Mutacogi sat like some kind of giant headless dog on the back of bike. Despite the motion of it riding and Ringo's less than gentle start, they remained suctioned to the hoverbike, unbothered. "Yes. I do. My full scientific name is Mutacogi Bacterialis. I'm an alien life form discovered by a human scientist. Their ship was attacked and I survived in the debris until another ship found me. I rode it to here. I'm not sure where I am or how long its been. I'm looking to find a way home though." If Mutacogi was a human, the events they described may have been quite terrifying, but the alien said it in such a casual way, they may have well said they liked eating chips and binge watching 'Space Girls'. "What about you?" they asked back curiously. "You want to tell me about yourself, Mr. Ringo Legendary?"
Nirix seemed to melt within the thriving nature of the busy station. Everything was new; new sights and smells and new people. It was like within the Perrygold, her thoughts had been locked, confined in one sole area. But now that she was free, away from the chaos and breathing relatively different and more or less clean air, Nirix was feeling a lot better.
The brittlenuts were different, mostly because the Eoclu had never tasted such a thing. The taste was indescribably, tangs of sugar, honey and salt all at once, coalesced to form a truly delicious snack. Nirix would be lying to say that she wouldn't mind buying more of the cone of brittlenuts.
The freedom of the station seemed to not only do Nirix good but also Ketin. The Da'len was up to his usual antics once more and yet even managed to get a not so hidden giggle out of the assassin once the cone was plopped onto one of her horns.
The trip to the prosthetics store proved to be a journey in it self. Never had she expected, to see Ketin and Arnaldo have in impromptu swordfight with a bird like leg and an arm. Regardless, it definitely made the Eoclu raise an eyebrow at Ketin's antics and when she was thrown the appendages, Nirix made sure to put them back and offer the grimy shopkeeper an apologetic look.
Ketin was Ketin after all and yet Nirix would have it no other way~
"A very nice gesture Da'len. Though maybe it would've been better to count out the money before handing it all over...that was supposed to last you for a bit so you wouldn't have to keep stealing..." She suggested lightly.
The brittlenuts were different, mostly because the Eoclu had never tasted such a thing. The taste was indescribably, tangs of sugar, honey and salt all at once, coalesced to form a truly delicious snack. Nirix would be lying to say that she wouldn't mind buying more of the cone of brittlenuts.
The freedom of the station seemed to not only do Nirix good but also Ketin. The Da'len was up to his usual antics once more and yet even managed to get a not so hidden giggle out of the assassin once the cone was plopped onto one of her horns.
The trip to the prosthetics store proved to be a journey in it self. Never had she expected, to see Ketin and Arnaldo have in impromptu swordfight with a bird like leg and an arm. Regardless, it definitely made the Eoclu raise an eyebrow at Ketin's antics and when she was thrown the appendages, Nirix made sure to put them back and offer the grimy shopkeeper an apologetic look.
Ketin was Ketin after all and yet Nirix would have it no other way~
"A very nice gesture Da'len. Though maybe it would've been better to count out the money before handing it all over...that was supposed to last you for a bit so you wouldn't have to keep stealing..." She suggested lightly.
Rai smoothed out his dress, and took a sip from his glass.
His shoulders were relaxed, but his eyes meticulously scanned each and every face that passed, reading body language, riddles, clues hinting toward the completion of his Mission.
Which was… pretty much making sure that he didn’t get caught.
He was so bored.
He sighed, raising the glass to lips- and promptly almost choked on nothing.
He. He would recognize that serious expression anywhere.
The man was wearing gold and white linen like a prince, every move a moment of power, silent confidence, and controlled grace. His single braid was accentuated by golden droplets, which scattered like sparks over the rest of his trimmed, thick dark hair. His orange koh markings had a keen shine, highlighted with a dash of metallic gold. He looked up.
Rai whirled around, heart hammering in his chest. He inwardly cursed his troublesome emotions. Now was definitely not the time to swoon over a Qetan- that was obviously usually saved for later in the day, when he could squeal alone in his room and imagine the day they would hang out again…
But that had been years ago. He’d never actually thought- and now-
Reqti was here. Good Koska.
“Hey.”
He jolted, whipping his head around to see a woman next to him. She seemed to have slipped into the empty seat while he was having his mini crisis. She smiled, red lips shining with a golden sheen and matching her perfectly formed koh. “I’m Tahil.”
“Reri,” he said, bowing his head slightly. He just barely remembered to raise his voice to a feminine pitch. After a moment, he smiled back, eyes looking her over with a seemingly careless eye. Her dress shimmered gold, bangs strung with tiny golden dew drops. Her intricate braid was piled on top of her head, and her eyelids glimmered with a golden hue.
He caught her assessing him as well, and he forced himself to sip casually from the glass. “It’s quite the party in here,” he said.
“Indeed.” Tahil brought her glass up to her lips, but didn’t drink, eyes shining in a way that was all too familiar. He’d worn the same look too many times. “So, you have your eyes on someone.”
It wasn’t a question. And, he admitted embarrassedly to himself, it would be wise to give her that assumption. Better admit his crush, then reveal his being the sole Nyran in this Qetan gathering. “Well, uh,” his blush was not act, “I guess so…”
Tahil snickered. “The moment you spotted him you went really red,” she said, and oh great he was redder than a raqu gem- “And I think my brother needs to loosen up a bit”- Wait. Brother?- “So here I am, encouraging you to go and dance with him.”
… He wasn’t cut out for this. He was already a stuttering, blushing mess, rising from his seat to possibly retreat and meditate on all his life choices, but Tahil gave him a look that made him still.
“He’s not real blood, but I care about him,” she said. Her eyes held nothing but intensity. “Something’s bothering him. I thought bringing him here would at least distract him, but so far all he’s been doing is brooding.”
“So why me?” Rai asked, pure curiosity in his tone. “Surely others would love his attention?”
She gave him a slow, considering look. “Many have approached him,” she said. “With nothing but selfish intentions. I want him content and comfortable. They would have made him otherwise.” She nodded at him. “I saw you, and when you looked at him it was like the sun came out. I knew then that you would back off if he wanted you to.” She leaned back slightly on her seat.
He looked down at the liquid slightly bubbling in his glass. This would probably be the last time he would get to meet Reqti. After this mission would be many others, all focused on controlling his aether and expanding his knowledge on how to manipulate it. And then… and then what? He would have to leave Koyash. For the Big Mission. He would never see Reqti again.
He looked up, seeing the other man leaning against the far wall, eyes far away. He wavered. “Alright,” he said.
Tahil smiled.
Rai blinked. It was dark in the room. They stared up at the ceiling in a sleepy daze until their eyes slid shut, and they went drifting off to-
Rai made his way to the opposite end of the room. His palms were sweaty, heart pounding in his ears.
Oh Koska, he thought to himself again.
He ran his hands over his torso again, a sharp stab of regret rushing through him. Maybe he should have checked himself in a mirror again- see if the yellow makeup still covered his dark green koh, see if his dress still cut his figure in that feminine way, all curves and no angles- though honestly, he liked having both- hell, maybe he should have checked to see if he looked pretty enough to stand next to the other man.
He didn’t realize how close he was until he accidentally ran into someone. He looked up, startled.
“I’m sor-“ he blinked, paused, then looked up. Reqti stood there, a small frown on his face. Rai choked. “I-uh-I just- sorry,” he squeaked, flushing madly.
Reqti’s eyebrows became less pronounced, and Rai suddenly remembered that the other man was easily startled. “It’s fine,” he said.
Rai shifted. Reqti bowed, stepping to the side to take his leave. “Wait,” Rai blurted out, impulsively snatching Reqti’s wrist with two fingers. Reqti stared at the hand. Rai desperately hoped that he didn’t remember how Rai held his wrist in that exact same way, back when they first met. “Would you… like to dance?” he asked, quiet and unassuming.
Reqti, not once looking up, lifted his wrist so that it was chest-level. He turned his hand so that it cradled Rai’s, then bent down to kiss it. “Of course,” he murmured.
The next few minutes was blur. He remembered the soft lights of the grand hall, the sweet and solemn strings of the instruments. He remembered warmth, on the small of his back and on the curve of his waist. He remembered eyes that were content, and the faint echoes of others dancing with them.
He remembered Reqti whispering his real name with a gentle press of lips in his forehead.
Rai blinked once. Still dark. Their internal clock urged them to sleep again.
“Thank you,” Tahil said, handing Rai a drink. He didn’t protest. His heart didn’t race, but it hammered in his chest without mercy. There was still a dusty pink hue on his skin. “He looks better.”
Rai ducked his head. “Thanks for encouraging me,” he mumbled, silently agreeing. To escape her amused stare, he took a sip. Then another.
And then another.
He took several gulps, then sighed, taking another drink.
“Soooo,” Tahil said, eyes narrowed and glinting with mischief, “how was dancing with my brother? Did he suck? What did you say to make him agree? I want details.”
He was tipsy. He opened his mouth.
“Maybe it was how I looked!” he replied jokingly. He hummed, leaning forward and giggling. His smile dropped abruptly, eyebrows furrowed in a frown. “But I’m not that beautiful, I don’t think. Not as a woman, and not as a man either.” He took a sip of his drink, not noticing the shocked look that crossed Tahil’s face before she forced it into an interested smile.
“I mean, don’t tell anyone, kay?” he whispered, voice dropping to nearly inaudible levels. “That I’m not a woman.” He raised his voice again. “But you know, I don’t think that’s quite true either, cause I’ve never had a problem with anything feminine or masculine.” Another sip. “So like, I like this dress. I like painting my face, how some parts of my body are kinda soft- I like that about me. But I also like how I have angles, yanno, and my natural voice. I like being called a man, too.”
He raised his glass, put it down, and squinted. His lips were tilted down, and he looked a little more sad. “I just don’t know what to do about myself,” he said.
Tahil was leaning back, silently watching Rai’s drunken spiel. She set her glass down, and folded her arms on top of the table. “So you like dressing as both a male and female?” she asked.
He scrunched up his nose. “Kind of? Most of the time I don’t really care what style I wear- I just accept it and it never bothered me? Not only that though. I never minded when someone called me ‘he’ or ‘she’- it was the hair, heh. But being called ‘young man’ or ‘young lady’ felt too limiting to me, like it was just an aspect of myself.”
She hummed. “Have you ever tried they?”
“They?”
“It’s like declaring both genders. You like being called he, you like being called she, but it’s not all of you. They is broader.” She took a sip of her drink. “Just a thought.”
He fell silent. Everything still looked brighter, vision slightly swimming with hazy color- but his thoughts began to form in his mind, like lips contracting around a new word. “They…”
Tahil waited. Rai said the pronoun again.
They smiled.
Rai woke up.
They closed their eyes, sighing. Looks like they'd have to actually get ready, now.
They hoped they would succeed in their Mission.
His shoulders were relaxed, but his eyes meticulously scanned each and every face that passed, reading body language, riddles, clues hinting toward the completion of his Mission.
Which was… pretty much making sure that he didn’t get caught.
He was so bored.
He sighed, raising the glass to lips- and promptly almost choked on nothing.
He. He would recognize that serious expression anywhere.
The man was wearing gold and white linen like a prince, every move a moment of power, silent confidence, and controlled grace. His single braid was accentuated by golden droplets, which scattered like sparks over the rest of his trimmed, thick dark hair. His orange koh markings had a keen shine, highlighted with a dash of metallic gold. He looked up.
Rai whirled around, heart hammering in his chest. He inwardly cursed his troublesome emotions. Now was definitely not the time to swoon over a Qetan- that was obviously usually saved for later in the day, when he could squeal alone in his room and imagine the day they would hang out again…
But that had been years ago. He’d never actually thought- and now-
Reqti was here. Good Koska.
“Hey.”
He jolted, whipping his head around to see a woman next to him. She seemed to have slipped into the empty seat while he was having his mini crisis. She smiled, red lips shining with a golden sheen and matching her perfectly formed koh. “I’m Tahil.”
“Reri,” he said, bowing his head slightly. He just barely remembered to raise his voice to a feminine pitch. After a moment, he smiled back, eyes looking her over with a seemingly careless eye. Her dress shimmered gold, bangs strung with tiny golden dew drops. Her intricate braid was piled on top of her head, and her eyelids glimmered with a golden hue.
He caught her assessing him as well, and he forced himself to sip casually from the glass. “It’s quite the party in here,” he said.
“Indeed.” Tahil brought her glass up to her lips, but didn’t drink, eyes shining in a way that was all too familiar. He’d worn the same look too many times. “So, you have your eyes on someone.”
It wasn’t a question. And, he admitted embarrassedly to himself, it would be wise to give her that assumption. Better admit his crush, then reveal his being the sole Nyran in this Qetan gathering. “Well, uh,” his blush was not act, “I guess so…”
Tahil snickered. “The moment you spotted him you went really red,” she said, and oh great he was redder than a raqu gem- “And I think my brother needs to loosen up a bit”- Wait. Brother?- “So here I am, encouraging you to go and dance with him.”
… He wasn’t cut out for this. He was already a stuttering, blushing mess, rising from his seat to possibly retreat and meditate on all his life choices, but Tahil gave him a look that made him still.
“He’s not real blood, but I care about him,” she said. Her eyes held nothing but intensity. “Something’s bothering him. I thought bringing him here would at least distract him, but so far all he’s been doing is brooding.”
“So why me?” Rai asked, pure curiosity in his tone. “Surely others would love his attention?”
She gave him a slow, considering look. “Many have approached him,” she said. “With nothing but selfish intentions. I want him content and comfortable. They would have made him otherwise.” She nodded at him. “I saw you, and when you looked at him it was like the sun came out. I knew then that you would back off if he wanted you to.” She leaned back slightly on her seat.
He looked down at the liquid slightly bubbling in his glass. This would probably be the last time he would get to meet Reqti. After this mission would be many others, all focused on controlling his aether and expanding his knowledge on how to manipulate it. And then… and then what? He would have to leave Koyash. For the Big Mission. He would never see Reqti again.
He looked up, seeing the other man leaning against the far wall, eyes far away. He wavered. “Alright,” he said.
Tahil smiled.
Rai blinked. It was dark in the room. They stared up at the ceiling in a sleepy daze until their eyes slid shut, and they went drifting off to-
Rai made his way to the opposite end of the room. His palms were sweaty, heart pounding in his ears.
Oh Koska, he thought to himself again.
He ran his hands over his torso again, a sharp stab of regret rushing through him. Maybe he should have checked himself in a mirror again- see if the yellow makeup still covered his dark green koh, see if his dress still cut his figure in that feminine way, all curves and no angles- though honestly, he liked having both- hell, maybe he should have checked to see if he looked pretty enough to stand next to the other man.
He didn’t realize how close he was until he accidentally ran into someone. He looked up, startled.
“I’m sor-“ he blinked, paused, then looked up. Reqti stood there, a small frown on his face. Rai choked. “I-uh-I just- sorry,” he squeaked, flushing madly.
Reqti’s eyebrows became less pronounced, and Rai suddenly remembered that the other man was easily startled. “It’s fine,” he said.
Rai shifted. Reqti bowed, stepping to the side to take his leave. “Wait,” Rai blurted out, impulsively snatching Reqti’s wrist with two fingers. Reqti stared at the hand. Rai desperately hoped that he didn’t remember how Rai held his wrist in that exact same way, back when they first met. “Would you… like to dance?” he asked, quiet and unassuming.
Reqti, not once looking up, lifted his wrist so that it was chest-level. He turned his hand so that it cradled Rai’s, then bent down to kiss it. “Of course,” he murmured.
The next few minutes was blur. He remembered the soft lights of the grand hall, the sweet and solemn strings of the instruments. He remembered warmth, on the small of his back and on the curve of his waist. He remembered eyes that were content, and the faint echoes of others dancing with them.
He remembered Reqti whispering his real name with a gentle press of lips in his forehead.
Rai blinked once. Still dark. Their internal clock urged them to sleep again.
“Thank you,” Tahil said, handing Rai a drink. He didn’t protest. His heart didn’t race, but it hammered in his chest without mercy. There was still a dusty pink hue on his skin. “He looks better.”
Rai ducked his head. “Thanks for encouraging me,” he mumbled, silently agreeing. To escape her amused stare, he took a sip. Then another.
And then another.
He took several gulps, then sighed, taking another drink.
“Soooo,” Tahil said, eyes narrowed and glinting with mischief, “how was dancing with my brother? Did he suck? What did you say to make him agree? I want details.”
He was tipsy. He opened his mouth.
“Maybe it was how I looked!” he replied jokingly. He hummed, leaning forward and giggling. His smile dropped abruptly, eyebrows furrowed in a frown. “But I’m not that beautiful, I don’t think. Not as a woman, and not as a man either.” He took a sip of his drink, not noticing the shocked look that crossed Tahil’s face before she forced it into an interested smile.
“I mean, don’t tell anyone, kay?” he whispered, voice dropping to nearly inaudible levels. “That I’m not a woman.” He raised his voice again. “But you know, I don’t think that’s quite true either, cause I’ve never had a problem with anything feminine or masculine.” Another sip. “So like, I like this dress. I like painting my face, how some parts of my body are kinda soft- I like that about me. But I also like how I have angles, yanno, and my natural voice. I like being called a man, too.”
He raised his glass, put it down, and squinted. His lips were tilted down, and he looked a little more sad. “I just don’t know what to do about myself,” he said.
Tahil was leaning back, silently watching Rai’s drunken spiel. She set her glass down, and folded her arms on top of the table. “So you like dressing as both a male and female?” she asked.
He scrunched up his nose. “Kind of? Most of the time I don’t really care what style I wear- I just accept it and it never bothered me? Not only that though. I never minded when someone called me ‘he’ or ‘she’- it was the hair, heh. But being called ‘young man’ or ‘young lady’ felt too limiting to me, like it was just an aspect of myself.”
She hummed. “Have you ever tried they?”
“They?”
“It’s like declaring both genders. You like being called he, you like being called she, but it’s not all of you. They is broader.” She took a sip of her drink. “Just a thought.”
He fell silent. Everything still looked brighter, vision slightly swimming with hazy color- but his thoughts began to form in his mind, like lips contracting around a new word. “They…”
Tahil waited. Rai said the pronoun again.
They smiled.
Rai woke up.
They closed their eyes, sighing. Looks like they'd have to actually get ready, now.
They hoped they would succeed in their Mission.
"Like a glove, haha" chuckled Arnaldo, giving a good shoulder shake to Ketin in the process. "This reminds me of that one time they tried replacing all the police on my home planet with androids. Within the hour, the entire precinct was speaking gibberish because some hacker thought he'd get a few laughs in. It was pretty funny for us PI guys, usually the police touch the clouds with how high they are on their horses. Load of sausages...haha". Arnaldo was giving that laugh that your cool uncle would give, hearty and genuine, with a tinge of alcohol behind it. Giving it a good slap, Arnaldo felt the smooth synthetic materials of the leg, examining it, probing it. He gave it a good few taps before it began calibrating itself and connecting to his nervous system. "Man, these new prosthetics are pretty swanky, you just plug and go. Back in the old days you had to sit in a chair for like 8 hours or something, and would ask you multiple questions about how you feel. OH and don't even get me started on charging those things. I tried prosthetic eyes once...and only once...you had to take the damn things out to charge them, and they lost charge after two days!" complained Arnaldo. "But this takes the nutrients like a real limb and it doesnt gain any fat! Like magic!" Arnaldo gave his thigh another few slaps. "How much do I own you, champ?" asked Arnaldo, anxiously looking for a place to get some tea and sit down. He may have a super leg now, but it didn't negate his other, tired leg.
The Ark of Chyll
You can tell a lot about a person just by watching them. The way they move, the way they stand. How they look at others, where their eyes go when they see a person. The way they talk. Everything is a giveaway about something, if you know what to look for - and that’s when they’re trying to hide who they are.
Nobody in this group was trying to hide what kind of person they were.
Well, except for the kid in the dark clothes - but he was so terrible at coming off as the cool, collected, disinterested type that it was obvious he was looking for something and trying to keep his hand hidden. I Almost felt bad for him if he really thought he was fooling anyone.
This group was pretty well-rounded in terms of general dysfunction, and the more I watched, the more it all laid out for me.
This ‘Wick’ guy was entirely not ready for the gigantic heaps of @#$% he was going to have to deal with. The least I could do was try to make sure he knew what was coming down on him...
The detective smiled broadly, face almost distorting the long, crow-like countenance in the process. He had the air of someone's favorite uncle. Extending the hand that had been in his pocket, he gave a firm shake. Then, pointedly returning the chalk-like ‘cigarette’ back in his mouth with a minute puff of white dust, he turned to face the group and leaned in sideways so that he was that much closer to Wick. He carried about him the vague scent of old leather and cool night air.
”Now, here’s what I got so far.” He said, voice lower now, more casually conspiratorial. ”I ain’t always right, but I think I got a good idea about this crowd.” He shifted his glance toward each one as he went on giving his little ‘briefing’.
”The lizard and the bug, they won’t give you much trouble, though I’m guessing Bugs ain’t got much of a filter on acting ‘rationally’. The doggos over there, I think they’re a little naive, which can make them dangerous if they start getting the wrong idea of what’s goin’ on. Ain’t sayin’ their stupid, but make sure to keep ‘em in the loop, like. Pretty sure the grump is some kind’a medic, so try to stay on his good side especially. The gal among them seems pretty level-headed, so work closely with her if you can - and the other one...I’m willing to bet he’ll do just about anything if it seems interesting enough. Bit of an instigator, too.”
The detective sipped at his drink.
”The ones you gotta’ keep an eye on are that young guy, and especially the dark-skinned gal. Him, I know a cowboy when I see one. It’s in the eyes.” Briefly, he faltered, searching for a word. Nobody used the term ‘cowboy’ these days. It was thoroughly outdated now. ”A hacker, I mean. Computer guy. By the way he’s lookin’ around I’d guess he’s in the business of information, so don’t let him get his hands on anything you want kept secret. And that girl - she’s gonna’ be the biggest thorn in your side. She’s a thief and a killer, no doubt about it - and she’ll do whatever it takes to get whatever she wants. I’ve seen her type a thousand times - she’ll make quick enemies with everyone in the crew and stir up all kinds of trouble. But, if we gotta’ do any shady tactics, she’ll be invaluable - so try not to ostracize her too much.”
It seemed like he was reaching the end of his theorizing now, shifting a bit, sipping again. ”There’s gonna’ be trouble between her and the medic-dog, I can promise you that. He’s got a short fuse, so the bug’s likely to get on his nerves too… Oh, and his buddy’s gonna’ start some trouble too - real arrogant-like, y’know?”
He paused for a moment then, drinking, thinking, and at last deciding. ”Well, that’s all I got for now. Any questions?” If there were questions, comments or concerns, the detective would respond to them all before heading back to the group.
♪
You can tell a lot about a person just by watching them. The way they move, the way they stand. How they look at others, where their eyes go when they see a person. The way they talk. Everything is a giveaway about something, if you know what to look for - and that’s when they’re trying to hide who they are.
Nobody in this group was trying to hide what kind of person they were.
Well, except for the kid in the dark clothes - but he was so terrible at coming off as the cool, collected, disinterested type that it was obvious he was looking for something and trying to keep his hand hidden. I Almost felt bad for him if he really thought he was fooling anyone.
This group was pretty well-rounded in terms of general dysfunction, and the more I watched, the more it all laid out for me.
This ‘Wick’ guy was entirely not ready for the gigantic heaps of @#$% he was going to have to deal with. The least I could do was try to make sure he knew what was coming down on him...
The detective smiled broadly, face almost distorting the long, crow-like countenance in the process. He had the air of someone's favorite uncle. Extending the hand that had been in his pocket, he gave a firm shake. Then, pointedly returning the chalk-like ‘cigarette’ back in his mouth with a minute puff of white dust, he turned to face the group and leaned in sideways so that he was that much closer to Wick. He carried about him the vague scent of old leather and cool night air.
”Now, here’s what I got so far.” He said, voice lower now, more casually conspiratorial. ”I ain’t always right, but I think I got a good idea about this crowd.” He shifted his glance toward each one as he went on giving his little ‘briefing’.
”The lizard and the bug, they won’t give you much trouble, though I’m guessing Bugs ain’t got much of a filter on acting ‘rationally’. The doggos over there, I think they’re a little naive, which can make them dangerous if they start getting the wrong idea of what’s goin’ on. Ain’t sayin’ their stupid, but make sure to keep ‘em in the loop, like. Pretty sure the grump is some kind’a medic, so try to stay on his good side especially. The gal among them seems pretty level-headed, so work closely with her if you can - and the other one...I’m willing to bet he’ll do just about anything if it seems interesting enough. Bit of an instigator, too.”
The detective sipped at his drink.
”The ones you gotta’ keep an eye on are that young guy, and especially the dark-skinned gal. Him, I know a cowboy when I see one. It’s in the eyes.” Briefly, he faltered, searching for a word. Nobody used the term ‘cowboy’ these days. It was thoroughly outdated now. ”A hacker, I mean. Computer guy. By the way he’s lookin’ around I’d guess he’s in the business of information, so don’t let him get his hands on anything you want kept secret. And that girl - she’s gonna’ be the biggest thorn in your side. She’s a thief and a killer, no doubt about it - and she’ll do whatever it takes to get whatever she wants. I’ve seen her type a thousand times - she’ll make quick enemies with everyone in the crew and stir up all kinds of trouble. But, if we gotta’ do any shady tactics, she’ll be invaluable - so try not to ostracize her too much.”
It seemed like he was reaching the end of his theorizing now, shifting a bit, sipping again. ”There’s gonna’ be trouble between her and the medic-dog, I can promise you that. He’s got a short fuse, so the bug’s likely to get on his nerves too… Oh, and his buddy’s gonna’ start some trouble too - real arrogant-like, y’know?”
He paused for a moment then, drinking, thinking, and at last deciding. ”Well, that’s all I got for now. Any questions?” If there were questions, comments or concerns, the detective would respond to them all before heading back to the group.
Darkness...everywhere....all around. Within the pitch blackness, footsteps can be heard, but the sounds they were making showed that whoever was creating those footsteps were running. Kilwen, not in his odd armor or even armed ran through the darkness. As he ran all around him, he could hear diabolical laughs from different pitches all around him. The laughs varied from the comical to the right out nasty hearing laugh one could hear. Kilwen's face was already in a panic and sweat as he ran. Behind him were three gaint hands...one gaint metal claw, one hand much paler than the others, but full of scars and rot and the last hand being a combination of flesh and metal as they chase him through the abyss.
He then heard them "You are a failure!" a Kampfer sounding voice rang out. "Another one great soul to my collection" another voice from Ova that rang out. "Your management lacked planning and keeping you around is a hazard and goes against the laws of space and time" the last voice came being that of Erica's. Then all three spoke out in unison:
WE DID THINGS YOUR WAY AND NOW WE DO THINGS OUR WAY WITHOUT YOU BEING IN THE PICTURE!
Hearing those voices rang out with all the laughter and then red eyes peering the darkness to match with the various laughs, causing the old Lord to run faster and faster. However a spot of luck, he could see a small light. Ran as fast as he could as the light became much larger and larger, but the voices and laughter got more intense as if right behind him. As he ran, he looked around and to his horror, saw not blackness of the abyss of his feet, but bodies...all dead and bloody, many of them he knew as they would repeat across the floor. He kept running though as the voices began chanting:
YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE GO BY YOUR RULES!
As he kept running, the light began to get bigger as it seemed to look like a doorway. He sprinted as fast as he could and jumped through the doorway and rolled around on the pristen white floor. The voices and the laughter seized as he looks up to see a woman he was very familiar with. Hair long and flowing like water, with amber eyes to match with her perfect tanned skin which bare plenty to see from what little she wears in terms of clothing. She looks at him with her notorious seductive smile and spoke in her seductive voice "My, dear Kilwen, how much you have suffered over the pass centuries...for I am here now....search me out...I'm at the Ingun Station and we both can deal with our pests together" as the white walls crashed from one side and all three gigantic hands formed into fists, as the giant hands of Kampfer, Ova and Erica came from the encompassing darkness smiling, showing off their long fangs and forked tongues as they all chuckled lowly. Kilwen got up as he saw them, but with the woman beside him, he smiles and looks up as the all three fists raised at the same time and came crashing down with a loud *BANG*
Koolest Boat
The bang sound was what woke Kilwen from his spot in the cockpit of his ship, hearing all the warnings and buzzers going off as his console spark. He remembered now, after the his departure with IRI-Q he was soon attacked by space pirates for crossing into there territory. He fought them off the best he could, but he was no fighter pilot and took heavy damage all along the hull and doing a random jump was all he could do. As he went through slip space, he passed out and when he came out, his jump drive blew out as he exited hyper space. His small little ship was smoking and he could tell it was barely hanging on. He went through the passive scanner before that blew out and got a contact. It was the Koolest Boat, but he couldn't see it. He turned the ship around as much as he could, ignoring the sparks that were jumping on his hand. As he pulls on the steering stick, he saw the ship, being above him. He quickly looked at the now smoking console and pushed a button that was a distress call towards the Koolest. "Uhhh mayday, mayday! Uh I don't think ship has a name, but I am in need of assistance! This ship is barely holding on! I'm directly below you, uh Koolest? I'm gonna start shutting systems off to make sure my ship comes apart! Please help!" he calls out hoping they would hear his plead.
If he could believe in his dream in what that woman from his past had said then, he must get to Ingun station so he could and her could solve this entire thing with the new generation of Lords running a muck. As well asbe back with the one he truly loves
He then heard them "You are a failure!" a Kampfer sounding voice rang out. "Another one great soul to my collection" another voice from Ova that rang out. "Your management lacked planning and keeping you around is a hazard and goes against the laws of space and time" the last voice came being that of Erica's. Then all three spoke out in unison:
WE DID THINGS YOUR WAY AND NOW WE DO THINGS OUR WAY WITHOUT YOU BEING IN THE PICTURE!
Hearing those voices rang out with all the laughter and then red eyes peering the darkness to match with the various laughs, causing the old Lord to run faster and faster. However a spot of luck, he could see a small light. Ran as fast as he could as the light became much larger and larger, but the voices and laughter got more intense as if right behind him. As he ran, he looked around and to his horror, saw not blackness of the abyss of his feet, but bodies...all dead and bloody, many of them he knew as they would repeat across the floor. He kept running though as the voices began chanting:
YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE GO BY YOUR RULES!
As he kept running, the light began to get bigger as it seemed to look like a doorway. He sprinted as fast as he could and jumped through the doorway and rolled around on the pristen white floor. The voices and the laughter seized as he looks up to see a woman he was very familiar with. Hair long and flowing like water, with amber eyes to match with her perfect tanned skin which bare plenty to see from what little she wears in terms of clothing. She looks at him with her notorious seductive smile and spoke in her seductive voice "My, dear Kilwen, how much you have suffered over the pass centuries...for I am here now....search me out...I'm at the Ingun Station and we both can deal with our pests together" as the white walls crashed from one side and all three gigantic hands formed into fists, as the giant hands of Kampfer, Ova and Erica came from the encompassing darkness smiling, showing off their long fangs and forked tongues as they all chuckled lowly. Kilwen got up as he saw them, but with the woman beside him, he smiles and looks up as the all three fists raised at the same time and came crashing down with a loud *BANG*
Koolest Boat
The bang sound was what woke Kilwen from his spot in the cockpit of his ship, hearing all the warnings and buzzers going off as his console spark. He remembered now, after the his departure with IRI-Q he was soon attacked by space pirates for crossing into there territory. He fought them off the best he could, but he was no fighter pilot and took heavy damage all along the hull and doing a random jump was all he could do. As he went through slip space, he passed out and when he came out, his jump drive blew out as he exited hyper space. His small little ship was smoking and he could tell it was barely hanging on. He went through the passive scanner before that blew out and got a contact. It was the Koolest Boat, but he couldn't see it. He turned the ship around as much as he could, ignoring the sparks that were jumping on his hand. As he pulls on the steering stick, he saw the ship, being above him. He quickly looked at the now smoking console and pushed a button that was a distress call towards the Koolest. "Uhhh mayday, mayday! Uh I don't think ship has a name, but I am in need of assistance! This ship is barely holding on! I'm directly below you, uh Koolest? I'm gonna start shutting systems off to make sure my ship comes apart! Please help!" he calls out hoping they would hear his plead.
If he could believe in his dream in what that woman from his past had said then, he must get to Ingun station so he could and her could solve this entire thing with the new generation of Lords running a muck. As well asbe back with the one he truly loves
"Why I in fact do, I hold about 4 libraries worth of info in my noggin *taps head* heha but you guys wouldn't be too interested. Anywho, have any of you heard of the singing mountains of Turb 7C? Hmm, how about the mono-wheel races on Kiakshaksad? Man those were some far out hooligans. Man the stories I have to tell, you guys better have some too. Speaking of crazy kids,
Unbeknownst to the detective and the pilot, Jacobo was looking directly at them, with 12 of his 500 eyes. He kept their actions and speech in the back of his mind, storing them for later. "Did they really think walking to the back of the room would stop me from prying? Hey I may be old, but there is a reason to why I've lived so long..." thought Jacobo, taking their actions as deliberately aimed towards him. That's what kept Jacobo alive, his rule of keeping tabs on everyone. He wasn't paranoid or skeptical of anyone, he just felt more secure knowing where everyone metaphorically "stood" with him and others.
how about the wave riding kooks of the Tourney slipstream?"chattered Jacobo, waving his hands the whole time.
He propped up one of his legs on the table, and almost fell over in the process. Its as if all signs of aging disappeared for a brief moment as he ranted on about different stories from his life, using vernacular from all over the galaxy, periodically slipping into a 3 second nap and almost falling."So yea these guys, these surfer dudes, would slap on old 56-Colton Spacesuits and ride these ridiculous boards on these so called 'slipstreams'. These huge expanses of liquid water and copper, giving them this nice cool green. Anyway, these guys would fly their snub-nosed ships right up to the stream and would hop right on it with their boards. These groms would whisk on by at speeds rivaling some warp drives. But at those speeds, light bends and twists in all sorts of ways, making the damn thing look like a kaleidoscope, but I know what you are thinking, and no,
there were no space babies."
there were no space babies."
Unbeknownst to the detective and the pilot, Jacobo was looking directly at them, with 12 of his 500 eyes. He kept their actions and speech in the back of his mind, storing them for later. "Did they really think walking to the back of the room would stop me from prying? Hey I may be old, but there is a reason to why I've lived so long..." thought Jacobo, taking their actions as deliberately aimed towards him. That's what kept Jacobo alive, his rule of keeping tabs on everyone. He wasn't paranoid or skeptical of anyone, he just felt more secure knowing where everyone metaphorically "stood" with him and others.
"DAMN IT SANDS, HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS DAMN GAME" bellowed Jet, imaginary steam rising from his ears. It was good for Jet to stop over-thinking stuff and under-thinking his actions. Simple games like this with new friends are the things, that people like Jet, remember. Spending some good quality time with some good quality people. But for some odd reason, Jet was reminded of his time on the White Death with Kovacs. Sure they fought, a lot, and weren't around each other too long, but it was still something. His disgraceful desertion of the vessel left a bit of a sour taste in his mouth, but in the end it was the correct decision. Jet hoped, that one day, he'd see that damn soldier, flying that same damn ship, dealing with shenanigans in the same damn way. 'Hope hes met some people that he can at least get along with...and some people who'll kick his teeth in every once in a while.' thought Jet, giving a slight laugh to the thought. It was minuscule but it was just audible enough for it to look a bit weird. "Sands, do you remember busting through all of those doors, only to find absolutely nothing behind them? I mean like damn, I was hoping for some kind of something! Its like we got scammed by the universe or something!". Jet gave a laugh almost identical to the smaller one, except 10x. Small talk wasn't Jet's forte.
"Well my fine amorphous friend, if you so inquire, I am the great outlaw Ringo Rodriguez! I was born on a crappy sliver of ice out in the boondocks of this galaxy. As soon as I was able to walk, I was trying to run to my dads supply ship, I mean a man can only take so much hemistro in their soup and on their farm. Anyhow, I ditched that dump and tried finding the quickest means of getting rich fast. That led me to a bum group of guys who said they were going to hold a heist so they could pay off some mob boss or something. I was in. Quick cash, quick fame, and most importantly knowledge on the mob and its inner workings. Only, during the actual heist, someone tipped off the cops and my boys got shot up. It was a good thing I was in the can, or I would've been shot up with those guys, who in hindsight, were probably trying to ditch me. Lousy deadbeats. Well I was eventually imprisoned for my involvement and broke out with some other guys, but during the break out, I lost my eye...to a guards knife...yea a guards knife. I used all the cash I could get from working street level jobs to buy this outfit and eye. Now I just roam the cosmos, in search of fame and money!" responded Ringo, still driving the hover bike. He made a quick looking motion behind his left shoulder, and then looked up at Mutacogi. "Scientific name huh? Ship crash? Damn, you aren't going to eat me or anything, right?" joked Ringo, staring at the road in front of him again. "I'm going to call you Muta, alright Muta?"
"I never tried to eat human. But I don't think I want to anyway. That would be pretty gross," they answered softly. The wind and movement of all of the vehicles around disoriented the creatures field of vision to the point of blinding them. In an attempt to comfort itself, it slowly pressed against Ringo's back, molding around him. It didn't take long for it to seem like an extremely thick and fairly heavy blanket had been wrapped around the cowboy's back, shoulders, and torso.
"You can call me whatever you want," the alien crooned into his ear. "I can't believe you did all that. And lost your eye? That must have hurt. Do you really think that box you found will make you rich?.... Also what's a heist?"
They didn't seem to have a problem with hearing he worked with mob. Not because they believed he was lying. They just didn't know much about it. The few times it's been mentioned made it sound like some kind of club or company. They weren't sure why the police wouldn't like a company.
"You can call me whatever you want," the alien crooned into his ear. "I can't believe you did all that. And lost your eye? That must have hurt. Do you really think that box you found will make you rich?.... Also what's a heist?"
They didn't seem to have a problem with hearing he worked with mob. Not because they believed he was lying. They just didn't know much about it. The few times it's been mentioned made it sound like some kind of club or company. They weren't sure why the police wouldn't like a company.
The newly dubbed ’Shiro’ kept his face impassive, just barely keeping himself from scowling openly at the woman.
She was going to be a pain, he knew it.
But as long as he kept himself out of her way- if he humored her, when they did interact- if he made himself stand more like a hate of time instead of entertainment, a victim- then she wouldn’t be his problem.
And she could be useful. He usually liked working with the authorities- their regulations usually gave him both the legal connections and predictable loopholes to pull off whatever job he was hired for plus some- but he would take whatever information he could get.
He pushed away the errant thought of how he would go about dealing with her.
… Well. Tried to, at least.
As the insectoid rattled on about his life, he absently began recording said information, creating a mental folder and just… dumping everything the guy was saying there. It’d sort itself out as the day went on, so that it was ready to be physically downloaded later. From what he’d gathered so far, the Sun tarot seemed like the best card for him.
He’d have to pick some out for this group.
He still needed to find out what SOMEBODY’s card was…
After some thought he picked out the Magician card for the woman. Her little witch joke seemed to have had some base to it. Investigator Clegg and the Silverstones already had theirs.
(Justice and Strength moved to a corner. He wasn't too worried about them; they weren't malicious. If he really wanted to, he could find out what they were discussing about soon enough.)
The lizard was very quiet. Perhaps Hermit. The three furry humanoids took a little while longer, but the Empress, Chariot, and Fool cards seemed to match for the time being.
Only time would tell if his assumptions were true.
Only time would tell who he was. And if he would find out who NOBODY himself was.
She was going to be a pain, he knew it.
But as long as he kept himself out of her way- if he humored her, when they did interact- if he made himself stand more like a hate of time instead of entertainment, a victim- then she wouldn’t be his problem.
And she could be useful. He usually liked working with the authorities- their regulations usually gave him both the legal connections and predictable loopholes to pull off whatever job he was hired for plus some- but he would take whatever information he could get.
He pushed away the errant thought of how he would go about dealing with her.
… Well. Tried to, at least.
As the insectoid rattled on about his life, he absently began recording said information, creating a mental folder and just… dumping everything the guy was saying there. It’d sort itself out as the day went on, so that it was ready to be physically downloaded later. From what he’d gathered so far, the Sun tarot seemed like the best card for him.
He’d have to pick some out for this group.
He still needed to find out what SOMEBODY’s card was…
After some thought he picked out the Magician card for the woman. Her little witch joke seemed to have had some base to it. Investigator Clegg and the Silverstones already had theirs.
(Justice and Strength moved to a corner. He wasn't too worried about them; they weren't malicious. If he really wanted to, he could find out what they were discussing about soon enough.)
The lizard was very quiet. Perhaps Hermit. The three furry humanoids took a little while longer, but the Empress, Chariot, and Fool cards seemed to match for the time being.
Only time would tell if his assumptions were true.
Only time would tell who he was. And if he would find out who NOBODY himself was.
The Kingsbane
Outer Space
The dreadful atmosphere still permeated the Tactical Hall, as both Wanheed and Severin glared blankly at the enigmatic black spot. However, the tension that once overwhelmed the crew was only now starting to subside. It would never compare, of course, to the terror of having the demon in white looking down upon the once-slain creature. The Astrophysicist was now there to aid Her, but, yet, the same fury remained on the White Barbarian's stormy eyes.
— ATTENTION, TACTICAL HALL! - Suddenly, Wan Nabes shouted. — 'Dat '<******> <****> 'scuse 'o 'ay captain, or 'dose 'whatevs lords, possibly brought 'dat <****> 'suckin, 'dargon 'humpin, king 'o a pile 'o <*****> upon we! — Whatever the Captain was saying, throwing spit everywhere he yelled at, the Girl could only perceive as of extreme importance, as the whole lot of officers inside switched their sights to him. — 'Ye tried to warn 'em 'bout it, didnt'cha?? — He lashed at Severin. — But' naaay! They're heads're so far up they're arses 'dat they couldnt've heed 'da warnings 'o a GOD 'FORSAKIN 'CRUISAH FROM 'DA OPPOSITE END OF 'DA <******> GALAXY!!!
For a brief moment, the Girl could swear the demon in white was going to unleash his sword on the ancient man's, old frail body, seeming how many inches Wanheed got close to Severin. Screaming right at his face. As if the blame for the black spot was solely his. However, the Astrophysicist was ever stoic, simply taking a tissue from his pocket and wiping the substances Wanheed inadvertently - or not - spat at his face.
— Hush, you might scare her.
The Girl could see how much power the old man had over this white monster, as if Her death was outright intentional. With a small sentence, calmly murmured in contrast to the screams, Severin tamed the Captain like he was a snake charmer. Still, Wanheed's face became even more warped by fury, downright bringing the storm of his eyes upon the Girl. — 'Why, 'yo little ... !
— And that is impossible.
— WHAT!?
— You see, Wanheed... — A curious "Oooh" echoed through the room, from all of the crew. — The Sovereignities have powerful assets upon their clutches, that is for sure. However, great as Gigasanthos might be, or Aerthia in the whole, we would have been already found if they had devices that expanded through whole galactic clusters. As of the information acquired with the drones, Lord Kampfer's instant transportation technology behaves erratically to our sensors, therefore, the same would apply to Gigasanthos. Then, Notspace Radiation is barely detectable at short range.
— Then 'wat it is, egghead?!
— If no further evidence suggests otherwise, that might have been a phenomena of Notspace itsel-
— 'AY '<******> KNEW IT!!! AELYN, 'IMMA 'GONNA EAT 'YO <***> — Clearly, the Captain missed the entire point of 'suggested evidence'. The crew now would have to bare insults against a person they didn't even knew who it was. But whoever this 'Aelyn' guy is, Wan Nabes started to curse his relatives. Scream how the Stella Viventium overcompensated for the size of something. How much he was a loser for sending an armed guard to a desert planet only to have them ravaged by 'typical' insectoid aliens. How beautiful was the supposed explosion of that lance or Spear of venus or Mars was once the supposed artillery projectile supposedly struck them. And many things that would get the Kingsbane destroyed right where it was floating if Petrovalyc heard it. However, when he was about to pull his Cutlass upon the Girl's neck, Wan had noticed that both Her and Severin were completely gone.
All that was left from them was a full width message on the astrophysicist's console screen. Big enough for someone across the room to be able to read it:
"Possible theory of sudden void formation: Aliens shielding themselves from mankind most feared weapon: W.A.N.N.A.B.E SPITGUN MARK 56."
By the time Wanheed started to express his volcanin fury upon only his crew's ears, Severin had hurried to the exit, leading the girl out with a calm hand on her shoulder. Once the Captain saw the message, the Girl could only hear the echoes of thundering roars from a limitlessly angry beast. All while Severin choked and gasped with his own laughs, tugging her sides while looking back from where they came.
— "Idiot!" — He kept pointing his finger towards the entrance to the Tactical Hall while reaching for a different door nearby. It was near to the corridoor that led to the place they called "Research Department" or so. However, this door led to nowhere.
It was a tightly cramped room, completely square, and She could estimate that only two or three more people would fit in. Without any hesitation, Severin went inside and, strange as it seemed, faced the entrace. — "Come", "Come" — As always, gesturing his hand for her to follow him.
Illya, The Dragon Lady
Unknown Kampfer Vessel
Not even a half second had passed when after Maria came into the cell and the draconian's tail was already wagging up and down. Big eyes going wide out of naive awe, Illiya gave out a low whimper, resembling an overjoyed mutt after seeing its owner after one or two hours. Lock-On was clearly ready to counter any incoming attack, but the Dragon Lady simply couldn't process that, not that she cared. Yet, it was justifiable: At any moment, that hybrid abherration would lose the constraints that kept her so tame and lash out. But even though Maria did her best, she couldn't possibly react in time to what came for her.
These eyes were of an apex predator. That tail was supposed to keep its balance amidst swift and deadly leap. It all meant the worst that could possibly happen. And so the Dragon Lady lifted her big, strong, clawed hands up, baring sharp fangs wide, finally descending unto Maria. The bounty hunter would just have enough time to reach for the holster when she felt the feral blow...
... Of a strong, friendly pat on her robotic shoulder pads.
A teethy smile was every human being to show emotional joy or satisfaction. Well, naturally, Illiya did the same, consequently showing all of her fangs.
— Hey, Mary, you're alright! — The draconian chirped while shaking Maria in her in excitement. — And you look incredible without your hat! — ... Kind of a let down that the draconian had forgotten to remark on the bounty hunter without a cape. And then a compliment of Maria's messy hair? If that wasn't sarcasm, what could it be? By the way she nodded franctically upon Maria's question about her nap, it was clear that Illiya was not acting up.
Then, the Dragon Lady felt a strange but quite appealing smell. It came from the bottle that her idol was chugging on. The draconian was about to ask for some of its contents - without even knowing what it was! - when Maria offerred herself. Immediately, Illiya took it on her hands, helping herself unto emptying the bottle effortlessly, like the rum was plain water. Then, just moments after shoving the empty canteen back to its owner, a faint smell of sulphur start to take over the duo as thin lines of smoke floated from between Illiya's fangs. — I didn't knew you could drink juice like that too, Mary! You're a really strong person! — When she spoke, however, a hazy cloud of white smoke puffed from her maw, as the past scent of sulphur was now stronger, with a slight hint of vaporized alcohol. Apparently, Illiya could take alcoholic drinks and process it into what Maria could only think as fire.
Illiya didn't bother showing her rival any unique abilities, after all, the draconian was convinced that Maria knew other beings like her. It was the same story that she was told back at the...
— Kill you? W-Well, I was sent to fight you, not, um... Heehee... Perhaps I was a bit too harsh, but, for real, Mary. — Head tilting to the side, Illiya looked away, from the corner of her eyes while placing a hand on her chin. The other hand was franctically fiddling with one of her horns. It appeared that the draconian was throughoutly lost in thought.
— What's a King's Bane, Mary?
Outer Space
The dreadful atmosphere still permeated the Tactical Hall, as both Wanheed and Severin glared blankly at the enigmatic black spot. However, the tension that once overwhelmed the crew was only now starting to subside. It would never compare, of course, to the terror of having the demon in white looking down upon the once-slain creature. The Astrophysicist was now there to aid Her, but, yet, the same fury remained on the White Barbarian's stormy eyes.
— ATTENTION, TACTICAL HALL! - Suddenly, Wan Nabes shouted. — 'Dat '<******> <****> 'scuse 'o 'ay captain, or 'dose 'whatevs lords, possibly brought 'dat <****> 'suckin, 'dargon 'humpin, king 'o a pile 'o <*****> upon we! — Whatever the Captain was saying, throwing spit everywhere he yelled at, the Girl could only perceive as of extreme importance, as the whole lot of officers inside switched their sights to him. — 'Ye tried to warn 'em 'bout it, didnt'cha?? — He lashed at Severin. — But' naaay! They're heads're so far up they're arses 'dat they couldnt've heed 'da warnings 'o a GOD 'FORSAKIN 'CRUISAH FROM 'DA OPPOSITE END OF 'DA <******> GALAXY!!!
For a brief moment, the Girl could swear the demon in white was going to unleash his sword on the ancient man's, old frail body, seeming how many inches Wanheed got close to Severin. Screaming right at his face. As if the blame for the black spot was solely his. However, the Astrophysicist was ever stoic, simply taking a tissue from his pocket and wiping the substances Wanheed inadvertently - or not - spat at his face.
— Hush, you might scare her.
The Girl could see how much power the old man had over this white monster, as if Her death was outright intentional. With a small sentence, calmly murmured in contrast to the screams, Severin tamed the Captain like he was a snake charmer. Still, Wanheed's face became even more warped by fury, downright bringing the storm of his eyes upon the Girl. — 'Why, 'yo little ... !
— And that is impossible.
— WHAT!?
— You see, Wanheed... — A curious "Oooh" echoed through the room, from all of the crew. — The Sovereignities have powerful assets upon their clutches, that is for sure. However, great as Gigasanthos might be, or Aerthia in the whole, we would have been already found if they had devices that expanded through whole galactic clusters. As of the information acquired with the drones, Lord Kampfer's instant transportation technology behaves erratically to our sensors, therefore, the same would apply to Gigasanthos. Then, Notspace Radiation is barely detectable at short range.
— Then 'wat it is, egghead?!
— If no further evidence suggests otherwise, that might have been a phenomena of Notspace itsel-
— 'AY '<******> KNEW IT!!! AELYN, 'IMMA 'GONNA EAT 'YO <***> — Clearly, the Captain missed the entire point of 'suggested evidence'. The crew now would have to bare insults against a person they didn't even knew who it was. But whoever this 'Aelyn' guy is, Wan Nabes started to curse his relatives. Scream how the Stella Viventium overcompensated for the size of something. How much he was a loser for sending an armed guard to a desert planet only to have them ravaged by 'typical' insectoid aliens. How beautiful was the supposed explosion of that lance or Spear of venus or Mars was once the supposed artillery projectile supposedly struck them. And many things that would get the Kingsbane destroyed right where it was floating if Petrovalyc heard it. However, when he was about to pull his Cutlass upon the Girl's neck, Wan had noticed that both Her and Severin were completely gone.
All that was left from them was a full width message on the astrophysicist's console screen. Big enough for someone across the room to be able to read it:
"Possible theory of sudden void formation: Aliens shielding themselves from mankind most feared weapon: W.A.N.N.A.B.E SPITGUN MARK 56."
By the time Wanheed started to express his volcanin fury upon only his crew's ears, Severin had hurried to the exit, leading the girl out with a calm hand on her shoulder. Once the Captain saw the message, the Girl could only hear the echoes of thundering roars from a limitlessly angry beast. All while Severin choked and gasped with his own laughs, tugging her sides while looking back from where they came.
— "Idiot!" — He kept pointing his finger towards the entrance to the Tactical Hall while reaching for a different door nearby. It was near to the corridoor that led to the place they called "Research Department" or so. However, this door led to nowhere.
It was a tightly cramped room, completely square, and She could estimate that only two or three more people would fit in. Without any hesitation, Severin went inside and, strange as it seemed, faced the entrace. — "Come", "Come" — As always, gesturing his hand for her to follow him.
Illya, The Dragon Lady
Unknown Kampfer Vessel
Not even a half second had passed when after Maria came into the cell and the draconian's tail was already wagging up and down. Big eyes going wide out of naive awe, Illiya gave out a low whimper, resembling an overjoyed mutt after seeing its owner after one or two hours. Lock-On was clearly ready to counter any incoming attack, but the Dragon Lady simply couldn't process that, not that she cared. Yet, it was justifiable: At any moment, that hybrid abherration would lose the constraints that kept her so tame and lash out. But even though Maria did her best, she couldn't possibly react in time to what came for her.
These eyes were of an apex predator. That tail was supposed to keep its balance amidst swift and deadly leap. It all meant the worst that could possibly happen. And so the Dragon Lady lifted her big, strong, clawed hands up, baring sharp fangs wide, finally descending unto Maria. The bounty hunter would just have enough time to reach for the holster when she felt the feral blow...
... Of a strong, friendly pat on her robotic shoulder pads.
A teethy smile was every human being to show emotional joy or satisfaction. Well, naturally, Illiya did the same, consequently showing all of her fangs.
— Hey, Mary, you're alright! — The draconian chirped while shaking Maria in her in excitement. — And you look incredible without your hat! — ... Kind of a let down that the draconian had forgotten to remark on the bounty hunter without a cape. And then a compliment of Maria's messy hair? If that wasn't sarcasm, what could it be? By the way she nodded franctically upon Maria's question about her nap, it was clear that Illiya was not acting up.
Then, the Dragon Lady felt a strange but quite appealing smell. It came from the bottle that her idol was chugging on. The draconian was about to ask for some of its contents - without even knowing what it was! - when Maria offerred herself. Immediately, Illiya took it on her hands, helping herself unto emptying the bottle effortlessly, like the rum was plain water. Then, just moments after shoving the empty canteen back to its owner, a faint smell of sulphur start to take over the duo as thin lines of smoke floated from between Illiya's fangs. — I didn't knew you could drink juice like that too, Mary! You're a really strong person! — When she spoke, however, a hazy cloud of white smoke puffed from her maw, as the past scent of sulphur was now stronger, with a slight hint of vaporized alcohol. Apparently, Illiya could take alcoholic drinks and process it into what Maria could only think as fire.
Illiya didn't bother showing her rival any unique abilities, after all, the draconian was convinced that Maria knew other beings like her. It was the same story that she was told back at the...
— Kill you? W-Well, I was sent to fight you, not, um... Heehee... Perhaps I was a bit too harsh, but, for real, Mary. — Head tilting to the side, Illiya looked away, from the corner of her eyes while placing a hand on her chin. The other hand was franctically fiddling with one of her horns. It appeared that the draconian was throughoutly lost in thought.
— What's a King's Bane, Mary?
Maltese Station
Leaning agasint the wall, the girly man wearing a grey suit with a checkered vest, was flipping a coin like some kind of swinger back in the 1920s as he people watched. The most interesting was coming from Ketin's group, keeping an eye on them seeing what was happening as he eyed other marks. Hayden Skylar was the kind of man who likes it when people go to his casino and gamble money since in the end he wins even if they do get on a winning strike. However the old saying always true: "House always wins". Soon his attention went back into eyeing the foxy man's group seeing a good wad of cash just be handed off for that old man can get himself a new leg/foot and eavesdropping that it was all their cash they just spent . Hayden saw it was high to time hit, seeing if his incredible luck would hop in and get them into his casino.
As he walks towards them, he goes ahead and pulls out a fat stack of credits and goes for the dangerous looking woman. He always liked dealing with individuals who looked dangerous, they always seemed...intoxicating for the man, even the he knew little about Ketin and his dangerousness because of his light hearted/childish attitude he gave off spell as he play fight with the old looking geezer. As he walks pass Nirix, he goes ahead and deposits at least a wad of 10k credits into her pocket as he came around and says "Oh! It seems you are all in bit of financial trouble" with his overconfident smile on his face as he looks at the group. His hands on the gusp of his grey suit jacket and bent his knees as if he was in some kind of old poppey cartoon or even steamboat willy as he looks at them. "My dear lady, please take out whats in your pocket, lets just I decided to help you with your financial situation...trust me, that cash has no strings attach, but if I may say..." as he glances at Ketin with his overconfident smirk before continuing "Why not spend that new found wealth at my Casino! For you are looking at Hayden Skylar, owner of the greatest casino throughout the Galaxy called New Vegas! All you have to do is just go across to that teleporter nod that has the neon signs that says New Vegas here and presto! You are at the casino where almost every game imaginable is their to play at your leisure" he says enthusiastically as he spins around raises his hands as if trying to scare someone with his gesture and his cheek to cheek smile.
"If you are worried about missing your flight, no worries, I can easily set up for someone to come and remind you within 15 minutes before departure and since once you cross that teleporter node, you will have a digital signature impeded so once you cross any other teleporter node you enter, you will be put back into this station! Hell almost all of the stations within civilized systems have such a teleporter node in the stations so if you want you can always come back whenever you want" he adds on with his salesman pitch hoping that they would buy what he was saying. He goes ahead and puts his hands behind his back and leans forward at all three of them and says "So what do you say? Do you all feel a bit lucky?" as his smile only got wider confident in that they would say yes.
Leaning agasint the wall, the girly man wearing a grey suit with a checkered vest, was flipping a coin like some kind of swinger back in the 1920s as he people watched. The most interesting was coming from Ketin's group, keeping an eye on them seeing what was happening as he eyed other marks. Hayden Skylar was the kind of man who likes it when people go to his casino and gamble money since in the end he wins even if they do get on a winning strike. However the old saying always true: "House always wins". Soon his attention went back into eyeing the foxy man's group seeing a good wad of cash just be handed off for that old man can get himself a new leg/foot and eavesdropping that it was all their cash they just spent . Hayden saw it was high to time hit, seeing if his incredible luck would hop in and get them into his casino.
As he walks towards them, he goes ahead and pulls out a fat stack of credits and goes for the dangerous looking woman. He always liked dealing with individuals who looked dangerous, they always seemed...intoxicating for the man, even the he knew little about Ketin and his dangerousness because of his light hearted/childish attitude he gave off spell as he play fight with the old looking geezer. As he walks pass Nirix, he goes ahead and deposits at least a wad of 10k credits into her pocket as he came around and says "Oh! It seems you are all in bit of financial trouble" with his overconfident smile on his face as he looks at the group. His hands on the gusp of his grey suit jacket and bent his knees as if he was in some kind of old poppey cartoon or even steamboat willy as he looks at them. "My dear lady, please take out whats in your pocket, lets just I decided to help you with your financial situation...trust me, that cash has no strings attach, but if I may say..." as he glances at Ketin with his overconfident smirk before continuing "Why not spend that new found wealth at my Casino! For you are looking at Hayden Skylar, owner of the greatest casino throughout the Galaxy called New Vegas! All you have to do is just go across to that teleporter nod that has the neon signs that says New Vegas here and presto! You are at the casino where almost every game imaginable is their to play at your leisure" he says enthusiastically as he spins around raises his hands as if trying to scare someone with his gesture and his cheek to cheek smile.
"If you are worried about missing your flight, no worries, I can easily set up for someone to come and remind you within 15 minutes before departure and since once you cross that teleporter node, you will have a digital signature impeded so once you cross any other teleporter node you enter, you will be put back into this station! Hell almost all of the stations within civilized systems have such a teleporter node in the stations so if you want you can always come back whenever you want" he adds on with his salesman pitch hoping that they would buy what he was saying. He goes ahead and puts his hands behind his back and leans forward at all three of them and says "So what do you say? Do you all feel a bit lucky?" as his smile only got wider confident in that they would say yes.
The reptoid sat back down and read the menu with careful consideration. Though there was a variety of foods he could choose Shashi didn't show any excitement while reading about any of them. The tip of his tongue brushed incidentally against the surface of the menu and, after a long moment of silence, he placed a scaly finger against one of the dishes. The waiter who was so bold to approach the behemoth before craned his neck to view what the lizard had chosen. "...Oh." He said. "Right away... sir?"
Shashi turned his long neck to stare blankly at the waiter. Without an apparent objection the waiter tentatively plucked the menu from his hands and shuffled away, murmuring something to himself repeatedly. Once the man was gone the reptoid turned back to the counter and swept his drink from it, downing the entire beverage at once.
Shashi turned his long neck to stare blankly at the waiter. Without an apparent objection the waiter tentatively plucked the menu from his hands and shuffled away, murmuring something to himself repeatedly. Once the man was gone the reptoid turned back to the counter and swept his drink from it, downing the entire beverage at once.
Wick scratched his chin for a moment, trying to think of something he may have had to ask. It was a lot of information being put forward at one time, but he was sure that he got it. So when nothing came to mind, he shook his head no.
"No, I don't think there's anything, at least not at the moment. Thanks, though. I appreciate the advice," He said. Wick held out his hand for a shake, though he wouldn't take it as an offense if the detective decided not to. Some people he had met preferred to talk and then just leave it at that, believing their words were enough. He would try to get to know this man, as well as the others in their motley crew as best as he could outside of the information he had just gotten. That was what made a good leader, right? Knowing exactly who it was that had your back? At least a little bit?
Not sure exactly what to say while sitting at the table with everyone else, Alice sat with both hands on her bags. She kept a good eye on as many people at the table as she could, especially the dark skinned woman. She had the look of a thief about her, which made Alice a little more wary of her in comparison to the others. They were all strangers, so she had trouble really trusting any of them enough to relax at least at the moment. Maybe that would change, maybe it wouldn't. Whatever the case, she sat quietly and did her best to focus more on repairs to her joy buzzer after she had broken it on the Perrygold.
"No, I don't think there's anything, at least not at the moment. Thanks, though. I appreciate the advice," He said. Wick held out his hand for a shake, though he wouldn't take it as an offense if the detective decided not to. Some people he had met preferred to talk and then just leave it at that, believing their words were enough. He would try to get to know this man, as well as the others in their motley crew as best as he could outside of the information he had just gotten. That was what made a good leader, right? Knowing exactly who it was that had your back? At least a little bit?
Not sure exactly what to say while sitting at the table with everyone else, Alice sat with both hands on her bags. She kept a good eye on as many people at the table as she could, especially the dark skinned woman. She had the look of a thief about her, which made Alice a little more wary of her in comparison to the others. They were all strangers, so she had trouble really trusting any of them enough to relax at least at the moment. Maybe that would change, maybe it wouldn't. Whatever the case, she sat quietly and did her best to focus more on repairs to her joy buzzer after she had broken it on the Perrygold.
Maltese Station
Ketin could hardly recall a time when he had felt so good. It was a warm contentedness that simply became him. He glowed with it, a bounce in his step and a frisky energy in every movement. To be in a station was pleasure enough - where the many people all gathered together on their separate ways, washing him in a sea of minds and technology alike that was to Kete like a refreshing lagoon of freedom and safety.
Maybe it was only due to the stark contrast of the dreadful days that had come before that so simple a moment seemed to him a momentous sensation of glee. Maybe it was the ultimate sense of liberation that came with actually trusting someone to stick around, to make things okay when he could no longer bear the burden of false hope. Not to mention the burly little PI, who he was already viewing as another treasured companion. He did not feel so at-home with Arnaldo as he did with Nirix - but that meant nothing. Kramer was like a welcomed guest that seemed likely to stick around. He really did like the ‘old man’.
As the ex-investigator went about fitting the leg onto his stump and letting the automated attachment programs run through - a process which would take a few minutes - he and his best friend had stood some feet away. Responding to her words about counting money before spending it and not stealing, the Fox gave a sly grin, leaning in just a little to keep his voice a decibel or two lower.
”It wasn’t enough.” He said, gauged her reaction visibly, then shook his head knowingly. ”Places like this, nobody expects to flip high-end stuff like that. If someone offers to pay something close to what it’s going for, they’ll drop it like an old hat.”
For someone who could not have been more than nineteen years or so of age, Ketin certainly was knowledgeable. How had he fit the obvious wealth of experiences at his disposal into so short a life? It was the most persistent mystery that surrounded him for the assassin - that, as well as exactly what the terrible thing he had done was - the thing that had him weeping back on Kampfer’s station.
But things like that did not matter during moments like these. It was what Kete counted on to keep them buried and retain at least most of his sanity.
”And besiiides-” He added, returning to his normal volume with a sing-songy voice, grin brightening and eyes flashing with coy insolence, ”Stealing...Is...Fun.” Turning the words into three separate sentences, he punctuated the last word by poking Nirix lightly on the tip of her nose - almost like some playful parody of a reprimand. As if surely she should have known that stealing was fun.
Arnaldo had returned to them then, and they had begun making their way out of the little store, back onto the ‘street’ where storefronts and facades lined up along either side, and the sky was a low ceiling of artificial light and greebles. The kid faltered visibly under Arnaldo’s hand, giggling cutely. ”Owe you? He repeated back, as if he had been asked something totally preposterous. He shook his head again, then halted briefly as if thinking better of it. ”Actually, you can pay me back by promising not to lose any more body parts.” And though he clearly spoke in jest, there was a distinct undertone.
An undertone and an infinitesimal second of a meaningful look that seemed to imply that he knew more than he let on. A silent, almost subconscious implication that it was actually quite important to him that the PI refrain from needing to repeat the events of the night before.
But as usual, that instant was gone before it could be called out.
”Now, let’s go find us some good Nivek tea!” He announced cheerfully, shooting one arm forward in an exaggerated gesture for ’Onward!’ as he stepped boldly forward, step still bouncing, still swaying unconsciously to some hidden music.
Had Arnaldo actually mentioned ‘Nivek tea’?
Well, maybe it was just a weird coincidence that Kete also happened to appreciate that particular kind of tea. An unlikely one, but not impossible. ”I’ve heard it’s the best tea in the Galaxy.” He added as if on cue, dashing the possibility of coincidence. After all, even if he had heard such a thing, what would make him think to mention it now in particular?
As usual, he did not give enough time to be questioned on this - it had long since gone from tactical to simply natural manners of his speech.
”There’s a tea lace that just opened over on the other side of the station. Maybe they’ll have it!” Hadn’t he already mentioned being new to this station? Well, maybe that, too he had just happened upon along the grapevine.
Most importantly, how did he know that Arnaldo was looking for a teahouse?
The walk was not an exceptionally long one, given the comparably small size of Maltese Station to many others. The lack of a real residential sector made for a more compact overall structure, where the majority of space could be used to make for a more pleasant visiting experience. While far from a luxury station, it was generally pretty nice.The hallways were broad enough to keep from needing to constantly squeeze by people the whole way, despite the various stalls and other small structures that divided them.
A glance at one of the many schedule boards situated all over the gigantic, glorified airport promised some nine more hours until the Perrygold would be departing for the next destination. That someone was following them from a good distance had not occurred to Ketin, given that the pursuer had coincidentally been following at just outside the Fox’s most cognizant range.
The teahouse, like most other businesses in the station, was built into the walls and set apart from others more by the semipermanent aspects than the mostly uniform architecture of the facade. The sign, displayed on a digital lightboard, read Shanston&Sané - Artisan Teahouse in simple, airy letters. Images of sage-colored branches were printed on the windows, and a quaint ‘outdoor’ seating area stood out front, several bistro tables set out with a sort of ‘zen garden’ theme that looked like a small oasis amidst the commercial wonderland around it. It was faintly polluted by the neon lights present just a short ways down the hall, but otherwise quite nice. It looked peaceful inside, too - but Kete proceeded automatically to take a seat at one of the tables, rocking the chair back on its rear legs. Apparently they would be sitting there, without discussion.
The waiter was prompt to appear - a thin young man with sandy blonde hair that hung neatly just about his ears. He looked as though he might be a little bit nervous in general - but was quite at peace and contented with his present situation. ”May I take your order?” he queried softly, holding a small, digital notepad at the ready.
”Nivek tea!” Kete replied promptly, ”All three of us.”
The waiter blinked, then said with a tone of admission ”Uh, we’re still working on perfecting the brewing technique to properly reproduce Nivek tea - so, it may not be quite authentic, will that be okay?” Ketin glanced to Arnaldo unnecessarily, then nodded to the waiter anyway. ”Uh huh.” ”Okay then, that’ll be right out.”
As it happened, the tea was not perfect Nivek - but it was a very admirable attempt and very closely approximated the subtleties of the real thing. Being arguably the greatest tea in the Way, it was not merely necessary to have the proper ingredients, but also the properly honed technique - a technique which could take many years to properly master enough that a native might find it indistinguishable. It was not perfect, but solidly good.
It was not until they were nearly done with the drink that Kete noticed one pair of eyes that had been lingering in their direction for some time. He was in too good a frame of mind to allow paranoia to ruin it - but it was a learned instinct to pay a little extra attention to it regardless. There was a vaguely predatory air about that particular mind, but he saw no hostile intent. The ’mark of the salesman’, as he had come to call it privately.
Outwardly, he made no sign of having noticed this person until he had appeared before all three of them, slipping a wad of cash into the Eoclu’s pocket and going on a spiel about his casino. Kete, who had obviously seen the deft gesture of reverse-pickpocketing, did not let on to this fact - confident that Nirix, too had been sharp enough to catch it, and would react accordingly. In fact, his first glimpse of the guy was with eyes slightly widened, blinking just a little too fast, one ear twitching - looking as if he had been suddenly surprised by something unexpectedly delightful in the unlikeliest of places.
But when the ‘salesman’ glanced to the Fox, he would find that the young man was looking hat him with an enigmatic expression that was remarkably difficult to place - at first. Elbow on the table, he was resting his chin on the heel of his hand, allowing curled fingers to casually cover his lips, an almost girlish position when taking into account the slight cock of his head and tilt of his shoulders. His eyes were locked on the ‘salesman’. His right ear was flicking persistently. He did not seem hostile, or even suspicious. Just oddly fascinated.
Then, once the pitch had been made and the man was eagerly awaiting a response, Kete wiggled slightly where he sat. ”Well…I’m feeling lucky~” He cooed, then leaning back into his seat, unconsciously brushing back a lock of orange with a finger, and smiling demurely. Suddenly he looked much closer to a reasonably smooth young adult than a stupid kid. ”Depends, though - are you planning to show us around~?” He added coyly, head declined slightly, but bright eyes looking up at the man through the orange hair with no attempt to mask the overtly flirtatious stare.
It didn’t matter who was on the receiving end of it - if nothing else, Ketin Clarke had a very powerful gaze...
TheKoolest Boat U Know
With the sleepy ‘morning’ atmosphere starting to fade from the ship, the sudden bellowing of Jackson was not so out of place as it might have been. In response, Sands could only laugh and shrug - the kind of not-really-guilty laugh of finding one’s own overwhelming success to be delightful. ”I got a lot of practice in the ECDF.” he explained after a moment. ”We mostly just sat around. Tsuan and Ty are the ones who were doin’ cool spec-ops @#$% while Dal and I were getting awesome at holocards.”
None of them talked often about their time in, respectively, the ECDF an Hi’tzen Special Forces. But when they did, it usually meant they were at ease and among friends. Despite his clearly lacking social skills, the others apparently found Jet to be quite easy to get along with.
In turn, he replied to Jet’s slightly awkward reminiscence as though it were not awkward at all. ”Yeah. We were all ready to take on the ‘Verse, and all we got for our trouble was those two jerks.” He tilted his head, indicating the door behind him - they had switched off over the course of the night, each allowing the other to maintain a more comfortable position for a time.
”I’ll be real glad once Rai gets around to dealing with these two.”
Given that they were just down the hall from the control room, the two were able to hear when the passive scanners picked up a strong distress signal accompanied by a tense plea for aid. Sands frowned, looking toward the open door, raising a brow in curiosity.
Ty had awoken some time before, and was enjoying the peace that came with overseeing the control room of a starship. Even if he did not know how to pilot it manually, there were few who could sit in relative silence and gaze upon the vastness of space and not be at ease. The transmission had startled him, though not so that he made any sound. Suddenly alert, he had leaned forward, adjusting the knob and making the voice come through that much clearer. Given that he had to lower the sensitivity, it meant that the vessel in question had appeared very close indeed.
Calculating the risks, Ty held his finger over the button for a beat before pressing it definitively. The goal, after all, of Ningo was unification and the cultivation of trust and goodwill. Responding to such distress calls was a natural responsibility if they were going to stay true to their cause - and their cause was the whole reason they had stuck with Cathorine in the first place.
”Reading you, Noname.” He replied coolly, glancing about at different screens. ”We’re not in the condition to make any sudden maneuvers so if you’re able to navigate into our cargo bay, that would be ideal. Otherwise, if you have a spacesuit, you can go on the float and we’ll come out to grab you.”
Sands looked back to Jet, brows raised slightly, and returned the holo-cards to their holodeck. Depending on how the distressed newcomer chose to go about this, one of them was going to have something to do, there was no need for Ty to actually tell them what.
The Ark of Chyll
It’s been said that I have sort of a… Dark sense of humor. Not everybody likes that. But it’s just another one of those things that comes with the job. You see a lot of dark things in this like of work. You see the worst side of people. But when there ain’t much to laugh at, you just gotta’ make up for what ain’t there.
It’s got me into trouble on more than a few occasions, but I can’t help it. When a man’s murdered by his wife dropping a piano on him - I don’t care what anyone says. That’s pretty funny. Downright classic. I ain’t laughin’ at the fact that the guy’s dead - I’m laughin’ at how off-key that relationship musta’ been. When some gal comes to me up in a tizzy over what her lover’s been doin’ at the local community college, I’m gonna’ suggest ‘Adultery 101’. I don’t even do it on purpose anymore. When a guy’s chewin’ the angry end of a gun, I’m gonna’ ask him politely not to get blood on my rug. It don’t mean I want him to go offin’ himself, does it?
Thing is, not everybody got the same taste in jokes, and some folks have a hard time with it.
Ah, well. Ain’t my problem.
The old detective smiled his basset-hound grin, extending the hand not occupied by drink and cigarette for a firm shake. His hand was leathery, but soft - somehow it reinforced the air of a generally gentle man.
”Good deal.” He said, making to move back toward the group, but hesitating a moment. Again he leaned in to the side and said in the same low, conspiratorial mumble said ”Oh, and that’s a pretty volatile bunch there so if there’s anyone in the group you wanna’ take out back an’- He made a finger-gun with his free hand and ‘shot’ it at nothing with a tiny ’pop’ sound -”I’ll be sure ta’ look the other way.”
Then, conspicuously failing to make any overt clarification that he was only joking, merely gave a subtle wink, a tiny double click of the tongue, and finally head back to the group, where his seat was still mercifully free.
”So, what’d I miss boys’n girls? Gimme’ the scoop.” He said conversationally as he sat, reclining in the eat and sipping at the drink, letting the apparently fake cigarette dangle over it between two outstretched fingers.
Before anyone could really ’give him the scoop’however, a great ’BANG!!’ exploded from further down the long bar as a very large man cracked a huge, mechanical fist down onto the surface of it, denting the faux-wood in the process. It was immediately followed by an angry, barking voice declaring
”I @#$%ING HATE SNAKES!”
The fat man stood then, and it was a wonder nobody had noticed him entering in the first place. He was huge, big-boned and with great heaps of fat piled about it. He wore filthy work-clothes and a blue and white baseball cap that read SWYFT in obnoxious, yellow lettering. The man would not have been so imposing except for the arm - a huge, bulky robot arm that, had he not been so heavy himself, would surely have toppled him to the right. The chunky shoulderpiece, supporting a system of hydraulic pistons, whirred slightly as he moved it, flexing the beefy metal fingers.
He took a few steps toward the group then and stopped close enough that he could be reasonably taken for addressing the whole of them - though clearly the object of his ire was Shashi.
He let silence linger for a moment, most of the bar going quiet at the promise of trouble and craning their necks to get a glimpse of the show. He was breathing heavily from directed anger...or from the exertion of waddling toward them.
The bartender, exasperated, muttered the name of his deity of choice and rubbed at his face, making his way to the opposite end of the bar in a huff.
”THE ONLY @#$% I HATE MORE THAN MAIN CHARACTERS AND LIBERALS-” He whirled on the body of the group, spitting as he slandered them, then returned his pig-like attention back to the likely still impassive Shashi - ”IS @#$%IN’ SLIMY-ASS SNAKES!!”
And then he just stood there, red-faced, intoxicating and reasonably intimidating, apparently awaiting their reaction to his pleasant declaration of loathing.
For his part, the Detective simply looked on with impassive amusement, interested to see how the group’s first real conflict would play out - even if it was doubtless an insignificant one given what they were likely to face in the near future.
Ketin could hardly recall a time when he had felt so good. It was a warm contentedness that simply became him. He glowed with it, a bounce in his step and a frisky energy in every movement. To be in a station was pleasure enough - where the many people all gathered together on their separate ways, washing him in a sea of minds and technology alike that was to Kete like a refreshing lagoon of freedom and safety.
Maybe it was only due to the stark contrast of the dreadful days that had come before that so simple a moment seemed to him a momentous sensation of glee. Maybe it was the ultimate sense of liberation that came with actually trusting someone to stick around, to make things okay when he could no longer bear the burden of false hope. Not to mention the burly little PI, who he was already viewing as another treasured companion. He did not feel so at-home with Arnaldo as he did with Nirix - but that meant nothing. Kramer was like a welcomed guest that seemed likely to stick around. He really did like the ‘old man’.
As the ex-investigator went about fitting the leg onto his stump and letting the automated attachment programs run through - a process which would take a few minutes - he and his best friend had stood some feet away. Responding to her words about counting money before spending it and not stealing, the Fox gave a sly grin, leaning in just a little to keep his voice a decibel or two lower.
”It wasn’t enough.” He said, gauged her reaction visibly, then shook his head knowingly. ”Places like this, nobody expects to flip high-end stuff like that. If someone offers to pay something close to what it’s going for, they’ll drop it like an old hat.”
For someone who could not have been more than nineteen years or so of age, Ketin certainly was knowledgeable. How had he fit the obvious wealth of experiences at his disposal into so short a life? It was the most persistent mystery that surrounded him for the assassin - that, as well as exactly what the terrible thing he had done was - the thing that had him weeping back on Kampfer’s station.
But things like that did not matter during moments like these. It was what Kete counted on to keep them buried and retain at least most of his sanity.
”And besiiides-” He added, returning to his normal volume with a sing-songy voice, grin brightening and eyes flashing with coy insolence, ”Stealing...Is...Fun.” Turning the words into three separate sentences, he punctuated the last word by poking Nirix lightly on the tip of her nose - almost like some playful parody of a reprimand. As if surely she should have known that stealing was fun.
Arnaldo had returned to them then, and they had begun making their way out of the little store, back onto the ‘street’ where storefronts and facades lined up along either side, and the sky was a low ceiling of artificial light and greebles. The kid faltered visibly under Arnaldo’s hand, giggling cutely. ”Owe you? He repeated back, as if he had been asked something totally preposterous. He shook his head again, then halted briefly as if thinking better of it. ”Actually, you can pay me back by promising not to lose any more body parts.” And though he clearly spoke in jest, there was a distinct undertone.
An undertone and an infinitesimal second of a meaningful look that seemed to imply that he knew more than he let on. A silent, almost subconscious implication that it was actually quite important to him that the PI refrain from needing to repeat the events of the night before.
But as usual, that instant was gone before it could be called out.
”Now, let’s go find us some good Nivek tea!” He announced cheerfully, shooting one arm forward in an exaggerated gesture for ’Onward!’ as he stepped boldly forward, step still bouncing, still swaying unconsciously to some hidden music.
Had Arnaldo actually mentioned ‘Nivek tea’?
Well, maybe it was just a weird coincidence that Kete also happened to appreciate that particular kind of tea. An unlikely one, but not impossible. ”I’ve heard it’s the best tea in the Galaxy.” He added as if on cue, dashing the possibility of coincidence. After all, even if he had heard such a thing, what would make him think to mention it now in particular?
As usual, he did not give enough time to be questioned on this - it had long since gone from tactical to simply natural manners of his speech.
”There’s a tea lace that just opened over on the other side of the station. Maybe they’ll have it!” Hadn’t he already mentioned being new to this station? Well, maybe that, too he had just happened upon along the grapevine.
Most importantly, how did he know that Arnaldo was looking for a teahouse?
The walk was not an exceptionally long one, given the comparably small size of Maltese Station to many others. The lack of a real residential sector made for a more compact overall structure, where the majority of space could be used to make for a more pleasant visiting experience. While far from a luxury station, it was generally pretty nice.The hallways were broad enough to keep from needing to constantly squeeze by people the whole way, despite the various stalls and other small structures that divided them.
A glance at one of the many schedule boards situated all over the gigantic, glorified airport promised some nine more hours until the Perrygold would be departing for the next destination. That someone was following them from a good distance had not occurred to Ketin, given that the pursuer had coincidentally been following at just outside the Fox’s most cognizant range.
The teahouse, like most other businesses in the station, was built into the walls and set apart from others more by the semipermanent aspects than the mostly uniform architecture of the facade. The sign, displayed on a digital lightboard, read Shanston&Sané - Artisan Teahouse in simple, airy letters. Images of sage-colored branches were printed on the windows, and a quaint ‘outdoor’ seating area stood out front, several bistro tables set out with a sort of ‘zen garden’ theme that looked like a small oasis amidst the commercial wonderland around it. It was faintly polluted by the neon lights present just a short ways down the hall, but otherwise quite nice. It looked peaceful inside, too - but Kete proceeded automatically to take a seat at one of the tables, rocking the chair back on its rear legs. Apparently they would be sitting there, without discussion.
The waiter was prompt to appear - a thin young man with sandy blonde hair that hung neatly just about his ears. He looked as though he might be a little bit nervous in general - but was quite at peace and contented with his present situation. ”May I take your order?” he queried softly, holding a small, digital notepad at the ready.
”Nivek tea!” Kete replied promptly, ”All three of us.”
The waiter blinked, then said with a tone of admission ”Uh, we’re still working on perfecting the brewing technique to properly reproduce Nivek tea - so, it may not be quite authentic, will that be okay?” Ketin glanced to Arnaldo unnecessarily, then nodded to the waiter anyway. ”Uh huh.” ”Okay then, that’ll be right out.”
As it happened, the tea was not perfect Nivek - but it was a very admirable attempt and very closely approximated the subtleties of the real thing. Being arguably the greatest tea in the Way, it was not merely necessary to have the proper ingredients, but also the properly honed technique - a technique which could take many years to properly master enough that a native might find it indistinguishable. It was not perfect, but solidly good.
It was not until they were nearly done with the drink that Kete noticed one pair of eyes that had been lingering in their direction for some time. He was in too good a frame of mind to allow paranoia to ruin it - but it was a learned instinct to pay a little extra attention to it regardless. There was a vaguely predatory air about that particular mind, but he saw no hostile intent. The ’mark of the salesman’, as he had come to call it privately.
Outwardly, he made no sign of having noticed this person until he had appeared before all three of them, slipping a wad of cash into the Eoclu’s pocket and going on a spiel about his casino. Kete, who had obviously seen the deft gesture of reverse-pickpocketing, did not let on to this fact - confident that Nirix, too had been sharp enough to catch it, and would react accordingly. In fact, his first glimpse of the guy was with eyes slightly widened, blinking just a little too fast, one ear twitching - looking as if he had been suddenly surprised by something unexpectedly delightful in the unlikeliest of places.
But when the ‘salesman’ glanced to the Fox, he would find that the young man was looking hat him with an enigmatic expression that was remarkably difficult to place - at first. Elbow on the table, he was resting his chin on the heel of his hand, allowing curled fingers to casually cover his lips, an almost girlish position when taking into account the slight cock of his head and tilt of his shoulders. His eyes were locked on the ‘salesman’. His right ear was flicking persistently. He did not seem hostile, or even suspicious. Just oddly fascinated.
Then, once the pitch had been made and the man was eagerly awaiting a response, Kete wiggled slightly where he sat. ”Well…I’m feeling lucky~” He cooed, then leaning back into his seat, unconsciously brushing back a lock of orange with a finger, and smiling demurely. Suddenly he looked much closer to a reasonably smooth young adult than a stupid kid. ”Depends, though - are you planning to show us around~?” He added coyly, head declined slightly, but bright eyes looking up at the man through the orange hair with no attempt to mask the overtly flirtatious stare.
It didn’t matter who was on the receiving end of it - if nothing else, Ketin Clarke had a very powerful gaze...
TheKoolest Boat U Know
With the sleepy ‘morning’ atmosphere starting to fade from the ship, the sudden bellowing of Jackson was not so out of place as it might have been. In response, Sands could only laugh and shrug - the kind of not-really-guilty laugh of finding one’s own overwhelming success to be delightful. ”I got a lot of practice in the ECDF.” he explained after a moment. ”We mostly just sat around. Tsuan and Ty are the ones who were doin’ cool spec-ops @#$% while Dal and I were getting awesome at holocards.”
None of them talked often about their time in, respectively, the ECDF an Hi’tzen Special Forces. But when they did, it usually meant they were at ease and among friends. Despite his clearly lacking social skills, the others apparently found Jet to be quite easy to get along with.
In turn, he replied to Jet’s slightly awkward reminiscence as though it were not awkward at all. ”Yeah. We were all ready to take on the ‘Verse, and all we got for our trouble was those two jerks.” He tilted his head, indicating the door behind him - they had switched off over the course of the night, each allowing the other to maintain a more comfortable position for a time.
”I’ll be real glad once Rai gets around to dealing with these two.”
Given that they were just down the hall from the control room, the two were able to hear when the passive scanners picked up a strong distress signal accompanied by a tense plea for aid. Sands frowned, looking toward the open door, raising a brow in curiosity.
Ty had awoken some time before, and was enjoying the peace that came with overseeing the control room of a starship. Even if he did not know how to pilot it manually, there were few who could sit in relative silence and gaze upon the vastness of space and not be at ease. The transmission had startled him, though not so that he made any sound. Suddenly alert, he had leaned forward, adjusting the knob and making the voice come through that much clearer. Given that he had to lower the sensitivity, it meant that the vessel in question had appeared very close indeed.
Calculating the risks, Ty held his finger over the button for a beat before pressing it definitively. The goal, after all, of Ningo was unification and the cultivation of trust and goodwill. Responding to such distress calls was a natural responsibility if they were going to stay true to their cause - and their cause was the whole reason they had stuck with Cathorine in the first place.
”Reading you, Noname.” He replied coolly, glancing about at different screens. ”We’re not in the condition to make any sudden maneuvers so if you’re able to navigate into our cargo bay, that would be ideal. Otherwise, if you have a spacesuit, you can go on the float and we’ll come out to grab you.”
Sands looked back to Jet, brows raised slightly, and returned the holo-cards to their holodeck. Depending on how the distressed newcomer chose to go about this, one of them was going to have something to do, there was no need for Ty to actually tell them what.
The Ark of Chyll
♪
It’s been said that I have sort of a… Dark sense of humor. Not everybody likes that. But it’s just another one of those things that comes with the job. You see a lot of dark things in this like of work. You see the worst side of people. But when there ain’t much to laugh at, you just gotta’ make up for what ain’t there.
It’s got me into trouble on more than a few occasions, but I can’t help it. When a man’s murdered by his wife dropping a piano on him - I don’t care what anyone says. That’s pretty funny. Downright classic. I ain’t laughin’ at the fact that the guy’s dead - I’m laughin’ at how off-key that relationship musta’ been. When some gal comes to me up in a tizzy over what her lover’s been doin’ at the local community college, I’m gonna’ suggest ‘Adultery 101’. I don’t even do it on purpose anymore. When a guy’s chewin’ the angry end of a gun, I’m gonna’ ask him politely not to get blood on my rug. It don’t mean I want him to go offin’ himself, does it?
Thing is, not everybody got the same taste in jokes, and some folks have a hard time with it.
Ah, well. Ain’t my problem.
The old detective smiled his basset-hound grin, extending the hand not occupied by drink and cigarette for a firm shake. His hand was leathery, but soft - somehow it reinforced the air of a generally gentle man.
”Good deal.” He said, making to move back toward the group, but hesitating a moment. Again he leaned in to the side and said in the same low, conspiratorial mumble said ”Oh, and that’s a pretty volatile bunch there so if there’s anyone in the group you wanna’ take out back an’- He made a finger-gun with his free hand and ‘shot’ it at nothing with a tiny ’pop’ sound -”I’ll be sure ta’ look the other way.”
Then, conspicuously failing to make any overt clarification that he was only joking, merely gave a subtle wink, a tiny double click of the tongue, and finally head back to the group, where his seat was still mercifully free.
”So, what’d I miss boys’n girls? Gimme’ the scoop.” He said conversationally as he sat, reclining in the eat and sipping at the drink, letting the apparently fake cigarette dangle over it between two outstretched fingers.
Before anyone could really ’give him the scoop’however, a great ’BANG!!’ exploded from further down the long bar as a very large man cracked a huge, mechanical fist down onto the surface of it, denting the faux-wood in the process. It was immediately followed by an angry, barking voice declaring
”I @#$%ING HATE SNAKES!”
The fat man stood then, and it was a wonder nobody had noticed him entering in the first place. He was huge, big-boned and with great heaps of fat piled about it. He wore filthy work-clothes and a blue and white baseball cap that read SWYFT in obnoxious, yellow lettering. The man would not have been so imposing except for the arm - a huge, bulky robot arm that, had he not been so heavy himself, would surely have toppled him to the right. The chunky shoulderpiece, supporting a system of hydraulic pistons, whirred slightly as he moved it, flexing the beefy metal fingers.
He took a few steps toward the group then and stopped close enough that he could be reasonably taken for addressing the whole of them - though clearly the object of his ire was Shashi.
He let silence linger for a moment, most of the bar going quiet at the promise of trouble and craning their necks to get a glimpse of the show. He was breathing heavily from directed anger...or from the exertion of waddling toward them.
The bartender, exasperated, muttered the name of his deity of choice and rubbed at his face, making his way to the opposite end of the bar in a huff.
”THE ONLY @#$% I HATE MORE THAN MAIN CHARACTERS AND LIBERALS-” He whirled on the body of the group, spitting as he slandered them, then returned his pig-like attention back to the likely still impassive Shashi - ”IS @#$%IN’ SLIMY-ASS SNAKES!!”
And then he just stood there, red-faced, intoxicating and reasonably intimidating, apparently awaiting their reaction to his pleasant declaration of loathing.
For his part, the Detective simply looked on with impassive amusement, interested to see how the group’s first real conflict would play out - even if it was doubtless an insignificant one given what they were likely to face in the near future.
The reptoid had been plucking idly at the buttons of his coat when the crowd was silenced by the man's belting. His tail waved a bit and he cast about in search of an actual snake before looking at the angry patron quietly. It took him an extra moment to realize that this man was, in fact, addressing him but when the lizard did he stood up to face him.
Shashi approached the fat man slowly, stopping just out of reach to observe the instigator more closely. "I am not snake." The reptoid corrected, "And not slimey, neither." In preparation the reptoid unbuttoned his coat to reveal a shirt perhaps a few sizes too small clinging to his muscular figure. And rather than working it off normally he decided to rip it off, dropping its remains to the floor and revealing his upper torso; light from the room rippled brightly against his scales. He raised his fists before his face in preparation, keeping an eye on the cybernetic arm.
"What is liberal? If I win, I take hat."
Shashi approached the fat man slowly, stopping just out of reach to observe the instigator more closely. "I am not snake." The reptoid corrected, "And not slimey, neither." In preparation the reptoid unbuttoned his coat to reveal a shirt perhaps a few sizes too small clinging to his muscular figure. And rather than working it off normally he decided to rip it off, dropping its remains to the floor and revealing his upper torso; light from the room rippled brightly against his scales. He raised his fists before his face in preparation, keeping an eye on the cybernetic arm.
"What is liberal? If I win, I take hat."
Koolest
Kilwen was glade to have a response from the ship in front of him. The ship began to creak and crack, signs of it beginning to fall apart. He quickly gets back on the communicator and says "Uh not a problem, just make sure the hanger is open, I think I maybe coming in a bit hot" and with that his communications fired as the control panel crackle with electricity, the sound of static would be heard on their end. Kilwen knew he didn't have much time on this flying pile of heap, but he knew he just has enough time to make it to their hanger. Once he found it, he lined the ship and slowly made his way into the hanger, shutting off systems so he doesn't blow the ship up or just be dead in the space since all the systems are shut off in the ship. He steady his way into the hanger, but couldn't get the landing gear down and soon it grinds across the floor and soon stops.
By this time, the ships systems were either fired or manually shut off by the man himself. As the ship settled, the ship itself seemed to as if relaxing as a bits and a pieces fall out of it the vessel as the tips of the pyramid like ship droop as smoke appears from the top. Soon the hatch just falls out and after the hatch underneath the ship falls out, Kilwen drops downs and moves away from the ship so he could stand straight and not bent in risking banging his head against the vessel. As he comes in front of the obvious broken ship, he gives a nervous smile and huff and says "Thanks, space pirates do not play" as he laughs a little not realizing that his appearance may through the crew off from his armor made of ancient bone, his advance katana on his hip, his darken face and regular face as well as his freakishly tall size. Hell if this crew knew their Dimensional Lords they would quickly know that this is the oldest Lord currently around. Of course his importance was never really stressed on because of his irrelevancy, so their was a good chance that they don't know who he is. "My name is Kilwen by the way" he greets himself as he gives whoever was their to meet him, purposely leaving out his title just in case.
Kilwen was glade to have a response from the ship in front of him. The ship began to creak and crack, signs of it beginning to fall apart. He quickly gets back on the communicator and says "Uh not a problem, just make sure the hanger is open, I think I maybe coming in a bit hot" and with that his communications fired as the control panel crackle with electricity, the sound of static would be heard on their end. Kilwen knew he didn't have much time on this flying pile of heap, but he knew he just has enough time to make it to their hanger. Once he found it, he lined the ship and slowly made his way into the hanger, shutting off systems so he doesn't blow the ship up or just be dead in the space since all the systems are shut off in the ship. He steady his way into the hanger, but couldn't get the landing gear down and soon it grinds across the floor and soon stops.
By this time, the ships systems were either fired or manually shut off by the man himself. As the ship settled, the ship itself seemed to as if relaxing as a bits and a pieces fall out of it the vessel as the tips of the pyramid like ship droop as smoke appears from the top. Soon the hatch just falls out and after the hatch underneath the ship falls out, Kilwen drops downs and moves away from the ship so he could stand straight and not bent in risking banging his head against the vessel. As he comes in front of the obvious broken ship, he gives a nervous smile and huff and says "Thanks, space pirates do not play" as he laughs a little not realizing that his appearance may through the crew off from his armor made of ancient bone, his advance katana on his hip, his darken face and regular face as well as his freakishly tall size. Hell if this crew knew their Dimensional Lords they would quickly know that this is the oldest Lord currently around. Of course his importance was never really stressed on because of his irrelevancy, so their was a good chance that they don't know who he is. "My name is Kilwen by the way" he greets himself as he gives whoever was their to meet him, purposely leaving out his title just in case.
The Kingsbane
With each passing interaction, the dynamic between the two became clearer and more certainly defined. These strange new people, she was realizing, were not so different from herself and her kind. At least, in many ways.
She was certain of it, now. It was just as it had been back home, back before. The White Bird was king - he was powerful and mighty, and ruthless. All bowed to, and feared the White Bird. The White Bird may even have believed that lie himself.
But it was a lie.
For in the shadow of the White Bird hid the Prophet - the true seat of power which manipulated the fool king to do his bidding, who truly led the people and shaped the path of their kind. The intelligence that steered the blind strength. The single force which alone could subjugate the wild wrath of the king.
Except that here, the dynamic was as of yet stable. The Prophet had not yet overcome the false power to lead directly, to openly undermine the will of the supposed ‘king’.
Perhaps he never would. Perhaps history would not repeat itself with these new people. It didn’t matter to her. She had stood by the Prophet until the end - and while it did not seem like civil strife and existential crisis were wracking the people of this magical place yet, she already knew which side she would be on if it came to it once again. She would not hesitate to do it all over again.
She stood close - too close, admittedly, for comfort - to the man whose skin was wrinkled and folded upon itself - a phenomenon which she could hardly comprehend the reason behind.
Of course the White Bird still frightened her. She was terrified of him. Even if he was no more than a mindless creature on the leash of it’s master, he was still dangerous. He could still destroy her with a swipe of the arm. The Prophet was powerful, but not perfect… The Prophet was never perfect. But maybe that was why she had been so very fond of him.
Then, the Prophet had also spoken to her - not as a machine, but as a person. Almost as if she was one. He would never allow her to be so delusional as to truly believe it herself - but he gave her a taste of personhood, and that was more than any of the stupid Red Birds, or White Birds or other people had. She would take it…
The Prophet stood there in the face of screaming death quiet and stoic. He replied with soft words that clearly held more force than any screams or wild roars. Yet despite this, and her own deep fear of the White Bird - whenever it seemed as though the furious man might actually strike the Prophet, she tensed. Her teeth gritted. She shifted slightly, unconsciously. She would protect him.
And, invariably, every time the Bird’s attention was again turned to her, she shrunk back, hid behind the Prophet and averted her eyes meekly. It did not matter that she was in the favor of the Prophet - it was still not her place to openly defy the king. She was like a pup, playing ‘tough’ at the perceived enemy and then hiding behind its master at the slightest sign of trouble. Though it was subtle enough as to likely go unnoticed.
Too, she must not forget that - as far as she could tell - it had been the Prophet who had authorized her initial murder...Though she was fairly certain now that it had been some kind of dreadful error. The Prophet had never been immune to the possibility of error.
At last, the altercation between the two great men came to a close. She found herself being ushered along back out into the hallway - and once there, a redoubling of the White Bird’s fury could be heard echoing out from the room from whence they had come. This appeared to be of particular delight to the Prophet, who was repeatedly gesturing back in the Bird’s direction and saying the same word.
The girl blinked, looking between the leathery man and the doors on which gruesome images had been scrawled long before her own arrival. The poorly rendered depictions of who-knows-what and some kind of glyphs.
Prophet found something terribly funny, and though she could not hope to comprehend what the jest was, she knew that it must have had something to do with the White Bird.
And then, such as revelation, it hit her. Her expression changed from the semi-blank, slightly confused look to one of pure awe. It was as if she suddenly understood the profound, and come to see the reverent. It was as if it all made sense now. As if she had been shown something wonderful and life-changing that she had never expected to witness.
So, fittingly, it was the first actual word she had uttered since her return from the abyss, spoken with the same profound wonder as was visible in her face, looking back toward the place where the White Bird still ranted and raved. She spoke the word as if she had finally figured out the answer to an extremely difficult question, eager to speak it and hear for herself that she was correct.
”Oh!...Idiot!”
She did glance back to the man as if looking for confirmation, but she was quite certain she understood this. ”Üki Y'liüñ Diah's' àrúñ is' Idiot!” The foreign word did sound new to her tongue - but that was to be expected.
It was an immense relief, a great weight lifted from her shoulders. Suddenly, she was not so afraid to speak before him.
After all, if Prophet was willing to share with her the name of their king… Then surely she could speak it. She must speak it. Acknowledge the identity - for there was no more vital aspect of one than the identity. The name was the most important thing a Person could have.
And so rare it was, too - to know the name of one, let alone one so important as the king - rare, at least, for her. Names were not a thing someone like her had any business knowing. Her kind needed only titles. To be given such personal information as a name -
It made her want to ask Prophet for his own - but she resisted this urge. Obviously she resisted the urge. It was unforgivably rude for a person to ask the name of another, let alone for her to do it! She wasn’t about to go ruining the trust she had been given.
So she just said it again, more quietly this time, more to herself than her friend. And then, looking cheerful and entirely satisfied, she followed closely along - still keeping just a bit closer than might have been comfortable for the man.
She hadn’t the faintest idea where they might be going - and as interested as she was in finding out, it wasn’t all that important. She could not hope to understand what Prophet was doing, what his business was - but she had gathered that he wanted her to stick close, and that alone made everything okay. She would follow him into the sun.
She had not, however, expected him to enter through a door that led nowhere. The room beyond the present entryway was so small that it could not possibly have served any purpose. He went in, then turned to face her and beckon her to do the same. She did not. Hesitating, she stood in the open doorway and looked at him with so confused an expression that she was clearly doubting his sanity.
He was persistent though, and so she decided to humor him, stepping into the tiny room and standing next to him, also facing outward.
Frankly, she felt ridiculous.
Then the doors slid shut again, and she felt even more ridiculous - just standing in that tiny box of a room like that! It was a brief moment that seemed to drag out, just waiting for him to finish whatever weird meditation he was engaging in.
And then, without warning, the floor fell out beneath her.
Or maybe the floor came up on her?
She had no idea. It was almost as if the room itself was moving - but so strange and unnerving a sensation was it that she had no idea which direction - or if such a thing was possible at al!
It frightened her and sent her wildly off-balance - the girl yelped in fear and immediately grabbed onto the first thing she could reach in order to keep from toppling over. That was, of course, him - eyes shut tight, she clung to him for dear life until the disturbing sensation of movement ceased. It was apparent that the girl was much stronger than she looked, though while the grip would be uncomfortable for the old man it seemed she had some idea of his fragility and would not hurt him.
When the room stopped moving, it took her another long moment to actually realize this. But it was not with any kind of relief - in fact, the opposite.
Gradually, and with mounting terror, she opened her eyes - and saw to her total shock that she was clinging to the man. The heart-sinking, gut-wrenching dread she felt in that moment was a physical thing that would not go unnoticed.
Abruptly, and with another yelp, she flung herself away, stumbling backwards away from him and pressing herself into the wall. From behind the white-blonde hair she looked at him with wide, panic-stricken eyes, trembling and breathing heavily, unevenly.
Yet it was not fear of harm coming to herself that dominated the girl. It was not the same fear as when she faced ’Idiot’. While the fear of such action was there, she would not have deserved anything less. She would have understood perfectly if she was slain on the spot. She would have deserved it.
The real fear was in losing what she had acquired. Losing the friendship - or, at least, what she thought of as ‘friendship’ - with the man. Losing her place as someone who was worth talking to, worth telling the names of others. She had almost started to think of herself as a Person - and now, surely, there would be no chance of her ever being allowed to tell herself that lie ever again.
She had committed the worst, most unspeakable act.
Contact.
The physical contact of one Person to another. The mingling of their essence. The corruption of the self via injection of another. Even to so slight a degree, it was a transgression not unlike rape, and tenfold more despicable.
Contact was not in itself a sin. If one has prior permission, contact may be made. If one is trusted, they will sometimes be offered contact. ANd she - being less than a person - could be contacted whenever the will of a Person saw fit. Usually it was to keep her from getting stupid ideas.
The man had contacted her earlier, putting his hand on her shoulder.. Contact that had been clearly positive - a gift of insurmountable proportions that someone like her would never deserve. An ultimate blessing.
But it absolutely, positively did not give her the right to return contact! Never!
Even Insmouth - the only one who had ever told her his name - had not permitted something so mad as contact.
The despair was overwhelming.
She did not want him to hate her - but surely he would - and she knew she would deserve it.
Some stupid, hopeless part of her willed the voice to stammer apologies in vain, but all that came out were tiny, meaningless sounds - barely whimpers.
She cringed into the wall, pressing against it, waiting to be struck down for her insolence, flinching preemptively at the blow which she was certain the man would deliver any second...
The Koolest Boat U Know
The ‘landing’ process was harrowing at best, but luckily for Ty there was little he could do on his end regardless. The Koolest and awkwardly clinging Qetan scout ship were moving slowly enough that they made for an easy target. As such, Ty vented the cargo bay’s air, opened both doors, and closed them only after the great screeching crash rocked the ship - a ruckus that would surely awaken anyone who was still asleep, and alarm anyone who was already awake. Bright, angry red lights deemed it unsafe for the refugee to exit his own vessel until the atmosphere was repressurized .
The cluster of ships now constituted a total of four - with the Nyran and Qetan vessels clinging to the side, and the tiny ruined one in the cargo bay. Tiny, but still large enough that it took up most of the Koolest’s cargo bay. Convenient that they had not much cargo to begin with, and none at all of value.
Only after the doors had been closed and Ty was on his way to the cargo bay did it occur to him to inform the others. He tapped on the communicator under his arctic poncho, and his voice was relayed shortly over the shipwide PA. ”Don’t be alarmed, we’ve taken on another visitor.” He said. That seemed like enough. In the medical bay, Dallen sat back down. No need to go leaving Tsuan’s side for something like that.
”You’d better go with Ty, just in case our new passenger gets bright ideas.” Sands said to Jackson, ”I’ll hold down the fort over here.” Given how eager Jet had been to help out, Sands didn’t mind taking over the monotonous job. Besides that, in the unlikely event that someone was crazy enough to go hogwild on their saviors, a gigantic, musclebound titan was generally a better deterrent than himself.
Stepping into the cargo bay and witnessing the appearance of the refugee, Ty’s narrow eyes widened fractionally. Unconsciously, he glanced from the accompanying Jackson and back to the newcomer - they were about the same size. It made him feel small.
”Indeed they don’t.” Ty said, realizing as he spoke that the name sounded very familiar. Had Cathorine mentioned it in one of their many long, group conversations, in the days before the Skadi where they had spent more time together than apart? Possibly, but he would let the matter sit. ”Leng Ty’zfir. This is Jet Jackson.” He promptly introduced himself and companion. Only then did he actually take a moment to look around at the wrecked cargo bay - floor gouged out where the ship had formed its crater, bits of metallic debris scattered all over. One of the lights flickered slightly. ”You know…” He said, primarily to Jet, ”I think we’re going to have a lot of explaining to do when we get back to Cathorine.” There was deadpan in his tone.
After all, the squad had played so integral a part in the beginnings of Cathorine’s new acquisition of power that the hardware belonged to them almost as much as to her. Their interests were always shared - there would be no need for reprimanding over the state of the yacht upon its return.
Ty ran a hand across his cue-ball head and puffed. ”Well, come on in I suppose. Certainly an interesting getup you’ve got there.” Saying this, he turned back for the common area and made a gesture to ‘follow’.
With each passing interaction, the dynamic between the two became clearer and more certainly defined. These strange new people, she was realizing, were not so different from herself and her kind. At least, in many ways.
She was certain of it, now. It was just as it had been back home, back before. The White Bird was king - he was powerful and mighty, and ruthless. All bowed to, and feared the White Bird. The White Bird may even have believed that lie himself.
But it was a lie.
For in the shadow of the White Bird hid the Prophet - the true seat of power which manipulated the fool king to do his bidding, who truly led the people and shaped the path of their kind. The intelligence that steered the blind strength. The single force which alone could subjugate the wild wrath of the king.
Except that here, the dynamic was as of yet stable. The Prophet had not yet overcome the false power to lead directly, to openly undermine the will of the supposed ‘king’.
Perhaps he never would. Perhaps history would not repeat itself with these new people. It didn’t matter to her. She had stood by the Prophet until the end - and while it did not seem like civil strife and existential crisis were wracking the people of this magical place yet, she already knew which side she would be on if it came to it once again. She would not hesitate to do it all over again.
She stood close - too close, admittedly, for comfort - to the man whose skin was wrinkled and folded upon itself - a phenomenon which she could hardly comprehend the reason behind.
Of course the White Bird still frightened her. She was terrified of him. Even if he was no more than a mindless creature on the leash of it’s master, he was still dangerous. He could still destroy her with a swipe of the arm. The Prophet was powerful, but not perfect… The Prophet was never perfect. But maybe that was why she had been so very fond of him.
Then, the Prophet had also spoken to her - not as a machine, but as a person. Almost as if she was one. He would never allow her to be so delusional as to truly believe it herself - but he gave her a taste of personhood, and that was more than any of the stupid Red Birds, or White Birds or other people had. She would take it…
The Prophet stood there in the face of screaming death quiet and stoic. He replied with soft words that clearly held more force than any screams or wild roars. Yet despite this, and her own deep fear of the White Bird - whenever it seemed as though the furious man might actually strike the Prophet, she tensed. Her teeth gritted. She shifted slightly, unconsciously. She would protect him.
And, invariably, every time the Bird’s attention was again turned to her, she shrunk back, hid behind the Prophet and averted her eyes meekly. It did not matter that she was in the favor of the Prophet - it was still not her place to openly defy the king. She was like a pup, playing ‘tough’ at the perceived enemy and then hiding behind its master at the slightest sign of trouble. Though it was subtle enough as to likely go unnoticed.
Too, she must not forget that - as far as she could tell - it had been the Prophet who had authorized her initial murder...Though she was fairly certain now that it had been some kind of dreadful error. The Prophet had never been immune to the possibility of error.
At last, the altercation between the two great men came to a close. She found herself being ushered along back out into the hallway - and once there, a redoubling of the White Bird’s fury could be heard echoing out from the room from whence they had come. This appeared to be of particular delight to the Prophet, who was repeatedly gesturing back in the Bird’s direction and saying the same word.
The girl blinked, looking between the leathery man and the doors on which gruesome images had been scrawled long before her own arrival. The poorly rendered depictions of who-knows-what and some kind of glyphs.
Prophet found something terribly funny, and though she could not hope to comprehend what the jest was, she knew that it must have had something to do with the White Bird.
And then, such as revelation, it hit her. Her expression changed from the semi-blank, slightly confused look to one of pure awe. It was as if she suddenly understood the profound, and come to see the reverent. It was as if it all made sense now. As if she had been shown something wonderful and life-changing that she had never expected to witness.
So, fittingly, it was the first actual word she had uttered since her return from the abyss, spoken with the same profound wonder as was visible in her face, looking back toward the place where the White Bird still ranted and raved. She spoke the word as if she had finally figured out the answer to an extremely difficult question, eager to speak it and hear for herself that she was correct.
”Oh!...Idiot!”
She did glance back to the man as if looking for confirmation, but she was quite certain she understood this. ”Üki Y'liüñ Diah's' àrúñ is' Idiot!” The foreign word did sound new to her tongue - but that was to be expected.
It was an immense relief, a great weight lifted from her shoulders. Suddenly, she was not so afraid to speak before him.
After all, if Prophet was willing to share with her the name of their king… Then surely she could speak it. She must speak it. Acknowledge the identity - for there was no more vital aspect of one than the identity. The name was the most important thing a Person could have.
And so rare it was, too - to know the name of one, let alone one so important as the king - rare, at least, for her. Names were not a thing someone like her had any business knowing. Her kind needed only titles. To be given such personal information as a name -
It made her want to ask Prophet for his own - but she resisted this urge. Obviously she resisted the urge. It was unforgivably rude for a person to ask the name of another, let alone for her to do it! She wasn’t about to go ruining the trust she had been given.
So she just said it again, more quietly this time, more to herself than her friend. And then, looking cheerful and entirely satisfied, she followed closely along - still keeping just a bit closer than might have been comfortable for the man.
She hadn’t the faintest idea where they might be going - and as interested as she was in finding out, it wasn’t all that important. She could not hope to understand what Prophet was doing, what his business was - but she had gathered that he wanted her to stick close, and that alone made everything okay. She would follow him into the sun.
She had not, however, expected him to enter through a door that led nowhere. The room beyond the present entryway was so small that it could not possibly have served any purpose. He went in, then turned to face her and beckon her to do the same. She did not. Hesitating, she stood in the open doorway and looked at him with so confused an expression that she was clearly doubting his sanity.
He was persistent though, and so she decided to humor him, stepping into the tiny room and standing next to him, also facing outward.
Frankly, she felt ridiculous.
Then the doors slid shut again, and she felt even more ridiculous - just standing in that tiny box of a room like that! It was a brief moment that seemed to drag out, just waiting for him to finish whatever weird meditation he was engaging in.
And then, without warning, the floor fell out beneath her.
Or maybe the floor came up on her?
She had no idea. It was almost as if the room itself was moving - but so strange and unnerving a sensation was it that she had no idea which direction - or if such a thing was possible at al!
It frightened her and sent her wildly off-balance - the girl yelped in fear and immediately grabbed onto the first thing she could reach in order to keep from toppling over. That was, of course, him - eyes shut tight, she clung to him for dear life until the disturbing sensation of movement ceased. It was apparent that the girl was much stronger than she looked, though while the grip would be uncomfortable for the old man it seemed she had some idea of his fragility and would not hurt him.
When the room stopped moving, it took her another long moment to actually realize this. But it was not with any kind of relief - in fact, the opposite.
Gradually, and with mounting terror, she opened her eyes - and saw to her total shock that she was clinging to the man. The heart-sinking, gut-wrenching dread she felt in that moment was a physical thing that would not go unnoticed.
Abruptly, and with another yelp, she flung herself away, stumbling backwards away from him and pressing herself into the wall. From behind the white-blonde hair she looked at him with wide, panic-stricken eyes, trembling and breathing heavily, unevenly.
Yet it was not fear of harm coming to herself that dominated the girl. It was not the same fear as when she faced ’Idiot’. While the fear of such action was there, she would not have deserved anything less. She would have understood perfectly if she was slain on the spot. She would have deserved it.
The real fear was in losing what she had acquired. Losing the friendship - or, at least, what she thought of as ‘friendship’ - with the man. Losing her place as someone who was worth talking to, worth telling the names of others. She had almost started to think of herself as a Person - and now, surely, there would be no chance of her ever being allowed to tell herself that lie ever again.
She had committed the worst, most unspeakable act.
Contact.
The physical contact of one Person to another. The mingling of their essence. The corruption of the self via injection of another. Even to so slight a degree, it was a transgression not unlike rape, and tenfold more despicable.
Contact was not in itself a sin. If one has prior permission, contact may be made. If one is trusted, they will sometimes be offered contact. ANd she - being less than a person - could be contacted whenever the will of a Person saw fit. Usually it was to keep her from getting stupid ideas.
The man had contacted her earlier, putting his hand on her shoulder.. Contact that had been clearly positive - a gift of insurmountable proportions that someone like her would never deserve. An ultimate blessing.
But it absolutely, positively did not give her the right to return contact! Never!
Even Insmouth - the only one who had ever told her his name - had not permitted something so mad as contact.
The despair was overwhelming.
She did not want him to hate her - but surely he would - and she knew she would deserve it.
Some stupid, hopeless part of her willed the voice to stammer apologies in vain, but all that came out were tiny, meaningless sounds - barely whimpers.
She cringed into the wall, pressing against it, waiting to be struck down for her insolence, flinching preemptively at the blow which she was certain the man would deliver any second...
The Koolest Boat U Know
The ‘landing’ process was harrowing at best, but luckily for Ty there was little he could do on his end regardless. The Koolest and awkwardly clinging Qetan scout ship were moving slowly enough that they made for an easy target. As such, Ty vented the cargo bay’s air, opened both doors, and closed them only after the great screeching crash rocked the ship - a ruckus that would surely awaken anyone who was still asleep, and alarm anyone who was already awake. Bright, angry red lights deemed it unsafe for the refugee to exit his own vessel until the atmosphere was repressurized .
The cluster of ships now constituted a total of four - with the Nyran and Qetan vessels clinging to the side, and the tiny ruined one in the cargo bay. Tiny, but still large enough that it took up most of the Koolest’s cargo bay. Convenient that they had not much cargo to begin with, and none at all of value.
Only after the doors had been closed and Ty was on his way to the cargo bay did it occur to him to inform the others. He tapped on the communicator under his arctic poncho, and his voice was relayed shortly over the shipwide PA. ”Don’t be alarmed, we’ve taken on another visitor.” He said. That seemed like enough. In the medical bay, Dallen sat back down. No need to go leaving Tsuan’s side for something like that.
”You’d better go with Ty, just in case our new passenger gets bright ideas.” Sands said to Jackson, ”I’ll hold down the fort over here.” Given how eager Jet had been to help out, Sands didn’t mind taking over the monotonous job. Besides that, in the unlikely event that someone was crazy enough to go hogwild on their saviors, a gigantic, musclebound titan was generally a better deterrent than himself.
Stepping into the cargo bay and witnessing the appearance of the refugee, Ty’s narrow eyes widened fractionally. Unconsciously, he glanced from the accompanying Jackson and back to the newcomer - they were about the same size. It made him feel small.
”Indeed they don’t.” Ty said, realizing as he spoke that the name sounded very familiar. Had Cathorine mentioned it in one of their many long, group conversations, in the days before the Skadi where they had spent more time together than apart? Possibly, but he would let the matter sit. ”Leng Ty’zfir. This is Jet Jackson.” He promptly introduced himself and companion. Only then did he actually take a moment to look around at the wrecked cargo bay - floor gouged out where the ship had formed its crater, bits of metallic debris scattered all over. One of the lights flickered slightly. ”You know…” He said, primarily to Jet, ”I think we’re going to have a lot of explaining to do when we get back to Cathorine.” There was deadpan in his tone.
After all, the squad had played so integral a part in the beginnings of Cathorine’s new acquisition of power that the hardware belonged to them almost as much as to her. Their interests were always shared - there would be no need for reprimanding over the state of the yacht upon its return.
Ty ran a hand across his cue-ball head and puffed. ”Well, come on in I suppose. Certainly an interesting getup you’ve got there.” Saying this, he turned back for the common area and made a gesture to ‘follow’.
Christofer could toss out a guess on Royanna looking for the 'keys' as he saw her fiddling with things after they had 'parked'. Should he even call the things like that? Was it the same? Should he use different terms? .... Well, for one, he wasn't going to speak during the parking, Roy was all too focused on the task at hand and he really didn't have anything to add. What would he do with that knowledge afterall? He wasn't going to drive. When the supposed 'key' to the ship ended up on being something that resembled a watch, he was sure that there was no chances of him driving anything for a good while. That was all alien to him.
Following after the other, extra attention paid while things were new and mysterious to him, he' be getting up shortly after Roy and proceeded to walk somewhere behind her as they strode through the ship and over to the opening again. The look of the main hall was a little different from his first viewing, but then again, he had not been feeling too well when first entering. The scent of dried up blood was noted in passing as they made it through the room without really stopping to look around. Partly he felt like staying behind, feeling unsure on if he'd even understand anything, but supposedly he wouldn't know until he tried it and anything. Sure it felt weird to leave the ship, and there were always the underlying nervous thoughts of someone trying to steal the ship while they were gone. He could just hope for things to run smoothly without incidents. Couldn't just stay behind with all this build-up, and let the only person he currently knew to flee his sight. That'd be a nightmare.
"... Mmm.... I think I'll 'like' it if there's no sudden ambushes that force us to run for our lives and interrupt the plans we have so far..." And, well, considering how things had gone so far, he had some points and allowance on being a little suspicious. Could you blame him? Anything in good company that went well and ran smoothly was going to be great, he'd like that regardless of a couple factors - like more than a complete disaster that is.
Hopping out of their fancy ship, Christofer too took a small turn to look behind himself on what he was leaving to wait and know what to return to; he was not as familiar with the Diplomat as Kallenger was afterall. But having gotten that quick and brief look of it, he'd memorized the main features that went with the name, after which back was easily turned while feet stayed mostly on the same spot, not too far away from Royanna, short enough distance he could grab her arm if anything came up. But as of now, no disturbances. He could move his head to get a better look at the things he could, little or a lot.
Compared to Roy's reactions and behaviour - while she looked like she was the fresh proud pilot of a ship - Christofer felt more like the one that had known and travelled on said ship for years and times and times before. This was certainly not the case, but just considering that he did not react with the same awe, trying to not stick out too much and all that... Yeah. Well, supposedly he did have curiosity towards their ship, and certainly towards the ships of others in a way similar to stepping in a new country and experiencing some wholely new culture? He was curious, just that it was hugely dummed down by the vary nature of the situation. Times had changed a little.
Did someone say that the station was small, or did he make it up in his head having thought up about 'a station'? Those didn't tend to be all too huge, the ones that were just for quick possibly necessary stops at the side of roads.
"... What scale would this station be considered? Big? Small..? Moderate..?" Couldn't help asking. Perhaps being a little more talkative was going to distract his mind from the stress that came from being out in the open again, outside of the walls of the Diplomat that he had quickly adapted to mean 'safety' and 'protection'.
Head turned, looking for a door or some other form of entry and exit for the two of them to head towards... Unless it was obvious he might end up on rocking his head from shoulder to shoulder, side to side and still have no idea if any doors or a specific way to head towards. Last option was always to try and follow where others were going, there had been people earlier afterall, but it might be for the best to just follow Royanna here. She seemed about ready to go forward afterall.
"..... ..... What's our allowance?" was asked then, for he had no clue on what all they should be looking for. Did they talk about it before? Had they even got a way to pay for anything? Was he forgetting things or was it truly just nervousness and not the lack of information that kept him standing still... Foot tapped against the ground as he looked at the floor from both sides of him, hands briefly clenching into fists. He wanted to have a light attitude about it all, go forth with a smile, but with how things had been going as of late and kept on reminding him of themselves in his recent memory... He'd be glad he wasn't alone, but it'd take time to get used to fully just functioning as a normal person. His overall vulnerability due to the whole lack of eating a proper meal in possibly days did not do much on the side of convincing him he was going to be fine.
"... I'm... uhh.... Ready to go whenever." He could try, but all smiles were out of commission for the time being.
Following after the other, extra attention paid while things were new and mysterious to him, he' be getting up shortly after Roy and proceeded to walk somewhere behind her as they strode through the ship and over to the opening again. The look of the main hall was a little different from his first viewing, but then again, he had not been feeling too well when first entering. The scent of dried up blood was noted in passing as they made it through the room without really stopping to look around. Partly he felt like staying behind, feeling unsure on if he'd even understand anything, but supposedly he wouldn't know until he tried it and anything. Sure it felt weird to leave the ship, and there were always the underlying nervous thoughts of someone trying to steal the ship while they were gone. He could just hope for things to run smoothly without incidents. Couldn't just stay behind with all this build-up, and let the only person he currently knew to flee his sight. That'd be a nightmare.
"... Mmm.... I think I'll 'like' it if there's no sudden ambushes that force us to run for our lives and interrupt the plans we have so far..." And, well, considering how things had gone so far, he had some points and allowance on being a little suspicious. Could you blame him? Anything in good company that went well and ran smoothly was going to be great, he'd like that regardless of a couple factors - like more than a complete disaster that is.
Hopping out of their fancy ship, Christofer too took a small turn to look behind himself on what he was leaving to wait and know what to return to; he was not as familiar with the Diplomat as Kallenger was afterall. But having gotten that quick and brief look of it, he'd memorized the main features that went with the name, after which back was easily turned while feet stayed mostly on the same spot, not too far away from Royanna, short enough distance he could grab her arm if anything came up. But as of now, no disturbances. He could move his head to get a better look at the things he could, little or a lot.
Compared to Roy's reactions and behaviour - while she looked like she was the fresh proud pilot of a ship - Christofer felt more like the one that had known and travelled on said ship for years and times and times before. This was certainly not the case, but just considering that he did not react with the same awe, trying to not stick out too much and all that... Yeah. Well, supposedly he did have curiosity towards their ship, and certainly towards the ships of others in a way similar to stepping in a new country and experiencing some wholely new culture? He was curious, just that it was hugely dummed down by the vary nature of the situation. Times had changed a little.
Did someone say that the station was small, or did he make it up in his head having thought up about 'a station'? Those didn't tend to be all too huge, the ones that were just for quick possibly necessary stops at the side of roads.
"... What scale would this station be considered? Big? Small..? Moderate..?" Couldn't help asking. Perhaps being a little more talkative was going to distract his mind from the stress that came from being out in the open again, outside of the walls of the Diplomat that he had quickly adapted to mean 'safety' and 'protection'.
Head turned, looking for a door or some other form of entry and exit for the two of them to head towards... Unless it was obvious he might end up on rocking his head from shoulder to shoulder, side to side and still have no idea if any doors or a specific way to head towards. Last option was always to try and follow where others were going, there had been people earlier afterall, but it might be for the best to just follow Royanna here. She seemed about ready to go forward afterall.
"..... ..... What's our allowance?" was asked then, for he had no clue on what all they should be looking for. Did they talk about it before? Had they even got a way to pay for anything? Was he forgetting things or was it truly just nervousness and not the lack of information that kept him standing still... Foot tapped against the ground as he looked at the floor from both sides of him, hands briefly clenching into fists. He wanted to have a light attitude about it all, go forth with a smile, but with how things had been going as of late and kept on reminding him of themselves in his recent memory... He'd be glad he wasn't alone, but it'd take time to get used to fully just functioning as a normal person. His overall vulnerability due to the whole lack of eating a proper meal in possibly days did not do much on the side of convincing him he was going to be fine.
"... I'm... uhh.... Ready to go whenever." He could try, but all smiles were out of commission for the time being.
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