wall there with the force of her wild grip alone.
It had quieted down. The alarm had ceased blaring – the red light still flashed – but gunfire had ceased. No more soldiers came rounding the corner. If there were more, they were elsewhere in the facility. This ‘eye-of-the-storm’ calm seemed to have fallen over the two of them alone. There was nobody else in the universe, just them, her clinging to him as if to let go would send them both drifting off into space. As if everything depended on it. As if, even with this grand new realization, she still feared immensely the possibility that she might go unheard, or shoved away and told she was a fool. Maybe she was a fool. But she didn’t care in that moment. Clinging to him, nuzzling into him, knowing in her heart that if they only stuck together, if she only made him understand, if he only returned that embrace with even half her own fervent passion – that everything was going to be okay.
Laurent smirk and said "Well well well I never thought I would see you smile and laugh at the same time" as he looks at him, kinda hoping he would do the same to his suit as he did to his clothes, but seeing the smile and laughter on the loomy gloomy Rin was good enough for mad man Montagne.
He then goes towards him to take the suit away and says "If you plan on ticketring around, do in the clothes you wear and not on this" if Rin let's him take he folds it over his arm and prepares to take back to the room. Either way Laurent says "Rin if you want to take a look around there is plenty of junk that is nicely organized into different piles in different rooms you can look" as he steps outside into the long hall and points out various doors with junk all organized to whichever they maybe.
"I hope you enjoy what I have and if you feel like scrap metal diving head down to cargo bay 3, give you first dips to get whatever you want" he adds as his creepy smile came across his face. "Your ship by the way is in cargo bay 2" he says to him.
He then goes towards him to take the suit away and says "If you plan on ticketring around, do in the clothes you wear and not on this" if Rin let's him take he folds it over his arm and prepares to take back to the room. Either way Laurent says "Rin if you want to take a look around there is plenty of junk that is nicely organized into different piles in different rooms you can look" as he steps outside into the long hall and points out various doors with junk all organized to whichever they maybe.
"I hope you enjoy what I have and if you feel like scrap metal diving head down to cargo bay 3, give you first dips to get whatever you want" he adds as his creepy smile came across his face. "Your ship by the way is in cargo bay 2" he says to him.
Rin gave Montagne a long, considering look. "Neither did I," he said, soft. He closed his eyes, sighing softly. The homesickness was still there... but the sensation was more managable now. He opened his eyes again, the tiny smile on his face growing a little wider.
He... he could be okay. He will be okay. His team... his friends... his family was safe.
And he will get back to them.
Montagne moved then, making his way towards him, saying that if he was going to tinker with his machinery now, he'd rather Rin do it in the clothes he was currently wearing. He looked down consideringly, humming his assent. "Alright," he said, handing over his suit and watching as Montagne folded it over his arm.
As Montagne stepped out and gestured at the rooms down the hall, talking about how he had many things Rin could tinker with and giving his express permission to basically go wild on the machinery there, his eyes widened slightly in surprise at this... feeling that he was starting to have. His first instinct at the the weird, unknown feeling was to squash it down, but... It wasn't unpleasant.
What he was feeling right now... It- it wasn't quite contentment- it couldn't be, not with his... his family out of reach... But...
He tentatively let the feeling wash over him again. It was close enough.
"... Thank you," he repeated, even though he knew the words would never be able to fully express the gratefulness he actually felt.
For a moment he looked down the hallway, mind far away, considering. Generator would definitely need repair- however, he should really get used to the technology of this galaxy. So...
He gave a small nod. He decided that his first order of business would be to fix any machinery Montagne needed or wanted fixing, look through any scraps and such, and then take care of his beloved Nemesis.
His fingers twitched.
"I'll get started, then," he said, tone light and lilting.
Time to work.
He... he could be okay. He will be okay. His team... his friends... his family was safe.
And he will get back to them.
Montagne moved then, making his way towards him, saying that if he was going to tinker with his machinery now, he'd rather Rin do it in the clothes he was currently wearing. He looked down consideringly, humming his assent. "Alright," he said, handing over his suit and watching as Montagne folded it over his arm.
As Montagne stepped out and gestured at the rooms down the hall, talking about how he had many things Rin could tinker with and giving his express permission to basically go wild on the machinery there, his eyes widened slightly in surprise at this... feeling that he was starting to have. His first instinct at the the weird, unknown feeling was to squash it down, but... It wasn't unpleasant.
What he was feeling right now... It- it wasn't quite contentment- it couldn't be, not with his... his family out of reach... But...
He tentatively let the feeling wash over him again. It was close enough.
"... Thank you," he repeated, even though he knew the words would never be able to fully express the gratefulness he actually felt.
For a moment he looked down the hallway, mind far away, considering. Generator would definitely need repair- however, he should really get used to the technology of this galaxy. So...
He gave a small nod. He decided that his first order of business would be to fix any machinery Montagne needed or wanted fixing, look through any scraps and such, and then take care of his beloved Nemesis.
His fingers twitched.
"I'll get started, then," he said, tone light and lilting.
Time to work.
Christofer would be thinking of nothing. There was nothing going in his head, not a single thought. It was good if he could find it enough in himself to even focus on the distinctive yet unmattering sounds of their feet meeting the floor with each stride they took. They shouldn't really even be heard, not past the sirens, and with all this flashing, it was really... Truly a mystery if their feet ever even reached the floor. Or if they were flying. He couldn't tell...
His thoughts were supposedly empty, as much as Kallenger wanted to know what was going on in his head. Just cloudy formless haze. That is all.
That and the similar thoughts of failure that he shared with Kallenger.
They truly were alike, weren't they? Even as they moved, not speaking a word to each other, but still sharing the same course of thoughts. If the other lived, all was fulfilled.
Though she had let him know that dying here was not an option. She had denied from him, most likely at least twice already, during this day. Perhaps a few times earlier as well. He owned a couple of lifetimes to her. And she damn well had beaten that set of words in his mind, that he not falter and risk himself like that again.
He was going to have to find a different way to keep the team safe. To keep living.
He owed her that much.
But there was more than just debt behind those thoughts. However, he could not grasp them or describe them were someone to ask of him for them.
There was some emotion shown again on his face as Kallenger pulled them to a direction, tugged and jerked them both to a direction, almost like a 90 degree turn in on itself. That had his eyes wide for a moment and he blinked a couple of times. What was that? Where was she going?
It confused him. But he would not let go of her.
Not letting go. Their hands were not parting.
Was the woman thinking of turning around? Going? And running back? No. She wasn't going to go back there if he had something to say to it. He was not letting her risk herself like that. No. Not after she had beaten it to him that he couldn't do it himself. So even if it hurt his hand and arm, the rest of his body that still had feeling on itself. There was not a chance he'd let her go and possibly risk her not coming back anymore. Kallenger had made the mistake of holding onto him.
And it was his own mistake as well, for when she fell, he'd either fall with her or stumble on afterwards either way.
Their hands parted, if only for the fact that the presence of blood made it slippery to hold onto something. Not the easiest task of them all.
So he fell back, away from the woman and ended up on colliding with the floor right afterwards as he ad no strength left in his wobbly legs to keep carrying himself alone. But even in a state like this, coughing, the blood in his mouth finally spilling to drip down his chin and his neck, he'd find himself struggling and getting up on his shaky pair of arms, dragging himself over to the woman, and gripping her coat collar just like she had gripped his only moments prior. And he kept puling at her, weakly. Jerking, tugging, weakly shaking her. Her arm, her coat, anything he could grip, all the while chanting frantically.
"Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up."
And she did get up. Thank god. There wasn't anything more he could have asked for as he was bleeding on top of the woman as he was pleading for her to get up.
She wouldn't give him a break though. Did not allow him to hold that relieved smile for longer than the brief half-a-second. She moved so quickly.
So quickly it managed to scare him. His reflexes weren't at their best, and he'd find himself leaning against the closest wall, not a way to escape from this situation. He was held between the woman and the wall, flinched and winced as she grabbed his shoulders. It really hurt. It really did.
But he stayed. Even with his ears laying flat at the back of his bloody head and no actual possibility of escape given to him, he'd choose to stay. He could have also waited, waited for the blood to soak her hands so that he could slip away and run, but he wouldn't run. He was staying. Eyes weren't far from hers in intensity, the pair of turquoises anxiously gazing back at hers. There was not a chance that he'd look away.
He was still pained, the volume of her voice not helping, but the words spoken had more power than the loud blaring sirens.
He was certain - she was serious.
But he had to wonder...
Did she break? Had she gone mad? Lost her mind? Speaking... Things like this? He couldn't really tell, but he would agree with her words. Hos revelation wasn't as great as hers. Not a mighty wildfire, not even a bonfire. It was nothing compared to her, but it was there. It was there, on that shocked face of his. Eyes as wide as teacups, simple in design or fancy rare patterned ones, it didn't matter, but they were shining. She certainly had his attention, all of it.
It was dangerous, anyone could have come behind a corner and shot them, and neither of them could be noticing it from each other.
This was not a good time for this.
He couldn't allow for it to continue.
He...
He......
He didn't want to see her like this.
He was worried. He wanted for Kallenger to be happy, she shouldn't be in need of shouting in the middle of the hallway. This shouldn't be necessary.
"Yes, Yes..! Mein Gott! Calm down!" He managed to splurr out, seeing it was needed for him to raise his voice to even try and speak back to her. He didn't want to shout, but since she was already going through the effort herself, he might as well too. And what with the wincing and pain? He did have some strength to get his higher-pitched self to be heard.
But oh... He needed this. As much as she did, he too needed this. Needed this moment...
And she clung to him. Clung like a person that was about to lose their first pet dog that meant their whole life to them.
That was the simplest way of explaining it to an outsider.
He wasn't quite sure on how to react to it all. Standing on his toes, it was some kind of reaction for him to just hold her back, in a far less aggressive manner though. She was rough, and it was seriously hurting him. But he couldn't blame her for it. This was new to her. He needed to just deal with it. Be there for her... Help her to cope. Help himself to cope... This was such a big thing thrown at him and the woman all of a sudden.
Why did it have to come now? When they were not in a good condition, not in a very good spot. Why... Could she make it? He worried for Kallenger's sanity. This much emotions. Was it healthy anymore..?
He was worried. Unable to react. This was hard, it locked him on place.
What should he do?
Was there anything he could do now?
In his worry, he took a hold of Royanna's head, palms to her cheeks, not forceful or pressuring at any point, but he wanted for her to calm down and stop for a moment. So that they could just be there. Stay.. For a moment... He'd be careful not to hold her harshly, keeping it as a soft, most likely temporary hold for now. He just wanted for her to calm down. Breathe. Get some air...
With his fingers almost reaching to the back of her head as he slipped, holding her so softly that she could have easily broken away at any point. Sure he slipped, just a little so he was mostly now feeling the messy black hair of hers, only the back end of his palms still holding the rest of the head. But if he could and she stayed, he'd hold their foreheads together for just moment.
Closing his eyes, he stood there, slowly falling back, settling from his toes to have the whole sole against the floor. It helped him feel at easy when she stayed still, not putting pressure on him nor herself. Hopefully it helped her as well.
This was a thing that people did, right? Hold another person close, show that you cared. He was short on words for the time being, but he didn't want to have her carry it all on her shoulders. The burden. He didn't want for her to have it. Though he knew that if he took it all for himself, he'd break.
So instead, he stood there, holding her head, feeling the warmth as they stood so close, slowly caressed her and took his fingers through her hair to comb and untangle it. He wasn't really pressing her any closer to himself, that wasn't exactly needed when she was already leaning onto him.
He must have been some world class masochist for liking her after she had just beaten the living daylight out of him. Shouted and cursed right at his face. But he was still here. None of her former acting mattered, although he would have preferred the calm and collected woman to the broken and crying one. But if this is how she was, he'd let her be this way.
He wanted her to be true to herself. No more lying. No more acting. Be free.
She didn't need to me like the writings on stones, she was free to change along the world. If she wanted to. And he'd be there, whether she changed or stayed the same.
What use was a defective machine?
They were examples. They helped others to learn and build themselves. Their parts could be used to build others. There was always something that could be used. None of them was ever in vain. And even a defective machine could protect you, at least soften the blow and give you that much of a greater chance at surviving.
It was not in vain. Don't ever think that way.
The boy waited, held her close, his tail wrapped around their feet as the world silenced around them. Eyes closed for a little longer, he waited for their breathing to calm down and the stress to be relieved.
Once it was time, he leaned back a little, the best he could, with his back against the wall, and let the woman stand straight again with some distance between them. He felt a little tired and worn out with all the pain, but it was settling. Slowly. Christofer found some energy to give a smile as he looked back towards her with some half closed eyes, before pulling on his shirt, jacket, anything, and gently wiped the blood off Kallenger's face. Other than each other, what he was wearing was pretty much the only thing he had. It was the only thing to remind him of where he had come from and who he was. This was from there. A mystery in on itself. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter. He could give up on the only thing that he had left from his past. He could wear whatever she gave to him, but he didn't want to see her hurting. And as long as he was with her and she was with him, it was going to be fine.
Everything would be fine now.
The answers were coming.
What had he been wanting for the past few days? To get back home? To find where he had come from? What had happened to him? What was he?
He wanted answers to those questions, and many more, but they had become distant now, so very quickly. They didn't matter now. All that he found important enough to matter even just a little bit was that Kallenger was there and that she was fine. She was going to be fine, he assured himself on that. It had become like a new task for him, and he did not care to know or get any kind of replies or answers to his questions if she wasn't there with him to find out.
It had been a while since he last talked, to calm her down, though this time, it was no shouting that he returned her. Firstly he found himself to be in need for just a little bit of more closeness now that he was understanding things in a new light as well.
And holding her close felt so nice.....
He was getting a little emotional.
"You are my world now. My light. My temple that I pray upon. Don't leave me in the dark..." Spoken out like a set of whispers, very close to Kallenger's ears. Quietly, but loud enough to be heard. He couldn't talk any louder, feeling as his voice would have started to shake and stutter if he did.
He had stopped crying, but the other's emotions kept on making him do the same and were pulling his to the surface as well, leading to him tearing up again. But this time the sobbing was rather tranquil in tone. They weren't desperate, nor did they feel bad or made him want to hold them back. Instead, they'd find a good use, cleaning Kallenger's face from the already dried blood that he couldn't sweep away with his shirt. He could try again, rubbing his eyes ti try and seem less dramatic, brushing his thumb across Royanna's cheek and cleaning up the rest while he kept looking at her.
"You are my light. I have found you. Please... Lead me a little longer... Stay with me..." Quite tender in tone, he didn't want to seem like he begged for it desperately, yet it was all he needed that she stay with him.
And to them both, she was there, expressing herself, shining in her own right in a way she had not expressed before. This was something else. It could not be compared to the shouting and shaking from before. It was different. And he was there, coping with her and being the shoulder she could lean on.
She was like a lantern, showing him the way in the dark, through it all. And he was holding that light source, afraid to drop it, feeling as if it might shatter if he wasn't careful enough. He wanted for it to last, wanted to be strong for her and pay her back for all that she had given him so far.
He held her own hands to her face, her cheek, and just held it there for a moment, their hands on top of each other.
"You have begun to mean so much to me... I hope you understand that.... Taking care of each other also means to take care of yourself....." Voice got a little quieter the longer he went on.
Finally he'd me able to part their hands, if only just for a moment. Now that he knew that she wasn't just going to run off and repeat the stupid mistake he had just performed and she had taught for him to not execute again. She was not doing that. She was here, staying. It gave him some inexplicable amount of feeling and relief.
Unless it was all a cruel trick... An attempt to tug at his heartstrings, and she'd run again. No... That would be far too cruel. Unconsciously his grip of her coat tightened just that but more. Don't run. Don't leave me...
And then...
She was going to have to prove her words on protecting him real soon, and he was trying to stay true to his own words, not having interrupted her nor the moment even if he had felt bad.
The moment Kallenger had tripped, he had been shot. Boy did not blame her for it though, not at all. She couldn't have known. None of them were paying attention. It had all happened so quickly, and he had not spoken a word about it.
No-one was threatening them currently though. It was just the two of them. The shooter had left, thinking that there was no a living soul left on the hallway. Nothing of interest, so they were free to breath for a moment.
Take some pained breaths, wheezes even.
Everything had been going down ever since they had taken that light nap in the control room - and even before that. They had hoped for it to bring them some good luck and well needed rest. But instead, all they had gotten was trouble and everything just kept getting worse.
The canid had suffered barely any physical damage at all at that point or prior to it, but he had definitely been one of the most sound for quite a while. That was, until he hit the sink and everything seemed to literally sink after that.
His shoulder now having been shot, head hurting and with a lot of blood lost, he certainly wasn't doing all that good anymore.
The shot was not a fatal or mortal wound, he could make it, but like any other wound, it had the potential to become very troubling if left untreated.
But in his mind, he'd somehow know that they could not get any lower.
This was it.
As long as she stayed, he'd be ok.
Nothing would hurt him that badly anymore.
And at least he told her about the wound, didn't keep it a secret from her.
Sure, it may have caused for the woman to stress out some more, but it was rather that and she get it all out here rather than later when they are hopefully resting somewhere safe. And he was calm about it, not wanting to have the woman fall into such a bad state again. Canid spoke very carefully, soft voice not hurrying any of the words that he managed to speak out.
"Come on now... We should get going... Right....?" The softest smile yet. So kind and trusting.
Calm...
But they needed to go.
If he had gotten the woman to stay calm, good.
If he had stressed her out again... Good...
Use the adrenaline. They were going to need it, for after it started fading, they'd both be in quite the share of pain after pulling these kinds of tricks.
They needed to get going. And he'd hold her hand and let her lead him to the others, being his light as his vision got blurry again and he once again struggled to stay awake and in his senses.
But he would do it... For her...
Nirix couldn't breathe when Ketin peered up at her.
His eyes, they bore so tenderly in her soul that the Eoclu could've sworn she had been stabbed through the heart. It was painful to see and the more that he looked at her, the harder it was for Nirix to ignore the almost crippling emotion that lay within those heterochromia eyes. So much regret and utter sadness, it made her heart quiver and her hands trimble.
Yet the most painful thing was that Ketin looked so much like him.
....Those eyes, whose are they?
Nirix blinked. If only to escape those eyes, to run away from that gaze that threatened to make her think of him again, to think back when things were different and nothing like this. But when she opened them again, Ketin was no longer there. In fact she was no longer at Nasser Station.
No, instead she was with him.
Keikol...
The memory washed over her without warning and yet Nirix felt herself relax under the brief fear she felt at this experience. There he sat, his face halfway hidden behind his set of playing cards. His eyes, the color of freshly grown moss, flickered in between his hand before looking at her with the best poker face the young prince could possibly muster.
Even then, Nirix knew it was still bothering him.
"You don't have to play with me Ny. I know you don't like this game," He finally admitted as he placed his first card down. It was a Dragon, if she remembered correctly then that meant she had less of a chance of winning now. It was a good draw.
"You are right," Nirix mumbled, placing her card down with the picture of the flower on it. She liked that one the most because of all the colors but she had forgotten the meaning behind it. What had Keikol taught her again? There were too many rules.
"Then why are you playing?" He asked her, his eyes straying from his hand to look up at her once again. The poker face was gone and replaced by the emotions that he only allowed her to see. Such a heavy regret lay within those green eyes. He hadn't meant to hurt the man's feels but he had. The consular forgave him but he had seemed unsatisfied when he did, as if the thousands of apologies he had made were nothing. What else could he have done?
He was such an odd boy back then but that was because Nirix hadn't understood his feelings.
"Because it makes you happy Kei" She replied with a smile but frowned when she noticed that Keikol didn't return it.
"I don’t like to hurt people, Ny’, especially when they’re already hurting…”
Nirix blinked again, trying to focus on just who had exactly said that. Ketin or Keikol?
It had to be Ketin but what was the odds that she had heard those words before, just from a different mouth? She had seen that look of regret before, just mirrored in different colored eyes.
It took every fiber of her being not to call him, Keikol. They were not the same and Nirix was more than glad for that simple fact. Waiting for Ketin to finish, she relaxed only some when he spoke about her. He was accepting his actions, justifying that he had done it for her sake. Though she wish she could've done more, had said more, Nirix could only offer a tight and warm embrace for Ketin to hopefully relax under and understand her touch. She would've taken away all of the sadness he had ever felt if she could've.
"I'm sure we will be fine there, Da'len." Nirix agreed as she walked by Ketin's side.
This trip would be sorely needed for the both of them.
His eyes, they bore so tenderly in her soul that the Eoclu could've sworn she had been stabbed through the heart. It was painful to see and the more that he looked at her, the harder it was for Nirix to ignore the almost crippling emotion that lay within those heterochromia eyes. So much regret and utter sadness, it made her heart quiver and her hands trimble.
Yet the most painful thing was that Ketin looked so much like him.
....Those eyes, whose are they?
Nirix blinked. If only to escape those eyes, to run away from that gaze that threatened to make her think of him again, to think back when things were different and nothing like this. But when she opened them again, Ketin was no longer there. In fact she was no longer at Nasser Station.
No, instead she was with him.
Keikol...
The memory washed over her without warning and yet Nirix felt herself relax under the brief fear she felt at this experience. There he sat, his face halfway hidden behind his set of playing cards. His eyes, the color of freshly grown moss, flickered in between his hand before looking at her with the best poker face the young prince could possibly muster.
Even then, Nirix knew it was still bothering him.
"You don't have to play with me Ny. I know you don't like this game," He finally admitted as he placed his first card down. It was a Dragon, if she remembered correctly then that meant she had less of a chance of winning now. It was a good draw.
"You are right," Nirix mumbled, placing her card down with the picture of the flower on it. She liked that one the most because of all the colors but she had forgotten the meaning behind it. What had Keikol taught her again? There were too many rules.
"Then why are you playing?" He asked her, his eyes straying from his hand to look up at her once again. The poker face was gone and replaced by the emotions that he only allowed her to see. Such a heavy regret lay within those green eyes. He hadn't meant to hurt the man's feels but he had. The consular forgave him but he had seemed unsatisfied when he did, as if the thousands of apologies he had made were nothing. What else could he have done?
He was such an odd boy back then but that was because Nirix hadn't understood his feelings.
"Because it makes you happy Kei" She replied with a smile but frowned when she noticed that Keikol didn't return it.
"I don’t like to hurt people, Ny’, especially when they’re already hurting…”
Nirix blinked again, trying to focus on just who had exactly said that. Ketin or Keikol?
It had to be Ketin but what was the odds that she had heard those words before, just from a different mouth? She had seen that look of regret before, just mirrored in different colored eyes.
It took every fiber of her being not to call him, Keikol. They were not the same and Nirix was more than glad for that simple fact. Waiting for Ketin to finish, she relaxed only some when he spoke about her. He was accepting his actions, justifying that he had done it for her sake. Though she wish she could've done more, had said more, Nirix could only offer a tight and warm embrace for Ketin to hopefully relax under and understand her touch. She would've taken away all of the sadness he had ever felt if she could've.
"I'm sure we will be fine there, Da'len." Nirix agreed as she walked by Ketin's side.
This trip would be sorely needed for the both of them.
A R D E L L A – Abandoned Imperial Bunker
Her breathing was hard, heavy, automatic – hyperventilating in slow-motion. Her body was a machine, pushing on through time and terror even while her mind wilted and changed. That too, was a machine – but a defective one. She would never be of any use to the Empire again. That force which she had so adored all these years – to it, she was dead.
She had lost her mind – and in this, had gained her humanity.
But it was not thus on her thoughts as Christofer shouted back at her to calm herself. So he did understand – good. There was relief evident in her face, a slackening of the shoulders, a much-needed loosening of her grip on him – though she would not let go. Not for anything.
So then – if she was mad – he was too. He understood this strange new thing that she was only coming now to comprehend. This new idea, born from the pits of love and friendship and fear and loneliness and regret and wasted lives – he understood it. He understood her mad ranting, understood the bizarre concept that she felt now so strongly in her chest, but could barely put into stuttering, fumbling words. He understood it. Amazing!
Though her grip had let up, she still clung to him with ferocity. Only in the aftermath of her incoherent spout of words did she realize that she was probably hurting him, and so she made an active effort to be easier still on him. But her body was a machine, marching forward, gripping him in an iron embrace as though to let go for a second would…
So, try as she might, she couldn’t make it all that much easier on him. Oh well.
Why did it have to come now? Because having lived a life where emotions came secondary to everything else, tertiary to some and were often no more than obstacles to be overcome – this flood of revelation, of emotion, could only possibly have been brought on by the breaking of the dam that had kept them back all these years. Severs had smacked her the first time she broke into tears, way back when she was first becoming his student. He had pushed her and she had cracked, and he smacked her for it. Shut her up. Soldiers, especially soldiers like her, did not cry. Everyone thought of her as a girl, not a high-class Special Agent in training. Why let them think that? And even now, if she had thought about it, she wouldn’t have been resentful toward old Severs for it. It had saved her life many times. It had made her the best DEU Captain of them all – in one way or another – and he had done the best thing for her given the life she was to live.
But that life was over. She was done hunting the Devil Eye. Let other bounty hunters go after him, and be driven insane by the calculating murderer that lurked inside the child-sized body. Let then. Not her. That life was gone now – dead – still lying on the floor where she had tripped and Toffi had helped haul her back to her feet with repeated, rhythmic urging. Severs had done the right thing for who she was, who she was to be back then. But now that part was dead, and this was the new Light.
He took her head between his palms. Not what she had expected – but then, in this strange new world where emotions and feelings seemed to dominate the flow of time and influence everything she did, she didn’t know what to expect. The great barrier had been cracked, been all but torn down to crumbling ruins. Now the flood had come in, now strange things could happen like this person gently caressing her and silently willing an air of calm for them to share.
Now that he understood this bizarre, alien thing that she had been trying to explain, hoping that it wasn’t simply her own madness, that maybe it actually was valid logic and she just hadn’t realized it yet – now that that was over with, she could start to relax. At least, a little.
She breathed. After some immeasurable time, her grip on him began to ease – though it was still uncomfortably tight, it was no longer painful. She didn’t notice. All she knew now was breathing, the fingers in her hair – it felt good. Fantastic, in fact. Maybe she wouldn’t cut it. It had taken what seemed to be forever, but finally she let her eyes close. Dimly, the red light did penetrate her eyelids – but with the sight of it gone, the silence that had fallen over the bunker was like a smooth wash of peace over them. The flashing was chaotic and fast, even when the sound of the screaming alarm and the chattering gunfire had ceased – but with eyes closed, they might have been anywhere. The dim redness might have been sunlight. It seemed like forever since she’d seen that.
"You sound like something out of an old drama flick."
She said with a soft little smile, a little chuckle. Teasing him for the way he had spoken, though gently. Simultaneously reinforcing her own obtuseness, lack of promiscuity with words, and general insensitivity. Well, at least she wasn't a completely new Royanna Kallenger.
She felt a finger glide along her cheek. That too felt positively wonderful, even as it mingled with blood and tears and sweat. Before now, anyone who had found some reason to touch her in any way would have gotten decked in the face. Now though, in this new, warm tide that followed the flood, it felt nice. Nicer than anything she could remember. He was looking up at her now. He was speaking. Their hands atop each other. Then they weren’t. He was grabbing on to her coat. Leaning into her now? Wobbling imperceptibly? Her eyes widened again. Alertness returned like a bitter wind that whipped over the tide after the flood. Then, like a distant thunderclap that trembled the earth, rage. Fury at whoever had done this. Hate as strong and fierce – stronger, fiercer than anything she could recall.
But, like a thunderclap, it passed harmlessly overhead. The storm was there still, but it was not the thunder that would do any harm. Nothing would come of her rage at the person who had done this now. Even though she suddenly had a very good idea of who it had been. The breathing had helped. Their little moment of peace had helped. He had helped. He had kept her from going totally off the edge – so she would keep him from bleeding out.
”That @#$%ing @#$%.” She muttered through gritted teeth. Then, aloud and with voice measured – much closer to her usual manner of speaking; ”Right. Just a second. Lean back against the wall there.” She needed both arms for this. She tried to make it obvious in her expression that she wasn’t planning on running off or anything stupid.
Once able to do so, the woman drew her sword again, and hastily proceeded to poke the bottom of her coat. Having pierced it, she re-sheathed the blade and did the rest by simply tearing – coming up with a strip of black cloth that had once been the bottommost hem of the coat. It gave it a worn, frayed texture at the bottom.
She moved in a little closer to him again, maneuvering the strip around him. ”If it hurts too much, bite down on my shoulder or something. I can take it.” There was a faint, almost nonexistent smile at the corner of her lip which was infinitely reassuring – somehow.
With that, she’d use the strip of cloth to tie around the wound. Of course, she was much too rough with it – because she was much too rough with everything – and it was very likely that he’d need to bite down on something. Her shoulder was right there, and if he did so, she’d bite her tongue with widened eyes and manage to mostly hide the fact that it hurt like a mother@#$%er.
The wound was secured within seconds though. She gave him a reassuring little pat on the back, took another deep breath, they took hands, and proceeded back toward the others.
The hallway in which it had all gone down was, except for the silently flashing red light, all but dead. A small collection of black-armored bodies at the far end. Pocks of plasma and a few bits and pieces of dead robots. And, at the very end of the hall, a shadow reflected in the flashing light. Royanna stopped, still holding Christofer’s hand, and looked stonily down the hall. She had stopped there for a moment. Just standing there. Someone was right around that corner. Waiting. Probably watching. It could all end right now.
But Royanna knew in her heart that they would do nothing. So she stood there for another second. Then, her voice louder now in the silence of the spent battlefield, she shouted – with surprising deadness in the voice, betrayed only by the twang of resentment, of hatred that was just below the surface ”You missed, Forty-Seven..” She spat the word – forty-seven. The deadness was replaced with a growing scorn.
”He’s still alive.”
So, Kallenger had it in her head that whoever had shot Toffi had actually been aiming for Toffi? Maybe it was true? There was more to her thought process now – now that she had been calmed, rejuvenated by that little moment in time the two of them had shared around the corner.
”You just can’t bear it, can you?” She continued, almost goading now, though the shadow at the end of the hallway moved only slightly – slightly enough to prove that there was someone there, but they weren’t going to make a move.
”You @#$%ed up, Forty-Seven. You failed. How’s it feel you vapid @#$%?”
”Do you realize what you’ve done, Royanna?” The person around the corner said. It was a woman, some years older than Roy was. There was an intensity to the voice – and some hint of emotion. ”We weren’t coming to kill you, you stupid girl! We were coming to rescue you!” The words might have hit like ice, but Royanna didn’t believe her. Her expression, though the woman around the corner could not see it, was hard and unyielding. ”You know damned well the Empire wouldn’t have wanted to get rid of one of their most valuable assets just because you lost a couple men! You’d have gotten a new team and a new ship and been sent right back out again! But now, after this…You’ve killed six Imperial soldiers, stupid girl! You’ve gone AWOL! You didn’t have to! And now they’re going to send me after you to finish the job!”
There was an inflection that hinted to the possibility that Agent 47 would rather not have to be the one to finish the job.
”You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Royanna replied. ”You wanted to take my friend here out of the picture.”
”He was a distraction!” The other interrupted – but Royanna went on undisturbed. ”You’d still have gotten rid of him even if I came back!”
”He. Was. A-“ SHUT UP!!” Royanna’s hand gripped Christofer’s tighter, involuntarily. Agent 47 shut up.
”The Empire – and YOU – betrayed me first. Those soldiers had orders to kill everyone but me. I know how the system works! You might have always thought I was some stupid little girl but I know how the Special Agent program operates. And as far as I’m concerned-“
Her monologue was interrupted by a sudden, uncontrollable fit of deep, rumbling couging. It caused her to stagger over. She coughed up blood, accidentally releasing Toffi’s hand in the process of staggering. Hands were shaking now – she took a second to look down at the blood, disturbed. Those drugs were taking their toll.
Likely it would be Christofer who grabbed her hand again and urged her, silently or otherwise, to get moving again.
She had wanted to say more – but, whether he spoke or not, he was right – they needed to go. As they walked down the hall toward where Iril and Cox had gone to take cover, they were supporting each other just as they had been when they first set out, before being sidetracked by 47. Roy had wanted to end the speech well – pointedly – but instead, it had just petered off with the coughing.
Oh well. There were more important things to deal with. She let the words go. Agent 47 stayed hidden around that far corner, as Roy and Toffi proceeded to where Iril and Cox were, just out of sight.
Luck.
All the luck in the Galaxy. After all these terrible turns, there was nothing else they could have asked for. Nothing better. Cox was already getting it ready, with Iril’s assistance where needed.
Right around that opposite corner, a short hallway, and a small hangar. Inside, the dominant feature was a historical artifact that Royanna had always assumed never really existed. A relic from a supposed Early Imperial plot to take over the capitol city of Adrusade via a political insurgence rather than a genocide. A plot that had never gone through, when the small faction was shut down abruptly.
It was a bulky ship, baring the mostly white, with some black trim of the Empire. The old, asymmetrical logo of the Old Empire was on the side, as well as the name, in smooth, black letters.
DIPLOMAT.
It was The Diplomat.
One of the finest pieces of equipment the Empire had produced before it took over the planet and set out into space.
A bulky vessel designed to carry politicians and, aptly named, diplomats into the city. Designed to house them for weeks at a time in the event that they would need somewhere to operate during the political insurgency. Zero offensive capabilities, with a defense system virtually unmatched.
”No @#$%in’ way.” Royanna said, as they approached the old ship. Her love for the history of the Empire was still present, even if she loathed the system which had attempted to kill Christofer as a means of getting her to focus on her work.
This ship – The Diplomat - this was exactly what they needed. This was going to be their salvation. The thing was even large enough so that Iril would be able to fit inside – though cramped – but in the cargo bay there would be plenty of room for her to move around. It had been designed to be as self-sustaining an environment as possible. Probably the rations weren’t good after some three or four or five hundred years – but given that Cox was currently in the process of getting it started up, the thing still worked. Good old Imperial engineering.
The side door opened up – remarkably, it was wide enough that Iril would only have to stoop to get through. Inside, there was one large chamber – remarkably, almost unnecessarily ornate and fancy. Everything was pearly white and marble and gold. White carpets, with a central staircase reminiscent of an old ballroom with gilded railings and a second balcony floor overlooking the first. Hallways to either side. There were couches and chairs here and there. This main room was designed to host parties for high-ranking officials. The ship would have all the luxuries of a modern home, maybe more. There would be an extensive medical bay too – and likely those supplies would still be adequate. This was incredible.
Without a word, Royanna took Christofer into that main ballroom-esque chamber and sat him down on one of the sofas. They left a small trail of brownish blood and Space-knew what else to soil the perfect white carpet, but luckily the sofa was already crimson red, so the blood wouldn’t stick out too much.
”Hold on just a second. I need to talk to Cox real quick.” She said, holding up a finger which ordered Christofer to wait there. Then she limped into the pilots’ chamber – an expansive thing, for the size – and she could be heard speaking with Cox for a few moments.
When she came out, Cox was holding something small and blue-green. It was the badge that Kallenger had worn pinned to the inside of her jacket. Different from the pendant which she had split between herself and Christofer some time earlier, back on the Cataloguer. That pin was everything – the very authority of the Special Agent itself. Wordlessly, Cox went out into the small hangar. Once Iril was inside the big ballroom chamber, Royanna – still in the pilots’ chair – closed the door and initiated flight. The Diplomat rose silently upward. The doors above them, which led to the outside world, were not so quiet – they screamed with rust and just barely managed to open wide enough to allow the bulky Diplomat to squeeze through.
They wouldn’t even be able to track the thing, Royanna realized – it had been designed to all but disappear if the political insurgency failed. Perfect.
The body of the ship shifted slightly as she sent it gunning out of the Ardellan atmosphere. Taking no chances. Shooting at dizzying speed up and out, up and out. There were some bumps and bangs as space debris from the orbital chaos which sent them into this mess slammed against the hull, but the Diplomat was a tough old boat and nothing short of direct ordinance was going to stop it.
It took only ten minutes to clear the planet at that dizzying, reckless haste. Royanna was hardly thinking as she rocketed the ship outward, outward, glancing over the defense systems to make sure that it would all come together.
Then she flipped on the autopilot, set defenses to ‘Extremely distempered’ and made her way back out to the ‘ballroom’, where Iril and Toffi were. ”I told Cox to tell them I forced her into compliance. She’s a good soldier, they’ll believe her. Looks like it’s just us three now.” She said, going straight to Toffi and helping him to his feet again, moving off toward the medical bay where both their various wounds would be able to find some relief. The hallways on the bottom deck of the Diplomat would be wide enough to allow Iril, though cramped, to maneuver through most of the main rooms – though she’d have probably broken the stairs if she tried getting up to the second deck.
Once in the medical bay, she’d take Toffi over to the cot – a particularly advanced medical bed, especially for the time – sat him down on it. She sat herself down too – just to take a minute to close her eyes again, listen to the gentle hum of the ship as it flew through space with no particular destination in mind, defense system working furiously to keep them as invisible as possible. They might have been totally nonexistent out there, at least for the moment.
She leaned against him, relishing the gentle hum which threatened to put her to sleep right there. But, no, there was still work to do. She had to get that bullet out of Toffi, then she had to make sure she didn’t die. It was not going to be easy – but maybe they would do it.
No, they would definitely do it. After all that, they’d finally achieved the peace they’d been longing for. As soon as their conditions were stabilized, they would get some very, very much needed rest.
Maybe even a shower. And some fresh clothes.
Her breathing was hard, heavy, automatic – hyperventilating in slow-motion. Her body was a machine, pushing on through time and terror even while her mind wilted and changed. That too, was a machine – but a defective one. She would never be of any use to the Empire again. That force which she had so adored all these years – to it, she was dead.
She had lost her mind – and in this, had gained her humanity.
But it was not thus on her thoughts as Christofer shouted back at her to calm herself. So he did understand – good. There was relief evident in her face, a slackening of the shoulders, a much-needed loosening of her grip on him – though she would not let go. Not for anything.
So then – if she was mad – he was too. He understood this strange new thing that she was only coming now to comprehend. This new idea, born from the pits of love and friendship and fear and loneliness and regret and wasted lives – he understood it. He understood her mad ranting, understood the bizarre concept that she felt now so strongly in her chest, but could barely put into stuttering, fumbling words. He understood it. Amazing!
Though her grip had let up, she still clung to him with ferocity. Only in the aftermath of her incoherent spout of words did she realize that she was probably hurting him, and so she made an active effort to be easier still on him. But her body was a machine, marching forward, gripping him in an iron embrace as though to let go for a second would…
So, try as she might, she couldn’t make it all that much easier on him. Oh well.
Why did it have to come now? Because having lived a life where emotions came secondary to everything else, tertiary to some and were often no more than obstacles to be overcome – this flood of revelation, of emotion, could only possibly have been brought on by the breaking of the dam that had kept them back all these years. Severs had smacked her the first time she broke into tears, way back when she was first becoming his student. He had pushed her and she had cracked, and he smacked her for it. Shut her up. Soldiers, especially soldiers like her, did not cry. Everyone thought of her as a girl, not a high-class Special Agent in training. Why let them think that? And even now, if she had thought about it, she wouldn’t have been resentful toward old Severs for it. It had saved her life many times. It had made her the best DEU Captain of them all – in one way or another – and he had done the best thing for her given the life she was to live.
But that life was over. She was done hunting the Devil Eye. Let other bounty hunters go after him, and be driven insane by the calculating murderer that lurked inside the child-sized body. Let then. Not her. That life was gone now – dead – still lying on the floor where she had tripped and Toffi had helped haul her back to her feet with repeated, rhythmic urging. Severs had done the right thing for who she was, who she was to be back then. But now that part was dead, and this was the new Light.
He took her head between his palms. Not what she had expected – but then, in this strange new world where emotions and feelings seemed to dominate the flow of time and influence everything she did, she didn’t know what to expect. The great barrier had been cracked, been all but torn down to crumbling ruins. Now the flood had come in, now strange things could happen like this person gently caressing her and silently willing an air of calm for them to share.
Now that he understood this bizarre, alien thing that she had been trying to explain, hoping that it wasn’t simply her own madness, that maybe it actually was valid logic and she just hadn’t realized it yet – now that that was over with, she could start to relax. At least, a little.
She breathed. After some immeasurable time, her grip on him began to ease – though it was still uncomfortably tight, it was no longer painful. She didn’t notice. All she knew now was breathing, the fingers in her hair – it felt good. Fantastic, in fact. Maybe she wouldn’t cut it. It had taken what seemed to be forever, but finally she let her eyes close. Dimly, the red light did penetrate her eyelids – but with the sight of it gone, the silence that had fallen over the bunker was like a smooth wash of peace over them. The flashing was chaotic and fast, even when the sound of the screaming alarm and the chattering gunfire had ceased – but with eyes closed, they might have been anywhere. The dim redness might have been sunlight. It seemed like forever since she’d seen that.
"You sound like something out of an old drama flick."
She said with a soft little smile, a little chuckle. Teasing him for the way he had spoken, though gently. Simultaneously reinforcing her own obtuseness, lack of promiscuity with words, and general insensitivity. Well, at least she wasn't a completely new Royanna Kallenger.
She felt a finger glide along her cheek. That too felt positively wonderful, even as it mingled with blood and tears and sweat. Before now, anyone who had found some reason to touch her in any way would have gotten decked in the face. Now though, in this new, warm tide that followed the flood, it felt nice. Nicer than anything she could remember. He was looking up at her now. He was speaking. Their hands atop each other. Then they weren’t. He was grabbing on to her coat. Leaning into her now? Wobbling imperceptibly? Her eyes widened again. Alertness returned like a bitter wind that whipped over the tide after the flood. Then, like a distant thunderclap that trembled the earth, rage. Fury at whoever had done this. Hate as strong and fierce – stronger, fiercer than anything she could recall.
But, like a thunderclap, it passed harmlessly overhead. The storm was there still, but it was not the thunder that would do any harm. Nothing would come of her rage at the person who had done this now. Even though she suddenly had a very good idea of who it had been. The breathing had helped. Their little moment of peace had helped. He had helped. He had kept her from going totally off the edge – so she would keep him from bleeding out.
”That @#$%ing @#$%.” She muttered through gritted teeth. Then, aloud and with voice measured – much closer to her usual manner of speaking; ”Right. Just a second. Lean back against the wall there.” She needed both arms for this. She tried to make it obvious in her expression that she wasn’t planning on running off or anything stupid.
Once able to do so, the woman drew her sword again, and hastily proceeded to poke the bottom of her coat. Having pierced it, she re-sheathed the blade and did the rest by simply tearing – coming up with a strip of black cloth that had once been the bottommost hem of the coat. It gave it a worn, frayed texture at the bottom.
She moved in a little closer to him again, maneuvering the strip around him. ”If it hurts too much, bite down on my shoulder or something. I can take it.” There was a faint, almost nonexistent smile at the corner of her lip which was infinitely reassuring – somehow.
With that, she’d use the strip of cloth to tie around the wound. Of course, she was much too rough with it – because she was much too rough with everything – and it was very likely that he’d need to bite down on something. Her shoulder was right there, and if he did so, she’d bite her tongue with widened eyes and manage to mostly hide the fact that it hurt like a mother@#$%er.
The wound was secured within seconds though. She gave him a reassuring little pat on the back, took another deep breath, they took hands, and proceeded back toward the others.
The hallway in which it had all gone down was, except for the silently flashing red light, all but dead. A small collection of black-armored bodies at the far end. Pocks of plasma and a few bits and pieces of dead robots. And, at the very end of the hall, a shadow reflected in the flashing light. Royanna stopped, still holding Christofer’s hand, and looked stonily down the hall. She had stopped there for a moment. Just standing there. Someone was right around that corner. Waiting. Probably watching. It could all end right now.
But Royanna knew in her heart that they would do nothing. So she stood there for another second. Then, her voice louder now in the silence of the spent battlefield, she shouted – with surprising deadness in the voice, betrayed only by the twang of resentment, of hatred that was just below the surface ”You missed, Forty-Seven..” She spat the word – forty-seven. The deadness was replaced with a growing scorn.
”He’s still alive.”
So, Kallenger had it in her head that whoever had shot Toffi had actually been aiming for Toffi? Maybe it was true? There was more to her thought process now – now that she had been calmed, rejuvenated by that little moment in time the two of them had shared around the corner.
”You just can’t bear it, can you?” She continued, almost goading now, though the shadow at the end of the hallway moved only slightly – slightly enough to prove that there was someone there, but they weren’t going to make a move.
”You @#$%ed up, Forty-Seven. You failed. How’s it feel you vapid @#$%?”
”Do you realize what you’ve done, Royanna?” The person around the corner said. It was a woman, some years older than Roy was. There was an intensity to the voice – and some hint of emotion. ”We weren’t coming to kill you, you stupid girl! We were coming to rescue you!” The words might have hit like ice, but Royanna didn’t believe her. Her expression, though the woman around the corner could not see it, was hard and unyielding. ”You know damned well the Empire wouldn’t have wanted to get rid of one of their most valuable assets just because you lost a couple men! You’d have gotten a new team and a new ship and been sent right back out again! But now, after this…You’ve killed six Imperial soldiers, stupid girl! You’ve gone AWOL! You didn’t have to! And now they’re going to send me after you to finish the job!”
There was an inflection that hinted to the possibility that Agent 47 would rather not have to be the one to finish the job.
”You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Royanna replied. ”You wanted to take my friend here out of the picture.”
”He was a distraction!” The other interrupted – but Royanna went on undisturbed. ”You’d still have gotten rid of him even if I came back!”
”He. Was. A-“ SHUT UP!!” Royanna’s hand gripped Christofer’s tighter, involuntarily. Agent 47 shut up.
”The Empire – and YOU – betrayed me first. Those soldiers had orders to kill everyone but me. I know how the system works! You might have always thought I was some stupid little girl but I know how the Special Agent program operates. And as far as I’m concerned-“
Her monologue was interrupted by a sudden, uncontrollable fit of deep, rumbling couging. It caused her to stagger over. She coughed up blood, accidentally releasing Toffi’s hand in the process of staggering. Hands were shaking now – she took a second to look down at the blood, disturbed. Those drugs were taking their toll.
Likely it would be Christofer who grabbed her hand again and urged her, silently or otherwise, to get moving again.
She had wanted to say more – but, whether he spoke or not, he was right – they needed to go. As they walked down the hall toward where Iril and Cox had gone to take cover, they were supporting each other just as they had been when they first set out, before being sidetracked by 47. Roy had wanted to end the speech well – pointedly – but instead, it had just petered off with the coughing.
Oh well. There were more important things to deal with. She let the words go. Agent 47 stayed hidden around that far corner, as Roy and Toffi proceeded to where Iril and Cox were, just out of sight.
Luck.
All the luck in the Galaxy. After all these terrible turns, there was nothing else they could have asked for. Nothing better. Cox was already getting it ready, with Iril’s assistance where needed.
Right around that opposite corner, a short hallway, and a small hangar. Inside, the dominant feature was a historical artifact that Royanna had always assumed never really existed. A relic from a supposed Early Imperial plot to take over the capitol city of Adrusade via a political insurgence rather than a genocide. A plot that had never gone through, when the small faction was shut down abruptly.
It was a bulky ship, baring the mostly white, with some black trim of the Empire. The old, asymmetrical logo of the Old Empire was on the side, as well as the name, in smooth, black letters.
DIPLOMAT.
It was The Diplomat.
One of the finest pieces of equipment the Empire had produced before it took over the planet and set out into space.
A bulky vessel designed to carry politicians and, aptly named, diplomats into the city. Designed to house them for weeks at a time in the event that they would need somewhere to operate during the political insurgency. Zero offensive capabilities, with a defense system virtually unmatched.
”No @#$%in’ way.” Royanna said, as they approached the old ship. Her love for the history of the Empire was still present, even if she loathed the system which had attempted to kill Christofer as a means of getting her to focus on her work.
This ship – The Diplomat - this was exactly what they needed. This was going to be their salvation. The thing was even large enough so that Iril would be able to fit inside – though cramped – but in the cargo bay there would be plenty of room for her to move around. It had been designed to be as self-sustaining an environment as possible. Probably the rations weren’t good after some three or four or five hundred years – but given that Cox was currently in the process of getting it started up, the thing still worked. Good old Imperial engineering.
The side door opened up – remarkably, it was wide enough that Iril would only have to stoop to get through. Inside, there was one large chamber – remarkably, almost unnecessarily ornate and fancy. Everything was pearly white and marble and gold. White carpets, with a central staircase reminiscent of an old ballroom with gilded railings and a second balcony floor overlooking the first. Hallways to either side. There were couches and chairs here and there. This main room was designed to host parties for high-ranking officials. The ship would have all the luxuries of a modern home, maybe more. There would be an extensive medical bay too – and likely those supplies would still be adequate. This was incredible.
Without a word, Royanna took Christofer into that main ballroom-esque chamber and sat him down on one of the sofas. They left a small trail of brownish blood and Space-knew what else to soil the perfect white carpet, but luckily the sofa was already crimson red, so the blood wouldn’t stick out too much.
”Hold on just a second. I need to talk to Cox real quick.” She said, holding up a finger which ordered Christofer to wait there. Then she limped into the pilots’ chamber – an expansive thing, for the size – and she could be heard speaking with Cox for a few moments.
When she came out, Cox was holding something small and blue-green. It was the badge that Kallenger had worn pinned to the inside of her jacket. Different from the pendant which she had split between herself and Christofer some time earlier, back on the Cataloguer. That pin was everything – the very authority of the Special Agent itself. Wordlessly, Cox went out into the small hangar. Once Iril was inside the big ballroom chamber, Royanna – still in the pilots’ chair – closed the door and initiated flight. The Diplomat rose silently upward. The doors above them, which led to the outside world, were not so quiet – they screamed with rust and just barely managed to open wide enough to allow the bulky Diplomat to squeeze through.
They wouldn’t even be able to track the thing, Royanna realized – it had been designed to all but disappear if the political insurgency failed. Perfect.
The body of the ship shifted slightly as she sent it gunning out of the Ardellan atmosphere. Taking no chances. Shooting at dizzying speed up and out, up and out. There were some bumps and bangs as space debris from the orbital chaos which sent them into this mess slammed against the hull, but the Diplomat was a tough old boat and nothing short of direct ordinance was going to stop it.
It took only ten minutes to clear the planet at that dizzying, reckless haste. Royanna was hardly thinking as she rocketed the ship outward, outward, glancing over the defense systems to make sure that it would all come together.
Then she flipped on the autopilot, set defenses to ‘Extremely distempered’ and made her way back out to the ‘ballroom’, where Iril and Toffi were. ”I told Cox to tell them I forced her into compliance. She’s a good soldier, they’ll believe her. Looks like it’s just us three now.” She said, going straight to Toffi and helping him to his feet again, moving off toward the medical bay where both their various wounds would be able to find some relief. The hallways on the bottom deck of the Diplomat would be wide enough to allow Iril, though cramped, to maneuver through most of the main rooms – though she’d have probably broken the stairs if she tried getting up to the second deck.
Once in the medical bay, she’d take Toffi over to the cot – a particularly advanced medical bed, especially for the time – sat him down on it. She sat herself down too – just to take a minute to close her eyes again, listen to the gentle hum of the ship as it flew through space with no particular destination in mind, defense system working furiously to keep them as invisible as possible. They might have been totally nonexistent out there, at least for the moment.
She leaned against him, relishing the gentle hum which threatened to put her to sleep right there. But, no, there was still work to do. She had to get that bullet out of Toffi, then she had to make sure she didn’t die. It was not going to be easy – but maybe they would do it.
No, they would definitely do it. After all that, they’d finally achieved the peace they’d been longing for. As soon as their conditions were stabilized, they would get some very, very much needed rest.
Maybe even a shower. And some fresh clothes.
Rin fidgeted a bit in front of Montagne. It's been three days since he'd been given permission to poke around and tinker to his heart's content, and it's been surprisingly... uneventful. Of course there were moments wherein they would bicker, but it never lasted long, and things between them were amiable enough.
It was only last night that he realized he needed new clothes.
Picking around junk and fixing up machinery was a dirty job, he knew- and things could get ripped, and stained. He was having a hard time moving around things like usual- he kept on trying to save the clothes he was wearing, because they weren't HIS, and he shouldn't ruin them, because that would be AWFUL, wouldn't it?
Plus, they were too big. And... And they were his...
He said that already.
So here he was, awkward mess and all, trying to work up the courage to speak up and ask to go to a nearby planet for a change of wardrobe without sounding ungrateful.
Because he WAS grateful, but- he didn't want to ruin- yeah.
"Uh," he said- then shut his mouth, a bit embarrassed. "So, I really appreciate you." Ack! Quicksaysomethingelse- "Like, um, giving me clothes! And I don't want to keep using it." EXPLAIN- "Because! Because I might ruin them beyond repair, so, do you have money?" A pause. He almost flailed. "To buy clothes for myself! I mean..." He gave himself a very hard mental punch in the face.
What a disaster.
It was only last night that he realized he needed new clothes.
Picking around junk and fixing up machinery was a dirty job, he knew- and things could get ripped, and stained. He was having a hard time moving around things like usual- he kept on trying to save the clothes he was wearing, because they weren't HIS, and he shouldn't ruin them, because that would be AWFUL, wouldn't it?
Plus, they were too big. And... And they were his...
He said that already.
So here he was, awkward mess and all, trying to work up the courage to speak up and ask to go to a nearby planet for a change of wardrobe without sounding ungrateful.
Because he WAS grateful, but- he didn't want to ruin- yeah.
"Uh," he said- then shut his mouth, a bit embarrassed. "So, I really appreciate you." Ack! Quicksaysomethingelse- "Like, um, giving me clothes! And I don't want to keep using it." EXPLAIN- "Because! Because I might ruin them beyond repair, so, do you have money?" A pause. He almost flailed. "To buy clothes for myself! I mean..." He gave himself a very hard mental punch in the face.
What a disaster.
Laurent was enjoying having a little servant running around digging up hidden treasures with the junk heaps and him tinkering whatever he wants for the past few days. The only thing he could complain about his him sleeping on his comfortable bed. Laurent only allowed him since he was technically a guest, but he did miss his comfortable bed.
Anyway, Laurent was at his desk looking over some paper work in the dark bedroom with a lamp on, and wearing small Ben Franklin like reading glasses and once Rin came up to him and stuttered his way through in asking him for money to buy new cloths, Laurent just looks at him like a no nonsense father looking at his son or daughter as he was reading his news paper. A smile slowly came across his face and says "Well if you wanted to go shopping you might as well have asked!" he says he gets up and gives him a big hug, trying to open him a little bit more. "Luckly, the ship is cruising towards Lenster 9 which as the biggest orbiting mall/station within this part of the Galaxy. We should make it there in about two hours, I'll meet a contact in which I can give him the boxs of gridlock rifles to and we can go crazy on buying things like crazy secondary school girls" he smiles at him as he bends down to look at him again.
Anyway, Laurent was at his desk looking over some paper work in the dark bedroom with a lamp on, and wearing small Ben Franklin like reading glasses and once Rin came up to him and stuttered his way through in asking him for money to buy new cloths, Laurent just looks at him like a no nonsense father looking at his son or daughter as he was reading his news paper. A smile slowly came across his face and says "Well if you wanted to go shopping you might as well have asked!" he says he gets up and gives him a big hug, trying to open him a little bit more. "Luckly, the ship is cruising towards Lenster 9 which as the biggest orbiting mall/station within this part of the Galaxy. We should make it there in about two hours, I'll meet a contact in which I can give him the boxs of gridlock rifles to and we can go crazy on buying things like crazy secondary school girls" he smiles at him as he bends down to look at him again.
Rin flushed, squirming a little in the hug as he tilted his head up. He was still kind of uncomfortable with the whole "physical contact with people not your family," but- he was trying. "Th-that would be nice," he said, lips tilting up.
"We... I should buy a mattress too," he went on, eyes taking on an apologetic shine. "I feel bad for using your bed- if I buy a mattress I can just sleep in the Nemesis..." He ducked his head a bit. "Thank you, by the way," he said. He'd been saying that a lot lately.
As he should, he thought to himself. Montagne- even though he- he might be using him most of the time... he would probably be in worse shape right now. Different galaxy, different rules- and he was WAY too impulsive.
Like... With...
No. He banished the thought, if only to bring it back up for tonight. Not now. Melancholy thoughts later.
He refused to call it brooding.
He should be happy that he was getting new clothes- so, he put on his best tentative smile and patted whatever of Montagne's arm he could reach. "I'll change then," he whispered.
"We... I should buy a mattress too," he went on, eyes taking on an apologetic shine. "I feel bad for using your bed- if I buy a mattress I can just sleep in the Nemesis..." He ducked his head a bit. "Thank you, by the way," he said. He'd been saying that a lot lately.
As he should, he thought to himself. Montagne- even though he- he might be using him most of the time... he would probably be in worse shape right now. Different galaxy, different rules- and he was WAY too impulsive.
Like... With...
No. He banished the thought, if only to bring it back up for tonight. Not now. Melancholy thoughts later.
He refused to call it brooding.
He should be happy that he was getting new clothes- so, he put on his best tentative smile and patted whatever of Montagne's arm he could reach. "I'll change then," he whispered.
"You say that too much, I'm just a simple con man making a living in the Galaxy as it slowly falls apart" he says as he chuckles a bit. "Yeah, we can get you a bed, with a little know how we can install it on your ship I guess" he says some what enthusiastic to have his bed back. In the back of his mind Laurent was thinking on what to do once they get to the orbital station mall and where to stop first and so, he had plenty of cash and plus he also has another stash, but its wired to Lord Ova and it'll be best if he doesn't take too much out of her account.
For Laurent, seeing this gloomy smile always brought a smile to his face, but he was slightly thrown off why whispered he was going to change. Either because of nerves or Laurent's mind being in the gutter, Laurent shook it off and nodded and says "Off you go then"
Once Rin left to change, small little robot bird followed and found a little hiding spot and spied on Rin as he changed into his suit. The little robot bird had a live camera and Laurent was able to see everything which made him lick his lips and says the infamous words:
Muy bueno
For Laurent, seeing this gloomy smile always brought a smile to his face, but he was slightly thrown off why whispered he was going to change. Either because of nerves or Laurent's mind being in the gutter, Laurent shook it off and nodded and says "Off you go then"
Once Rin left to change, small little robot bird followed and found a little hiding spot and spied on Rin as he changed into his suit. The little robot bird had a live camera and Laurent was able to see everything which made him lick his lips and says the infamous words:
Muy bueno
Rin twitched, looking around warily. What was that?
... It was probably nothing...
You're being watched-
Stop that, he berated himself, rolling his eyes as he took a towel and went to the bathroom. I'm going insane. It's just a shower...
The feeling wouldn't go away however, so by the time he was done with his shower, he was scowling. Huffing indignantly, he made it a point to take his time in changing into his body suit (my gods, it was SO SOFT) and laid down on the bed. Sighing, he curled up and closed his eyes.
Might as well take a nap for two hours...
... It was probably nothing...
You're being watched-
Stop that, he berated himself, rolling his eyes as he took a towel and went to the bathroom. I'm going insane. It's just a shower...
The feeling wouldn't go away however, so by the time he was done with his shower, he was scowling. Huffing indignantly, he made it a point to take his time in changing into his body suit (my gods, it was SO SOFT) and laid down on the bed. Sighing, he curled up and closed his eyes.
Might as well take a nap for two hours...
THE K TEAM
It had been a crazy escape.
First the bunker, then the monitors... the hallway and the soldiers... leading to the encounter with fourty-seven and the flight of the Diplomat.
An insane turn of events for one day. More action than Iril had seen in the many years on Ardella.
The diplomat rocketed into space and away from the ground troops of fourty-seven. Silently, Iril marveled at the force of that great empire. It struck a chord with her, almost. As though she had once been with such a great people.
Space too, struck her with awe. Did she belong here? In a frontier without confines and boundaries? She felt it in her programming. There was something she was missing.
Whatever that was... it would have to wait. She slumped down, dirt falling from her shell and littering the floor. She'd clean it up later, somehow. She was relieved that she wasn't being shot at for once, that she was in good company, and that they were escaping.
For a machine, that's all that she really needed. If she was any more incomplete, she might have skimmed over the feelings resonating through her code. Happiness and comfort.
Millions of years stuck in the jungles with nobody around, lost after her creators abandoned her for rust. Truly, jumping into the middle of battle was the best decision she made. If she was to short circuit at this point, it would have been all worth it. For once, she felt like she had served her purpose.
She stood back up, more dirt scattered onto the floor. Gracious, she was in disrepair. She attempted to push it aside with her foot, but that only succeeded in making more of a mess. Doing her best to not soil the cleanly Diplomat, she tread softly between rooms, eyeing the fragile stairs and deciding against moving to upper floors.
She was alone for now. Plenty of time to think. To reflect. To let Kallenger and Toffi relax.
Would she stand guard? There was nothing to guard against. Would she pilot? No, that was simply ridiculous.
...
Was this "relaxing"? Doing nothing? It had been almost ten minutes and she was already getting bored. There was nothing she could really do to begin with. She fiddled with the circuits from her broken arm, she stared out some viewports, shuffled into a few rooms just to take a peek at what was inside...
Well, whatever feelings she had before about successfully fulfilling her purpose had been dashed away as quick as a shooting star fades into the darkness. With no gunfire pelting off of her, nobody to shield... she felt empty.
Quietly, she stared out into the abyss and uttered a simple "Bored" to the vast nobody.
In perfect hindsight, she realized that sending out even the smallest messages could get her crew killed in this situation, so she quickly shut herself up and nervously clung to a railing on the wall, bracing for
Z
[Ț̴̨̡̛̟̫̣̤͍̩͉̈̇̓́̃̓͛̌̽Ŗ̷̩̮̰̙͔͍͓̪̉͑̄͌̆̉̆͜͝͝͝A̸̢̦̱̦̜͙̩̱̱̔͌̑̋̈́̽̐͌̇͆ͅN̷̘̜̬͎̩̖͉̫̬̮̔̍̓̊̒̈́́̃͂̐S̸̢̡̧͔̯̠̙̼̗̙̈͋̐͋̐͗͆̓̈́̈́M̸̨̼̻͈̟̮̖̺̳͉̈́͊̾̑̇͐̈̃̿͆I̴̢̧͚̣̮̬̭̩͍͙͂̄̾͂̂̌̆͘͠͝Ş̷̢̡̮̲̦̣͎͙̈́̈́̚̕̕͝͝͠͝͝ͅṠ̶̡̛̗̼͈̺͖̟͍̠͎̀̃͗͆͐̃̚͠Î̴͍̱̜̗͈̰̝̤͉͇͆̄͌̇̌̽̓͌̚Ǫ̴̲̳͖̣̖̥͈̳̥̓̀́́̈̓͒̚̚͝Ṉ̴̢͕͍̪̤̻͉̣̦͊͆̆̔̈̄̈́̋̕͠ ̶̢̨̛̟̫̜͔̺̱͔̔̈́̑́̿̊̕̕͜͠L̴̛͈͓͔̪͎̠̱̤̣̞͆̂͋͗̽͒̓͑̐Ö̷̬̞̼͖̜̰̖̲͙̞̓̾̓͛̌̇̋̕͠S̴̢͙̤͕̘̩̣̯͖̿̈́̓̿́̀̆͒͑̋͜Ṫ̷̡̢͈͓̩̻̪̞̗̉̓̊̔͊̊̀͋̕͜]
(I seem to have lost Kilwen's last post. If anyone can find what page it's on, i'll make an Iri-q response asap.)
It had been a crazy escape.
First the bunker, then the monitors... the hallway and the soldiers... leading to the encounter with fourty-seven and the flight of the Diplomat.
An insane turn of events for one day. More action than Iril had seen in the many years on Ardella.
The diplomat rocketed into space and away from the ground troops of fourty-seven. Silently, Iril marveled at the force of that great empire. It struck a chord with her, almost. As though she had once been with such a great people.
Space too, struck her with awe. Did she belong here? In a frontier without confines and boundaries? She felt it in her programming. There was something she was missing.
Whatever that was... it would have to wait. She slumped down, dirt falling from her shell and littering the floor. She'd clean it up later, somehow. She was relieved that she wasn't being shot at for once, that she was in good company, and that they were escaping.
For a machine, that's all that she really needed. If she was any more incomplete, she might have skimmed over the feelings resonating through her code. Happiness and comfort.
Millions of years stuck in the jungles with nobody around, lost after her creators abandoned her for rust. Truly, jumping into the middle of battle was the best decision she made. If she was to short circuit at this point, it would have been all worth it. For once, she felt like she had served her purpose.
She stood back up, more dirt scattered onto the floor. Gracious, she was in disrepair. She attempted to push it aside with her foot, but that only succeeded in making more of a mess. Doing her best to not soil the cleanly Diplomat, she tread softly between rooms, eyeing the fragile stairs and deciding against moving to upper floors.
She was alone for now. Plenty of time to think. To reflect. To let Kallenger and Toffi relax.
Would she stand guard? There was nothing to guard against. Would she pilot? No, that was simply ridiculous.
...
Was this "relaxing"? Doing nothing? It had been almost ten minutes and she was already getting bored. There was nothing she could really do to begin with. She fiddled with the circuits from her broken arm, she stared out some viewports, shuffled into a few rooms just to take a peek at what was inside...
Well, whatever feelings she had before about successfully fulfilling her purpose had been dashed away as quick as a shooting star fades into the darkness. With no gunfire pelting off of her, nobody to shield... she felt empty.
Quietly, she stared out into the abyss and uttered a simple "Bored" to the vast nobody.
In perfect hindsight, she realized that sending out even the smallest messages could get her crew killed in this situation, so she quickly shut herself up and nervously clung to a railing on the wall, bracing for
the results of her poor decision.
...
Time passed.
Nothing.
Whew. Maybe relaxing wasn't such a bad idea after all. The surge of fear that had flowed electrically throughout her system was enough for one trip.
Iril simply slumped back down on the floor again. Taking her hand off the railing and setting it down at her si
"Do I know you?"
She whirled to her feet, hand clasping onto the railing. Whatever signal had responded to her dinky little squeak was akin to a mighty roar. She picked it up with ease, and from what she could tell, the Diplomat had no issue picking it up either.
"... Your voice sounds familiar. Have we met, maybe? In some distant battleground?"
Iril prayed that the defensive systems of the Diplomat would keep the team and her hidden. This voice, whatever it was, did not sound like something she wanted to meet. She peered out the nearest viewport to check if she had foolishly given away their location to an empire ship.
But there was no ship visible. No looming doom outside the Diplomat. What was sending that signal, then?
"Hm. Thought you might be chattier. Where did you go off to? I merely wanted to give you a suggestion on how to cure your boredom...
Nooo no no no. Nooo no no no. Nuh-uh. Not a chance. Iril kept quieter than an unplugged microwave, her eye searching the stars outside in terror. Still, there was no ship.
...
Time passed.
Nothing.
Whew. Maybe relaxing wasn't such a bad idea after all. The surge of fear that had flowed electrically throughout her system was enough for one trip.
Iril simply slumped back down on the floor again. Taking her hand off the railing and setting it down at her si
"Do I know you?"
She whirled to her feet, hand clasping onto the railing. Whatever signal had responded to her dinky little squeak was akin to a mighty roar. She picked it up with ease, and from what she could tell, the Diplomat had no issue picking it up either.
"... Your voice sounds familiar. Have we met, maybe? In some distant battleground?"
Iril prayed that the defensive systems of the Diplomat would keep the team and her hidden. This voice, whatever it was, did not sound like something she wanted to meet. She peered out the nearest viewport to check if she had foolishly given away their location to an empire ship.
But there was no ship visible. No looming doom outside the Diplomat. What was sending that signal, then?
"Hm. Thought you might be chattier. Where did you go off to? I merely wanted to give you a suggestion on how to cure your boredom...
Nooo no no no. Nooo no no no. Nuh-uh. Not a chance. Iril kept quieter than an unplugged microwave, her eye searching the stars outside in terror. Still, there was no ship.
There was silence for a brief moment.
"...Have you ever tried murder? That always does it for me."
To Toffi and Kallenger, the best of relaxing wishes.
On the bottom floor, Iril overloaded and blacked out.
"...Have you ever tried murder? That always does it for me."
To Toffi and Kallenger, the best of relaxing wishes.
On the bottom floor, Iril overloaded and blacked out.
Z
[Ț̴̨̡̛̟̫̣̤͍̩͉̈̇̓́̃̓͛̌̽Ŗ̷̩̮̰̙͔͍͓̪̉͑̄͌̆̉̆͜͝͝͝A̸̢̦̱̦̜͙̩̱̱̔͌̑̋̈́̽̐͌̇͆ͅN̷̘̜̬͎̩̖͉̫̬̮̔̍̓̊̒̈́́̃͂̐S̸̢̡̧͔̯̠̙̼̗̙̈͋̐͋̐͗͆̓̈́̈́M̸̨̼̻͈̟̮̖̺̳͉̈́͊̾̑̇͐̈̃̿͆I̴̢̧͚̣̮̬̭̩͍͙͂̄̾͂̂̌̆͘͠͝Ş̷̢̡̮̲̦̣͎͙̈́̈́̚̕̕͝͝͠͝͝ͅṠ̶̡̛̗̼͈̺͖̟͍̠͎̀̃͗͆͐̃̚͠Î̴͍̱̜̗͈̰̝̤͉͇͆̄͌̇̌̽̓͌̚Ǫ̴̲̳͖̣̖̥͈̳̥̓̀́́̈̓͒̚̚͝Ṉ̴̢͕͍̪̤̻͉̣̦͊͆̆̔̈̄̈́̋̕͠ ̶̢̨̛̟̫̜͔̺̱͔̔̈́̑́̿̊̕̕͜͠L̴̛͈͓͔̪͎̠̱̤̣̞͆̂͋͗̽͒̓͑̐Ö̷̬̞̼͖̜̰̖̲͙̞̓̾̓͛̌̇̋̕͠S̴̢͙̤͕̘̩̣̯͖̿̈́̓̿́̀̆͒͑̋͜Ṫ̷̡̢͈͓̩̻̪̞̗̉̓̊̔͊̊̀͋̕͜]
(I seem to have lost Kilwen's last post. If anyone can find what page it's on, i'll make an Iri-q response asap.)
Planet Konigsberg, Castle Everheart
Lord Ova sat in her in throne in the every empty throne room of her castle with Nocturnus by her side. She just had to deal with an envoy from Cardinal Sulvyhan for some really petty things and boring governmental work. Lord Ova sat on her throne very bored as she messes with a small spin top on her arm rest. “What happen to the days when Sulvyhan would come himself to entertain me and not his lackeys” she huffs as she continues to look at the spin top toy. “Hm maybe he’s really is busy appeasing the populist?” Nocturnus says as he remains in a very stoic position like a solider at attention. “Yes, but he always had time for me…its almost suspicious” she huffs once more like a needy girlfriend in that her boyfriend doesn’t pay enough time towards her. “What are you getting at, my lord?” Nocturnus asks as he turns to look at her. “Well, if one could read and investigate one can see that the Cardinal has been doing an excellent job with the populations and with achieving full loyalty within the military. Of course I bent the rules a little and included some of the more…undying troops in there to make sure they are loyal to me” she explains as a crocodile grin appears on her face. Nocturnus’s eyes went wide and asks “Wouldn’t adding our troops directly from the Undead Dimension, be a bit much in terms of Time and Space?” Ova gave more of a scowl look and says “Well I never made you to think, so I’m surprised you thought about Dimensional politics for once and to answer your question, No. Both Kampfer and Erica fail to see that the end of the Universe is near, even though in mortal terms it’s another couple billion years, but nether less, they are trying their best in stopping me to throw my influence around and disturb there little hegemony here in this Galaxy. As you know, we Dimensional Lords don’t like it when individuals mess with our toying” as she looks back at her spin top toy and grabs it.
As she holds it into her hand and looks at she asks the simple yet to answer question “Nocturnus, what makes a God or what is a God?” Nocturnus turns away from her and looks out the window of the castle and see’s the rolling dark forest that ends to the nearby cities. “I do not know, my Lord” he merely replies as he continues to look out. “Aw you disappoint me, my champion, but I’ll give you my interpretation” she says as she gets up and walks towards him, but her hand on her shoulder pauldron. She then steps towards the window and continues “The dictionary definition states that God means an individual who is conceived as perfect, omnipotent, omniscient originator and the ruler of the universe! Even though true, yet I see them as a paradox. Perfect beings yet imperfect at the same time…there perfection giving them arrogance as they rule over the lives of mortals thinking that they decide the fate of mortals, yet it is really fate itself that decides the fate of man/mortals” she then turns around and looks at Noctunrus after getting a sight full of her little piece of her great Kingdom. “The mere concept of Dimensional Lords that influence lives of many is paradox to the Gods…Why would Lord Ivan, the first Dimensional Lord be ascended to this position then of influencing mortals? Have the Gods gotten fat and lazy at that time in which they wish not to do their jobs? Or is it because they see their workload is too much for their pious lifestyle as they live in there marble palaces that words are indescribable? No one really knows, only the Gods would say” she says as she walks around the throne room as Noctunrus listens on.
“I remember when we the New Generation of Lords came in after the catastrophe of Kasanaught, in which the enemies of the Dimensional Lords came bearing down upon us and killing most of us and plaguing my mother into madness in which I had to put her down myself and take her spot on that Cursed Realm known as the Undead. I remember we took our armies and knocked upon heaven itself and razed hell there kicking the Gods back into shape…Oh it was a sight to behold! We even decided to punish the demons for their collaboration against us as well the mortal ADLL, destroying that damn human organization in which the term Dimensional Lord just became a myth and soon forgotten amongst men since we are now but few instead of many”
She then returns to her throne and gives a loud sigh and says “After our campaigns against the three planes, us Lords just drifted apart and devolve into our humanity…plotting and conspiring against one another in our never ending quest for power” as she leans forward with hand holding together and look at the floor as she relives those memories of hers. The black knight finally says something “My Lord, you begin to sound like Lord Erica when you talk like that” Ova give a smile and looks at her Champion and says “Well like her, we both use our great power to develop wisdom by observing the mortal realm, unlike Kampfer and a few others who are involved in it” she then sits up and relax upon her throne and adds “How I wish know what the gods are doing now…looking down on us seeing the Galaxy in this state. The Ubermench running around with tech that destroys the very fabric of space and tech that questions what we truly know. Oh how I wish to have one appear right before me so I can ask these questions and show them there paradox”
Nocturnus looks up at his Lordship and says “My Lord, please be mindful in what you wish for” Ova smiles as she slumps into her throne and rests her head on her hand and closes her eyes “Indeed I should, one of these days my wishful thinking will get me killed again….” As she slowly drifted into sleep on her throne.
Lord Ova sat in her in throne in the every empty throne room of her castle with Nocturnus by her side. She just had to deal with an envoy from Cardinal Sulvyhan for some really petty things and boring governmental work. Lord Ova sat on her throne very bored as she messes with a small spin top on her arm rest. “What happen to the days when Sulvyhan would come himself to entertain me and not his lackeys” she huffs as she continues to look at the spin top toy. “Hm maybe he’s really is busy appeasing the populist?” Nocturnus says as he remains in a very stoic position like a solider at attention. “Yes, but he always had time for me…its almost suspicious” she huffs once more like a needy girlfriend in that her boyfriend doesn’t pay enough time towards her. “What are you getting at, my lord?” Nocturnus asks as he turns to look at her. “Well, if one could read and investigate one can see that the Cardinal has been doing an excellent job with the populations and with achieving full loyalty within the military. Of course I bent the rules a little and included some of the more…undying troops in there to make sure they are loyal to me” she explains as a crocodile grin appears on her face. Nocturnus’s eyes went wide and asks “Wouldn’t adding our troops directly from the Undead Dimension, be a bit much in terms of Time and Space?” Ova gave more of a scowl look and says “Well I never made you to think, so I’m surprised you thought about Dimensional politics for once and to answer your question, No. Both Kampfer and Erica fail to see that the end of the Universe is near, even though in mortal terms it’s another couple billion years, but nether less, they are trying their best in stopping me to throw my influence around and disturb there little hegemony here in this Galaxy. As you know, we Dimensional Lords don’t like it when individuals mess with our toying” as she looks back at her spin top toy and grabs it.
As she holds it into her hand and looks at she asks the simple yet to answer question “Nocturnus, what makes a God or what is a God?” Nocturnus turns away from her and looks out the window of the castle and see’s the rolling dark forest that ends to the nearby cities. “I do not know, my Lord” he merely replies as he continues to look out. “Aw you disappoint me, my champion, but I’ll give you my interpretation” she says as she gets up and walks towards him, but her hand on her shoulder pauldron. She then steps towards the window and continues “The dictionary definition states that God means an individual who is conceived as perfect, omnipotent, omniscient originator and the ruler of the universe! Even though true, yet I see them as a paradox. Perfect beings yet imperfect at the same time…there perfection giving them arrogance as they rule over the lives of mortals thinking that they decide the fate of mortals, yet it is really fate itself that decides the fate of man/mortals” she then turns around and looks at Noctunrus after getting a sight full of her little piece of her great Kingdom. “The mere concept of Dimensional Lords that influence lives of many is paradox to the Gods…Why would Lord Ivan, the first Dimensional Lord be ascended to this position then of influencing mortals? Have the Gods gotten fat and lazy at that time in which they wish not to do their jobs? Or is it because they see their workload is too much for their pious lifestyle as they live in there marble palaces that words are indescribable? No one really knows, only the Gods would say” she says as she walks around the throne room as Noctunrus listens on.
“I remember when we the New Generation of Lords came in after the catastrophe of Kasanaught, in which the enemies of the Dimensional Lords came bearing down upon us and killing most of us and plaguing my mother into madness in which I had to put her down myself and take her spot on that Cursed Realm known as the Undead. I remember we took our armies and knocked upon heaven itself and razed hell there kicking the Gods back into shape…Oh it was a sight to behold! We even decided to punish the demons for their collaboration against us as well the mortal ADLL, destroying that damn human organization in which the term Dimensional Lord just became a myth and soon forgotten amongst men since we are now but few instead of many”
She then returns to her throne and gives a loud sigh and says “After our campaigns against the three planes, us Lords just drifted apart and devolve into our humanity…plotting and conspiring against one another in our never ending quest for power” as she leans forward with hand holding together and look at the floor as she relives those memories of hers. The black knight finally says something “My Lord, you begin to sound like Lord Erica when you talk like that” Ova give a smile and looks at her Champion and says “Well like her, we both use our great power to develop wisdom by observing the mortal realm, unlike Kampfer and a few others who are involved in it” she then sits up and relax upon her throne and adds “How I wish know what the gods are doing now…looking down on us seeing the Galaxy in this state. The Ubermench running around with tech that destroys the very fabric of space and tech that questions what we truly know. Oh how I wish to have one appear right before me so I can ask these questions and show them there paradox”
Nocturnus looks up at his Lordship and says “My Lord, please be mindful in what you wish for” Ova smiles as she slumps into her throne and rests her head on her hand and closes her eyes “Indeed I should, one of these days my wishful thinking will get me killed again….” As she slowly drifted into sleep on her throne.
As Rin slept, for the pass two hours the Laurent was in a different part of the ship printing out the pictures he got and was complying them into a naughty picture books with a title that can be safely said in public. As these books were being printed out, he placed into crates that also hold the gridlock rifles he was transporting. Once they arrive to the Kremlin Mall, one of the largest malls/stations within the quadrant. Once bypassing the airlock and into the receiving bay and landing the ship, he went back to the crates and see that almost a few thousands copies of Rin in the shower at various positions and using those pics as reference he was able to make realistic drawing of Rin in compromising positions, so that anyone would get excited to look at.
Anyway, he puts the lids on the crates and since they were already on the hover trolley. He wears them out and looks back at the ship and smiles letting Rin sleep even more and goes to the meeting point to met his contact. The contact is apparently is an Inquisitor looking around seeming paranoid. Laurent approaches and says "Well I'm hear with the delivery" the Inquisitor looks up and says "Okay you got them, now as promise I you shall receive 100000 credits for it" Laurent wags his finger and says "How about 110,000 credits, I added a little something for the troops" as he pops open the crate to show along with the guns but also the risky picture books. The Inquisitor looks at Laurent angrily and states "What with this heresy?! You know how we stand on this homoerotic stuff" Laurent giggles and states "You say that but Lord Ova has her own harem that goes into that stuff and I know some in the church are into there male patrons" he smiles grimly at him. The Inquisitor was one for without words as he tries to come up with an excuse "Ah, uh, hm Fine!...Hm if you give him to Lord Ova, no doubt he would be worth a fortune from what I am looking at" he states as he slips through the pages, sadly his veil covering up his face, but was definitely blushing. "How much we are talking here?" Laurent asks as he gives a raised eyebrow. "Hm maybe a few hundred million, from the size and look, perfect for her Lordship's taste" he states as he gives the pics further investigation.
"What if I say he was military trained and from another galaxy yet easily manipulative through mind manipulation?" Laurent asks seriously and smiles seeing the eyes of the Inquisitor in surprise and states "WHAT! You do realize the reward you would get for such a fine?! We are talking billions here! No doubt he would be the prized possession for Lord Ova!" his voice showing how he surprised and excited he was as he puts the book back. Laurent did give a thought in basically selling Rin into slavery...his face lit up as he thought about a different idea much long term one.
"Alright, how about you circulate these books around the army and instead of letting him become the trophy of that old Lord, but be the face of moral for the army?" he suggests. The inquisitor took a moment of thought and nodded "Even though it goes against the church we understand the importance of moral and sadly religion can only do so much especially going against another Lord...deal then, give us some time no doubt we can parade him around and let him be the face of the army and we'll pay you for it each time" Inquisitor shook Laurent's hand in agreement with the price.
With business concluded, Laurent returned to the ship really happy because he has a little money generator known as Rin on his ship and it was time to make him look even good and even make a more worthwhile book than a completely "playboy"-like book depending on how popular Rin is towards the army. Laurent was hopeful that he would be popular.
He comes into the room where Rin was asleep and gently shakes him and says "Oi, lets go, we are at the mall and I already concluded business so lets go shopping" he says as he continues to shake Rin awake for them to go to the impressive shopping center of the station/mall.
Anyway, he puts the lids on the crates and since they were already on the hover trolley. He wears them out and looks back at the ship and smiles letting Rin sleep even more and goes to the meeting point to met his contact. The contact is apparently is an Inquisitor looking around seeming paranoid. Laurent approaches and says "Well I'm hear with the delivery" the Inquisitor looks up and says "Okay you got them, now as promise I you shall receive 100000 credits for it" Laurent wags his finger and says "How about 110,000 credits, I added a little something for the troops" as he pops open the crate to show along with the guns but also the risky picture books. The Inquisitor looks at Laurent angrily and states "What with this heresy?! You know how we stand on this homoerotic stuff" Laurent giggles and states "You say that but Lord Ova has her own harem that goes into that stuff and I know some in the church are into there male patrons" he smiles grimly at him. The Inquisitor was one for without words as he tries to come up with an excuse "Ah, uh, hm Fine!...Hm if you give him to Lord Ova, no doubt he would be worth a fortune from what I am looking at" he states as he slips through the pages, sadly his veil covering up his face, but was definitely blushing. "How much we are talking here?" Laurent asks as he gives a raised eyebrow. "Hm maybe a few hundred million, from the size and look, perfect for her Lordship's taste" he states as he gives the pics further investigation.
"What if I say he was military trained and from another galaxy yet easily manipulative through mind manipulation?" Laurent asks seriously and smiles seeing the eyes of the Inquisitor in surprise and states "WHAT! You do realize the reward you would get for such a fine?! We are talking billions here! No doubt he would be the prized possession for Lord Ova!" his voice showing how he surprised and excited he was as he puts the book back. Laurent did give a thought in basically selling Rin into slavery...his face lit up as he thought about a different idea much long term one.
"Alright, how about you circulate these books around the army and instead of letting him become the trophy of that old Lord, but be the face of moral for the army?" he suggests. The inquisitor took a moment of thought and nodded "Even though it goes against the church we understand the importance of moral and sadly religion can only do so much especially going against another Lord...deal then, give us some time no doubt we can parade him around and let him be the face of the army and we'll pay you for it each time" Inquisitor shook Laurent's hand in agreement with the price.
With business concluded, Laurent returned to the ship really happy because he has a little money generator known as Rin on his ship and it was time to make him look even good and even make a more worthwhile book than a completely "playboy"-like book depending on how popular Rin is towards the army. Laurent was hopeful that he would be popular.
He comes into the room where Rin was asleep and gently shakes him and says "Oi, lets go, we are at the mall and I already concluded business so lets go shopping" he says as he continues to shake Rin awake for them to go to the impressive shopping center of the station/mall.
Rin stirred, stifling a yawn with an arm as his eyes slowly opened. "... Right," he sighed, swinging his legs over to the floor and, standing with a stretch, he made his way to a corner of the room. He quickly put on his armor and, helmet under his arm, he turned and looked up at Montagne. "Are we taking the Nemesis?" he asked curiously.
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