The bullets came thick like hail.
Each one ripped through the walls, the bedding, and all hitting something with an equal unfeeling.
Nirix fell to the ground, as one scrapped her arm and blood dripped without abandon and painted her white sleeve with her blood. Grunting, she ignored the pain for now and removed her sword from its sheath in one swift movement.
There was barely any time to blink before Nirix had impaled the first man, her blade easily slipped into his body and through his heart. His blood splattering against her and she let the adrenaline flow through her before she went for another attack.
Once again, her sword met flesh, soft and pudgy, making an oddly satisfying squish as the tip of the blade sank deep enough to make one of the armed men scream and drop his weapon. Twisting the blade in her hands, she frowned and watched the man slip into the hands of death. Her ears twitched at the sound of another approaching; and without looking, she knew it would be him.
It appeared Wick had come to her unwanted rescue again.
“I can handle this myself,” She muttered, moving quickly to strike down another. “Go to your sister and keep her safe,”
Each one ripped through the walls, the bedding, and all hitting something with an equal unfeeling.
Nirix fell to the ground, as one scrapped her arm and blood dripped without abandon and painted her white sleeve with her blood. Grunting, she ignored the pain for now and removed her sword from its sheath in one swift movement.
There was barely any time to blink before Nirix had impaled the first man, her blade easily slipped into his body and through his heart. His blood splattering against her and she let the adrenaline flow through her before she went for another attack.
Once again, her sword met flesh, soft and pudgy, making an oddly satisfying squish as the tip of the blade sank deep enough to make one of the armed men scream and drop his weapon. Twisting the blade in her hands, she frowned and watched the man slip into the hands of death. Her ears twitched at the sound of another approaching; and without looking, she knew it would be him.
It appeared Wick had come to her unwanted rescue again.
“I can handle this myself,” She muttered, moving quickly to strike down another. “Go to your sister and keep her safe,”
When the lights went out, the bartender ducked while Donnie got up and body blocked the Don as the Don causally pulled out his desert eagle in the dark. Donnie actually opened his eyes in pitch black, since he was now able to see fully. It was an ability of his sub species that they couldn't see well in the light but can easily see in pitch black and so he watches the around making sure no one sneaked up against him or his employer. Then they heard the announcement. Nothing came of them as the Don finally broke the silence and says "Man, this Garofalo guy must know what he's doing for pulling a stunt like this, I'll make sure he'll pay for this" as he sits comfortably on his stool, playing stupid. The only problems about the announcement was that officially in the books there wasn't a guy named Cesare Garofalo on this ship, but the actual Cesare was using a Suriname and the other problem was that even though the Don didn't own the Perrygold, but the employees where under his payroll giving them bonus's on this trip and went around and did there best to calm the other passengers down claiming that they were being hacked.
As the men where pushed to the side, the tommy wielding goon had no chance was stabbed dead by the Assassin. Luckily the man with the machete was paying some kind of attention and reacted quickly towards the unknown assailant named Wick and went to cut down upon his shoulder. The two men with short barrel shotguns were caught off guard and began to fire towards Nirix, at least they think its Nirix. One of the shotgunners end up wounding the other machete wielding goon causing him to fall up against the wall in pain as the shot gun wielding continue to fire where the movement of shadows were the best they can hoping they can actually shoot Nirix or Wick in the dark. Only three hitmen left.
As the men where pushed to the side, the tommy wielding goon had no chance was stabbed dead by the Assassin. Luckily the man with the machete was paying some kind of attention and reacted quickly towards the unknown assailant named Wick and went to cut down upon his shoulder. The two men with short barrel shotguns were caught off guard and began to fire towards Nirix, at least they think its Nirix. One of the shotgunners end up wounding the other machete wielding goon causing him to fall up against the wall in pain as the shot gun wielding continue to fire where the movement of shadows were the best they can hoping they can actually shoot Nirix or Wick in the dark. Only three hitmen left.
The HMS Skadi
”Impossible.” Sands said at last, vocalizing, and nearly mirroring Rin’s own concerns. He looked irritated with the whole situation. The others, too, looked as though they’d lost what feeble grip they’d had on it all. ”Nobody can be that powerful. If this @#$% is that overpowered – why bother trying to fight back at all?”
Apparently his irritation was contagious, because Dal was the next to pipe up. It almost sounded as though they were irritated with Cathorine – if one didn’t know any better. ”Seriously Boss, how the @#$% are we gonna’ take on someone like that? She’s already sendin’ spooks onto the ship and into Rin’s head. Now she turns out to be some kind of all-powerful, universe-hopping supergod? I mean what the @#$%, Boss!” It wasn’t uncommon for the soldiers to use that tone with the Queen – early on they’d shown her what happens when she demands respect – but Ty seemed to realize that they might have been focusing on the wrong aspects.
The possibility of alternate universes was vaguely familiar to all of them, mostly as the sort of speculative topic that they would talk about over long nights or uneventful rides. They had seen and learned so many strange and seemingly impossible things in their time with the Queen that it was quite difficult to surprise them now – and so they had accepted all the new, apparent facts as they saw them.
There were other universes.
Rin was from one of them.
There was an all-powerful god who hopped casually between them and was clearly insane.
They had experienced a run-in with possible space-time distortions back on Earth IV, when escaping the subarctic bunker as the reactors melted down for good. Though nobody had ever been able to quite figure out what happened, it appeared that two different timelines had collided into each other, forcing events to occur simultaneously – events that had not happened in their timestream. In some alternate reality, a scientist had called for a woman over the facility intercom, urging her to board the ship to Eden while there was still time. But no such scientist existed in their timestream – and the woman was in a very different place in life.
It was the first example of how things could get wildly out of hand at very short notice. It was the first indication that something was very seriously wrong with the universe as a whole - and now, possibly, the universe-plural? Was it all the universes, or just theirs? How did time correspond to universes? Did each universe have its’ own timestream? Or series of timestreams? Were there as many timestreams per universe as there were universes? What could collapse into what? What could merge into what? Speculative science fiction, all of it – questions that nobody alive had the answers to…because the only man ever to have truly uncovered the secret had died eons before.
But none of the soldiers were experts in the subject. They lacked the mathematics or physics to do anything more substantial than speculate. And the issue at hand did not necessarily correspond with the potential collapse of all timestreams (and, possibly, all universes).
Ty spoke up, holding up a hand to indicate his intention. ”There is a lot we need to know.” He said patiently, slanted accent more audible now. ”First, is there anything that can be done to combat Ova? Second, what are her motivations? Ultimate goals? Third – and most important – what does she actually want with Rin, and do we realistically stand any chance of keeping her away and out of his head?”
He decided to leave the question of what exactly the Queen had wanted him on the Skadi in the first place for unspoken.
Tsuan spoke up then, voice sharp. ”So what we’re really askin’ here…” he said, ”Is are we @#$%ed, or are we really @#$%ed?”
N O T S P A C E – The Stella Viventium
Where was the voice now?
Now that she needed it the most. Now that she wanted answers.
Had it been a figment of her imagination?
For there was no voice now.
Only Rya Valheimer, alone in her head, but surrounded by friends.
But that made it all the more cruel, didn’t it? The voice seemed for all intents and purposes to be gone – but was it really? Had it ever been there in the first place…?
Drakis Volo jumped at Valheimer’s yelp – but he responded to her glare with a wide, @#$%-eating grin. Her comment on the dismal place only encouraged him further. She was cognitive – aware of her surroundings, at least to some extent. He doubted that Rya literally thought she was in a swamp.
”No kidding.” Gaelan Yascra added in, frowning at some strange mechanical protrusion of the wall as they walked on by. Somewhere, the sound of water could be heard dripping from some leaky pipe.
”If you listen closely, you can hear the distant moaning of the poor souls still waiting in line in the bowels of the DMV~!” Drakis said, waggling his fingers and talking with a theatrical warble as though he were telling a campy ghost story.
It almost, almost got a fraction of a minute grin onto Yascra’s dour countenance.
Almost.
Some seconds later – desperate for something to talk about, apparently – Volo went on – but more quietly this time. Conversational; some background for the newcomers. ”Fifty years ago, we tried implementing a private transportation system, where people could drive around on their own in little personal hovercars. Pops was head of the Department of Mobile Vehicles, which was supposed to keep track of them all. Keep them registered and whatever. Well, it didn’t work out so good. Lasted maybe ten years before the death tolls started rackin’ up from people bein’ stupid behind the wheel. So now it’s just emergency services that use ‘em, and the old DMV is all closed down.”
He might have continued, but they had come now to a dead end – upon which the dominant feature was a great, looming metal door. It was black iron in color and texture, with old-fashioned bracers extending from the hinges. Inlaid were ornate and chilling images of skulls and shadows. It was something out of a medieval-fantasy video game, brought to existence in the bowels of this cave-like labyrinth. Heavy metal knockers hung from the center, with symmetrical black skulls whos’ eyes seemed to glow with crimson jewels. Even the lighting here was different – an ominous crimson light from above, just enough for shadows to play tricks on the eyes and the spine to crawl with primal unease.
The stocky Drakis just strolled up to the great door, totally unfazed by the sight of Lovecraftian horror standing before him. Then, with some effort, he lifted the massive knocker and let it strike the iron plate beneath. The sound echoed harshly down the dark old tunnels – then he did it twice more.
KNOCK...….KNOCK…....KNOCK...…
Then, stepping back a little, he put his hands in his pockets and waited, rocking back and forth on his heels slightly. Indeed, despite the fact that he was clearly entering the villainous lair of some diabolical cretin spawned from the heart of a sun which burned with hate…Drakis Volo was not the least bit concerned. All in a day’s work.
Now there was nothing to do but wait for the great and terrible portal before them to swing open…
Which it probably would.
Eventually.
...Right?
”Impossible.” Sands said at last, vocalizing, and nearly mirroring Rin’s own concerns. He looked irritated with the whole situation. The others, too, looked as though they’d lost what feeble grip they’d had on it all. ”Nobody can be that powerful. If this @#$% is that overpowered – why bother trying to fight back at all?”
Apparently his irritation was contagious, because Dal was the next to pipe up. It almost sounded as though they were irritated with Cathorine – if one didn’t know any better. ”Seriously Boss, how the @#$% are we gonna’ take on someone like that? She’s already sendin’ spooks onto the ship and into Rin’s head. Now she turns out to be some kind of all-powerful, universe-hopping supergod? I mean what the @#$%, Boss!” It wasn’t uncommon for the soldiers to use that tone with the Queen – early on they’d shown her what happens when she demands respect – but Ty seemed to realize that they might have been focusing on the wrong aspects.
The possibility of alternate universes was vaguely familiar to all of them, mostly as the sort of speculative topic that they would talk about over long nights or uneventful rides. They had seen and learned so many strange and seemingly impossible things in their time with the Queen that it was quite difficult to surprise them now – and so they had accepted all the new, apparent facts as they saw them.
There were other universes.
Rin was from one of them.
There was an all-powerful god who hopped casually between them and was clearly insane.
They had experienced a run-in with possible space-time distortions back on Earth IV, when escaping the subarctic bunker as the reactors melted down for good. Though nobody had ever been able to quite figure out what happened, it appeared that two different timelines had collided into each other, forcing events to occur simultaneously – events that had not happened in their timestream. In some alternate reality, a scientist had called for a woman over the facility intercom, urging her to board the ship to Eden while there was still time. But no such scientist existed in their timestream – and the woman was in a very different place in life.
It was the first example of how things could get wildly out of hand at very short notice. It was the first indication that something was very seriously wrong with the universe as a whole - and now, possibly, the universe-plural? Was it all the universes, or just theirs? How did time correspond to universes? Did each universe have its’ own timestream? Or series of timestreams? Were there as many timestreams per universe as there were universes? What could collapse into what? What could merge into what? Speculative science fiction, all of it – questions that nobody alive had the answers to…because the only man ever to have truly uncovered the secret had died eons before.
But none of the soldiers were experts in the subject. They lacked the mathematics or physics to do anything more substantial than speculate. And the issue at hand did not necessarily correspond with the potential collapse of all timestreams (and, possibly, all universes).
Ty spoke up, holding up a hand to indicate his intention. ”There is a lot we need to know.” He said patiently, slanted accent more audible now. ”First, is there anything that can be done to combat Ova? Second, what are her motivations? Ultimate goals? Third – and most important – what does she actually want with Rin, and do we realistically stand any chance of keeping her away and out of his head?”
He decided to leave the question of what exactly the Queen had wanted him on the Skadi in the first place for unspoken.
Tsuan spoke up then, voice sharp. ”So what we’re really askin’ here…” he said, ”Is are we @#$%ed, or are we really @#$%ed?”
N O T S P A C E – The Stella Viventium
Where was the voice now?
Now that she needed it the most. Now that she wanted answers.
Had it been a figment of her imagination?
For there was no voice now.
Only Rya Valheimer, alone in her head, but surrounded by friends.
But that made it all the more cruel, didn’t it? The voice seemed for all intents and purposes to be gone – but was it really? Had it ever been there in the first place…?
Drakis Volo jumped at Valheimer’s yelp – but he responded to her glare with a wide, @#$%-eating grin. Her comment on the dismal place only encouraged him further. She was cognitive – aware of her surroundings, at least to some extent. He doubted that Rya literally thought she was in a swamp.
”No kidding.” Gaelan Yascra added in, frowning at some strange mechanical protrusion of the wall as they walked on by. Somewhere, the sound of water could be heard dripping from some leaky pipe.
”If you listen closely, you can hear the distant moaning of the poor souls still waiting in line in the bowels of the DMV~!” Drakis said, waggling his fingers and talking with a theatrical warble as though he were telling a campy ghost story.
It almost, almost got a fraction of a minute grin onto Yascra’s dour countenance.
Almost.
Some seconds later – desperate for something to talk about, apparently – Volo went on – but more quietly this time. Conversational; some background for the newcomers. ”Fifty years ago, we tried implementing a private transportation system, where people could drive around on their own in little personal hovercars. Pops was head of the Department of Mobile Vehicles, which was supposed to keep track of them all. Keep them registered and whatever. Well, it didn’t work out so good. Lasted maybe ten years before the death tolls started rackin’ up from people bein’ stupid behind the wheel. So now it’s just emergency services that use ‘em, and the old DMV is all closed down.”
He might have continued, but they had come now to a dead end – upon which the dominant feature was a great, looming metal door. It was black iron in color and texture, with old-fashioned bracers extending from the hinges. Inlaid were ornate and chilling images of skulls and shadows. It was something out of a medieval-fantasy video game, brought to existence in the bowels of this cave-like labyrinth. Heavy metal knockers hung from the center, with symmetrical black skulls whos’ eyes seemed to glow with crimson jewels. Even the lighting here was different – an ominous crimson light from above, just enough for shadows to play tricks on the eyes and the spine to crawl with primal unease.
The stocky Drakis just strolled up to the great door, totally unfazed by the sight of Lovecraftian horror standing before him. Then, with some effort, he lifted the massive knocker and let it strike the iron plate beneath. The sound echoed harshly down the dark old tunnels – then he did it twice more.
KNOCK...….KNOCK…....KNOCK...…
Then, stepping back a little, he put his hands in his pockets and waited, rocking back and forth on his heels slightly. Indeed, despite the fact that he was clearly entering the villainous lair of some diabolical cretin spawned from the heart of a sun which burned with hate…Drakis Volo was not the least bit concerned. All in a day’s work.
Now there was nothing to do but wait for the great and terrible portal before them to swing open…
Which it probably would.
Eventually.
...Right?
"She can handle herself for now!" Wick shouted over the conflict. The machete cut into his left shoulder, drawing blood, but not deep enough to cause serious trouble for now. Wick turned on his heels and punched at his attacker. Were it to land, it would hit him square in the center of the face. Wick swung again, this time going for an uppercut with his right hand. He had no need to switch to something else, at least not yet, but the flames were already starting to lick at his knuckles. "Plus, they'd be in my way anyway!"
Alice found the best thing that she had at the moment. Zeus' palms, as she called it, was a small device which resembled a joy buzzer worn in the center of the hand. Were she to touch someone with her open palm, she would administer a shock that would paralyze them briefly. Alice had one for each hand, and they both only had one charge in them for that's all they could handle. Whatever happened now, she was ready.
Alice found the best thing that she had at the moment. Zeus' palms, as she called it, was a small device which resembled a joy buzzer worn in the center of the hand. Were she to touch someone with her open palm, she would administer a shock that would paralyze them briefly. Alice had one for each hand, and they both only had one charge in them for that's all they could handle. Whatever happened now, she was ready.
Cathorine looks at Sands and the rest straight in there eyes and says "Yes, as the second most powerful Dimensional Lord around, she can do that, but you are wrong on thing that she is a god....she is no god no matter what she is able to do" as she then sighs and goes ahead and answers the three question she was given by them. She can understand there frustration over this and so she didn't tell them off about there cursing. "Okay, there is a few things we can combat Lord Ova. One but its the most dangerous is to conduct a high ranking assassination of her right and left hand men. However her right hand man is her champion knight called Nocturnus with his stupidly ridiculous armor and is almost always by her side and her left hand man is a mystery but we know his name is Cardinal Sulyvhan and his location is the Darken Cathedral at her capital. The other option is to somehow support Kampfer in containing Lord Ova's influence. In which now brings us to our next thing. Her motivation is to plunge the universe into darkness..basically ending this universe so she can incorporate it into her realm gaining even more power as well as acquire all the souls she wants in which is her obsession. So it brings us to our last thing in why she wants Rin" as she looks at the boy.
"I suspect she wants Rin because of something important about his past, something that triggered her to conduct action for it and its usually quiet big. Really we don't know and in our current state we are pretty *^$&^*ed if we go after her directly" she explains as she turns around and crosses her arms and says "I have something, but you won't like it....I suggest and its only a suggestion is that we do as she says and have Rin go to her"
After she said what she said, she tensed up expecting them all to retaliate and she'll respond with "Unless you want to risk dying a horrible death or have Rin continue to be tortured what choice do we have?"
"I suspect she wants Rin because of something important about his past, something that triggered her to conduct action for it and its usually quiet big. Really we don't know and in our current state we are pretty *^$&^*ed if we go after her directly" she explains as she turns around and crosses her arms and says "I have something, but you won't like it....I suggest and its only a suggestion is that we do as she says and have Rin go to her"
After she said what she said, she tensed up expecting them all to retaliate and she'll respond with "Unless you want to risk dying a horrible death or have Rin continue to be tortured what choice do we have?"
Almost as if anticipating it, Arnaldo jumped to his feet as soon as the first light went out. An orchestra of bullet shells fell to the ground. He ran towards his own room and stopped short at room 65 and kicked the door in. He ran into an old man who had been previously sleeping, but was now just a terrified onlooker. Arnaldo used the kicked in metal door as cover. He then began planning. "From the constant fire it sounds to be about 1 submachine gun, drum magazine fed from the amount he is firing. 2 with heavy arms, shotguns potentially. And about 2 armed with sometime of melee weapon. Great.." Arnaldo said as his adrenaline pumped. "Here we go..." and the tommygun fell silent, almost as if the wind instruments finished, and all that was left, was the percussion, what was once masked by a loud rain bullets was now loud cannons roaring and the intense pain coming from someone.
Arnaldo bolted towards the attackers. Moving faster than a man his size should be, he used his small stature and ability to "feel " around him to grab one of the shotgunners by the belt and sweep his legs. In a fluid motion he pulled his Brantom and while the man fell back, fired a round into his spinal cord. The attackers head, or half of his head, fell to the ground, along with the limp body. Arnaldo grabbed the mans shotgun and emptied its shells into his hand. "These will be useful", whispered Arnaldo as he rolled one of the slugs into room 77, and from a distance, shot its powder. The bullet went off like an angered Zelworian bull and shot what he presumed to be an attacker. He heard ragged breathing from 2 figures within the room. "Two of large stature, one bleeding from the sound of the blood flowing and the almost drunken movements. Another took blunt damage, his movements are slow and subpar. He then heard a man firing into 76 to the side of him. "Damned idiot, your going to kill your own men." Arnaldo said as he came up from his prone position that he was currently using to watch Wick's fight with the machete wielder.
As he spun around, something hard and blunt hit him in the jaw. "YOU @#$%!&" Arnaldo screamed in pain as he turned back towards the attack. He gave the man in front of him a good knock in the testicles with his balled fist of rage. He then grabbed them through his pants...and pulled down as hard as he could. As the man doubled over, a wet sound had cut through the air, as the man's head flopped to the ground.
It was Nirix and her sword, and she meant business. Then it hit Arnaldo like a solar storm on Glunia 5, he had left Ketin. Almost as if nothing happened, Arnaldo bolted to the bar, throwing the decapitated mans body off him, and kicked a table over. Actually over is an understatement, he kicked it with such a ferocity the damn thing flew a good couple of feet and hit some scared bystanders. "Sorry!" yelped Arnaldo as he knelt behind the table and looked over to see, Alice, holding, what looked like a ,hand buzzer. Before Arnaldo could chuckle, he saw an arc of electricity erupt from it. He refused to laugh from that point on. "If only I had that when I was grabbing that @#$%^&! cahonies".
Arnaldo bolted towards the attackers. Moving faster than a man his size should be, he used his small stature and ability to "feel " around him to grab one of the shotgunners by the belt and sweep his legs. In a fluid motion he pulled his Brantom and while the man fell back, fired a round into his spinal cord. The attackers head, or half of his head, fell to the ground, along with the limp body. Arnaldo grabbed the mans shotgun and emptied its shells into his hand. "These will be useful", whispered Arnaldo as he rolled one of the slugs into room 77, and from a distance, shot its powder. The bullet went off like an angered Zelworian bull and shot what he presumed to be an attacker. He heard ragged breathing from 2 figures within the room. "Two of large stature, one bleeding from the sound of the blood flowing and the almost drunken movements. Another took blunt damage, his movements are slow and subpar. He then heard a man firing into 76 to the side of him. "Damned idiot, your going to kill your own men." Arnaldo said as he came up from his prone position that he was currently using to watch Wick's fight with the machete wielder.
As he spun around, something hard and blunt hit him in the jaw. "YOU @#$%!&" Arnaldo screamed in pain as he turned back towards the attack. He gave the man in front of him a good knock in the testicles with his balled fist of rage. He then grabbed them through his pants...and pulled down as hard as he could. As the man doubled over, a wet sound had cut through the air, as the man's head flopped to the ground.
It was Nirix and her sword, and she meant business. Then it hit Arnaldo like a solar storm on Glunia 5, he had left Ketin. Almost as if nothing happened, Arnaldo bolted to the bar, throwing the decapitated mans body off him, and kicked a table over. Actually over is an understatement, he kicked it with such a ferocity the damn thing flew a good couple of feet and hit some scared bystanders. "Sorry!" yelped Arnaldo as he knelt behind the table and looked over to see, Alice, holding, what looked like a ,hand buzzer. Before Arnaldo could chuckle, he saw an arc of electricity erupt from it. He refused to laugh from that point on. "If only I had that when I was grabbing that @#$%^&! cahonies".
Christofer, for all the time Royanna had spent exploring and getting herself patched up, and while Iril had written her goodbye note, he had been... Sleeping. Passed out. Travelling somewhere very close to the lines of consciousness and a little on the other side too. Should have technically been passing on already. Just letting it slide. Let himself slide. But they had made that promise, hadn't they? To stay alive, if not for themselves, then for the other one.
The monitors may have gone off to the red for a moment, but that had been while the two of them were both not in a state clear enough to wake up or hear anything. Regardless, the machinery in the room had stabilized after a while, stopped the noises and gone right back to the quiet humming and such while neither of them could tell that such had even happened. Better that way.
Regardless, as he woke up, the canid was... Rather... Surprised to see that Kallenger was not there. It didn't clip to him right away, not at all. But it became apparent rather quick to him that the other person wasn't there. The fact that he was alone did not come snapping to him all too soon though, the static noises and the fact on how dizzy he was kept him and his head occupied. Things came to him slowly, and he couldn't really progress thoughts. His whole body mostly numb, but for the part that he could feel he felt very heavy. His strength must have been gone still, for when one can barely even lift themselves, that's pretty bad.
But he really didn't know when he had last done... Anything much. Anything that one needed to survive at least. He had 'slept', but as to when he had eaten or drank anything last? Did he eat something in that ship earlier? Yes? Some soup? Right? Probably... How long had it been since then? Canid really had no idea.
And he was too tired and lost to think of it. Gone through the state of being so hungry that he could no longer even feel the hunger. Or maybe a little, if he thought of it.
But he had other things to think of. Like... Where was Royanna? Where was she? She had been right there just a moment ago. It couldn't have been all too long ago at all. He had just seen her, hadn't he?
Too little in energy capacity and capability, his head was working slow, and even if there was an underlying panic, he was way too incapable for any sort of frantic and stressed movement to take over and start searching immensely for the other person. No... The most he could do was try and struggle to slowly get on the support of his arms, the other of which felt nothing and the other could only barely feel the surface of the table, bed, something. Arms shaking, he'd slowly turn his head, followed up by his torso for the usual range of movement was not accessible to him.
He was not in a good shape.
Eyes half closed, scanned the room. White. Too white. So much white... Canid couldn't see much, and whatever he did see and did not instantly start giving him a headache, he'd not recognize or understand anything of. In the end, he only took a couple of looks around, tried to sit with no success and ended up on just switching the side he was laying on and slowly let his trembling arms slide to lay next to him, overlapping some. No strength left in him, he couldn't really tell much. When exactly had the other gone out?
So he was left alone... Head barely recognized that as eyes closed again. No use... Just rest. It was the only thing he could do. He didn't have enough senses to tell from any sort of scent on where the other had gone. Not enough strength to get off the table and go search for her, even if he really did want to know where the other had gone. He didn't want to be alone. This place was a little too strange for that, and he had no way of defending himself if it came to it. But really, there was nothing he could do. Unable to hear the sound of the shower, or Iril leaving. Anything. Not even the machinery, canid just laid still and let the darkness take him another time.
It was then that he heard some sounds of steps coming towards the room. They sounded different... Still laying atop the surface on which the whole operation had taken place, Christofer wouldn't be able to much open his eyes, it took a while for him to regain his senses and wake up again. And in that time, Kallenger would have already gotten back to the room and started looking for things. The sound of items being pushed around was distant, but it was enough to gather his interest, alongside with the different sounding footsteps. It frightened him some along with the confusion it brought, but for sure he was still out of energy to start running or screaming.
And there was no need to.
He did not recognize the clothes, or anything else for that matter, but the voice behind the blurry view was familiar. Different there too, but familiar still that he could tell who the other person that had now entered the room was. It was Royanna. He could rest easy. Though he really was done sleeping at this point. His body was having the heavy feeling of having been sleeping for way too long. It's like he could just go straight back to sleep, but it'd probably kill him. Best to just try and stay awake, get back to the moment.
The second calling from Royanna helped him a little to gather himself up slowly. At least this time he heard the words spoken more properly, if not only because she came closer now and his instincts were trying to gather themselves faster, for even if he knew that she was no thread, his body still prepared for an assault, tensing up ever so slightly as he once again stayed at the support of his arms, head and half of his body turned to the way of the woman.
Ears laid flat and folded slightly, eyes still partly closed, dry and in need of some rubbing.
Not able to quite catch the words still, he understood some, but the answer or question he had meant to ask her was just a series of incomprehensible mumbling more than anything, with some higher pitched confused sound coming after them, as if in a weary retaliation once the boy understood that his words made no sense. Wasn't quite a whimper, too tired to sound desperate. It was just best if he did not talk right now.
So instead of responding on being told that they were awake as if they were alive, the canid backed away some and then slumped back down again. The world was slowly spinning again, body felt heavy and suddenly there was the slight cold sweat again, and the need to throw up. But he resisted the urge to start dry heaving again. Laying down with his head resting against something cold did the job of calming his head and mind enough. But he had certainly seen some better days. Breathing that had picked up a little was calming down again.
A moment passed, short as any, but felt longer for his attention was in trying and stopping himself from feeling nauseous and falling back to the oh so soothing slumber again. It took the next set of words and the stabilizing of his breathing for him to feel at least a little better.
"I'll be fine... Don't worry...." Dryly, sounding a little sandy and stale, yet there was some of that signature softness still present. Perhaps it was the quietness, perhaps just the fact that it was him. Who knows.
Still, to prove his point, Christofer slowly got up, to the support of his elbows at least, though eventually just gave up and went for supporting his head against whatever he had been given to lay his head over on. Probably not a pillow, where would they have gotten that... To be honest, with all the blood and such, it was more likely just a slumped pile of his supposed to be clothes than a pillow. But it didn't matter, he was leaning his head against it, supporting the other end over his hands and arms and just laying there. All the while keeping his slowly awaking, slightly moist eyes on Kallenger.
His body kept feeling too heavy, and his senses still weren't all quite there, but he could still tell that there was something different about the scent and look of Royanna. She had some different feel to herself.
"... How about you.... How are you..?" Returning the question, sounding just a little but brighter this time. Good enough state for him to go and find the ability to smile too, having noticed that the other looked to be in a bit better of a condition than before.
"... Did you find a shower?" He'd ask, taking a guess from the wet hair that he barely noticed thanks to the lights and of course, the lack of blood and dirt, dust, any of that stuff. Finding just a little bit more energy outside of that faint smile, there was a light hopeful wag to the tip of his tail. "... Was the water drinkable..?" Assuming that she'd know. Some water really would have been nice right about now... But he didn't want to rush her.
He'd take his time waiting for her to answer, listen if there was something else, before again trying to get up, feeling just slightly better. The lack of clothes on his upper half didn't seem to matter, not as much as it should or could have at least. Canid did feel a little cold though, his fur matted and the slight moist feeling in on it not making him feel any better. Leaning his head against the back of his hind for a little while, dragging it slowly and softly over to his fingers, turning the hand, feeling that too. Fingers were colder than usual, much colder. But it helped, a little... Overall, he stayed in the cloudy state of not understanding exactly everything and the world around his heavy head felt hazy.
But it was time to move out.
Not enough energy to care for the clothes that were likely ripped to an unusable state, the canid made his way slowly towards the edge of the table. He wasn't sitting up yet though, and it was deliberate that he headed for the side with the chair Royanna had been sitting on.
Slipping his way carefully off the edge, hands were placed on the chair so that he could get himself halfly off the table, legs and bottom half very much lacking behind. If Kallenger saw the need to aid the canid with his effort, he'd find room to decline the offer, speak of it as he was capable of doing things himself. Inching his way ever so slightly closer and further towards the floor, eventually he'd connect and then let the rest of his body just follow and catch himself on the floor on all four. He didn't even feel too bad about it, but if he so much as thought of getting up and using his legs instead or without the support of his arms he felt like he'd be sick.
In such a bad shape that his body was going towards a slightly more primitive state. Looked pretty bad, still all bloody and everything, his arm slowly starting to feel the burning of that patch and forcing him to lay down for a bit. Wheezing and whimpering lightly, there was a passive, well meaning murring at the back of it, to try and seem more positive.
Chest would raise with some wavy motion, shaky at first but calming as he got used to it. And after a while, he'd continue his way of crawling towards the door, seeing that this was his way of moving for now.
".... Could you show me the way..? I don't think I know the place that well myself yet..." Spoken, but he couldn't look towards her much without tilting his body to one side and leaning against his elbow as he tipped himself towards the floor. "... Didn't get to take too good of a look of it myself..."
The monitors may have gone off to the red for a moment, but that had been while the two of them were both not in a state clear enough to wake up or hear anything. Regardless, the machinery in the room had stabilized after a while, stopped the noises and gone right back to the quiet humming and such while neither of them could tell that such had even happened. Better that way.
Regardless, as he woke up, the canid was... Rather... Surprised to see that Kallenger was not there. It didn't clip to him right away, not at all. But it became apparent rather quick to him that the other person wasn't there. The fact that he was alone did not come snapping to him all too soon though, the static noises and the fact on how dizzy he was kept him and his head occupied. Things came to him slowly, and he couldn't really progress thoughts. His whole body mostly numb, but for the part that he could feel he felt very heavy. His strength must have been gone still, for when one can barely even lift themselves, that's pretty bad.
But he really didn't know when he had last done... Anything much. Anything that one needed to survive at least. He had 'slept', but as to when he had eaten or drank anything last? Did he eat something in that ship earlier? Yes? Some soup? Right? Probably... How long had it been since then? Canid really had no idea.
And he was too tired and lost to think of it. Gone through the state of being so hungry that he could no longer even feel the hunger. Or maybe a little, if he thought of it.
But he had other things to think of. Like... Where was Royanna? Where was she? She had been right there just a moment ago. It couldn't have been all too long ago at all. He had just seen her, hadn't he?
Too little in energy capacity and capability, his head was working slow, and even if there was an underlying panic, he was way too incapable for any sort of frantic and stressed movement to take over and start searching immensely for the other person. No... The most he could do was try and struggle to slowly get on the support of his arms, the other of which felt nothing and the other could only barely feel the surface of the table, bed, something. Arms shaking, he'd slowly turn his head, followed up by his torso for the usual range of movement was not accessible to him.
He was not in a good shape.
Eyes half closed, scanned the room. White. Too white. So much white... Canid couldn't see much, and whatever he did see and did not instantly start giving him a headache, he'd not recognize or understand anything of. In the end, he only took a couple of looks around, tried to sit with no success and ended up on just switching the side he was laying on and slowly let his trembling arms slide to lay next to him, overlapping some. No strength left in him, he couldn't really tell much. When exactly had the other gone out?
So he was left alone... Head barely recognized that as eyes closed again. No use... Just rest. It was the only thing he could do. He didn't have enough senses to tell from any sort of scent on where the other had gone. Not enough strength to get off the table and go search for her, even if he really did want to know where the other had gone. He didn't want to be alone. This place was a little too strange for that, and he had no way of defending himself if it came to it. But really, there was nothing he could do. Unable to hear the sound of the shower, or Iril leaving. Anything. Not even the machinery, canid just laid still and let the darkness take him another time.
It was then that he heard some sounds of steps coming towards the room. They sounded different... Still laying atop the surface on which the whole operation had taken place, Christofer wouldn't be able to much open his eyes, it took a while for him to regain his senses and wake up again. And in that time, Kallenger would have already gotten back to the room and started looking for things. The sound of items being pushed around was distant, but it was enough to gather his interest, alongside with the different sounding footsteps. It frightened him some along with the confusion it brought, but for sure he was still out of energy to start running or screaming.
And there was no need to.
He did not recognize the clothes, or anything else for that matter, but the voice behind the blurry view was familiar. Different there too, but familiar still that he could tell who the other person that had now entered the room was. It was Royanna. He could rest easy. Though he really was done sleeping at this point. His body was having the heavy feeling of having been sleeping for way too long. It's like he could just go straight back to sleep, but it'd probably kill him. Best to just try and stay awake, get back to the moment.
The second calling from Royanna helped him a little to gather himself up slowly. At least this time he heard the words spoken more properly, if not only because she came closer now and his instincts were trying to gather themselves faster, for even if he knew that she was no thread, his body still prepared for an assault, tensing up ever so slightly as he once again stayed at the support of his arms, head and half of his body turned to the way of the woman.
Ears laid flat and folded slightly, eyes still partly closed, dry and in need of some rubbing.
Not able to quite catch the words still, he understood some, but the answer or question he had meant to ask her was just a series of incomprehensible mumbling more than anything, with some higher pitched confused sound coming after them, as if in a weary retaliation once the boy understood that his words made no sense. Wasn't quite a whimper, too tired to sound desperate. It was just best if he did not talk right now.
So instead of responding on being told that they were awake as if they were alive, the canid backed away some and then slumped back down again. The world was slowly spinning again, body felt heavy and suddenly there was the slight cold sweat again, and the need to throw up. But he resisted the urge to start dry heaving again. Laying down with his head resting against something cold did the job of calming his head and mind enough. But he had certainly seen some better days. Breathing that had picked up a little was calming down again.
A moment passed, short as any, but felt longer for his attention was in trying and stopping himself from feeling nauseous and falling back to the oh so soothing slumber again. It took the next set of words and the stabilizing of his breathing for him to feel at least a little better.
"I'll be fine... Don't worry...." Dryly, sounding a little sandy and stale, yet there was some of that signature softness still present. Perhaps it was the quietness, perhaps just the fact that it was him. Who knows.
Still, to prove his point, Christofer slowly got up, to the support of his elbows at least, though eventually just gave up and went for supporting his head against whatever he had been given to lay his head over on. Probably not a pillow, where would they have gotten that... To be honest, with all the blood and such, it was more likely just a slumped pile of his supposed to be clothes than a pillow. But it didn't matter, he was leaning his head against it, supporting the other end over his hands and arms and just laying there. All the while keeping his slowly awaking, slightly moist eyes on Kallenger.
His body kept feeling too heavy, and his senses still weren't all quite there, but he could still tell that there was something different about the scent and look of Royanna. She had some different feel to herself.
"... How about you.... How are you..?" Returning the question, sounding just a little but brighter this time. Good enough state for him to go and find the ability to smile too, having noticed that the other looked to be in a bit better of a condition than before.
"... Did you find a shower?" He'd ask, taking a guess from the wet hair that he barely noticed thanks to the lights and of course, the lack of blood and dirt, dust, any of that stuff. Finding just a little bit more energy outside of that faint smile, there was a light hopeful wag to the tip of his tail. "... Was the water drinkable..?" Assuming that she'd know. Some water really would have been nice right about now... But he didn't want to rush her.
He'd take his time waiting for her to answer, listen if there was something else, before again trying to get up, feeling just slightly better. The lack of clothes on his upper half didn't seem to matter, not as much as it should or could have at least. Canid did feel a little cold though, his fur matted and the slight moist feeling in on it not making him feel any better. Leaning his head against the back of his hind for a little while, dragging it slowly and softly over to his fingers, turning the hand, feeling that too. Fingers were colder than usual, much colder. But it helped, a little... Overall, he stayed in the cloudy state of not understanding exactly everything and the world around his heavy head felt hazy.
But it was time to move out.
Not enough energy to care for the clothes that were likely ripped to an unusable state, the canid made his way slowly towards the edge of the table. He wasn't sitting up yet though, and it was deliberate that he headed for the side with the chair Royanna had been sitting on.
Slipping his way carefully off the edge, hands were placed on the chair so that he could get himself halfly off the table, legs and bottom half very much lacking behind. If Kallenger saw the need to aid the canid with his effort, he'd find room to decline the offer, speak of it as he was capable of doing things himself. Inching his way ever so slightly closer and further towards the floor, eventually he'd connect and then let the rest of his body just follow and catch himself on the floor on all four. He didn't even feel too bad about it, but if he so much as thought of getting up and using his legs instead or without the support of his arms he felt like he'd be sick.
In such a bad shape that his body was going towards a slightly more primitive state. Looked pretty bad, still all bloody and everything, his arm slowly starting to feel the burning of that patch and forcing him to lay down for a bit. Wheezing and whimpering lightly, there was a passive, well meaning murring at the back of it, to try and seem more positive.
Chest would raise with some wavy motion, shaky at first but calming as he got used to it. And after a while, he'd continue his way of crawling towards the door, seeing that this was his way of moving for now.
".... Could you show me the way..? I don't think I know the place that well myself yet..." Spoken, but he couldn't look towards her much without tilting his body to one side and leaning against his elbow as he tipped himself towards the floor. "... Didn't get to take too good of a look of it myself..."
The Diplomat
The faintest hint of a smile played at the corner of Royanna’s lip – clearly the boy was not ‘fine’ – but he was coherent enough to try and convince her that he was. It was a start. She even managed to ignore the thatch of black hair falling partially over one eye. It took her groggy seconds to realize next that he was referring to her.
Was she okay?
Why would he ask such a question. Of course she was okay! Royanna Kallenger was always okay.
”I’m fine.” she said plainly, though still with a hint of confusion on her face to accompany the words which dissipated shortly therafter. ”Yeah, there’s a bedroom across the hall. Clothes too – I can probably find you something that fits, or something.” She added, awkwardly.
Then there was the expression of dawning realization as the kid brought up a point which she had somehow, against the odds, managed to not think of until this moment. Even after all that aimless, foggy wandering, even after giving the kitchen pantry a cursory glance, even after showering, she had not realized that she was desperately thirsty. With the exception of having stood in the shower, eyes closed and facing upward with mouth partially open like a turkey in the rain, she hadn’t had a drink of water in…longer than she could remember. Nor had she realized how dry her throat was from it – but suddenly, she was acutely aware of how her voice reflected the need for water.
”Water- water, right – hold on.” With a hasty extension of one finger, Royanna spun around and proceeded to rummage around on the countertops, casually frantic, but gentle enough to not go making a mess. ”Yeah, Ardellans have always been real careful with water so we won’t have to worry about running out for…” But she let the words drift off, vaguely aware that it was worthless rambling and he probably wasn’t listening anyway. Immediately frustrated that what she was looking for refused to simply appear upon mental command, she was relieved to find a small stack of paper cups in one corner, near the sink – in the most obvious place, of course.
Her frustration multiplied when she picked the cup up, only to have it practically disintegrate in her hand.
Of course – many things would have lasted the centuries just fine, thanks to the Old Empire’s meticulous attention to preservation. Paper cups were not one of them. Cursing under her breath, she went on to open cabinets, standing on her toes to peer into the topmost shelves – she was tall, but not that tall.
And then, as if a miracle from Space itself, she struck gold in the form of a plastic cup. Clearly it was not intended to be used as a drinking vessel, but equally obvious was that it was well sterilized just like everything else that was as of yet unused.
Royanna filled the little seafoam-green plastic cup in the sink – a small sink, designed only for washing hands before sensitive procedures, but it did the job.
Satisfied for once, she turned around again – only to find that in her haste to find water for Christofer, she had not noticed him getting off the table. Well, there were two cots in the corner – she felt stupid for having not thought to move him to one of those in the first place – but when she glanced in their direction with the mild hope that he might have done something sensible, she was sorely disappointed.
Then she looked to the door, where Christofer was half-crawling like some feral cretin.
The woman was so stunned by this sight that she only looked on in incredulous, dumbfounded silence as he asked to be shown the way. She blinked a few times, semi-blank face only hinting at the vast catacombs of outrage being dug out in her guts.
The ex-Agent’s general demeanor had, for a time, seemed to soften. She had become relaxed and almost easy going for a few minutes. The shower and seeing Christofer waking up had put her in a state of comfort with herself, and her situation. She had let the balance in her attitude tip slightly to the left.
As if suddenly, abruptly, subconsciously realizing that she had shown a moment of ease and compassion, she was – of course – flung wildly and drastically to the other end of the spectrum.
Luckily for Christofer though, she didn’t burst out in baffled rage – instead, her voice was tense, and so over-casual that it was blatantly obvious she was restraining herself.
”What the !@#$ are you doing?” She said, more than asked. Her eyebrows had drooped to exemplify her displeasure with it all. With a very slight shake of the hand holding the cup, she continued ”The water’s right here. You don’t have to go anywhere. So why don’t you sit down on that cot over there, drink the water, and wait to move around until you’re strong enough to walk on two legs.” Given the hard, displeased look she was giving him, and the quiet, over-casual tone she was using, it was clearly not a request.
Though still, one might have had the feeling that she actually wasn’t really angry, yet. Rather, she was giving him one more chance to abate her wrath before flying off the handle…
The Perrygold
The flaw – or, rather, the vital condition – in Ketin’s hastily executed ‘plan’ was that he would need to rely solely on the enhanced senses of Arnaldo to navigate with any efficiency. Luckily, he and the little man had apparently gotten the same idea - they were both out of their seats and racing down the hallway simultaneously. Abstractly, Kete was amazed at the sensation of navigating so well without any eyes, riding off Arnaldo’s awareness and staying just far enough away that they didn’t collide.
As Arnaldo busted out a door for cover, Ketin sprinted a couple doors ahead, making it slide open just in time for him to duck in and hide. The door closed behind him, and he was pressed up against the wall of an empty room – it was just the privacy he needed to make his phony ‘announcement’ over the intercom.
By the time he was done, the fighting outside the room was almost over too – but it wasn’t that deadly scuffle for which Kete paid any mind. Letting the door open just enough for him to slip through, he stayed low and quiet – just like a fox on the hunt – moved in just close enough to snatch the tommygun, then bolted back in the direction that Arnaldo was now going. Back toward the bar. If there were any goons left, he was confident Nirix and her boyfriend could handle it. But Ketin had a military mind beneath all the bull@#$%, and his target was immediately computed the moment it all started. The source.
Cut off the head.
There were very few bullets left in the barrel, but that was fine. Letting Arnaldo go sprinting back in first, he gripped the gun tightly, and made a dive for the floor just outside the barroom door. He only had one chance to make this all come together – and it was dangerous – but Clarke was much too furious to care about being careful now. Because in reality, it was not hurting people that Kete couldn’t bear. He’d hurt plenty of people and not particularly cared. What mattered to him was not being the killer, when it came down to it. Especially if he tricked himself into just not thinking about the casualties at all…
Barely peeking around the corner from his position on the floor, Ketin – using Arnaldo’s senses to his advantage, and simultaneously looking through the eyes of the mobster who could see in the dark – he watched as, over the course of an instant, the barrel of a gun appeared like the tiniest detail in the doorway. It did not seem to aim – just letting out a vaguely controlled hail of bullets in the general direction of the mobsters.
A number of people would be getting shot in the feet or shins – especially the mobsters – but it was very unlikely that shots would prove any more than incapacitating.
The rapid chattering of bullets – the cries of several passengers were struck – and then, in the second that followed, there was a burst of light so sudden and brilliant that it was likely to totally blind the night-seer. The bar – and only the bar – was illuminated with blinding, white light in the immediate seconds after the gunshots – allowing everyone to see that something had happened, and allowing his allies a chance to move.
But it wasn’t the end of it either – because as the light burst on and blinded anyone who was likely to get an easy shot at him, he took the opportunity to step into the room and away from the door.
When peoples’ eyes had adjusted to the new, brilliantly illuminated atmosphere, Ketin was standing amidst a small tuft of people, pointing directly at the mobsters.
His eyes were ablaze. He looked through stray hair with gritted teeth, emanating a fury that he had rarely known.
”That’s them! @#$%ing child killers! Don’t let them get away!” He cried, hoarsely and fiercely, chest heaving with the exertion he had put out over the past few short minutes. Of course, there weren’t actually any dead children – but nobody in the bar knew that. All they knew was that someone was claiming to be pirating the ship, and someone was very clearly shooting people in the bar. People were doubled over, clutching at their wounds. More than likely, at least one of the mobster’s men was similarly out of commission. Nobody was going to take the time to try to figure out where exactly the bullets had been shot from, or even who was doing the shooting. Not when they were frightened, and angry, and had what they’d every reason to believe was a confirmation on who the perpetrator of it all really was.
Some of the passengers who might have wanted to play ‘hero’ were already shifting in their seats, playing at their hips or breast pockets where sidearms might have been stashed. If even half of them were actually packing heat, the mobsters in the bar would be desperately outnumbered. And Kete wasn’t even accounting for what Alice and Arnaldo might have done now that they’d been given the opportunity.
But there was nothing on Ketin’s mind now. Nothing but white hate and fury that pulsated in the eyes of a murderer...
The faintest hint of a smile played at the corner of Royanna’s lip – clearly the boy was not ‘fine’ – but he was coherent enough to try and convince her that he was. It was a start. She even managed to ignore the thatch of black hair falling partially over one eye. It took her groggy seconds to realize next that he was referring to her.
Was she okay?
Why would he ask such a question. Of course she was okay! Royanna Kallenger was always okay.
”I’m fine.” she said plainly, though still with a hint of confusion on her face to accompany the words which dissipated shortly therafter. ”Yeah, there’s a bedroom across the hall. Clothes too – I can probably find you something that fits, or something.” She added, awkwardly.
Then there was the expression of dawning realization as the kid brought up a point which she had somehow, against the odds, managed to not think of until this moment. Even after all that aimless, foggy wandering, even after giving the kitchen pantry a cursory glance, even after showering, she had not realized that she was desperately thirsty. With the exception of having stood in the shower, eyes closed and facing upward with mouth partially open like a turkey in the rain, she hadn’t had a drink of water in…longer than she could remember. Nor had she realized how dry her throat was from it – but suddenly, she was acutely aware of how her voice reflected the need for water.
”Water- water, right – hold on.” With a hasty extension of one finger, Royanna spun around and proceeded to rummage around on the countertops, casually frantic, but gentle enough to not go making a mess. ”Yeah, Ardellans have always been real careful with water so we won’t have to worry about running out for…” But she let the words drift off, vaguely aware that it was worthless rambling and he probably wasn’t listening anyway. Immediately frustrated that what she was looking for refused to simply appear upon mental command, she was relieved to find a small stack of paper cups in one corner, near the sink – in the most obvious place, of course.
Her frustration multiplied when she picked the cup up, only to have it practically disintegrate in her hand.
Of course – many things would have lasted the centuries just fine, thanks to the Old Empire’s meticulous attention to preservation. Paper cups were not one of them. Cursing under her breath, she went on to open cabinets, standing on her toes to peer into the topmost shelves – she was tall, but not that tall.
And then, as if a miracle from Space itself, she struck gold in the form of a plastic cup. Clearly it was not intended to be used as a drinking vessel, but equally obvious was that it was well sterilized just like everything else that was as of yet unused.
Royanna filled the little seafoam-green plastic cup in the sink – a small sink, designed only for washing hands before sensitive procedures, but it did the job.
Satisfied for once, she turned around again – only to find that in her haste to find water for Christofer, she had not noticed him getting off the table. Well, there were two cots in the corner – she felt stupid for having not thought to move him to one of those in the first place – but when she glanced in their direction with the mild hope that he might have done something sensible, she was sorely disappointed.
Then she looked to the door, where Christofer was half-crawling like some feral cretin.
The woman was so stunned by this sight that she only looked on in incredulous, dumbfounded silence as he asked to be shown the way. She blinked a few times, semi-blank face only hinting at the vast catacombs of outrage being dug out in her guts.
The ex-Agent’s general demeanor had, for a time, seemed to soften. She had become relaxed and almost easy going for a few minutes. The shower and seeing Christofer waking up had put her in a state of comfort with herself, and her situation. She had let the balance in her attitude tip slightly to the left.
As if suddenly, abruptly, subconsciously realizing that she had shown a moment of ease and compassion, she was – of course – flung wildly and drastically to the other end of the spectrum.
Luckily for Christofer though, she didn’t burst out in baffled rage – instead, her voice was tense, and so over-casual that it was blatantly obvious she was restraining herself.
”What the !@#$ are you doing?” She said, more than asked. Her eyebrows had drooped to exemplify her displeasure with it all. With a very slight shake of the hand holding the cup, she continued ”The water’s right here. You don’t have to go anywhere. So why don’t you sit down on that cot over there, drink the water, and wait to move around until you’re strong enough to walk on two legs.” Given the hard, displeased look she was giving him, and the quiet, over-casual tone she was using, it was clearly not a request.
Though still, one might have had the feeling that she actually wasn’t really angry, yet. Rather, she was giving him one more chance to abate her wrath before flying off the handle…
The Perrygold
The flaw – or, rather, the vital condition – in Ketin’s hastily executed ‘plan’ was that he would need to rely solely on the enhanced senses of Arnaldo to navigate with any efficiency. Luckily, he and the little man had apparently gotten the same idea - they were both out of their seats and racing down the hallway simultaneously. Abstractly, Kete was amazed at the sensation of navigating so well without any eyes, riding off Arnaldo’s awareness and staying just far enough away that they didn’t collide.
As Arnaldo busted out a door for cover, Ketin sprinted a couple doors ahead, making it slide open just in time for him to duck in and hide. The door closed behind him, and he was pressed up against the wall of an empty room – it was just the privacy he needed to make his phony ‘announcement’ over the intercom.
By the time he was done, the fighting outside the room was almost over too – but it wasn’t that deadly scuffle for which Kete paid any mind. Letting the door open just enough for him to slip through, he stayed low and quiet – just like a fox on the hunt – moved in just close enough to snatch the tommygun, then bolted back in the direction that Arnaldo was now going. Back toward the bar. If there were any goons left, he was confident Nirix and her boyfriend could handle it. But Ketin had a military mind beneath all the bull@#$%, and his target was immediately computed the moment it all started. The source.
Cut off the head.
There were very few bullets left in the barrel, but that was fine. Letting Arnaldo go sprinting back in first, he gripped the gun tightly, and made a dive for the floor just outside the barroom door. He only had one chance to make this all come together – and it was dangerous – but Clarke was much too furious to care about being careful now. Because in reality, it was not hurting people that Kete couldn’t bear. He’d hurt plenty of people and not particularly cared. What mattered to him was not being the killer, when it came down to it. Especially if he tricked himself into just not thinking about the casualties at all…
Barely peeking around the corner from his position on the floor, Ketin – using Arnaldo’s senses to his advantage, and simultaneously looking through the eyes of the mobster who could see in the dark – he watched as, over the course of an instant, the barrel of a gun appeared like the tiniest detail in the doorway. It did not seem to aim – just letting out a vaguely controlled hail of bullets in the general direction of the mobsters.
A number of people would be getting shot in the feet or shins – especially the mobsters – but it was very unlikely that shots would prove any more than incapacitating.
The rapid chattering of bullets – the cries of several passengers were struck – and then, in the second that followed, there was a burst of light so sudden and brilliant that it was likely to totally blind the night-seer. The bar – and only the bar – was illuminated with blinding, white light in the immediate seconds after the gunshots – allowing everyone to see that something had happened, and allowing his allies a chance to move.
But it wasn’t the end of it either – because as the light burst on and blinded anyone who was likely to get an easy shot at him, he took the opportunity to step into the room and away from the door.
When peoples’ eyes had adjusted to the new, brilliantly illuminated atmosphere, Ketin was standing amidst a small tuft of people, pointing directly at the mobsters.
His eyes were ablaze. He looked through stray hair with gritted teeth, emanating a fury that he had rarely known.
”That’s them! @#$%ing child killers! Don’t let them get away!” He cried, hoarsely and fiercely, chest heaving with the exertion he had put out over the past few short minutes. Of course, there weren’t actually any dead children – but nobody in the bar knew that. All they knew was that someone was claiming to be pirating the ship, and someone was very clearly shooting people in the bar. People were doubled over, clutching at their wounds. More than likely, at least one of the mobster’s men was similarly out of commission. Nobody was going to take the time to try to figure out where exactly the bullets had been shot from, or even who was doing the shooting. Not when they were frightened, and angry, and had what they’d every reason to believe was a confirmation on who the perpetrator of it all really was.
Some of the passengers who might have wanted to play ‘hero’ were already shifting in their seats, playing at their hips or breast pockets where sidearms might have been stashed. If even half of them were actually packing heat, the mobsters in the bar would be desperately outnumbered. And Kete wasn’t even accounting for what Alice and Arnaldo might have done now that they’d been given the opportunity.
But there was nothing on Ketin’s mind now. Nothing but white hate and fury that pulsated in the eyes of a murderer...
Alice looked up at the Half-breed from before, the same which had flirted with her moments before. He was nowhere near this frightening then, his eyes full of rage and hatred. Chills ran up and down Alice's back. She would remember to be careful of him for now, though his pointing out the men at the bar did help. Rushing up, she grabbed both man firmly, her grip activating Zeus' palms. Unless they were somehow immune to electricity, they would be paralyzed for at least four hours.
Donnie was on the case when it was dark and his eyes were keen as ever even seeing Ketin and the grandpa move quickly out and notice the barrel poke out and more out reaction as the gun fired into the room, shoving the Don and himself over into the bar. Once the over and the lights turned on, Donnie yelled as the lights blinded him for a moment. The bartender who was holding a pump action (which was wood as well as the stock)shotgun this entire time and heard the footsteps of Alice and like Donnie more of a reaction he pokes up from behind the bar top and shoots at Alice with a bean bag round, a nonlethal round that wasn't meant to kill but to incapacitate, but the round hurt like hell though and then pops down quickly and if he missed her and she comes over the bar top, she would no doubt be shot again as well also get shot by a regular round by the Don's desert eagle . This time the boss was mad as ever and so he says "What the hell is going on?!" Donnie recovers slowly and says "I believe the fox kin is the most wanted man in the galaxy...the devil eye" Don looks at Donnie angrily and says "Then why the hell did you not tell me?!"
"Because I wasn't sure but from how he moved and looked I am confident that he is now!" he responds as he pulls out his gun. Don rests back for a quick moment and then pulls out a cigar and lights it. The bartender assuming he didn't get shot by the gun through the door, says "This isn't the time to smoke!" in more of a whisper. Then he heard the announcement that the Don was a child killer and that ticked him off...
"%^&%$ YOU!!! I'M NOT A *&&^&$ING CHILD KILLER, UNLIKE YOU, DEVIL EYE!" he yells out as both men hold him down so he doesn't pop up and get himself shot. "I know who you are, the most wanted man in the Galaxy! We both could have just ignore each other but instead it seems you got offended that your friend was about to be wacked! You don't understand how much of my family I lost to that puttana?! She knows the risks of her job and so I'm not surprised two individuals marked are on the run together!" he takes a moment, knowing full well that the "hero's" in the group would get second thoughts as they hear about Devil eye a much more tempting target. "I can tell you now you punk ass kid that you are the hijacker here and not me. Plus it doesn't make any sense for the mob to hijack a ship and I am quiet know not to target families! I only wanted the death of the Ecolu! Not your head nor anyone else! If you would have done nothing else that no one else would have to die or get hurt and now look were we at, a little standoff!" he then puffs out some smoke and continues "What are you gonna do, Devil eye?! Kill me? Congrats you killed one guy, but are going to kill the rest of the employees or even the passengers on here? Are you gonna be responsible for the number of employees that won't be able to get paid if I die and also responsible in killing the passengers who want the nice bounty on your head? ARE YOU GONNA KILL US LIKE YOU DID TO THOSE POOR SOULS IN CITIES YOU DESTROYED??!!!"
He breathes in and out, letting out another puff of smoke and says "So lets see what he'll do and if I die, its been nice working with you" as he continues on smoking his cigar.
"Because I wasn't sure but from how he moved and looked I am confident that he is now!" he responds as he pulls out his gun. Don rests back for a quick moment and then pulls out a cigar and lights it. The bartender assuming he didn't get shot by the gun through the door, says "This isn't the time to smoke!" in more of a whisper. Then he heard the announcement that the Don was a child killer and that ticked him off...
"%^&%$ YOU!!! I'M NOT A *&&^&$ING CHILD KILLER, UNLIKE YOU, DEVIL EYE!" he yells out as both men hold him down so he doesn't pop up and get himself shot. "I know who you are, the most wanted man in the Galaxy! We both could have just ignore each other but instead it seems you got offended that your friend was about to be wacked! You don't understand how much of my family I lost to that puttana?! She knows the risks of her job and so I'm not surprised two individuals marked are on the run together!" he takes a moment, knowing full well that the "hero's" in the group would get second thoughts as they hear about Devil eye a much more tempting target. "I can tell you now you punk ass kid that you are the hijacker here and not me. Plus it doesn't make any sense for the mob to hijack a ship and I am quiet know not to target families! I only wanted the death of the Ecolu! Not your head nor anyone else! If you would have done nothing else that no one else would have to die or get hurt and now look were we at, a little standoff!" he then puffs out some smoke and continues "What are you gonna do, Devil eye?! Kill me? Congrats you killed one guy, but are going to kill the rest of the employees or even the passengers on here? Are you gonna be responsible for the number of employees that won't be able to get paid if I die and also responsible in killing the passengers who want the nice bounty on your head? ARE YOU GONNA KILL US LIKE YOU DID TO THOSE POOR SOULS IN CITIES YOU DESTROYED??!!!"
He breathes in and out, letting out another puff of smoke and says "So lets see what he'll do and if I die, its been nice working with you" as he continues on smoking his cigar.
Nirix sheathed her sword, ignoring the groaning of those that Wick had knocked out and the silence of the those she had killed. The flames that had flickered upon his hands were quite unusual but it had provided some degree of light. Deciding to question him about it later, Nirix quickly ran down the hall without another word in search of Ketin.
The sounds that came from the direction of the bar left her completely uneasy and though she knew that Ketin was well capable of taking care of himself, she still felt the need to rush to his aid, if only to make sure he would be fine.
Running into the room, she quickly stopped in her tracks as a blinding light washed over her and she lost her sight once again. Frowning when the light lessened and she regained some of her sight, a silent gasp escaped her lips. Nirix wasn't nervous that Ketin held a gun, she wasn't nervous that the Mobster had sent his pathetic hitman after her or that every other passenger knew Ketin's identity as the infamous Devil's Eye.
What really bothered her was his eyes.
Briefly, her mind flashed back to when they had been on Capital City of Daedalus and Nirix had been nearly helpless to stop Ketin in his rampage. He had nearly killed everyone in the building and in the end...Nirix would never forget the look in his eyes, so much hatred and self-loathing afterward. She vowed it would never happen again.
Yet now, here she felt stuck once again. All her emotions came flooding back and the vulnerability resurfaced. She had to do something, needed to do something before anything else happened.
Taking a steady breath, Nirix unsheathed her sword.
The sounds that came from the direction of the bar left her completely uneasy and though she knew that Ketin was well capable of taking care of himself, she still felt the need to rush to his aid, if only to make sure he would be fine.
Running into the room, she quickly stopped in her tracks as a blinding light washed over her and she lost her sight once again. Frowning when the light lessened and she regained some of her sight, a silent gasp escaped her lips. Nirix wasn't nervous that Ketin held a gun, she wasn't nervous that the Mobster had sent his pathetic hitman after her or that every other passenger knew Ketin's identity as the infamous Devil's Eye.
What really bothered her was his eyes.
Briefly, her mind flashed back to when they had been on Capital City of Daedalus and Nirix had been nearly helpless to stop Ketin in his rampage. He had nearly killed everyone in the building and in the end...Nirix would never forget the look in his eyes, so much hatred and self-loathing afterward. She vowed it would never happen again.
Yet now, here she felt stuck once again. All her emotions came flooding back and the vulnerability resurfaced. She had to do something, needed to do something before anything else happened.
Taking a steady breath, Nirix unsheathed her sword.
Arnaldo slumped back onto the table he had recently kicked over, with Ketin falling in behind him. That's when he experienced the most romantic moment of his life. As Alice slowly incapacitated a man, Ketin rang his voice out like a Loedrian lion while firing a couple of shots. "Ahhh, young love..." Arnie mumbled as he breathed a heavy sigh. Touching his own face, he felt something that he hadn't felt in a while, his own blood. After doing a taste test and deducing it was his own he heard quite the monologue.
Livid, that's how one could describe Arnaldo. Arnaldo heard it all, child killer, devils eye, and Nirix's past excursions. His anger began to boil over. The taste of blood, the crying of the passengers, and the exasperated cries of his friends. Unable to bear it any longer, he flashed a quick glance at the incoming Eoclu and stood up. Arnaldo brandishing his Brantom 48, walked continually, towards the bar counter top, taking a couple of shots from the non lethal rounds. Then it hit him, a round the size of a maggot had just tore through Arnaldos lower gut and kidney. The hole was large enough and deep enough one could flick a 1 Standard coin in it. With enough adrenaline and rage to kill a bull, Arnaldo kept walking. He eventually came up to the counter top and hopped it. Instead of landing gracefully on his feet, he tumbled to the ground.
Bleeding out and losing consciousness, all of the adrenaline ran out and Arnaldo could only get out a monologue. "How dare you? Your 'family' was taken by Nirix? Really? You are going to blame this on Nirix? You are worse than the goddamned lice that crawls on a Geldorian rangers boot.Your 'family' knew what they were doing, they knew who they were with...Nirix was doing her job. You guys waltz in here as if this is your heroic revenge quest? ARE YOU !@#$%&*@ ME? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU HAVE INJURED TONIGHT, HOW MANY CHILDREN YOU HAVE TRAUMATIZED YOU SICK SON OF !@#%$. THESE TWO (referring to Ketin and Nirix), THEY ARE DIFFERENT THEN THE PEOPLE YOU SAY THEY ARE. Nirix is a passionate friend of and loyal companion to Ketin from what I can tell. And Ketin is just a young punk bumping his way through life, atleast thats what I think...AND NOT TO MENTION THE POOR GIRL AND HER BROTHER, OH DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON WHAT YOU GUYS DID TO THEM." grumbled and screamed Arnaldo. Arnaldo slowly raised his Brantom to Don's eye level. But before he could pull the trigger, Arnie blacked out from blood loss. As his unconscious slumped over body tipped to one side, his hologame board fell out of his pocket along with an Nivekian detective badge that had one long word embossed on it...Decommisioned.
Livid, that's how one could describe Arnaldo. Arnaldo heard it all, child killer, devils eye, and Nirix's past excursions. His anger began to boil over. The taste of blood, the crying of the passengers, and the exasperated cries of his friends. Unable to bear it any longer, he flashed a quick glance at the incoming Eoclu and stood up. Arnaldo brandishing his Brantom 48, walked continually, towards the bar counter top, taking a couple of shots from the non lethal rounds. Then it hit him, a round the size of a maggot had just tore through Arnaldos lower gut and kidney. The hole was large enough and deep enough one could flick a 1 Standard coin in it. With enough adrenaline and rage to kill a bull, Arnaldo kept walking. He eventually came up to the counter top and hopped it. Instead of landing gracefully on his feet, he tumbled to the ground.
Bleeding out and losing consciousness, all of the adrenaline ran out and Arnaldo could only get out a monologue. "How dare you? Your 'family' was taken by Nirix? Really? You are going to blame this on Nirix? You are worse than the goddamned lice that crawls on a Geldorian rangers boot.Your 'family' knew what they were doing, they knew who they were with...Nirix was doing her job. You guys waltz in here as if this is your heroic revenge quest? ARE YOU !@#$%&*@ ME? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU HAVE INJURED TONIGHT, HOW MANY CHILDREN YOU HAVE TRAUMATIZED YOU SICK SON OF !@#%$. THESE TWO (referring to Ketin and Nirix), THEY ARE DIFFERENT THEN THE PEOPLE YOU SAY THEY ARE. Nirix is a passionate friend of and loyal companion to Ketin from what I can tell. And Ketin is just a young punk bumping his way through life, atleast thats what I think...AND NOT TO MENTION THE POOR GIRL AND HER BROTHER, OH DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON WHAT YOU GUYS DID TO THEM." grumbled and screamed Arnaldo. Arnaldo slowly raised his Brantom to Don's eye level. But before he could pull the trigger, Arnie blacked out from blood loss. As his unconscious slumped over body tipped to one side, his hologame board fell out of his pocket along with an Nivekian detective badge that had one long word embossed on it...Decommisioned.
Watching Nirix run off towards the common area, Wick began to try and make sense of what was happening. So someone was taking over the ship? Why? He wasn't entirely sure, but he did know one thing: he couldn't leave the unconscious guys with their weapons. Gathering everything up from corpse and unconscious body alike, Wick stashed them all into room 77.
"Alice can probably find use for that stuff once this whole thing is over. For now, I gotta go find her."
The bean bag round caught Alice in the side, sending the right half of her body to seize up for one or two minutes. She crawled over behind a fallen table and listened to what was happening. "What is even happening right now?" she asked herself in a mumble. Now the half-breed was some sort of galaxy wide criminal? She'd never heard of him, though she tried to avoid that sort of news when she could. Whoever the other man was, though, wasn't doing a good job of convincing her why he was the better option in the scenario. He was already planning on killing someone while the half-breed just seemed to be minding his own business? Alice was going to stand with the half breed on this one, though she'd want an explanation after everything was over.
"Alice can probably find use for that stuff once this whole thing is over. For now, I gotta go find her."
The bean bag round caught Alice in the side, sending the right half of her body to seize up for one or two minutes. She crawled over behind a fallen table and listened to what was happening. "What is even happening right now?" she asked herself in a mumble. Now the half-breed was some sort of galaxy wide criminal? She'd never heard of him, though she tried to avoid that sort of news when she could. Whoever the other man was, though, wasn't doing a good job of convincing her why he was the better option in the scenario. He was already planning on killing someone while the half-breed just seemed to be minding his own business? Alice was going to stand with the half breed on this one, though she'd want an explanation after everything was over.
Was she really okay? Well, that didn't seem to be a reasonable question anymore. At least she was up and moving, living, breathing, alive. It was good. And slowly Christofer himself would come to realize and start to understand how things were. The fact that Royanna had indeed showered, she was much more clear in mind even if some parts still went somewhat past her consciousness and grip. But she was definitely more fine than he was, that was good. She was healthy enough, he believed her.
He was just... A little concerned... That's all...
Right... Because he was the one that needed to be taken care of. Him. Because he could never manage anything on his own. Find somewhere to sleep, find clothes that fit him... Right... He wasn't suited on being capable of completing such a task himself... But at least he had tried. He could just hope that it had been worth anything.
Listening to Royanna's words as he made his way down, the fact that she stopped talking and cut off her sentence was strange. Did he lose his hearing? It sounded like she still had something to say... No, the chair made a noise, he was definitely not deaf. So why did she stop? Of course things would be strange to the one who was not used to technology this advanced, but it was still nice listening to her voice even if he wouldn't understand much.
No hope on that though... She stayed silent and he had to catch his breath after the little operation of getting off the table.
And as the canid was about to go and smile slightly even if with tired features towards the other, he'd instead flinch due to the roughness of the words and lose his balance, falling to his side even if his intention had only been to turn and have a look at her. It did not feel nice.
"I was..... Uhhh..... Trying to get somewhere......" Spoken not any louder than a whisper, clearly having not enough strength to speak louder, and there was also a slight new factor to this all. ".... I was just.... trying to be progressive....." He didn't want to have her hear what he was saying.
It wasn't loud or that bad, but in some completely different means the words spoken did still hurt. Her words. Especially the last couple of sentences. It was nice hearing the voice of someone that had grown familiar, but when he got back to being able to understand the words spoken it wasn't as nice anymore.
Ears folded and pressed themselves even further against his head, still pointing backwards after hearing the first scolding. Eyes scanned the floor at their feet, not rising any higher, but also staying half closed, most of his vision clouded with black even if he could now see clearly.
".... Yes... If you say so...." He should just give up. That's what she wanted. He shouldn't do anything. Ever. Because he was so bad at even staying alive. But they had made a promise, and with that he wouldn't be able to go forth with making himself be more useful in not being on her way. Clearly, he was truly useless and incapable.
He had curled up a little as he laid on the floor, tail pressed against his side and the legs that had been tugged closer so that he looked as small and nonthreatening or existing as possible. One arm pressed over his stomach under the cover of the tail, trying and muting any possible sounds that the acid carving away could have caused. Matted fur covering him all over, except for the shoulder that had been snipped clean due to the amateur surgery Royanna had performed. It had worked, sure, and there was no ill feels towards her for it. It was just a smaller scale operation than some might think of with fancy rooms and all that stuff.
But that wasn't the point. He was trying to come off as submissive as possible and being small and thin regardless of the fur should be driving the point across. He wasn't trying to throw her off the throne. Of course he understood that it was all his fault, and that he should apologize for his bad behaviour.
And that he did.
".... I'm sorry...."
Rather pitiful looking and feeling guilty, the canid got up and turned his back to the door. It had taken quite a bit of strength to achieve, but he didn't feel like smiling at managing to get even that far anymore. Afterall... It was a mistake and now it would only take longer for him to get to the cot. He was such a bad person...
At first he tried to make up for it and hoped to be faster if he really did get onto his two legs and walked over to the cot like told, but it came clear to him rather quickly that this was not an option, hitting his shoulder against the floor and setting off a burning wave of pain as a result told him as much. It hurt. Everything was hurting. But without as much as turning an eye to look towards Royanna, not making any sounds through his gritted fangs, he'd ease up and limp his way over to the cot. Getting on it wouldn't be too hard after having to silently take the slowly increasing pulsing pain on his shoulder. It didn't matter... She didn't need to know... Probably had enough trouble without him complaining... He still felt guilty...
Head hung low for the time being as he sat at the edge of the cot, having his legs hanging off the edge felt like the only was the could stay straight and actually up sitting like she had told him to. It made him feel extremely nauseous. He really needed more support than that. It was very close that Christofer didn't just go tipping forward and falling off. His legs certainly wouldn't be able to carry him if he fell. Nauseating...
But she knew what was best for him. Why would he know any of that himself...
He felt a little cold now that he had very little touching himself or giving him that support, no shirt or anything, fur barely helped his case. Barely. Getting his tail behind him and to his side gave him some support, but it could only do so much.
Things eased up slowly, with the pain on his shoulder taking care of having his attention to it instead of the fact of how dizzy he was feeling, the canid somehow went on managing with the lesser evil. He'd be able to lift his head after a while, look just a tad more proper. Some extra on that came with the hiding of his actual condition. Surely he wanted to throw up, had wanted at least, and there was some saliva that had gathered up because of it. But none of that would be shown on the outside. He was perfectly fine. Just a little crooked, but that would be the best he could do at the moment.
Hopefully this would be good enough so that Royanna would find it in her to give the bowl over to the canid so that he could finally then get something to drink. It was her choice though if he let him take the bowl up in his own shaky hands and drink like a human, or... Whatever else that might have been in her head. Afterall... If he spilled any he probably wouldn't mind cleaning it...
He didn't dare to question if Roy had really seen to it that the water was drinkable. Maybe she mentioned it somewhere already and she was going to hit him over the head if he asked? And, uhh, what if the water was Not drinkable? Or what if she wasn't sure and she just wanted for him to drink first? .... Supposedly that could work... But he did not dare to ask of it...
Regardless on if the act was taken through or not, one thing was pretty sure to Christofer. He needed a distraction. Something to keep his mind away from the pain, something to focus on...
"..... Have you thought of what to do next...?" Might as well ask, since it appeared that they wouldn't be going anywhere this very instant, and it was clear that he was not capable of thinking at all. Though he did consider very deeply whether it was a good idea to speak at all or not. Royanna was clearly not in the mood for it... Why would he ever have though that asking for a favour was a good idea? He was... not worthy of being seen as an equal, afterall... Being the lower ranking person was his job, why should he ever think of anything else. He hadn't really achieved anything...
He was just... A little concerned... That's all...
Right... Because he was the one that needed to be taken care of. Him. Because he could never manage anything on his own. Find somewhere to sleep, find clothes that fit him... Right... He wasn't suited on being capable of completing such a task himself... But at least he had tried. He could just hope that it had been worth anything.
Listening to Royanna's words as he made his way down, the fact that she stopped talking and cut off her sentence was strange. Did he lose his hearing? It sounded like she still had something to say... No, the chair made a noise, he was definitely not deaf. So why did she stop? Of course things would be strange to the one who was not used to technology this advanced, but it was still nice listening to her voice even if he wouldn't understand much.
No hope on that though... She stayed silent and he had to catch his breath after the little operation of getting off the table.
And as the canid was about to go and smile slightly even if with tired features towards the other, he'd instead flinch due to the roughness of the words and lose his balance, falling to his side even if his intention had only been to turn and have a look at her. It did not feel nice.
"I was..... Uhhh..... Trying to get somewhere......" Spoken not any louder than a whisper, clearly having not enough strength to speak louder, and there was also a slight new factor to this all. ".... I was just.... trying to be progressive....." He didn't want to have her hear what he was saying.
It wasn't loud or that bad, but in some completely different means the words spoken did still hurt. Her words. Especially the last couple of sentences. It was nice hearing the voice of someone that had grown familiar, but when he got back to being able to understand the words spoken it wasn't as nice anymore.
Ears folded and pressed themselves even further against his head, still pointing backwards after hearing the first scolding. Eyes scanned the floor at their feet, not rising any higher, but also staying half closed, most of his vision clouded with black even if he could now see clearly.
".... Yes... If you say so...." He should just give up. That's what she wanted. He shouldn't do anything. Ever. Because he was so bad at even staying alive. But they had made a promise, and with that he wouldn't be able to go forth with making himself be more useful in not being on her way. Clearly, he was truly useless and incapable.
He had curled up a little as he laid on the floor, tail pressed against his side and the legs that had been tugged closer so that he looked as small and nonthreatening or existing as possible. One arm pressed over his stomach under the cover of the tail, trying and muting any possible sounds that the acid carving away could have caused. Matted fur covering him all over, except for the shoulder that had been snipped clean due to the amateur surgery Royanna had performed. It had worked, sure, and there was no ill feels towards her for it. It was just a smaller scale operation than some might think of with fancy rooms and all that stuff.
But that wasn't the point. He was trying to come off as submissive as possible and being small and thin regardless of the fur should be driving the point across. He wasn't trying to throw her off the throne. Of course he understood that it was all his fault, and that he should apologize for his bad behaviour.
And that he did.
".... I'm sorry...."
Rather pitiful looking and feeling guilty, the canid got up and turned his back to the door. It had taken quite a bit of strength to achieve, but he didn't feel like smiling at managing to get even that far anymore. Afterall... It was a mistake and now it would only take longer for him to get to the cot. He was such a bad person...
At first he tried to make up for it and hoped to be faster if he really did get onto his two legs and walked over to the cot like told, but it came clear to him rather quickly that this was not an option, hitting his shoulder against the floor and setting off a burning wave of pain as a result told him as much. It hurt. Everything was hurting. But without as much as turning an eye to look towards Royanna, not making any sounds through his gritted fangs, he'd ease up and limp his way over to the cot. Getting on it wouldn't be too hard after having to silently take the slowly increasing pulsing pain on his shoulder. It didn't matter... She didn't need to know... Probably had enough trouble without him complaining... He still felt guilty...
Head hung low for the time being as he sat at the edge of the cot, having his legs hanging off the edge felt like the only was the could stay straight and actually up sitting like she had told him to. It made him feel extremely nauseous. He really needed more support than that. It was very close that Christofer didn't just go tipping forward and falling off. His legs certainly wouldn't be able to carry him if he fell. Nauseating...
But she knew what was best for him. Why would he know any of that himself...
He felt a little cold now that he had very little touching himself or giving him that support, no shirt or anything, fur barely helped his case. Barely. Getting his tail behind him and to his side gave him some support, but it could only do so much.
Things eased up slowly, with the pain on his shoulder taking care of having his attention to it instead of the fact of how dizzy he was feeling, the canid somehow went on managing with the lesser evil. He'd be able to lift his head after a while, look just a tad more proper. Some extra on that came with the hiding of his actual condition. Surely he wanted to throw up, had wanted at least, and there was some saliva that had gathered up because of it. But none of that would be shown on the outside. He was perfectly fine. Just a little crooked, but that would be the best he could do at the moment.
Hopefully this would be good enough so that Royanna would find it in her to give the bowl over to the canid so that he could finally then get something to drink. It was her choice though if he let him take the bowl up in his own shaky hands and drink like a human, or... Whatever else that might have been in her head. Afterall... If he spilled any he probably wouldn't mind cleaning it...
He didn't dare to question if Roy had really seen to it that the water was drinkable. Maybe she mentioned it somewhere already and she was going to hit him over the head if he asked? And, uhh, what if the water was Not drinkable? Or what if she wasn't sure and she just wanted for him to drink first? .... Supposedly that could work... But he did not dare to ask of it...
Regardless on if the act was taken through or not, one thing was pretty sure to Christofer. He needed a distraction. Something to keep his mind away from the pain, something to focus on...
"..... Have you thought of what to do next...?" Might as well ask, since it appeared that they wouldn't be going anywhere this very instant, and it was clear that he was not capable of thinking at all. Though he did consider very deeply whether it was a good idea to speak at all or not. Royanna was clearly not in the mood for it... Why would he ever have though that asking for a favour was a good idea? He was... not worthy of being seen as an equal, afterall... Being the lower ranking person was his job, why should he ever think of anything else. He hadn't really achieved anything...
The Diplomat
In usual Royanna Kallenger fashion, the moment he started cowering her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. ”Ugh. Great Space.” she muttered under her breath. Was there no compassion in this woman? Christofer acting submissive and practically frightened, beaten to a pulp, and she was getting irritated.
But there must have been some kind of social awareness in there, because as soon as he was sitting, she was right there next to him, holding out the plastic cup for him. Then – still much too awkward to make eye contact for the moment – she half-sat next to him on the cot, and gave a little sigh.
He might have wanted a distraction – and maybe that would be for the best – but he wasn’t going to get one quite yet.
”Look, kid. It’s not that I doubt your capabilities. It’s not that…I don’t think you can take care of yourself. I know you’re trying to show me you’re still useful and that you don’t complain and @#$%. I don’t think you’re stupid, or weak, or whatever.” The softness, the patience in her voice was put there knowingly, and one could hear it in the tone – but it was better than just snapping at him, which is what her head was telling her to do. She was frustrated – with him for being stubborn, with herself for having to try so hard just to not come off as a flaming bitch.
”The thing is…Your body is like a machine. Right? Like a…a…” Groping for words now, recalling that he was from a technologically primitive planet. ”Like a fighter jet. If a fighter jet gets damaged in a…fight, it’s not safe to fly anymore. That jet needs to go back and land and be repaired. Just because the jet isn’t fit to fly for a while doesn’t mean the pilot is an incapable moron. It just means that…” Suddenly deciding that the whole metaphor was clearly not good enough, she gave a huff and spoke a little faster suddenly. Nothing extreme – but a bit of fumbling over words.
”I’m trying to say that I trust you to do things yourself but you need to give your body time to heal or else you’re just gonna’ wear it down again. Okay? You’re not stupid, you just need to get your strength back. Get it?”
She hoped he was cognizant enough to get the point – but with such low blood levels she had to resign that there was a good chance he might have no idea what she was saying. She just half-sat there, arms loosely crossed at the abdomen, looking at him with concern – though still, of course, not making even more awkward eye contact.
If he spilled any of the water after she gave him the cup, she would ignore it – and gesture impatiently for him to do the same if he tried to make a fuss over it.
If he finished the water, she’d take the cup back, refill it – take a few deep gulps for herself – then fill it again and return it to him.
Now she would address his ‘distraction’.
”We’ll need food. There’s a little bit in storage that should still be okay to eat but it won’t last us more than a couple days. And for food, we’ll need money…And…” She added in begrudgingly, ”That’s about as far ahead as I’ve planned.”
There was a long pause then – and she stared intensely at an arbitrarily chosen spot on the floor as though thinking about something very seriously…Or trying to convince herself to say something she really did not want to say.
In the end, she gave in, and grumbled as though it were an admission to a humiliating defeat;
”And…I guess I’ll need your help with that. I…uh…” I’ve never had a real job before? I’ve spent so much time on my mission that I have no idea where to begin living life like a normal person? ”Yeah. I’ll need your help with that.” She concluded, then adding pointedly ”Once you’re feeling well enough to think straight.”
The Perrygold
The silence what befell the tavern following the decommissioned detective’s apparent final words was thicker than water, but it was not for lack of sound. In the far distance, the Perrygold’s engines, stardrives and life support systems began humming back to life. Around the overturned tables and scattered chairs, people cowered, or cried, or growled or muttered to themselves or their compatriots. Some shifted in fear, others in anger. Ketin’s breathing was heavy and labored, yet automatic. The tuft of warm bodies he had inserted himself into had since spread out away from him, leaving a wide margin of space in any direction. Nobody to duck behind, no shields, just him, standing there, with fire and brimstone boiling from his eyes.
Indeed, it was not the lack of sound which produced that viscous silence. It was the silence of muffled emotion. Of terrible things taking place beneath the thick fog of disbelief. It was the overwhelming weight of watching a man be gunned down in cold blood. The whole culmination of events leading up to this dreamlike moment, where all stood at the ready and none could imagine what might come next.
The mobster had gotten his say. So had the little ex-detective. Now it was Clarke’s turn.
“How many more, huh?” He called, loud enough for the whole bar to hear him, but not shouting. His throat was dry and voice hoarse, with a distant fatigue that hinted at his experiences. He let the words hang a moment – nobody would dare interrupt him now.
”How many more people are you gonna’ let die today?”
Again, a long pause – his silence daring anyone to answer his rhetorical question. It was in this moment that he radiated the sense of authority. A man who was listened to, who demanded respect and got it. A man who gave orders to masses and saw them obeyed. A man who spoke the word and brought with it, death.
”Me? I’m not going to do anything. I’m not going to kill you, or anyone else. Y’know why?”
The forced calm that had become him fell off in sheets. His voice was a hoarse roar, arms spread out wide in emphasis. The gun went skidding and clattering across the floor.
”Because it’s not MY choice whether anyone lives or dies! And nothing – NOTHING can justify the taking of a life!”
He let his arms fall back to his sides then – another wave of calm fury weighing down on him. He looked toward the floor, shook his head disapprovingly, then turned to look toward the majority of the other people in the bar. When he spoke again, it was still hoarse, but merely far-reaching, now.
”I think there have been some miscommunications.” He said spitefully, though with an air of hard patience. ”The ship is not being taken over by pirates. It was a ploy on the part of this man to distract from his attempted assassination of an innocent woman while she was asleep in her cabin.” He seemed to be addressing each individually, yet en masse. His eyes, still hard and hot, had softened some. The way he stood there, in a room filled with people with guns, casually facing the possibility of an impromptu firing squad – it was one of the reasons that many would-be bounty hunters had, in the past, fled in terror; believing that perhaps the Devil Eye’s power really was so great that he needn’t have worried. ”Me, on the other hand, some people call me the Devil Eye. If you believe the rumors-“ A very slight, deeply forlorn smile played at the corner of one lip then; ”I’m not much better than he is. But when it comes down to it, all you’ve ever really got are rumors. My word against his, right? So…the way I see it…it’s all up to you folks now.” Again he spread his arms, but only slightly – in a lazy, complacent gesture. Almost a shrug, but shoulders sagged with invisible, unknowable weight.
”Gun me down where I stand, if you want. I won’t stop you...” The voice had softened now, only barely loud enough to carry to the other side of the bar. He was done – giving up – he had presented his case, then given up. In the moment that he had every reason to play judge, jury and executioner, the Devil Eye had instead stood alongside his opponent in the firing line.
”But…I’d really rather nobody else got hurt.”
In usual Royanna Kallenger fashion, the moment he started cowering her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. ”Ugh. Great Space.” she muttered under her breath. Was there no compassion in this woman? Christofer acting submissive and practically frightened, beaten to a pulp, and she was getting irritated.
But there must have been some kind of social awareness in there, because as soon as he was sitting, she was right there next to him, holding out the plastic cup for him. Then – still much too awkward to make eye contact for the moment – she half-sat next to him on the cot, and gave a little sigh.
He might have wanted a distraction – and maybe that would be for the best – but he wasn’t going to get one quite yet.
”Look, kid. It’s not that I doubt your capabilities. It’s not that…I don’t think you can take care of yourself. I know you’re trying to show me you’re still useful and that you don’t complain and @#$%. I don’t think you’re stupid, or weak, or whatever.” The softness, the patience in her voice was put there knowingly, and one could hear it in the tone – but it was better than just snapping at him, which is what her head was telling her to do. She was frustrated – with him for being stubborn, with herself for having to try so hard just to not come off as a flaming bitch.
”The thing is…Your body is like a machine. Right? Like a…a…” Groping for words now, recalling that he was from a technologically primitive planet. ”Like a fighter jet. If a fighter jet gets damaged in a…fight, it’s not safe to fly anymore. That jet needs to go back and land and be repaired. Just because the jet isn’t fit to fly for a while doesn’t mean the pilot is an incapable moron. It just means that…” Suddenly deciding that the whole metaphor was clearly not good enough, she gave a huff and spoke a little faster suddenly. Nothing extreme – but a bit of fumbling over words.
”I’m trying to say that I trust you to do things yourself but you need to give your body time to heal or else you’re just gonna’ wear it down again. Okay? You’re not stupid, you just need to get your strength back. Get it?”
She hoped he was cognizant enough to get the point – but with such low blood levels she had to resign that there was a good chance he might have no idea what she was saying. She just half-sat there, arms loosely crossed at the abdomen, looking at him with concern – though still, of course, not making even more awkward eye contact.
If he spilled any of the water after she gave him the cup, she would ignore it – and gesture impatiently for him to do the same if he tried to make a fuss over it.
If he finished the water, she’d take the cup back, refill it – take a few deep gulps for herself – then fill it again and return it to him.
Now she would address his ‘distraction’.
”We’ll need food. There’s a little bit in storage that should still be okay to eat but it won’t last us more than a couple days. And for food, we’ll need money…And…” She added in begrudgingly, ”That’s about as far ahead as I’ve planned.”
There was a long pause then – and she stared intensely at an arbitrarily chosen spot on the floor as though thinking about something very seriously…Or trying to convince herself to say something she really did not want to say.
In the end, she gave in, and grumbled as though it were an admission to a humiliating defeat;
”And…I guess I’ll need your help with that. I…uh…” I’ve never had a real job before? I’ve spent so much time on my mission that I have no idea where to begin living life like a normal person? ”Yeah. I’ll need your help with that.” She concluded, then adding pointedly ”Once you’re feeling well enough to think straight.”
The Perrygold
The silence what befell the tavern following the decommissioned detective’s apparent final words was thicker than water, but it was not for lack of sound. In the far distance, the Perrygold’s engines, stardrives and life support systems began humming back to life. Around the overturned tables and scattered chairs, people cowered, or cried, or growled or muttered to themselves or their compatriots. Some shifted in fear, others in anger. Ketin’s breathing was heavy and labored, yet automatic. The tuft of warm bodies he had inserted himself into had since spread out away from him, leaving a wide margin of space in any direction. Nobody to duck behind, no shields, just him, standing there, with fire and brimstone boiling from his eyes.
Indeed, it was not the lack of sound which produced that viscous silence. It was the silence of muffled emotion. Of terrible things taking place beneath the thick fog of disbelief. It was the overwhelming weight of watching a man be gunned down in cold blood. The whole culmination of events leading up to this dreamlike moment, where all stood at the ready and none could imagine what might come next.
The mobster had gotten his say. So had the little ex-detective. Now it was Clarke’s turn.
“How many more, huh?” He called, loud enough for the whole bar to hear him, but not shouting. His throat was dry and voice hoarse, with a distant fatigue that hinted at his experiences. He let the words hang a moment – nobody would dare interrupt him now.
”How many more people are you gonna’ let die today?”
Again, a long pause – his silence daring anyone to answer his rhetorical question. It was in this moment that he radiated the sense of authority. A man who was listened to, who demanded respect and got it. A man who gave orders to masses and saw them obeyed. A man who spoke the word and brought with it, death.
”Me? I’m not going to do anything. I’m not going to kill you, or anyone else. Y’know why?”
The forced calm that had become him fell off in sheets. His voice was a hoarse roar, arms spread out wide in emphasis. The gun went skidding and clattering across the floor.
”Because it’s not MY choice whether anyone lives or dies! And nothing – NOTHING can justify the taking of a life!”
He let his arms fall back to his sides then – another wave of calm fury weighing down on him. He looked toward the floor, shook his head disapprovingly, then turned to look toward the majority of the other people in the bar. When he spoke again, it was still hoarse, but merely far-reaching, now.
”I think there have been some miscommunications.” He said spitefully, though with an air of hard patience. ”The ship is not being taken over by pirates. It was a ploy on the part of this man to distract from his attempted assassination of an innocent woman while she was asleep in her cabin.” He seemed to be addressing each individually, yet en masse. His eyes, still hard and hot, had softened some. The way he stood there, in a room filled with people with guns, casually facing the possibility of an impromptu firing squad – it was one of the reasons that many would-be bounty hunters had, in the past, fled in terror; believing that perhaps the Devil Eye’s power really was so great that he needn’t have worried. ”Me, on the other hand, some people call me the Devil Eye. If you believe the rumors-“ A very slight, deeply forlorn smile played at the corner of one lip then; ”I’m not much better than he is. But when it comes down to it, all you’ve ever really got are rumors. My word against his, right? So…the way I see it…it’s all up to you folks now.” Again he spread his arms, but only slightly – in a lazy, complacent gesture. Almost a shrug, but shoulders sagged with invisible, unknowable weight.
”Gun me down where I stand, if you want. I won’t stop you...” The voice had softened now, only barely loud enough to carry to the other side of the bar. He was done – giving up – he had presented his case, then given up. In the moment that he had every reason to play judge, jury and executioner, the Devil Eye had instead stood alongside his opponent in the firing line.
”But…I’d really rather nobody else got hurt.”
Christofer just was not the kind of person that people who wanted as little contact with a person as possible wanted to deal with. That was clear. It was so clear and Kallenger surely had gotten to know a deal of it. It was a wonder on how the canid managed to get himself in these situations. With these types of people no less. But it was kinda apparent that this one was a little more to the extreme than the other cases. Stress, that was a common 'friend' of his, but actually seeking to hide and show that he was not rebelling, that was something else.
And he had barked back a couple of times before even with Royanna witnessing it, so clearly this was not all he had.
Might have been a defence mechanism though, since even if his head wouldn't have known it and his focus was elsewhere, his body knew of its limits to not try and pick a fight.
Heaving a sigh, Christofer put his attention towards rubbing his hands and fingers against each other. It wouldn't make him feel much warmer, but it would give his hands something to do - and allow for Kallenger to get closer without him looking at her or anything. Ears turned to face the sound of nearing steps, head stayed hung and eyes on the floor. Only as the cup came into view did he partly snap out of it and his body jerked itself back softly. Putting ever so slightly more weight onto a side, canid leaned back so that he could take a hold of the cup, though for the most part he let Kallenger hold it and his own hand was there just for support. She was probably expecting for him to take it fully though, so he had to steel his mind and try and stay sitting as his other arm left his side unsupported and reached for the cup as well. For a moment he'd just hold the cup in his hands, slightly shaky, no spilling, but the worry of not spilling while it was helping him to stay focused, it also made him more stressed and worried, and so the simple act of slowly taking a sip and drinking some water to quench the burning rough feeling in his throat required way more attention and energy than it should have.
Still keeping most of his attention on the cup, both hands holding it and stress making it so that he did not dare put it down, he'd almost completely miss the fact Royanna had sat next to him, or half-sat, or something. Just the fact that she was there now, instead of standing in front of him, possibly silently judging him and his slowness. But speed was all that he was ever good at, that and endurance, he must have been very useless if he failed like this.
The water he was blankly having his sight directed to barely showed a reflection, and even in that, it was much too blurry for him to get anything of it. Better that way... He looked horrible, and the side taste of iron he had gotten while taking his time sipping out of it made it sure that there had been and still was some blood around.
He really did not feel all that good...
Sitting up like this wore him down much faster than he wanted to admit it. And... He might come to regret it soon, but his body really wanted and needed some support right now. It really required some of that support... So softly and carefully, the canid kept on holding his palms around the bowl while he leaned against Kallenger as she sat there. His body was stiff and tense. Clearly he was at least partly afraid to do this, but at this point it seemed more like a necessity than a choice that he did this.
If this broke their connection and ruined his last chance she had given he was going to break himself, but he kept the whimpers of nausea and uncertainty at the back of his mind rather than letting them out.
He hoped that she'd just ignore that he was there like that and still talked. It was clear to him that she was not the type to like contact or anything like that. He didn't like it either, much, unless it was with someone he knew, then asking for support was not as bad. But he hadn't even asked... Their way were so different... But something like this had could work... He knew it could work. And it had worked before. He just hoped that this wouldn't break things now and that she found it in her to really give him that chance and loosen up a little, even if just a bit...
If she did start talking, in which ever circumstances, the canid would be innerly happy, regardless. And it was a distraction, different one, but anything would do. Just some talking as a whole, he'd rather focus on her words than the burning feeling on his shoulder that made his hand shake more due to the weight of the cup he had to hold. This was good.
Canid couldn't quite look at Royanna as she spoke, but turning his ears to her direction to make up for what his head couldn't worked to patch it up some. He listened silently, if he had to take a sip he'd do it as silently as possible while keeping on paying attention to her words. They hit kinda close to home, and he didn't see the need to interrupt her while she was trying to get her thoughts out. But it eased him up some, even if he was still not sure on if he should put the bowl away or keep holding onto it.
He was rather surprised at the referring to a fighter jet. A fighter jet? A fighter jet of all things? That sounded silly, it might not have been Kallenger's intent... .... No. It certainly Was Not her intent, but it had him relaxing a little. If he'd have more to himself, he'd probably have called out on it as a Nice one or something, but for now he just let out a very light hum and smiled briefly. Hopefully Kallenger wouldn't think he was laughing at her, because he certainly wasn't. It was an appreciative hum, not a cruel one. He'd just have to hope that she either understood it or didn't notice.
As she dropped the comparison though, he'd just have to let her shove it aside. It had some point to it, but the next explanation did work in its job better.
"... Are you worried about me...? .... I was worried when you were gone too..." Probably not the best way to start talking, but it was his way of dealing with it. Yes and no, he didn't get it all, instantly. Skipped over a couple of parts here and there, tried to find some other point for all of this. But he did understand her, though the clouded bloodloss state paid its part with a thing and another. Partly still, he was just trying to reason with her words. Maybe she thought that because he was - in a way - from some other century as a whole, that he'd break easier and not be capable of as much? Maybe it was true, but he had fought against those ideas already, and he'd continue to not be crushed by things, even if the odds were so often against him. And the other part? He was just trying to draw out some of her humanity, knew it or not.
"... I was trying to get somewhere... So that we'd be able to move forward... I don't want to slow you down if you're able to move already..." He had always been forcing himself to move along with others even if he'd still have been injured. Just the thought of slowing the group down or anything similar to being a weak link... He didn't want that. He was never allowed to be so... Weak... "I just didn't want to slow you down... Or make you worry over me... You know?" Looking up was not an easy task, so while his head turned some by tilting itself to the side and up, the burning from his shoulder and the dizziness that followed from looking up soon dragged him back down. He was at a very low point. And he had to leave it be that way.
Emptying the bowl finally, he'd be holding it a little lower until Kallenger wanted to take it away for refilling. He'd need to sit up for himself then, but at least he was feeling a little better again.
"... I'm trying to stay to my limits... But it's hard seeing others do everything for you... It's not been much of a thing earlier... I'm sorry for that..." Fingers were mingling with each other again as he spoke. "... Hanging back is not easy... I'll try, but I'm still worried about you too..." They were still partly strangers afterall, and even if he knew that she was though, he couldn't help but to think that maybe she was acting too and that she was hurt as well? He didn't want to have her carry the burden, he wanted to help. It just was not easy, and he tried to put a lot of trust in her and he was, just that that also increased the amount of worry he carried for her.
She had to think of her own words and apply them to herself as well.
A couple of slow nods given in return to her words as Kallenger finally addressed what she had thought of for them to do next.
"... If we find something, we can move out as soon as we feel a little better..." Of course he wasn't proposing that they seek to leave The Diplomat immediately. No. They'd not need to ditch it at all until they had either found something else or they just simply wouldn't leave it, simple as that. But they'd need to branch outside of it eventually. "That's a good enough plan for now.... We'll have to gather ourselves and get some rest and recover from the past couple of days... We are not in a hurry yet..." If they did have some supplies that kept them alive at least, the water was a big part. "While we recover and stay here, we can try and look for some possible ways of moving forward to something else then... We got time..."
At this point, he was just trying to speak calmly and have her relax in some way, seeing how swiftly she had just cut her thoughts. He didn't want her stressed now, still had that risk of breaking it.
"I'll help, don't worry... I want to help... We'll figure out something..." Not adding much to her words, just confirming his thought on the fact that it was going to be ok.
Without thinking much on it, he had reached out to be a support himself. While Kallenger had been silent and in her own thoughts, there was just something in the canid that had told him to hold her hand as if to show that he was there to help her while she had been there to help him.
Upon realizing this though, hand was swiftly withdrawn, swiftly to say what he could manage in his state.
"Sorry... You probably don't like that... I'll... I'll stop..." Stuttered out as he turned his head away, embarrassed. She was trying to Not make it awkward, and he was ruining it.
"I-I...I'll just lay down for a bit... You shouldn't stress too much about things either... Ok...?" He had done bad. He had the feeling that he had accidentally committed some huge crime. Laying down and curling, using his tail as a pillow... It wasn't likely going to help him out of the situation at all. He had made it awkward now and he felt sorry. He just had to be the type that did these things.
.......
And a part of him didn't even regret it. Nope.
And he had barked back a couple of times before even with Royanna witnessing it, so clearly this was not all he had.
Might have been a defence mechanism though, since even if his head wouldn't have known it and his focus was elsewhere, his body knew of its limits to not try and pick a fight.
Heaving a sigh, Christofer put his attention towards rubbing his hands and fingers against each other. It wouldn't make him feel much warmer, but it would give his hands something to do - and allow for Kallenger to get closer without him looking at her or anything. Ears turned to face the sound of nearing steps, head stayed hung and eyes on the floor. Only as the cup came into view did he partly snap out of it and his body jerked itself back softly. Putting ever so slightly more weight onto a side, canid leaned back so that he could take a hold of the cup, though for the most part he let Kallenger hold it and his own hand was there just for support. She was probably expecting for him to take it fully though, so he had to steel his mind and try and stay sitting as his other arm left his side unsupported and reached for the cup as well. For a moment he'd just hold the cup in his hands, slightly shaky, no spilling, but the worry of not spilling while it was helping him to stay focused, it also made him more stressed and worried, and so the simple act of slowly taking a sip and drinking some water to quench the burning rough feeling in his throat required way more attention and energy than it should have.
Still keeping most of his attention on the cup, both hands holding it and stress making it so that he did not dare put it down, he'd almost completely miss the fact Royanna had sat next to him, or half-sat, or something. Just the fact that she was there now, instead of standing in front of him, possibly silently judging him and his slowness. But speed was all that he was ever good at, that and endurance, he must have been very useless if he failed like this.
The water he was blankly having his sight directed to barely showed a reflection, and even in that, it was much too blurry for him to get anything of it. Better that way... He looked horrible, and the side taste of iron he had gotten while taking his time sipping out of it made it sure that there had been and still was some blood around.
He really did not feel all that good...
Sitting up like this wore him down much faster than he wanted to admit it. And... He might come to regret it soon, but his body really wanted and needed some support right now. It really required some of that support... So softly and carefully, the canid kept on holding his palms around the bowl while he leaned against Kallenger as she sat there. His body was stiff and tense. Clearly he was at least partly afraid to do this, but at this point it seemed more like a necessity than a choice that he did this.
If this broke their connection and ruined his last chance she had given he was going to break himself, but he kept the whimpers of nausea and uncertainty at the back of his mind rather than letting them out.
He hoped that she'd just ignore that he was there like that and still talked. It was clear to him that she was not the type to like contact or anything like that. He didn't like it either, much, unless it was with someone he knew, then asking for support was not as bad. But he hadn't even asked... Their way were so different... But something like this had could work... He knew it could work. And it had worked before. He just hoped that this wouldn't break things now and that she found it in her to really give him that chance and loosen up a little, even if just a bit...
If she did start talking, in which ever circumstances, the canid would be innerly happy, regardless. And it was a distraction, different one, but anything would do. Just some talking as a whole, he'd rather focus on her words than the burning feeling on his shoulder that made his hand shake more due to the weight of the cup he had to hold. This was good.
Canid couldn't quite look at Royanna as she spoke, but turning his ears to her direction to make up for what his head couldn't worked to patch it up some. He listened silently, if he had to take a sip he'd do it as silently as possible while keeping on paying attention to her words. They hit kinda close to home, and he didn't see the need to interrupt her while she was trying to get her thoughts out. But it eased him up some, even if he was still not sure on if he should put the bowl away or keep holding onto it.
He was rather surprised at the referring to a fighter jet. A fighter jet? A fighter jet of all things? That sounded silly, it might not have been Kallenger's intent... .... No. It certainly Was Not her intent, but it had him relaxing a little. If he'd have more to himself, he'd probably have called out on it as a Nice one or something, but for now he just let out a very light hum and smiled briefly. Hopefully Kallenger wouldn't think he was laughing at her, because he certainly wasn't. It was an appreciative hum, not a cruel one. He'd just have to hope that she either understood it or didn't notice.
As she dropped the comparison though, he'd just have to let her shove it aside. It had some point to it, but the next explanation did work in its job better.
"... Are you worried about me...? .... I was worried when you were gone too..." Probably not the best way to start talking, but it was his way of dealing with it. Yes and no, he didn't get it all, instantly. Skipped over a couple of parts here and there, tried to find some other point for all of this. But he did understand her, though the clouded bloodloss state paid its part with a thing and another. Partly still, he was just trying to reason with her words. Maybe she thought that because he was - in a way - from some other century as a whole, that he'd break easier and not be capable of as much? Maybe it was true, but he had fought against those ideas already, and he'd continue to not be crushed by things, even if the odds were so often against him. And the other part? He was just trying to draw out some of her humanity, knew it or not.
"... I was trying to get somewhere... So that we'd be able to move forward... I don't want to slow you down if you're able to move already..." He had always been forcing himself to move along with others even if he'd still have been injured. Just the thought of slowing the group down or anything similar to being a weak link... He didn't want that. He was never allowed to be so... Weak... "I just didn't want to slow you down... Or make you worry over me... You know?" Looking up was not an easy task, so while his head turned some by tilting itself to the side and up, the burning from his shoulder and the dizziness that followed from looking up soon dragged him back down. He was at a very low point. And he had to leave it be that way.
Emptying the bowl finally, he'd be holding it a little lower until Kallenger wanted to take it away for refilling. He'd need to sit up for himself then, but at least he was feeling a little better again.
"... I'm trying to stay to my limits... But it's hard seeing others do everything for you... It's not been much of a thing earlier... I'm sorry for that..." Fingers were mingling with each other again as he spoke. "... Hanging back is not easy... I'll try, but I'm still worried about you too..." They were still partly strangers afterall, and even if he knew that she was though, he couldn't help but to think that maybe she was acting too and that she was hurt as well? He didn't want to have her carry the burden, he wanted to help. It just was not easy, and he tried to put a lot of trust in her and he was, just that that also increased the amount of worry he carried for her.
She had to think of her own words and apply them to herself as well.
A couple of slow nods given in return to her words as Kallenger finally addressed what she had thought of for them to do next.
"... If we find something, we can move out as soon as we feel a little better..." Of course he wasn't proposing that they seek to leave The Diplomat immediately. No. They'd not need to ditch it at all until they had either found something else or they just simply wouldn't leave it, simple as that. But they'd need to branch outside of it eventually. "That's a good enough plan for now.... We'll have to gather ourselves and get some rest and recover from the past couple of days... We are not in a hurry yet..." If they did have some supplies that kept them alive at least, the water was a big part. "While we recover and stay here, we can try and look for some possible ways of moving forward to something else then... We got time..."
At this point, he was just trying to speak calmly and have her relax in some way, seeing how swiftly she had just cut her thoughts. He didn't want her stressed now, still had that risk of breaking it.
"I'll help, don't worry... I want to help... We'll figure out something..." Not adding much to her words, just confirming his thought on the fact that it was going to be ok.
Without thinking much on it, he had reached out to be a support himself. While Kallenger had been silent and in her own thoughts, there was just something in the canid that had told him to hold her hand as if to show that he was there to help her while she had been there to help him.
Upon realizing this though, hand was swiftly withdrawn, swiftly to say what he could manage in his state.
"Sorry... You probably don't like that... I'll... I'll stop..." Stuttered out as he turned his head away, embarrassed. She was trying to Not make it awkward, and he was ruining it.
"I-I...I'll just lay down for a bit... You shouldn't stress too much about things either... Ok...?" He had done bad. He had the feeling that he had accidentally committed some huge crime. Laying down and curling, using his tail as a pillow... It wasn't likely going to help him out of the situation at all. He had made it awkward now and he felt sorry. He just had to be the type that did these things.
.......
And a part of him didn't even regret it. Nope.
Rin felt the coldness seep through his very being, leaving him numb with detachment. His voice became void of any emotion.
"It would be for the good of the whole that you deliver me to her," he said professionally. "It would be logical, as it would be detriment to your own plans if her attention be turned towards you in a negative way at this moment. In addition, your conscience should be clear. You did not know me for long... and I am clearly not innocent, though for what..." he quieted, then went on, as if he was deep in thought, "... I know not why..."
He would understand, if they decided to hand him over. He really did. He just... didn't want to be here. When they decided to do it. He turned to Queen Cathorine, bowing and keeping his eyes down. "May I be excused?"
"It would be for the good of the whole that you deliver me to her," he said professionally. "It would be logical, as it would be detriment to your own plans if her attention be turned towards you in a negative way at this moment. In addition, your conscience should be clear. You did not know me for long... and I am clearly not innocent, though for what..." he quieted, then went on, as if he was deep in thought, "... I know not why..."
He would understand, if they decided to hand him over. He really did. He just... didn't want to be here. When they decided to do it. He turned to Queen Cathorine, bowing and keeping his eyes down. "May I be excused?"
MOON 456
LOW-ORBIT
It could be wondered if Maria's targets looked at her as Illiya did. There was no effort from the Dragon Lady to conceal her slowly dilating pupils, as her idol-rival began to talk back. The pair of fiery draconian orbs glued on the bounty hunter, observing every move she did out of sheer curiosity. Illiya was so focused on 'analysing' how Maria Lock-On looked like in the finest details, from her Dendril implants to the standard military green finish of her armor that it took a long while for Illiya to realize that the Z-Bots approaching her. Suddenly, the draconian froze right where she was as despair twisted her briefly joyful expression. After training for almost half an year to destroy Maria Lockheart, Illiya had developed an obvious idolatry for the bounty hunter to the point of feeling safe now that she was over her presence. Still, not even the imposing presence of Lock-On could repel the memories that triggered from within the draconian. A descending dropship. Heavily armored cyborgs. Handcuffs - restrains of any sort. Illiya had admitted defeat. There was no need for these rituals to be taken away with Maria. And, to make matters worse, energy restraints was a very strange sight for the Dragon Lady, therefore, very frightening, too.
— Hey, um... There's no need to do that... ! — Taking a small step back, Illiya made sure to clearly show her limping. — It's not like I can run away or... Fight you guys, I mean... I surrendered already!!! — Her baffling attempt to persuade the Z-Bots was laughable. A joke at best. The Bots did not stop on their tracks. Looking sideways towards her idol, Illiya thought about asking for... Help? No, it would make matters even worse. By that time, her captivators were just a couple of meters from attaching those cold metal bracers unto her.
... Not again.
— Step... BACK!!! - With a formidable roar, the draconian slammed her uninjured leg on the dirty ground, sending a fairly sized cloud of dust to puff up, all while bearing her claws towards the incoming Z-Bots. She did care less for safety at that moment nor to anything broken expectations that Maria could have. One thing was sure: Illya was not getting bound again. By any means. Sharp fangs visible, thin streaks of smoke rose from between her maw and nostrils and she kept a firm, menacing stance. Then the brief tantrum was suddenly over whe Illiya managed to slightly diverge her sight towards Maria, which was shouting orders to her personnel and, clearly, was the one in charge. Maybe she could help the draconian 'dealing' with the Z-Bots, her own men? Like nothing happened, she muttered. — Ah, sorry, I'm a little... marbin, mor, mer... Uh... What did they call it? Merlin... Meri... Merintho- MERINTHOPHOBIC! — Surprise, surprise. A powerful, partly-wild creature that doesn't like to be bound. — ... That's fear of being cuffed or... Held by something, if, uh... You don't know, Mary. How couldn't she know? I'm such a idiot!
After witnessing a fraction of her fury, the Z-Bots had slowly retreated from the beast. That was enough for them to think twice before trying to seize the Dragon Lady again. Taking the opportunity, Illiya shrugged her mysterious fear of handcuffs and started to limp her way towards the dropship. She didn't want to leave the bad impression to Maria of being a staggerer. Even if she was wounded.
However, she wouldn't go so far beyond walking a half-dozen feet before being taken by surprise by the bounty hunter, in a good sense. The Dragon Lady couldn't contain the loud yelp as her legs briefly kicked in the air, acting instinctively after being startled. — Let go of... !!! - Then she heard the partly-robotic voice of her idol. Illiya was taken in the embrace of Lock-On herself? This had never came to the Dragon Lady's confusing mind. The only thing that Maria got by response was an wide-eyed dragon-girl with her jaw open as much.
For most part of the short trip to the dropship, Illiya kept her curious analysis on Maria Lockheart. She kept glancing at her bio-armor platings, at the rugged clothes she was dressed in, the very elegant hat atop her head, the very familiar rudimentary weapons she had holstered. The Z-Bots could notice that, clear like day. That was definitely an attempt of this draconian beast to recon as much intel as it could from its enemy before putting Maria down before she least expected. Or were they ultimately wrong? Eventually, no matter Illiya's intentions, they reached the dropship. It was only there that Illiya finally spoke again, in answer to her idol.
— Oh, ah! Me? Odd? Heehee... I know, everyone called me that. — When Maria asked about Illiya's identity, however, The Flame inside the draconian started to burn as pride once again washed its being awhole. Breathing heavily to the point of her exposed chest to slightly expand, the draconian stood up bearing a confident and malicious grin. — I am known to my friends and foes as Illiya! My one and ALWAYS ONLY name! — Even though she showed clear recognition of her power, Illiya found herself shuddering, more and more as the dropship reached space without her not noticing it. The atmosphere of Moon 456 was hot enough for Illiya to thrive on it without any kind of environmental protection, which was folded in her vehicle. But now that Maria took her inside the dropship, which very muck likely had an artificial, cold atmosphere, there was nothing that the Dragon Lady could do if not rub her arms and legs together.
— Brrr... H-Hey, Mary, do you guys... Have a blanket? ... Brrrrr...
Oddly enough, Maria could notice that Illiya wasn't bothering with her leg anymore.
LOW-ORBIT
It could be wondered if Maria's targets looked at her as Illiya did. There was no effort from the Dragon Lady to conceal her slowly dilating pupils, as her idol-rival began to talk back. The pair of fiery draconian orbs glued on the bounty hunter, observing every move she did out of sheer curiosity. Illiya was so focused on 'analysing' how Maria Lock-On looked like in the finest details, from her Dendril implants to the standard military green finish of her armor that it took a long while for Illiya to realize that the Z-Bots approaching her. Suddenly, the draconian froze right where she was as despair twisted her briefly joyful expression. After training for almost half an year to destroy Maria Lockheart, Illiya had developed an obvious idolatry for the bounty hunter to the point of feeling safe now that she was over her presence. Still, not even the imposing presence of Lock-On could repel the memories that triggered from within the draconian. A descending dropship. Heavily armored cyborgs. Handcuffs - restrains of any sort. Illiya had admitted defeat. There was no need for these rituals to be taken away with Maria. And, to make matters worse, energy restraints was a very strange sight for the Dragon Lady, therefore, very frightening, too.
— Hey, um... There's no need to do that... ! — Taking a small step back, Illiya made sure to clearly show her limping. — It's not like I can run away or... Fight you guys, I mean... I surrendered already!!! — Her baffling attempt to persuade the Z-Bots was laughable. A joke at best. The Bots did not stop on their tracks. Looking sideways towards her idol, Illiya thought about asking for... Help? No, it would make matters even worse. By that time, her captivators were just a couple of meters from attaching those cold metal bracers unto her.
... Not again.
— Step... BACK!!! - With a formidable roar, the draconian slammed her uninjured leg on the dirty ground, sending a fairly sized cloud of dust to puff up, all while bearing her claws towards the incoming Z-Bots. She did care less for safety at that moment nor to anything broken expectations that Maria could have. One thing was sure: Illya was not getting bound again. By any means. Sharp fangs visible, thin streaks of smoke rose from between her maw and nostrils and she kept a firm, menacing stance. Then the brief tantrum was suddenly over whe Illiya managed to slightly diverge her sight towards Maria, which was shouting orders to her personnel and, clearly, was the one in charge. Maybe she could help the draconian 'dealing' with the Z-Bots, her own men? Like nothing happened, she muttered. — Ah, sorry, I'm a little... marbin, mor, mer... Uh... What did they call it? Merlin... Meri... Merintho- MERINTHOPHOBIC! — Surprise, surprise. A powerful, partly-wild creature that doesn't like to be bound. — ... That's fear of being cuffed or... Held by something, if, uh... You don't know, Mary. How couldn't she know? I'm such a idiot!
After witnessing a fraction of her fury, the Z-Bots had slowly retreated from the beast. That was enough for them to think twice before trying to seize the Dragon Lady again. Taking the opportunity, Illiya shrugged her mysterious fear of handcuffs and started to limp her way towards the dropship. She didn't want to leave the bad impression to Maria of being a staggerer. Even if she was wounded.
However, she wouldn't go so far beyond walking a half-dozen feet before being taken by surprise by the bounty hunter, in a good sense. The Dragon Lady couldn't contain the loud yelp as her legs briefly kicked in the air, acting instinctively after being startled. — Let go of... !!! - Then she heard the partly-robotic voice of her idol. Illiya was taken in the embrace of Lock-On herself? This had never came to the Dragon Lady's confusing mind. The only thing that Maria got by response was an wide-eyed dragon-girl with her jaw open as much.
For most part of the short trip to the dropship, Illiya kept her curious analysis on Maria Lockheart. She kept glancing at her bio-armor platings, at the rugged clothes she was dressed in, the very elegant hat atop her head, the very familiar rudimentary weapons she had holstered. The Z-Bots could notice that, clear like day. That was definitely an attempt of this draconian beast to recon as much intel as it could from its enemy before putting Maria down before she least expected. Or were they ultimately wrong? Eventually, no matter Illiya's intentions, they reached the dropship. It was only there that Illiya finally spoke again, in answer to her idol.
— Oh, ah! Me? Odd? Heehee... I know, everyone called me that. — When Maria asked about Illiya's identity, however, The Flame inside the draconian started to burn as pride once again washed its being awhole. Breathing heavily to the point of her exposed chest to slightly expand, the draconian stood up bearing a confident and malicious grin. — I am known to my friends and foes as Illiya! My one and ALWAYS ONLY name! — Even though she showed clear recognition of her power, Illiya found herself shuddering, more and more as the dropship reached space without her not noticing it. The atmosphere of Moon 456 was hot enough for Illiya to thrive on it without any kind of environmental protection, which was folded in her vehicle. But now that Maria took her inside the dropship, which very muck likely had an artificial, cold atmosphere, there was nothing that the Dragon Lady could do if not rub her arms and legs together.
— Brrr... H-Hey, Mary, do you guys... Have a blanket? ... Brrrrr...
Oddly enough, Maria could notice that Illiya wasn't bothering with her leg anymore.
Cathorine sighed as she heard Rin's response. She looks at him with a straight face and says "If you wish to go, I won't stop you, but I'm glade you see it at my level and sadly what you say is correct. However, if you truly wish to go, we can't drop you over, the usual ways to get to Lord Ova's capital planet are blocked by heavy military checkpoint, in which nothing will get through, however if you know the specific route, you can easily access the planet and by pass the military checkpoint" She explains as he brings up the galaxy map that shows Ova's capital planet and indications of space military checkpoint that surround the planet. "The only one who can knows the specific route are typically known by smugglers and others who are close with Lord Ova" She then thought about it and says "Take the Laurent with you, Rin, no doubt he can get you planet side if you truly want to go" as she turns around, expecting the torrent of backlash by her little special forces group.
She glances over her shoulder and says "Sorry for my babble, yes you are excused, Rin"
She glances over her shoulder and says "Sorry for my babble, yes you are excused, Rin"
The Diplomat
Royanna Kallenger had never cared much for music. With few exceptions, she found it merely distracting - and given how generally self-centered she was, it was virtually impossible for her to comprehend how it might have a positive effect on someone.
But the gentle thrumming of the Diplomat's stardrive on the deck below - that was music to her. Many would-be sleepless nights had been quelled by just lying in darkness and listening to the sound of soaring through the Galaxy.
It threatened to start making her drowsy now - passing out over Christofer's nearly comatose body for a few hours was not exactly restful sleep - but that did not matter. She had things to do, right?
Was she lost in her thoughts while Christofer replied? Brooding? More likely just thinking, and listening. The past few days had been too much.
Far too much.
To even begin to think about it was maddening - but to look ahead at the new and terrifying challenges that were to come was positively overwhelming. She didn't know where to begin. She had nobody to turn to, since all her life she had done nothing but make enemies. Imperial Special Agents did not need support, and that was final - right?
The kid leaned on her slightly - and she found herself instinctively tensing up herself. It made her think of yesterday. Of having some kind of psychotic break or whatever that ridiculousness had been. Ranting like a madwoman and clinging to him as though she might otherwise float away - she hated to think about that.
And yet, it was difficult to deny that the sensation of clinging was, in its own perplexing way, comforting. It did not make sense. Having twenty soldiers at your back - that was comforting. Having the support of one of the most powerful governmental bodies - that was comforting. The feel of her gun in her hand was comforting. Those things all made sense. But being comforted simply by the act of physical contact? It did not make sense.
And yet, she distinctly recalled the feeling. The sensation of holding on for dear life as the whole world spun wildly in space, holding on while everything you thought you knew came crashing down... Or, had it merely been some aspect of her 'episode'? Maybe it was the drugs - the withdrawal from which she was going to start feeling sooner or later, again - and she hoped that it was the drugs. That would be so much easier.
Only one way to find out. Focusing inwardly, she relaxed her muscles mere seconds after he had decided to lean on her - and she acknowledged it in no other way.
Strange, not so disconcerting as she had expected, but inconclusive. Oh well.
Abruptly, the casual, clinical observation of her own reactions fell in upon herself, and she suddenly despised it again. Oh well.
He had asked her a question. Was she worried about him?
What an insult!
Why would she possibly be worried - worried! Preposterous. Ridiculous. Impossible.
And yet, after a long, long moment of looking awkwardly about the little medical bay, jaw set and teeth gritted, she mumbled something to the contrary. "Y...yeah. I'm...worried about...you."
Wanting to switch the attention off herself as soon as possible, she went on immediately, and with a slight impatience; "You can't slow us down, kid. We're on a starship." She even found herself holding back a little smirk - the kind of pretentious, self-important expression that was one of the many reasons why most people couldn't stand her. "Unless you want to get out and push."
Humor?
It was an unconscious tactical reaction to simply glaze over any references he made to her and emotion - simply not addressing them and moving on would make them go away, right? Maybe even get her back to the usual, cold-hearted, hateful person she usually was. If only.
But the topic did move on, to her initial relief...Despite how desperately she wanted these problems to simply vanish as well. It also occurred to her that it had not once crossed her mind to leave the Diplomat. Realizing that she had unconsciously decided that this was her home now was more disturbing than she might have imagined it should have been. Granted, there were plenty of good reasons to use the Diplomat as a home-base. It was an old ship, but a good ship. Its defensive capabilities were off the charts - and they were really going to need that, since the full force of the Galactic Empire was going to be bearing down on them for the rest of their lives.
The rest of her life.
Why did he need to be condemned to a fugitive life because of her mistakes? These unconscious assumptions - that the Diplomat was home now, that Christofer was just going to keep being there - she hated herself for them. She resented the thoughts and wanted to go against them simply to spite her own brain for being so emotional. But, then too, that would be an emotional response in itself.
Too much.
Too much to think about. Too much. She could think of a thousand things at once if she was tracking down a criminal or gathering intelligence - but she was not equipped for this - and it it was frightening.
A vicious cycle of emotion - isn't that what all emotions were?
She was...afraid?
NO!
For Royanna Kallenger to be afraid of anything would be ludicrous - but to be afraid of something a simple as living a relatively normal life? No, no no.
And yet it nagged. It nagged. It nagged. It was always there, clinging to the back of her head like some creature out of a nightmare who's existence she could not prove, yet who's presence was undeniable.
All she had to do was lay it all out, think up a plan, it couldn't be that hard, right?
No, it was going to be very very hard very hard and she couldn't couldn'tcouldn't couldn't do it it was too much too fast and everything was she couldn't do it couldn't do it why try at all it's hopeless I'm already dead-
Couldn't save them, how could she ever hope to save herself and, more importantly, him from, from-
He pulled his hand back from hers. Startled by the realization that he had taken it in the first place, a whole flood of conflicting thoughts rolling around, then settling into one miserable tidepool that pressed down on her like lead.
Her entire body rigid, she stared with vicious intensity at an arbitrary spot on the counter opposite Christofer. It was as though she suddenly despised that meaningless spot on the counter, like she wanted to have at it with a knife. She bit her lip. The back of her neck was getting hot - what, was she allergic to him?
Abruptly, with no warning save for a preemtive shift in her body weight, the woman lashed out her right hand, almost as if to strike the already wounded Christofer in the gut because of how much she hated the counter. But instead of hitting him, she took his hand back.
It wasn't just the back of her neck that was feeling hot now - but that was the only part that Christofer would have a chance at seeing, so intent was she to look at the counter. She gripped his hand too tight. Latched on with her own cold, terribly sweaty palm, and just kept it there.
"I-it's...f-fine." She growled between gritted teeth that might have crushed coal into diamond. Even at such a low volume she sounded furious - but with a waver, a quiver, as though something were caught in the back of her throat.
Then, after what must have been a very long time, she let go of his hand. "I'm gonna' go grab some food for us. B-be back in a sec." The sentence was a poor imitation of being at peace, but it did not radiate desperation - so she must have been some degree better off than moments prior. Maybe that spot on the counter had convinced her to hate it less.
If Christofer didn't do or say anything to try and stop her, she would be up and out the door in seconds, moving all but silently and with utmost haste...
HMS Skadi
They all saw it in the way Cathorine stood - they knew each other well enough that she was already anticipating the flood of outraged protests. But the situation was clearly different - and their reaction was far more subdued. All looked on with masks in varying degrees of horror, each tailored to their personal mannerisms.
Dal was, of course, the most drastic, looking utterly appalled, holding back a barrage of curses and similarly creative language.
Tsuan was paying more attention to Rin's reaction all the while with a deep frown.
Sands brows raised almost comically high, big arms crossed in a socially defensive stance.
Ty looked deeply concerned, eyes locked on Cathorine's as though to try and catch some minutiae of reasoning there.
But none said anything - instead, they all turned to look expectantly at Rin. Putting him under that kind of pressure was not something they enjoyed - but everything about this situation was different than the usual operations. Everything.
Rin would not be allowed to leave in peace, however. Nobody would force him physically to stay, but it was blatantly obvious that all four of them had choice words, and their combined gazes was likely a paralyzing force in itself - at least, to someone like Rin.
And, of course, it seemed to last an eternity before Sands spoke up in a disturbed, but oddly conversational tone.
"The @#$% you talkin' like that for?" He said, referring to the cold numbness and almost robotic calculation he had, and was continuing to display.
Insensitive as ever, Dal looked back to Cathorine. "Isn't this Ova chick the one who keeps, like, a harem of slave boys that all look a lot like Rin?" Clearly she did not realize that this was not at all a helpful question - but likely it was a legitimate one.
Tsuan, keeping his eyes locked on Rin as though to pin him to the wall, said nothing. His silence was disconcerting, as was the terribly grim expression on his dark face.
Then, Ty- "We shouldn't jump to conclusions. There's nothing Ova can do from a distance that she won't be able to do ten times more effectively if she's got him in-person. Probably a lot worse." Licking his lips thoughtfully, he returned his attention back to Rin - but, without looking away, spoke elsewhere. "Sands. What about that 'friend' of yours. The guy who got us set up with those new cloaks?"
Sand's lips became a thin line, and he shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "He refuses to get directly involved with Cathorine. But..." Ty finished for him. "Only because he wants to stay impartial for as long as he can." He turned then to face Sands. "Ova has a mortal enemy who she has no idea exists."
Whatever they were talking about would be almost totally foreign to Cathorine. Early on in their endeavors, Sands had contacted 'a friend' who was able to discreetly deliver some highly advanced technology to them. It had given them many advantages when they needed them the most, and even considerably expedited the building of the Skadi. The caveat was that he refused to acknowledge Cathroine or her empire in any way, and Sands had never dained to say why. Admittedly, for Cathorine to know of the mysterious friend's identity might have made more opportunity for his anonymity to be compromised. Some secrets were best kept hidden, even from the leaders.
It was, to say the least, an interesting development.
After all, there were virtually no secrets between Cathorine and her closest people - yet Sands insisted that he honor his friend's wish to stay anonymous. Apparently they had spoken about the friend amongst themselves, though.
"He refused to get directly involved because he wanted to bide his time, right?" Ty went on, voice leading along. "He wants to support our cause, but doesn't want anyone to know about it. He wants to support our cause because we ultimately aim for the downfall of the Lords."
Sands, looking dubious, pawed at his chin with one big hand. "If we make a move against Ova, he might want to be involved." He said slowly, speculatively, more to himself than the others. Dallen interrupted him with a loud guffaw. "That old coot? Sandy, I know he's got access to some crazy-cool high-tech toys, but that doesn't mean he's gonna' have @#$% that'll be any use against Ova."
"But Ova is the only Lord that he has any personal interest in."
"And the only reason that Ova doesn't know he even exists is because he's been so careful to stay subtle and anonymous."
"We should talk to him. He lives in one of the safest places in the Galaxy and he's got access to technology most people have never dreamed of."
"At very least, we'll need to figure out some kind of insurance plan against Ova. Something that can guarantee Rin's safety."
There was a moment of contemplative silence between them.
Then, Sands gave a deciding nod, though with a slight tone of begrudging in his voice. "We'll talk to him. There's definitely a good chance he'll be able to do something."
Small sounds of agreement or assent among the soldiers - then, with a casual wave, they were out of the room - rather pointedly herding Rin along with them.
If he tried to walk off in a different direction, a wide hand on his narrow shoulder would casually, silently 'convince' him to stay with the four of them.
Once they were a ways down the corridor, Ty spoke up. Curiously, he was still capable of making solid eye-contact with Rin for a decent time, even while moving - and when he looked back to the direction he was walking, it was as if the gaze still lingered.
One of Sané's tricks.
"This is not a decision to make lightly." He said, stating the obvious. Then, with a brief hint of apology in his voice, "Sorry. I don't mean to lecture you. And, I know you don't answer to me, but...I want to know why you're thinking of making this decision. What is your reasoning really?"
Royanna Kallenger had never cared much for music. With few exceptions, she found it merely distracting - and given how generally self-centered she was, it was virtually impossible for her to comprehend how it might have a positive effect on someone.
But the gentle thrumming of the Diplomat's stardrive on the deck below - that was music to her. Many would-be sleepless nights had been quelled by just lying in darkness and listening to the sound of soaring through the Galaxy.
It threatened to start making her drowsy now - passing out over Christofer's nearly comatose body for a few hours was not exactly restful sleep - but that did not matter. She had things to do, right?
Was she lost in her thoughts while Christofer replied? Brooding? More likely just thinking, and listening. The past few days had been too much.
Far too much.
To even begin to think about it was maddening - but to look ahead at the new and terrifying challenges that were to come was positively overwhelming. She didn't know where to begin. She had nobody to turn to, since all her life she had done nothing but make enemies. Imperial Special Agents did not need support, and that was final - right?
The kid leaned on her slightly - and she found herself instinctively tensing up herself. It made her think of yesterday. Of having some kind of psychotic break or whatever that ridiculousness had been. Ranting like a madwoman and clinging to him as though she might otherwise float away - she hated to think about that.
And yet, it was difficult to deny that the sensation of clinging was, in its own perplexing way, comforting. It did not make sense. Having twenty soldiers at your back - that was comforting. Having the support of one of the most powerful governmental bodies - that was comforting. The feel of her gun in her hand was comforting. Those things all made sense. But being comforted simply by the act of physical contact? It did not make sense.
And yet, she distinctly recalled the feeling. The sensation of holding on for dear life as the whole world spun wildly in space, holding on while everything you thought you knew came crashing down... Or, had it merely been some aspect of her 'episode'? Maybe it was the drugs - the withdrawal from which she was going to start feeling sooner or later, again - and she hoped that it was the drugs. That would be so much easier.
Only one way to find out. Focusing inwardly, she relaxed her muscles mere seconds after he had decided to lean on her - and she acknowledged it in no other way.
Strange, not so disconcerting as she had expected, but inconclusive. Oh well.
Abruptly, the casual, clinical observation of her own reactions fell in upon herself, and she suddenly despised it again. Oh well.
He had asked her a question. Was she worried about him?
What an insult!
Why would she possibly be worried - worried! Preposterous. Ridiculous. Impossible.
And yet, after a long, long moment of looking awkwardly about the little medical bay, jaw set and teeth gritted, she mumbled something to the contrary. "Y...yeah. I'm...worried about...you."
Wanting to switch the attention off herself as soon as possible, she went on immediately, and with a slight impatience; "You can't slow us down, kid. We're on a starship." She even found herself holding back a little smirk - the kind of pretentious, self-important expression that was one of the many reasons why most people couldn't stand her. "Unless you want to get out and push."
Humor?
It was an unconscious tactical reaction to simply glaze over any references he made to her and emotion - simply not addressing them and moving on would make them go away, right? Maybe even get her back to the usual, cold-hearted, hateful person she usually was. If only.
But the topic did move on, to her initial relief...Despite how desperately she wanted these problems to simply vanish as well. It also occurred to her that it had not once crossed her mind to leave the Diplomat. Realizing that she had unconsciously decided that this was her home now was more disturbing than she might have imagined it should have been. Granted, there were plenty of good reasons to use the Diplomat as a home-base. It was an old ship, but a good ship. Its defensive capabilities were off the charts - and they were really going to need that, since the full force of the Galactic Empire was going to be bearing down on them for the rest of their lives.
The rest of her life.
Why did he need to be condemned to a fugitive life because of her mistakes? These unconscious assumptions - that the Diplomat was home now, that Christofer was just going to keep being there - she hated herself for them. She resented the thoughts and wanted to go against them simply to spite her own brain for being so emotional. But, then too, that would be an emotional response in itself.
Too much.
Too much to think about. Too much. She could think of a thousand things at once if she was tracking down a criminal or gathering intelligence - but she was not equipped for this - and it it was frightening.
A vicious cycle of emotion - isn't that what all emotions were?
She was...afraid?
NO!
For Royanna Kallenger to be afraid of anything would be ludicrous - but to be afraid of something a simple as living a relatively normal life? No, no no.
And yet it nagged. It nagged. It nagged. It was always there, clinging to the back of her head like some creature out of a nightmare who's existence she could not prove, yet who's presence was undeniable.
All she had to do was lay it all out, think up a plan, it couldn't be that hard, right?
No, it was going to be very very hard very hard and she couldn't couldn'tcouldn't couldn't do it it was too much too fast and everything was she couldn't do it couldn't do it why try at all it's hopeless I'm already dead-
Couldn't save them, how could she ever hope to save herself and, more importantly, him from, from-
He pulled his hand back from hers. Startled by the realization that he had taken it in the first place, a whole flood of conflicting thoughts rolling around, then settling into one miserable tidepool that pressed down on her like lead.
Her entire body rigid, she stared with vicious intensity at an arbitrary spot on the counter opposite Christofer. It was as though she suddenly despised that meaningless spot on the counter, like she wanted to have at it with a knife. She bit her lip. The back of her neck was getting hot - what, was she allergic to him?
Abruptly, with no warning save for a preemtive shift in her body weight, the woman lashed out her right hand, almost as if to strike the already wounded Christofer in the gut because of how much she hated the counter. But instead of hitting him, she took his hand back.
It wasn't just the back of her neck that was feeling hot now - but that was the only part that Christofer would have a chance at seeing, so intent was she to look at the counter. She gripped his hand too tight. Latched on with her own cold, terribly sweaty palm, and just kept it there.
"I-it's...f-fine." She growled between gritted teeth that might have crushed coal into diamond. Even at such a low volume she sounded furious - but with a waver, a quiver, as though something were caught in the back of her throat.
Then, after what must have been a very long time, she let go of his hand. "I'm gonna' go grab some food for us. B-be back in a sec." The sentence was a poor imitation of being at peace, but it did not radiate desperation - so she must have been some degree better off than moments prior. Maybe that spot on the counter had convinced her to hate it less.
If Christofer didn't do or say anything to try and stop her, she would be up and out the door in seconds, moving all but silently and with utmost haste...
HMS Skadi
They all saw it in the way Cathorine stood - they knew each other well enough that she was already anticipating the flood of outraged protests. But the situation was clearly different - and their reaction was far more subdued. All looked on with masks in varying degrees of horror, each tailored to their personal mannerisms.
Dal was, of course, the most drastic, looking utterly appalled, holding back a barrage of curses and similarly creative language.
Tsuan was paying more attention to Rin's reaction all the while with a deep frown.
Sands brows raised almost comically high, big arms crossed in a socially defensive stance.
Ty looked deeply concerned, eyes locked on Cathorine's as though to try and catch some minutiae of reasoning there.
But none said anything - instead, they all turned to look expectantly at Rin. Putting him under that kind of pressure was not something they enjoyed - but everything about this situation was different than the usual operations. Everything.
Rin would not be allowed to leave in peace, however. Nobody would force him physically to stay, but it was blatantly obvious that all four of them had choice words, and their combined gazes was likely a paralyzing force in itself - at least, to someone like Rin.
And, of course, it seemed to last an eternity before Sands spoke up in a disturbed, but oddly conversational tone.
"The @#$% you talkin' like that for?" He said, referring to the cold numbness and almost robotic calculation he had, and was continuing to display.
Insensitive as ever, Dal looked back to Cathorine. "Isn't this Ova chick the one who keeps, like, a harem of slave boys that all look a lot like Rin?" Clearly she did not realize that this was not at all a helpful question - but likely it was a legitimate one.
Tsuan, keeping his eyes locked on Rin as though to pin him to the wall, said nothing. His silence was disconcerting, as was the terribly grim expression on his dark face.
Then, Ty- "We shouldn't jump to conclusions. There's nothing Ova can do from a distance that she won't be able to do ten times more effectively if she's got him in-person. Probably a lot worse." Licking his lips thoughtfully, he returned his attention back to Rin - but, without looking away, spoke elsewhere. "Sands. What about that 'friend' of yours. The guy who got us set up with those new cloaks?"
Sand's lips became a thin line, and he shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "He refuses to get directly involved with Cathorine. But..." Ty finished for him. "Only because he wants to stay impartial for as long as he can." He turned then to face Sands. "Ova has a mortal enemy who she has no idea exists."
Whatever they were talking about would be almost totally foreign to Cathorine. Early on in their endeavors, Sands had contacted 'a friend' who was able to discreetly deliver some highly advanced technology to them. It had given them many advantages when they needed them the most, and even considerably expedited the building of the Skadi. The caveat was that he refused to acknowledge Cathroine or her empire in any way, and Sands had never dained to say why. Admittedly, for Cathorine to know of the mysterious friend's identity might have made more opportunity for his anonymity to be compromised. Some secrets were best kept hidden, even from the leaders.
It was, to say the least, an interesting development.
After all, there were virtually no secrets between Cathorine and her closest people - yet Sands insisted that he honor his friend's wish to stay anonymous. Apparently they had spoken about the friend amongst themselves, though.
"He refused to get directly involved because he wanted to bide his time, right?" Ty went on, voice leading along. "He wants to support our cause, but doesn't want anyone to know about it. He wants to support our cause because we ultimately aim for the downfall of the Lords."
Sands, looking dubious, pawed at his chin with one big hand. "If we make a move against Ova, he might want to be involved." He said slowly, speculatively, more to himself than the others. Dallen interrupted him with a loud guffaw. "That old coot? Sandy, I know he's got access to some crazy-cool high-tech toys, but that doesn't mean he's gonna' have @#$% that'll be any use against Ova."
"But Ova is the only Lord that he has any personal interest in."
"And the only reason that Ova doesn't know he even exists is because he's been so careful to stay subtle and anonymous."
"We should talk to him. He lives in one of the safest places in the Galaxy and he's got access to technology most people have never dreamed of."
"At very least, we'll need to figure out some kind of insurance plan against Ova. Something that can guarantee Rin's safety."
There was a moment of contemplative silence between them.
Then, Sands gave a deciding nod, though with a slight tone of begrudging in his voice. "We'll talk to him. There's definitely a good chance he'll be able to do something."
Small sounds of agreement or assent among the soldiers - then, with a casual wave, they were out of the room - rather pointedly herding Rin along with them.
If he tried to walk off in a different direction, a wide hand on his narrow shoulder would casually, silently 'convince' him to stay with the four of them.
Once they were a ways down the corridor, Ty spoke up. Curiously, he was still capable of making solid eye-contact with Rin for a decent time, even while moving - and when he looked back to the direction he was walking, it was as if the gaze still lingered.
One of Sané's tricks.
"This is not a decision to make lightly." He said, stating the obvious. Then, with a brief hint of apology in his voice, "Sorry. I don't mean to lecture you. And, I know you don't answer to me, but...I want to know why you're thinking of making this decision. What is your reasoning really?"
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