Private Roleplay~ IOD

asi • 22 April 2017 at 10:55 PM

Raven laid her head down on the gritty sand, the final surrender of any semblance of hope for keeping the straight, glossy hair she'd so painstakingly maintained up until now. She gave up. She could feel the symptoms of fatigue begin to ebb at both her body and mind as the night had worn late and thin, and had she any choice on the matter, Raven would be tucking herself into bed now without another thought.
But tonight, that was off the cards.
So when Tracy left to get yet another cheesy mug of mostly water but thankfully hot coffee, Raven sighed gratefully. It would warm her hands nicely while she waited for it to cool to drinking temperature. And while she awaited the cup, she reflected on the past few hours that had led to her lying drained on the dirt as the heat left in it by the sun slowly faded away.

Telly had promised fun, but Tracy's description of torture seemed much more accurate, for all of them. Apparently there were some things from which even a teleporter could not escape, because the minute she stepped towards the sweet-carrying crates, Telly was engulfed by a flock of front liners hungry for something other than innocent Peeps. From what Raven gathered, they consisted largely of captains and other low & middling ranks, who wanted to know how operations might change- either from the second assistant exercising her influence, or from the new overseeing field marshal implementing his own strategy, and they clamored for any insight Telly might have into that. Though it was unlikely the freshly appointed assistant could tell them anything on the matter... and although Raven herself was fairly sure that Two's influence was going to be largely limited to his own station... some here seemed desperately hopeful for the least promise of change. Telly was compelled to try and pacify them.
So Raven had spent a tedious few hours in the party room, performing the meet-and-greet dance, playing the part of (she hoped) the new, young, up-and-coming Fifth assistant. Of course, no matter what she did she was guaranteed to be upstaged by the bright, rambunctious Telly, which was only natural. Not only was Telly three places higher than her, she had a more magnetic personality. Or, at least it seemed that way to Raven, as she blended effortless among those gathered, chatting with many familiarly (teleportation had to be great for networking), with spontaneous exclamations loud enough for Raven to overhear. Each time it happened, Raven looked over, trying to catch a glimpse of that girl's impish smile, and quieter eyes hiding beneath low, silvery-blonde bangs. Maybe some of that ease might rub off onto her...
Raven's own conversations were much more tepid, barely ever straying past work and the most small-talkish observations, like, "Not many deadly skirmishes on the border-boundaries yet," which was basically the local equivalent of, 'Nice weather we're having.' When Raven finally got asked about something other than her annoying leader (she warded off these like a black-belt ninja with a fly swat), it was, strangely enough, on her t-shirt more than anything else. No joke, the latest in this line of questioning was an authentic; "Do you believe in reptilian aliens?"
What Raven wanted to do was ask back; 'Do you believe there are really people out there that believe in reptilian aliens?', but her brain stalled for long enough that when Tracy showed up at her side to whisk her away, she'd only left the asker with a blank stare and a burning curiosity, unsated.
For a moment's peace and quiet, Tracy aided and abetted in Raven's escape- quite literally showing her the ropes to getting out. They'd scrambled up the ropey rungs, through a narrow vertical shaft of hard-packed dirt-rock, and pushed aside a metal grate to come, to Raven's surprise, completely in the clear. She heaved herself up and pressed her back flat to the crest of the hill, knowing in dull shock that the earth below was not solid, but in fact harboring a secret nest of Falchions, the quiet, barren landscape teeming with activity just below the surface.
They were outside, and Raven had breathed in the cold, fresh night air with great relief. It felt wonderful, still and almost completely silent. Faint noises could still be heard rising up through the vent they'd crawled out of, but individual sounds weren't discernible, so it hardly passed as even a distraction.
It did bother her for another reason however, and Raven forced herself to turn over and ask; "Hey, Dread- uh, Tracy-" The living mass of hair, also splayed out over the ground nearby, nodded coolly towards the dyed navy sky.
"Isn't this like, a major security hazard, they could be found... seen..." She knocked a hand against the metal grate meaningfully.
They waved her concerns off. "Color cannit be told from sand or rock in daylight, 'sides, if anyone gets this close, it's-" they made a slashing motion over their hair, probably throat, and Raven very well got the picture. "For them, or us I guess," Tracy chuckled a little, darkly, a sound that Raven didn't entirely like.
She changed the subject. "It gets pretty cold out here at night, huh." Badly, mind. And that's how she inadvertently sent her friendly mass of dreadlocks away, to fetch her a precious warm coffee cup...
Oh, wait. All they'd said had been; "I'm going to get a coffee."
... Hadn't she learnt her lesson last time with Tracy and getting coffee?! The tall and stringy manager definitely wasn't going to bring Raven back a cup. They'd only bring one for themself and drink it, then ask why Raven was drooling over it!! If she wanted something done here, she'd have to do it herself! The people of the front lines didn't have their arteries clogged up with buttery politeness, that was for sure. Even if instead, tonight they seemed to be high on sugar.
Or other things, Raven added mentally after clambering back down the rope. She met Dreadlocks at the coffee stand and they mixed their drinks together before helping each other get their precious beverages up the ladder safely- as well as avoid meeting anyone who wished to bother them on the way.

Then they were were all alone again, sitting back on the dirt hillside and looking up at the distantly glittering lights above. All alone in this vast expanse of nothingness.
Raven's hands stretched out behind her, digging her nails into the cool earth for support. Her mug was propped up by her crossed legs, while Tracy's spindly hands cradled theirs atop their stomach, as they lay at an angle Raven couldn't imagine drinking on without discomfort, yet they so did, and with ease.
Looking over at them, Raven very nearly commented on it, but stopped when she realized- she couldn't tell if they were looking her way, too, or if their gaze remained focused on a more celestial body than her own. Thinking that, it seemed awkward to interrupt, so she brought her cup to her lips and drank instead, weight remaining steadily on her left arm.
Then, completely out of the blue; "Hey, Birdie... Ya don't like Fiver, do you?" Tracy shifted their hair, now she couldn't be mistaken on what they were looking at. "Like, like-like 'im."
"What?! No!! What gave you that idea!?" Raven spluttered, shooting up to stare down at her now outstretched legs instead.
"Nuthin' really," the shoulders beneath the hair gave a smoothly indifferent shrug against the sand. "Rumors followed ya from the 'aach-Q, is all Birdie. Chill."
"Right, right..." Raven gave a hard, wearied laugh, hand that wasn't tightly clutching her cup pressing firmly against her forehead, pushing springy dark hair away. "Those rumors. They're complete and utter trash, you know that right?"
"Might've been some truth to 'em," they said carelessly, a suggestion thrown, with a flick of their hand, to the wind.
She said firmly, without room to question; "No." Raven looked them dead in the hair where she approximated their eyes to be; "Nothing's happened between Five and I."
The truth- technically. It felt like chalk was grinding along the edges of her teeth, just to think it, but, the person she'd made out with, it had actually been... his power. Raven hung her head so hard and suddenly that it really hurt, she'd probably be feeling an ache back there for hours. But she gritted her pained teeth and bore with it, knowing someone else was watching.
"Alright then," they hummed, and she settled down with a quiet exhale. Really, that had been a totally fair thing to ask; considering how extreme those stupid rumors had gotten, it almost made Tracy's question seem considerate. Hopefully, by making it clear nothing untoward was going on between her and Five at the frontier, she could put such thoughts to rest. Then all Raven would have to worry about would be that foolish power spilling the beans about what happened to Zach, but then, she had a retaliation measure for that, right? All she had to do was fill his bed with spiders for him to leave her alone. Maybe also his closet and clothes for good measure, and then he'd never bother her again ever, right??
So there was nothing to worry about!
Raven hunched over her legs, clad in the faded blue and very distressed pair of jeans she'd been given. The stringy patch that had been mostly worn through, just above one knee, appeared to fascinate her. She could feel just a little of the shift of the night air through it. Her barer, shaky hands pressed up against the sides of her mug and, relaxing into the warmth, they gradually stopped shivering. A long moment passed between them.
Then; "You like Telly?" asked Tracy with an almost ruthless cool in their tone, the very minute Raven had recovered her own calm.

demon • 22 April 2017 at 11:29 PM

Without a thought, Raven answered, as if on autopilot; "Sure I like her-" then she paused, turned and blinked at them with wide hazel eyes. "Wait, romantically?!"
Tracy nodded, still lying flat as a board against the ground, only their head tilted her way.
"What's the grounds for that..." Raven stared. Her mind raced as she tried to think of anything that could have been taken that way, any rumors she'd ever had that thought she might be gay. There had never been such a thing, right?
"Way you watched her earl'er," Tracy answered ever so casually. It seemed like none of this mattered to them, really.
Raven sighed, threading a hand through her dark, unruly bush of hair. "... I just admire her ability to lead and, charm the room despite being a little rough on the edges. She'll made a great assistant for Two." Honesty tasted more bitter on Raven's tongue than she remembered.
Tracy shifted, seeming to turn their attention back to the sky above. "That's the best way t' charm a room, Birdie. They'll like you a lot more for being 'onest, than perfect," they told her naturally.
But for Raven, it just didn't feel that easy. "I've never really... led... anything before. It doesn't help that Zach knows even less about it than I do, either," she muttered darkly into the depths of her mug. The coffee was gone now, and Raven glared resentfully at the fact.
"You worry too much, girl," Tracy said, finally sitting up now. With gentle but firm, insistent hands, they reached over and took the empty mug from her hands, replacing it with their half-full cup instead.
Raven blinked again but, considering their words, chose to accept the gesture without further thought. She took a draught and then smiled wryly, finding it much more sweet to taste. "And you ask too much about romance," she critiqued them in turn. "Is now really the right time for that?"
"May be all we got for it," Tracy replied, seeming to scooch closer, until she rebutted;
"I don't think so! That outlook's too pessimistic," Raven said boldly, tilting her head upwards, towards the stars once more. Their pale, unearthly light was reflected in her eyes when she continued; "Don't you think we can do better than this, than succumbing to whatever crappy end the evil government's got planned for us here?"
Tracy fiddled with her empty mug, turning it upside down and leaving a circular imprint in the sand. "Escape's nawt gonna work. Just ask Tells," they muttered, now the quiet one, face presumably angled down toward the ground.
"We don't need to escape. We've got so much power right here," Raven clenched her free hand into a tight fist, recalling all the fantastic feats she'd witnessed in her time here. Her eyes continued to gleam; "If we could just stop fighting each other-"
Dreadlocks interrupted. "Have ya ever been in a battle where crazy Gla'roes didn't charge forward first and try t' chop ya up?!"
Raven paused. "Erm..." She remembered times they'd ambushed her, sprung out of the grasses and trees and she'd only kept her neck unscathed by catching them around the ankles and yanking them backwards with their shadows. Other times, on the open field, she'd seen them coming for meters and meters, giving her time to draw plenty of knives and ready for their assault. Raven had hardly ever felt the need to initiate.
"And how did your last meetin' with 'em end," Tracy asked her ironically, with barely the raise in tone to qualify as a question.
Last time, the last time she might've- would've- been dead if it weren't for Zach's quick reflexes and helpful heads-up before the Glaeroes' attack. It was true. All her encounters with Glaeroes had been... savage.
Suddenly she remembered another thing. That play-fight she'd had what felt like an age ago with Zach, even though it was after she went through all... that, with the rebels, and lost her power. In that practice match, it had seemed like an age before either of them finally moved to fight... They'd waited in a stand-still for the other to move a good five minutes or something... A reactive strategy made sense for Zach, but for someone who threw knives, it was different. There was no advantage in defending, not unless both were very skilled. So, on her part, something other than strategy, then. What about habit? Had she gotten so used to being on the receiving end of the attack...? To seeing wild and crazy eyes that wanted nothing more than to slash her up-
"Birdie... Birdie- Raven," a light touch on her shoulder brought Raven back to the present, the tranquil desert, the deep starry night, and her dreadlocked and weird companion.
When Raven spoke again it was more deliberate, more determined than the last. "But what's really compelling us to fight each other? If we could work that out, then surely a solution could be found, and this nightmare would end," her hazel eyes brightened with something like the light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. Like hope, but not quite that simple. More like relief at the thought of hope.
Tracy whistled. "Birdie, I want summa whatever you're smokin'. Haven't ya killed enough of them now t' know co-op's just not possible 'ere?"
"It is! We could end it," Raven urged the other, and suddenly the idea didn't seem so funny to them after all, as they looked away.
"... Yeah, if we could do that, all our problems would be over..." Tracy snorted hopelessly, shaking out their dreadlocks, the beads on the ends all clicking against one another.
"It ending can't be that unbelievable, can it? We already have Truce for one month at a time," Raven pointed out.
"One month outta twelve where we mut'ally hole up in our bases for as long as we can last before claiming the territory needed just for supplies-" Tracy grumbled, head seeming to sink with every word, towards the large gap between their thighs that their arms and hair had already flopped into.
Raven cut in with; "I know that it's complex, but if we could just talk-"
"When have Falch'ons an' Glaeries ever talked," Tracy said over the top of her, loud and clear, causing Raven momentary pause.
"Col and one of the Glaeroes leaders, ah, their Seven I think, they had an exchange right about when Truce began, of words, and that seemed fairly amiable, or peaceful at least. Except when he burned the orphanage down, but uh that was empty!" Raven hastily waved aside what she could only imagine to be Tracy's intense eyebrow-raise.
They sighed again, the back of one hand sweeping idly along the ground below them. "Yeah well, Truce is Truce and leaders are one thing, y'know, us mortal folk another..." Tracy concluded, like caring any further took too much effort.
"What do you mean?" she laughed a little madly. Probably because she was suddenly imagining Five as a winged, ethereal entity, and it left her super incredulous. "Leaders die the same as everyone else, you know," Raven informed them with a wry tone and an eyebrow cocked.
"Not at the same rate," they murmured, twisting a coil of hair around one finger.
Shaking her head, Raven returned, "We lost like, a whole bunch during Truce month, weren't you paying attention?"
Tracy dropped down their hand to join the other one, seeming wearied from their discussion. They sounded now like someone who had mild to severe trouble getting out of bed in the morning. "I'm sayin'... It don't really matter, Birdie, why we all're fightin' in the first place. Least no more it don't. You fight enough an' people can't do any different," their voice tore somewhere in the last sentence, leaving only weak tatters trailing behind.
There was a pause in which Raven found she couldn't respond. Maybe her voice had broken too, since nothing would come out.
Silence, then; "Have ya forgotten what it's like out there, Raven?"
"What?" Wasn't she literally just out there like yesterday? Or was it the day before now?
"I've had friends die right in front of me while I'm unable to stop it..." Dreadlocks said lowly, and with their dark, knotty hair swaying lightly with a passing breeze, they appeared to be literally swimming in gloom.
"So have I," Raven agreed immediately, although when she thought about it, she couldn't really remember when, or who. Various teammates she'd had, yes. There was that boy she and Zach and Tabs had been on a mission with, but they weren't really friends, and he hadn't quite died in front of her- there'd been too much going on to really see. Riley had died in front of her- er, multiple times- but he was back now, so that didn't quite count, did it?
"A story then," Tracy offered, focus still directed toward the upside down mug resting on the sand, dirt and rock below them.
A suggestion to which Raven, just now remembering to sip at her barely still-warm coffee, nodded eagerly. She was always up for a good tale, if one could spin it well...

asi • 23 April 2017 at 12:01 AM

Tracy now sat facing her, legs bent in front of them, arms resting slackly over the corresponding knee, long fingers dangling just above the ground by both ankles. Their heels dug into the pale dirt, and their back curved like a Tudor arch up to where their dreadlocks hung like a curtain, obscuring everything above their t-shirt collar and then some. They were wearing some old black boardshorts and Raven noted the dark hair on their lower legs, but, she still hadn't an idea what gender the management was.
Anyway, Raven kept her eyes on the main body of hair as Tracy spoke, voice low and... careful. They started with a short exhale and brisk, brusque words. "Girl I knew had the power to boil, scramble an' deep-fry the heads o' anyone she met. And I dunnit mean burn all what's in 'ere," they tapped the side of their hair, probably head, meaningfully. "I mean all their thoughts, feelin's, mem'ries an' whatever makes 'em 'em," they explained shortly.
"Holy crap," Raven articulated. If she'd ever faced anyone like that in battle, wouldn't she have instantly been screwed? It probably depended on other factors like eye contact, touch or concentration, mental barriers and whatever, but still... Wow.
"Mmn," Tracy agreed, possibly chewing on some of their hair. "She could reduce ya t' nuthin' but a sack o' meat that sleeps, craps an' breathes, without the cap'city to do more, or t' want to. Scary, eh?"
Raven nodded profusely. That was indeed one scary power. Suitable for any campfire, torchlight story she'd ever heard.
"But she ne'er used that on any Glaerie. Fifty missions she lived an' she didn't, 'cause she hated... hated usin' that power o' hers. It killed 'em inside, an' it killed her... In here," Tracy pressed a hand over their heart for a beat, then let go.
"But I s'pose her luck couldn't last forever, 'cause those-" they swore briefly- "Glaeroes just kept comin', didn't they? An' eventually, her team was the one that lost."
Raven sat in grim silence, listening.
"How many of the enemy d'ya thunk she made inta vegetables before they fin'lly stuck 'er with a knife? Time had muddled the tracks but I could still see, least one body she'd struck was dragged away. They wouldn't know they ain't never gonna recova, see..." They breathed sharply, one hand in their hair, another gripping a handful of dirt and dust rigidly. She could see the veins and tendon standing out on their wrist as Tracy clenched too tight. "They forced her hand. Their vicious killin' made her use that awful power she had, jus' to live, and they still left 'er to bleed out onta the sand after," this was delivered without any particular emotion, just a statement of the facts, but Tracy had to stop after, as the weight of these words demanded their toll.
"An' they just keep chargin' at us," there was a tremulous note in Tracy's voice here, like they weren't quite sure they could believe this reality, like it was still really happening, a world this cruel could still be turning after doing that to a beautiful, good-hearted girl-
"Maybe all those Glaeroes should pay for the pain they've caused... Can ya blame us for thinkin' that way?" they said in a dry, deep voice, that sounded as hard and painful as anything Raven had ever heard anyone say, and she'd heard before some dying words.
Tracy drew back, seeming to collect themself when they saw the deeply affected look on Raven's face. Seeing her emotional involvement apparently helped them remove theirs, and they breathed steadily again, concluding simply; "'S experiences like that, that add up t' nobody 'ere really fightin' t' stop it all. All too busy gettin' revenge for the last strike, ain't they."
And Raven, remembering with sickening clarity the feeling of her knife gouging a bloody line into that boy's neck, her fingers tightening around the handle of her mug like the grip of her blade, said quietly back; "Maybe... maybe we should pay as well."
Then she stood, brushing dust off of the back of her pants with a few sweeps of her hand. "But if there's even the slightest chance of finding an end to this outside of death and destruction, shouldn't we try for that instead?" Raven challenged them with a brave smile.
"Ya know most 'ere think the Glaeroes would slaughter us all without a moment's pause- me included," they said stubbornly, looking up at her, to which she didn't react.
Tracy sighed, going back to drawing lines in the dirt with the rim of Raven's old cup, and muttered; "Maybe some crazy thinkers like you is what we need in charge, whadda I know." Then they looked up at the standing woman, and told her bitterly; "But I still thunk ya ain't got a snowball's chance in 'ell t'-"
They were interrupted by a newcomer, not ascending out the laddered chute as might have been expected, but appearing out of literal thin air beside them.
"Heeeey, guys, so this is where you got to! Man, felt like I was looking all night for you," Telly accused them, flopping down onto the hillside next to Tracy, no concern at all for the dirt that would quickly powder her back. She glanced up at Raven then. "Why are you standing, I only just got here? Siiiit," the blonde dragged the other girl down with her, and with a fond smile Raven could only play along, hitting the ground with a light 'oomph' to join her friend.

"So what were you two talking about? It sounded kinda heavy," Telly confessed a little while later, drinking from the mug Tracy had originally had, then given to Raven, who'd had it... more or less stolen from her by the teleporter, but she wasn't going to fight to get it back either.
"Story of that vegetable-fryer girl," Tracy explained with what sounded like crude indifference, to someone not in the know.
Evidently Telly did know of the story however, for her eyes widened just like that was the case, and she looked guardedly off down and towards her left. "Sounds like some things best left forgotten," she replied lowly, and then reached into her big skulled sweatshirt pocket, pulling something out.
"How about we do a little forgetting together?" Telly had a zip-lock bag in hand, containing little paper rolls of things that looked like cigarettes, though Raven knew to be not... Not quite. She'd seen a little group partaking of the stuff downstairs, also, but had steered well clear of them. Just like she always had growing up, she'd avoided the junkies like the plague, as the adults had said to. She'd been rebellious growing up, sure, but smart, and never that rebellious...
Raven blinked owlishly at the bag, wondering if technically there was anyone she should be calling to have these people brought in to the authorities, but no, they were on IOD, the front lines of the war zone, and they almost were the closest thing to authority here. It could hardly be said to be 'illegal' anymore, now could it!
"You're staying up all night with us, right?" Both Telly and Trace had already grabbed themselves a stick of it, lighters out, and were looking at her curiously, even expectantly.
And all Raven was thinking was, 'Oh,' and, 'I didn't know.'
"Well, ya gonna be bored as all heck if ya don't join in, Birdie," Tracy warned her, quietly teasing, dipping the end of their roll into a soft orange flame that trembled in the cool of the night.
Telly seemed a little more sympathetic. "Shads, you look totally strung out. This stuff can help you with that, y'know. Relaaaax," she waved a stick the other assistant's way.
"Fine!" Raven grumbled, shuffling her butt over to join them. She'd seen so many kids smoking that, really, how bad could a little of it be?
So she gave it a try, pursing her lips and blowing out quickly.
Tracy snickered, kicking out their legs as they partook of their own stick. "You're doin' it all wrong..."
"You have to actually breathe in you know, like, inhale," Telly laughed, white breath mixed with smoke huffing out around her, quickly swallowed thereafter by the vast and cold night air.
"Oh. Like this..?" She lifted the stick back to her lips, paused, then took a deep inhale. Raven managed not to cough it all straight back out, though it was a close thing, tears pricking at the corners of her hazel eyes at the smoke and the strange taste.
In her elation, the second assistant clapped Raven hard on the back, with strength that surprised, considering the blonde's pint-sized stature. "Yeah! That's right."
Feeling more confident now, and encouraged, Raven took a big, steady breath and did it a few more times for good measure, maybe showing off just a little, at how quickly she could pick it up with practice.
"She got it," beneath their dreadlocks, Tracy grinned, then hi-fived the wide-eyed and quietly wheezing Raven.

demon • 23 April 2017 at 12:06 AM

Riley stood poised over his desk, looking down on the collage of paperwork regarding the missions he'd been assigned- one completed, the others swiftly approaching.
Unfortunately, it had gotten to the point where little new was occurring to him, and instead all the leader could think of was; 'surely I should be tired by now', and 'staying awake this long can't be healthy, can it?' He couldn't even be sure how long it had been since he'd properly slept...
When lying uselessly on the bed had produced no results, courtesy of his tireless mind, Riley had attempted to work himself to exhaustion. Instead, he only seemed to have dug his way to distraction... His back was itching too. Whatever those unreliable healers had done, it clearly wasn't doing anything good!
Riley sighed some more as his glassy green gaze floated over the copies on their field-trip to A-L, and he remembered the report he'd tried to give, as instructed...
"Katrix is indisposed to giving audience to anyone at the time being," he'd been informed icily by the tall, intimidating and finely muscular golden-haired woman in One's office. She tapped away at the computer keyboard with an unpleasantly impatient expression on her otherwise pretty face, while Riley stood there awkwardly with a large paper burden in his hands.
"Uh, Vivian?" he said delicately, now that he knew the first assistant's name through meetings, "The mission report for yesterday was in there, I was supposed to talk with One-"
She looked up sharply, surprising him into silence. "You did not succeed in tracing the truant Three? Pray tell," said Vivian in a demanding tone.
"We... didn't find Three, no," Riley rubbed the back of his neck as he answered, still trying to wrap his ears around the lady's strange manner of speech.
"In which case, simply proceed to deposit the report in conjunction with the aggregate product of your labor on the escritoire and return upon possessing intelligence of substantial importance," Vivian informed him coldly, and with his head slightly spinning, Riley had dumped the papers on the desk and quit the room.
So that hadn't gone great. There had been things he'd counted on discussing with Katrix, but he hadn't been able to...
He sighed again, this clearly wasn't getting him anywhere. Shouldn't he just call it a day? But with his current insomnia- well. There were other ways to get to sleep though, weren't there?
After a brief and awkwardly stunted chat with his assistant, ten minutes of idle fussing over his desk, and then a thankfully easy delivery to his door, Riley had the means to the other method in hand.
That's how, with a mouthful of pills chased down by water, Riley ended up passed out on his bed, in for a strange, restless night of unconsciousness.


She focused for a moment, on the faint squeak of cloth on glass, fibers slick with cleaning fluid smoothing the motion, as she massaged it into the glass. Small, circular, rhythmic movements reached deeper into the cup, which still radiated warmth from the soapy sink it had sat submerged in. The task was comforting, and so she indulged in it far past the point where the last tenacious traces of inky black lipstick smudged on the side had slid off.
The air around her was screaming with the sounds of drums, bass, and the human voice in discord. The speakers pounded, hummed, blitzed and now and then they shrieked with a pitch that could shatter glass- figuratively. Otherwise, the blonde's hands would be a bloody mess. And as for her exquisite, refined ears, they endured, as they had before, for the sake of... someone dear.
Cindy watched from where she stood, behind the bar, hands still idly working the cloth around the rim of an already sparkling clean cup, as two dark figures stumbled out from the moshing crowd, hands twisted together. She saw them, in flickers between the interference of passersby, find a quiet nearby seat and rest there, leaning against each other more for comfort than for physical support, fighting tiredness or tipsiness. One head jerked up when ze realized that ze'd been pressing facepaint into hir partner's clothes and long, wild hair. But the other just pushed hir head back down, unconcerned. He seemed more than content to keep his distance from the epicenter of the noise and excitement, in favor of simply cuddling with his date. And his affections were returned as ze held the leader soundly around his middle...
A tap against her counter brought Cindy back to her station, and she took the order she was given, pouring the warm, golden liquor into her well-polished glass, handing it off to the customer without a single word. When they were gone, her eyes searched again for that all-too-familiar couple... and filled with dread for what was to come.
Those two? They were much... much... too happy.

taffy789 • 23 April 2017 at 2:21 PM

Naji stared up at the canvas of his tent, watching it balloon up and down due to the wind blowing outside.
After a while, watching this repetitive motion only drained him, and he shifted in his cot, rolling over to look now at Jorge, who rested lazily in the cot two down from him.
Naji tugged at the thin material of his sleeping shirt in some mild anxiety, and he sweated as he remembered the burden weighing so heavily on his mind. The guilt, the shame, the words that Chief Velazquez had pulled him aside to say to him right as everyone was leaving the medical tent-

“Naji Bhatti,” the Chief Healer had said to him, “you do realize that your team could easily request another healer, correct? One was promised to them, and it was deemed necessary for them to get a field medic. So no matter what, one would be delegated to them.”
“Um.” The thought had never occurred to Naji, no, it hadn’t. “Sure, yeah, that makes sense, but um, but why would that be-”
“It’s important because,” Chief Velazquez had interrupted, harshly, “you need to understand fully the implications of you murdering these boys before it happens.”
Naji had choked. “I’m not- I haven’t killed anybody! I- I haven’t-”
“Yet.” Chief Velazquez had finished, and he’d glared down at Naji as if the boy was a dog who’d peed on the carpet, and now it was his job to rub the dog’s nose in it. “But there’s no place for uselessness on the battlefield, Naji Bhatti. Not for people putting their lives on the line to save nothing but dead weight.” Almost smugly, he’d straightened out his back, turning his nose up into the air. “I do not know the exact capabilities of your powers. But. If they’d be better suited someplace else, perhaps you go there instead. Unless,” and here Chief Velazquez’s expression had grown different, had transformed into something like mild interest, an almost amused bitterness. “Unless, of course, you could actually live with all that preventable blood on your hands. … In any case, Naji Bhatti.” And the Chief had smiled here, a grim, vile, terrifying smile, “I’m very excited to see what your own choice will be.”

And what would that choice be.
Naji kept on staring at Jorge, lying so peacefully in his cot, until Naji couldn’t take it anymore and he slipped from his bed to stand up on shaky feet. Slowly, he padded over to where Jorge lay, and he loomed awkwardly above him for a second before Jorge creaked one eye open to look back up at him.
“…Yeeees?” Jorge inquired, and Naji fiddled with his thumbs for a moment.
Perhaps sensing the anxiety Naji felt ebbing off himself in waves, Jorge blinked, sat up, and patted the edge of his cot, inviting Naji to sit down. Naji sat, and he huffed a bit, trying to find his voice but seemingly unable to speak the words on his mind.
Shifting Jorge pulled his body into a more comfortable, cross-legged position, and, delicately, he probed further. “Something on your mind, Naji?”
Naji nodded, mutely.
“Welp,” Jorge laughed softly, “what is it?”
“I wanted,” Naji swallowed his fear, “to talk to you about… you saving me today.”
“Uh, sure. What about?”
“About how…” Naji shut his eyes. “maybe you didn’t need… to do that..?”
There was a pause from Jorge, a dreaded, gapping silence.
Then suddenly,
Jorge snorted and playfully swatted Naji’s back.
“Dude. What’s got you saying this nonsense? Did your evil boss make you feel like you needed to bring this up, or something?”
Not being unable to refute that without lying, Naji glumly nodded his head.
“Well,” Jorge glanced over Naji after that sullen reply. He continued, softer, “I didn’t say all that sappy stuff back in the medical tent for show, ya know.” He smiled, just as soft as his words. “Naji, like. Samuel and I? We got your back, man. You’re our teammate, our field medic, our new friend!” He grinned at that, and Naji’s guilt-ridden heart hit the bottom of his gut. “We couldn’t just like. Let you die out there, dude! We’re not like your evil boss, we’re not the selfish bad guys.”
Naji felt his mouth dry up, and he barely croaked out the next words; they rode out on a breath of pure guilt, not air. “But I’m not a… good healer.”
Jorge shook his head, all good-natured. “Naji, you saved my life-”
“No, Jorge-!” Naji interrupted, his eyes furiously flying open. Jorge reeled back in mild shock at the sudden outburst, and Naji hung his shoulders, his voice growing quiet and timid again. “No, Jorge…. I’m not…. A good healer. T-trust me on this, okay?”
Jorge stared at Naji for a moment, really considering him. Finally, he turned his head slightly away, chuckled awkwardly, and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck.
“Haha… Naji, if I’m being honest?” Jorge continued that awkward laughter, “That’s something… Sammy and I already figured.”
With a start, Naji remembered the conversation he’d overheard early in the morning, when pretending to be asleep. He also remembered Samuel’s words to him, before he closed Jorge’s wound, “Naji, I know you’re not the best healer…”
Tears threatened to spring to Naji’s eyes. “T-then,” he stammered, helplessly. “T-then, why..?”
“Why did we..?” Jorge frowned. “Save you?” When Naji nodded, Jorge looked sympathetic, and he reached out to pat Naji on the shoulder.
“Dude. Well, for one, you’re a healer. You don’t really have that many fighting skills, right? That isn’t your job. And, as for the healing power thing? Well, uh, okay. It doesn’t matter how useful you are, or whatever bs the government fed you, right? We all heard it at one point. And you know what? We all decided it was wrong. At least,” Jorge smiled, “Sammy and I sure as heck did. And we made up our own rules instead, dude.” He formed his hand into a fist and gave Naji a quick whallop on his shoulder. “We decided that we’d do what it takes to protect our own, that’s how we operate. No matter what it takes, we’re gunna protect the people close to us, like a family. And Naji?” Jorge grinned at the boy. “I don’t mean to get all sappy again, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re part of our little team now, and you can consider yourself family.”
Naji felt the beginnings of tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, but he more acutely felt the immense guilt burn a hole into his large intestine.
It didn’t matter to Jorge and Samuel that he was useless, that he was a sucky healer. They planned on doing everything in their power to protect him anyway. Even if-

Memories of Naji’s power ripping the Falchion’s face open overwhelmed him, and he had to push those violent thoughts from his head.

Yes, Samuel and Jorge would protect him even if Naji knew, very, very, very incredibly well, that his power was well suited to protect himself.

awesomeness • 23 April 2017 at 2:24 PM

Naji met Jorge’s eyes again with some hesitation. The grinning boy looked back at him, all happy and pleasant, and Naji considered just how close Jorge had come to dying in vain- dying for a healer who wasn’t a healer, a soldier pretending to be a healer just so he didn’t have to fight and die.
A coward hiding behind others who thought he couldn’t defend himself and thus would readily fight and die for him.
The intense disgust for himself that Naji felt made him physically ill.
That what he was, plain and simple, Naji knew it. A coward.
He’d always had been one, so afraid of everything, so afraid of death and blood and the dark and people, and everyone, and everything.
Naji once again faced the choice he had make, that he would continue to have to make until he either ended his little charade or it fell apart from under him.
Truth or death?
Survival or lies?
And, Naji thought, his heart racing as he considered it, if he chose survival for himself, who would die in his place..?
Jorge continued to smile at him, though now with more concern, having seen the anxiety with which Naji now shook.
Naji tightened his hands into fists to calm his shivering body.
He took in a deep breath, and he thought about Jorge, about Samuel, about them risking their lives for him and him being expected by them to easily return the favor in a heartbeat.
He thought about his power, about how deadly it was, about how easily it could be used to fight, to defend, to save the people who cared for him, to protect those who protected him back.
He thought about how easy it would be to confess his lies, to get a new field medic for the team, heck, maybe even get better at his power and learn to use it to better save the lives of his new friends, his “family”…
Naji thought about all these things, all of them, and when he looked back at Jorge, Naji smiled, opened his mouth, and came to the heart-wrenching conclusion that he was a useless coward and would never be anything more than a useless, terribly useless coward.
“T-thank you for everything,” Naji told Jorge, and while he meant it, the guilt ate at his heart and encircled it and coated it in an inky black, and Naji wondered darkly if he even had a beating heart anymore, or if there was just an empty space in his chest that pumped treachery and cowardice through his veins.
Jorge smiled, completely oblivious to all the dark deceit.
“No problem dude!” he laughed, so good-natured, and Naji wished he could possess such a similar personality.
“And,” Jorge continued with a wink, “if you ever need to talk, you should know that-”
Before he could finish, a loud unzipping of the tent’s door flap sounded out, and both Jorge and Naji swung their heads towards the sound in time to see Samuel kick and flail his way into the tent.
“Jorge!” Samuel shouted, and shook the wind-blown sand from his longer hair. Without further explanation, Samuel rushed at the cot Jorge and Naji both sat on, and as Jorge shouted, “Dude, wait-!”, Samuel screamed, “Surprise trust fall!” and performed a sloppy flying elbow drop on his friend. Naji quickly hopped to the unoccupied cot next to him to escape the brute of the attack, but Jorge wheezed as Samuel wrestled with him on the cot. After a lot of cursing and laughter, Samuel hooted triumphantly and kicked Jorge out of his cot and onto the ground.
Jorge gasped, breathless, as he hit the floor.
“You dic-” Jorge had begun to shout, but was cut off when a pillow hit his mouth. He scraped the pillow from his face and lugged it back at the barking with laughter Samuel, finishing the rest of the curse with a loud, “-WAD!”
Naji watched the antics of the two with some sullen amusement, the scene fun but not helping the swirling guilt that continued to haunt his mind. He gulped, desperately trying to swallow those dark thoughts and forget just who was getting the short end of the stick in the decision he’d made, what he was willing to sacrifice to save… himself…
And then Samuel turned, grinning, at Naji, and Naji was broken out of his thoughts about his cowardice to feel a brand new fear instead…
“….Um, Samuel?” Naji coughed, not liking Samuel’s expression as he stood up and began loaming threateningly over the boy.
“Naji…” Samuel grinned back, comically evil. “…. Surprise…”
Knowing very well what surprise was coming next, Naji scrambled to exit the cot, but to no avail.
Yelling out “Trust fall!” again, Samuel slammed into Naji and cackled as he playfully smothered the boy with a pillow.

asi • 28 April 2017 at 1:01 AM

"Another season, another ninth assistant right off the bat, huh," a voice snorted lowly, joined by the crisp flicking sound of pages thumbed through on a clipboard.
"Ninies dropping like flies again, nothing new to see here," said a nearby male dismissively, along with the light sound of fabric and movement. Maybe he was crossing his legs where he sat, restless after taking more than his usual dose in paperwork.
"There's a reason for that," another, third voice, higher in tone and further in distance, sounded to be bustling away with some task. "Ninth division is much bigger than the others, and handle most of the fighting." This was followed with a low, calming murmur, perhaps talking to someone else nearby.
A grunt. If one thought it sounded satisfied somehow- it's because it was. This first person was the supervisor and they loved being right. "Not anymore, don't you two know? 'Ninth' swapped bibs with Second, and that means... 'Ninth' guys are really the guys from Two's old division, doing the same nasty old job in our basement, and seeing nearly the least of the field compared to everyone else." A short series of taps issued- perhaps a pen against the side of the clipboard. "So, going off this case, the number nine might really be cursed!"
"Are you serious?" and also a gentler; "Lift your arms for me?" came from a little further to the right. Then the voice rose again, louder. "Ughhh, why'd they have to swap like that?! It's sooo confuuusing!" A complaining groan. "So what was it then, a policing incident?"
"Not even," said the boy, rustling through some of the records spread out on the table. "Here, look. He got beaten up... by some of his own from Ninth. And they sure did a number on him, euugh," he made a face of disgust at the picture formed by the beating.
The third of them shuddered while tending to a patient. "Those old Second D kids are scary, I'll admit."
"Punishment is always scary," the supervisor concurred. As a healer, they had no reserves about condemning the punishers' work, from the cushy chair on which they sat. "The things they do to people..." they muttered darkly.
The boy nearby tidied the papers and dropped them back on the desk- ready to be shipped off to Eighth- before cutting in; "Yeah, but better Nine than Two. She seems like a nice lady in comparison," he snickered to himself. "I'd certainly run faster from those troops trained by Two than say, Nine's puffy little assistant over there."
"Not sure how he's supposed to be helping lead them, when by the looks of it he ought to be running in the opposite direction..." The other added from behind one of the curtains, then called out; "Number 25 is just suffering from over-exhaustion, that's all. Put 'em on rest," and the boy at the desk nodded and scribbled down a note.
The supervisor replied with rather a thoughtless smile; "Well, hopefully our guest in bed number 68 will learn to keep them in line soon, hmm? Especially seeing as how his job is to keep everyone else in line."
Just then, the curtain to bed no. 68 was pulled back abruptly, and a tall, straight-backed and imposing figure strode out. All three of the healers stood stock-still in silence as this woman turned her back on them to drag the curtain rungs back into place with a relatively loud, scrapy-whoosh effect. For a moment they could only stare at her dark ponytail, high and tight and sticking orderly out of the back of her cap. When the unexpected visitor turned again to meet their eyes, the two other healers appeared to be chiseled out of ice, and the supervisor...
"W-what, how did you- since when were you- I mean, Nine...!" They appeared to be at a loss for words, so badly were they mortified.
Nine answered plainly, since from what she could make of their words, they did seem to be asking a question. And she was plenty competent enough to make sense of it. "Since before your shift started, seems like the last lot didn't see fit to inform you..." She appeared to note this with a dissatisfied expression.
"Please remind us next time Nine, we can arrange for your stay to be more comfortable!" The supervisor stared in disbelief at the one of the bedside chairs, formed of scarcely more than a primitive steel frame, meant to discourage long-staying visitors. It was one identical to that which Nine had apparently spent the night in. They cringed at the thought of what that would do to their neck, and just about everywhere else.
"No, I won't," Nine replied calmly, adjusting the cap back so that it didn't so strongly shadow her face, having worn it over her eyes while she slept. "You all have a very important job here, one that I didn't intend to disturb. Please ignore me and keep going about your duties normally."
They agreed timorously, like any moment they expected a trap to be sprung, the healers to be accused of gross negligence of a leader and dragged off for punishment. "Alright..."
Really, Nine was more discomforted and regretful about how she'd had to so rudely surprise everyone here than anything else. She'd woken to their voices and found it was high past time she left this place, leaving her with no choice but to directly confront them. Not wanting to be of any more inconvenience to them, Nine quickly and efficiently made her exit... Leaving a very awkward trio of healers behind in her wake. For several long moments, silence prevailed over them.
Finally, the supervisor groaned. "She heard us gossiping like old fishwives, didn't she?" they slumped back into their plushly padded chair, and the other two healers could only chuckle nervously as their returned to their tasks, as instructed.


Someone else was running fine on time, in fact, this leader had been out of bed for several hours before, it seemed, anyone else. Yet, he hardly seemed to be suffering from any affects, of sleep deprivation at least.
Riley stood over that desk in his office again, laden as it was with mission papers (again), but this time, the leader was sighing his soul out of his body for another reason. "You're certain about this update?" he prodded the one standing by his side for another assurance, as if hearing it once just wasn't enough or, perhaps, the leader just didn't like the news. "You're telling me that teleporter went and got themself... stuck on bed-rest?" He ran one- no, two hands through his short reddish hair and then tugged in his frustration.
"That's... one way to word it," his assistant answered warily, eyeing the leader in a way that prompted him to immediately backtrack.
"No, I meant... I know they don't choose their missions, of course, it's hardly their fault that they over-exerted themself, but," Riley ground his teeth together in irritation. "It kind of is the fault of the person who gave them such a difficult schedule!" He had half a mind to make them take responsibility for this-
"Well, that person isn't me," his assistant reminded him, with a slightly irked and ruffled expression, though it was consciously directed down to the notes in his hand.
This caused Riley to question with a sheepish look; "Uh, who does assign that?"
The guy let out a little puff of air. "One's assistant," he tried not to grimace in front of Four and only partially succeeded. "She has... expectations others have a hard time living up to."
"We can't afford to have teleporters needlessly benched," Riley mumbled, dragging a hand down his face briefly. He knew he should be considering this cost sunk, and contemplating instead where to go from here, but for a minute all he wanted to do was complain.
Given the look on his assistant's face, Stripey-Tee knew exactly what the leader was thinking. He suggested, with a impatient, arched eyebrow; "Maybe you should pursue a mission closer to home, for the time being."
A totally reasonable idea, one Riley could get behind, would have likely proposed himself- "Yeah, I should, but..." But in this case, he hated it. "No! This one, this one's important," Riley decided, stubborn but calm. "I don't want to delay this any longer, especially if this scene's going to get dangerous going forward. We shouldn't allow set-backs to stall this."
Unused to this leader of his taking hard stances on- well, anything- the assistant paused, taken aback, then his eyes narrowed, he leaned forward; "If we can't spare the teleporter for it-"
"Then it's my problem, you don't have to help me work it out," Riley offered somewhat mulishly, thinking over his options without the assistant. He was sure he'd be able to figure out a solution, regardless...
Stripey-Tee lowered his notes, giving Riley yet another disparaging look. "Four, helping you work is my job. Just tell me how you want this done," he asked of the leader.
"Well... I have an idea, of someone who might still help me out," Riley mused, frown lines easing, and green eyes lighting up at the thought. "And all you need to do is deliver a message..."


Raven woke to a faint but incessant beeping, with a rhythm that almost sounded organic, like cicadas in the summer, if said cicadas were made with circuits, capacitors and fully electrical components. She groaned and rolled over, hands stuck somewhere in her thick fuzzy hair, body pressed now against something warm and... soft. That noise, was that someone's alarm...? It didn't sound like hers. Raven didn't have one...
"What's going on?" she grumbled when the thing wouldn't let up, burrowing her aching head deeper into the fabric she was laying against.
A voice, unnerving close by, muttered back; "It's my pager..." Telly yawned as she stretched herself up into a sitting position, forcing Raven's shoulder off of her and onto the cold rough ground. "Looks like I got a new order from a leader..." She said, playing with the watch-like thing on her wrist, while Raven squinted up at her.
"What, Two?" she asked, scratching her head with a barely suppressed yawn of her own.
Telly was looking sleepily around for Tracy, finally spotting them still peacefully snoozing on the other side of Raven with a sign of relief. She answered Raven; "He said he wouldn't call on me for a few days yet... This is just a teleporter thing, so it could be anyone. Oh? It's a request..."
Raven asked again, barely keeping up; "What?" She was taken even more aback when her friend clutched her arm in excitement, her response too slow to do much other than sway tiredly and blink at Teij.
"Hey! It's from your friend, Four!" Telly exclaimed, instantly bright-eyed and eager to share the news. "He's a cool guy, right? Helped me out the other day," she hummed, combing through her platinum blonde curls, fiddling with the hair ties wrapped around her wrists.
Raven was lagging far behind now, more than half-asleep. "What?" She mumbled again into the blanket draped over her.
Telly wasn't at all put out by her friend's lack of response and, indeed, awareness of the world. "He wants to meet with me," she gathered from her device, peering eagerly at it. "Well, why not? Hey, I'll even bring him over! I've got enough stuff in me for that, I'm sure!" she flexed her arm with a proud, boisterous expression, like she was ready to throw a brutal slug that would even knock someone through a wall with its force, if said wall was thin enough.
"Wha... Okay..." Raven stared at those biceps for as long as she could before they either disappeared from her sight, or her heavy eyelids closed on her and she drifted off again into the hazy realm of sleep.


Sleep was a comfort which, one could be sure, someone else was enjoying far more elsewhere.
Izzy was wrapped in a golden ball of warmth, from the soft cocoon of his cardigan, and the coarser but nevertheless pleasant covers over-top, to the very, very warm furnace, it felt like, breathing and radiating out heat from his side... Which Izzy snuggled into firmly, resolutely, hugging it with the determination to press every inch of him he could closer against this beautiful, lovely warmth. That was his boyfriend, he realized, and cuddled more.
He... definitely wasn't ready to get up yet. In fact, if he had any say at all in the matter, he wouldn't be moving from this spot... for a very long time.
Izzy inevitably then yawned, stretched, and promptly fell off the bed. An event which was followed directly by muffled, quiet, and numerous Arabic curses.
It was a very typical morning in this bedroom unit.

taffy789 • 28 April 2017 at 10:49 PM

When Zach drifted awake, he groggily pulled his thin pillow over his head, effectively smothering himself as he tiredly waited for the annoyance of the morning to prod him until he got up.
He drowned out the musty dark of the underground bunker like that for a while, the dry heat of his exhales burning into the pillow and flushing his cheeks with the stale warmth. As it slowly became more difficult for him to breath, the creaking gears of his brain turned once, twice, and didn’t start up completely but generated enough thought for him to come to one surprisingly pleasant realization:
Nobody was bothering him this morning.
No healers banging on his door, no management poking him in the face, waking him up from a fitful sleep and demanding he did anything or went anywhere.
Nothing.
After a week of wanting to pass out on any available horizontal surface, Zach thought it too good to be true.
Almost fearfully, he creaked open an eye and angled his head towards the digital clock that had come with his desk, and the sight of “AM” sent chilly shivers of shock coursing through his bloodstream.
He did some laborious, sleepy math and came to the resolute conclusion that, yes, he’d been asleep for a little less than an entire day.
Zach soaked in this information, slowly, deliberately.
Then, after a quick check of intuition to make sure nobody was about knock down his door screaming for him, Zach curled tighter into himself and allowed himself to rest a little bit longer.


Annabell was staring at her breakfast of flavorless cereal, feeling oh so very tired and worried and not all that hungry, but determined anyway to finish the bowl in the name of health and nutrition.
With some exertion of willpower, she lifted the spoon to her mouth and crunched the wheat squares, and she thought about the fitful sleep she’d had.
The lead-up to her resting her head on her pillow hadn’t been all that good.
After the initial shock of Leon not…. Exisiting on IOD had worn off, she’d forced Mikey to continue to check the various databases he had access to, every last one, and each search had pulled up as inconclusive.
Every. Single. One.
Annnabell bit another square of wheat in half as she recalled Mikey walking her back to her room, saying how sorry he was it hadn’t worked out for her the entire way back, good luck on the rest of the search, feel free to come to me if you need any more help, or just wanna talk about it, etc etc etc.
He’d been perfectly nice to her, and while part of her had wanted to talk to a friend about what had happened, a more exhausted, numbed by shock part of her had simply wanted to… think about what she’d learned, for a while.
And that was the part of her that had stayed up way too late last night.
Frowning into her cereal bowl, Annabell chased the last of the wheat squares down with her spoon, and she gulped them down before rising with her tray and leaving her table.
As she scraped her garbage into the trash, she considered her next course of action for what seemed like the billionth time by now.
Faithfully once again, the cogs of inspiration and motivation clunked and clattered and turned endlessly without producing a solid answer.
With a sigh, Annabell put that thought on hold, having declared it stalled for the time being.
For now, she decided instead, she would just do what she knew she could do, and keep pressing forward, day to day.
And today called for her finding Riley to see how he was doing and what that promised mission was all about, so that’s exactly what Annabell set off to do.


Quincy, who’d been long awake but unmoving out of reluctance to wake Izzy, jolted up as soon as his boyfriend made contact with the floor.
Having been kicked out of the bed to meet a similar fate quite a few times before, he was well aware of the feeling of cold tile and knew how unpleasant it could be. Rolling over, Quincy peered off the side of the bed, down at Izzy to check up on him. As he did this, he heard loud movement across the room and then twisted himself back around to face the open bathroom door and Mikey, who stood half-dressed while propping himself up against the bathroom’s door frame with one hand and holding his… blurry… toothbrush in the other. Quincy squinted at Mikey, unable to discern the expression on his roommate’s face and barely catching Mikey’s words through the mouthful of toothpaste he still had, though they sounded something strongly like, “Dith Izzth justh die?”
Quincy sat up, throwing the too-warm covers off of himself and gave a shrug in the general blurry direction of his roommate.
“From what I can tell,” he informed him candidly, “the boyfriend lives.”
“Mmkayth.” Mikey grunted back through the toothpaste, then turned and hopped back into the bathroom. “Justh macking sure I don’t havfe toofth doofth CPR.”
Turning his attention away from Mikey, Quincy sat on his knees and loomed back over the other side of the bed to look down at Izzy again. Smiling fondly at his boyfriend, he extended a hand down to Izzy, meaning to help him up.

asi • 30 April 2017 at 7:16 AM

The floor was cold and painful on his back, and Quincy had never looked so angelic as when he leaned over and offered Izzy his hand to help him up. For a few seconds, Izzy was caught just staring in love and wonder at the heavenly sight.
However, his thoughts soon turned gloomy as the sleep faded from his mind and Izzy was exposed to the cold, harsh light of reality. He knew if he rejoined that wonderful warmth, he'd have an impossibly hard time of leaving it. After being forced to cruelly part with the affection of the bed and his boyfriend once, Izzy wasn't eager to do it a second time. He wasn't sure he'd even make it.
He used Quincy to help himself stand, but didn't climb back onto the bed.
"I sh'd get goin'," Izzy mumbled, stumbling around the room woozily, fixing the clothes that were inevitably hanging off him sloppily from all the tossing and turning in his sleep. "Get sorted f'..." He realized he'd not the slightest idea what the day had in store for him, and scowled. "F'whatever..." he concluded with an unhappy grunt.
Standing by the door, with absolutely no idea about what else he might have forgotten for the day, Izzy did remember to tell to Quincy his immediate plans for it. He patted the empty space where he would usually wear a belt with his pesh-kabz attached, and admitted to what he'd managed to procrastinate all of yesterday. "I'm... gonna need a new weapon if we're goin' on another mission t'day." He exhaled as just that sentence filled him with annoyance. "'Cause y'know... I lost mine last time," Izzy added unnecessarily, with the immediate result of it worsening his mood.
He looked really quite blue as he stood there, arms hugging his sides through his cardigan.


"I wasn't expecting you so soon," said Riley, taking to his feet the minute the young blonde manifested in his room. Walking around his desk, he pulled out a chair from underneath to offer her, the very picture of politeness.
She didn't seem to notice that gesture at first, too busy looking around his office and answering Four's opening statement. "Are you kidding? I was sleeping, your message woke me, I went and showered and changed and ate breakfast all before coming here," Telly rattled off this list, all the while her wide eyes took in the vast array of swords and weapons on display.
"I guess since space works different for you, time is a little different too..." He said thoughtfully, considering how little he, and his assistant, had been able to get done in the same period of time. Riley hadn't gone anywhere, he'd merely poured himself over paperwork, and Stripey-Tee still wasn't back from a trip to Eighth and picking up some breakfast stuff. "Those are- or were- Three's," Riley added, noticing where Telly's attention lay.
She nodded flippantly, and it occurred to him that she may have been gazing at them for a reason other than surprise at his 'choice' of decoration. Interesting, he thought, and then; Two did select her as an assistant, now didn't he.
"I-" Teija started to say, and then paused, looking uneasy. She even seemed to sway, for a moment, on the spot.
Riley frowned. "Are you o-" he didn't even get those words out of his mouth before she doubled over and Telly's breakfast came back up and out of hers.
So the next thing he ended up doing was showing her the bathroom. Luckily, his assistant showed up soon after and immediately tended to the little mess on the floor, so they found the office clean on returning, Teija's little spell of nausea having quickly faded.

"There were likely numerous contributing factors to that," Teij admitted, wiping a hand over her mouth for the hundredth time, muttering a strange expression of disgust; "Yäk... But I probably shouldn't have done everything so fast, considering-"
"Your recent hospitalization?" Riley put in helpfully, handing her another tissue from the box his assistant had automatically brought out from some hiding place here.
Face half concealed behind the white sheet of tissue now, Teija looked up at him curiously from her seat. "Yeah, you knew about that?"
"Sure, you're an assistant, it came up in a meeting," Riley explained easily, moving over to a table to see what his assistant Stripey-Tee had brought him and Telly for breakfast. On the bright side, her having eaten already didn't make half of those preparations redundant anymore...
"He's up to date with all the management gossip, since he attends meetings so diligently," Stripey-Tee remarked, reentering the room now with a tray of drinks in hand. The distinct scent alone of a fruity tea served to soothe and further settle Teij's stomach, even as it mingled a little with the coffee smell from what Four and his assistant would clearly be drinking.
"Oh, thanks a lot," Riley was a little surprised as he accepted his cup, especially as Stripey-Tee's expressing regarding this task seemed just as scathing as it had been about anything Riley had asked of him- and for this, he hadn't asked. The leader was beginning to wonder if his entire reading of Stripey-Tee's character was way off target. "Am I not supposed to?" he asked about the meetings, tilting his head.
"They aren't all strictly necessary," Stripey-Tee answered, and then muttered, sipping his mocha; "In fact I think attending all isn't supposed to be possible..."
Teij seemed fully recovered already, in high spirits as she exclaimed, "My god! Have you seen any other leaders around? Pffft, you won't catch me attending anything Two doesn't order me to," Teija snorted, waving aside this idea like it was formed purely of fantasy.
"Actually, Four," his assistant put in somewhat dryly, not wanting to miss this chance at making this clear, "You're kind of creeping some of the assistants out by showing up at theirs. They think you're doing it to get in all their heads," he told Riley, leaning casually against the guy's desk.
"But I'm not," Riley replied with a frown, watching Teija taste her tea with a more-or-less pleased expression, and then drink it all rather more quickly than she probably should have.
Stripey-Tee had this sardonic look in his eyes as he said over the rim of his cup; "Yes, well, if they talk to you, they'll work that out eventually..."
This caused Riley a moment's pause before he turned back to the other assistant, who was already eyeing the pot that suggested more tea- which Riley would maybe not offer her just yet. "Anyway," he said, rubbing at his temple briefly with one hand. "What did the healers tell you?"
"That I'd be fine in just a bit, back to full throttle in no time flat," Telly frowned down at her empty cup before placing it on the desk, between some of his spread-out papers.
"And what did Two recommend?" Riley asked from only a shrewd and sneaking hunch, seeing as the teleporter had evidently known teleporting wasn't something she ought to do so much of, so fast. Her personal estimation of her limits didn't seem that good, either.
Telly did look impressed for a moment, and then just dismayed, sighing; "Told me to take a few days off and go easy on the teleporting, yeah. Guess I really might've pulled a muscle with that long-distance, rapid-fire, no breaks in between stuff, huh..."
"I used to get the worst migraines and stomach pains from overusing my power," Riley confided in her, putting his own coffee aside while he waited for it to cool. "It's probably not exactly the same, but, do you know what I would always do to get rid of that feeling?"
"What?" she humored him, idly flicking her balled-up tissue into the little bin under his desk.
"I'd buy a whole bag of these sour chew candies and just slowly eat my way through the entire packet, one candy right after the other... They were really strong," he assured her, reminiscing fondly, although he remained far from lost in his recollections.
She laughed at that, slapped one hand against the desk hard enough to make her own mug jump. "Oh man, you're a riot Four," sniggering, Teija lay back in her chair, arms crossed over her stomach. "What I would give to see you perform that trick at a party..."
Riley shook his head. "There's no way I'd do that." He wasn't a circus animal, and that simply wasn't something he'd do unless he needed to! He hadn't done it for years, in fact.
"Peer pressure. Can make you do terrific things," Telly offered with a grin.
"I think I'd be fine, thank you..." He replied, eyeing her warily, like she might whip him off to a party scene without a moment's notice, despite her current state of being indisposed to travel.
"So why'd you call me here anyway? Not to chat I bet," she changed the subject, sensing the leader's unwillingness to be persuaded, and also that perhaps persuading a leader in such a way might not be the best idea Teij had ever had.
"You're right," he acknowledged, and then set about explaining what he wanted her for.

taffy789 • 1 May 2017 at 12:00 AM

Having memorized the walk to Riley’s office by now, Annabell had no trouble getting over to it after a quick stop by her room. She’d grabbed a small bag full of necessary mission supplies, not wanting a repeat of her unpreparedness that’d occurred just two days ago…
In whatever the case, she now stood in front of Riley’s office door, hesitating to knock because of the quiet muffle of voices she imagined she heard inside… Unless she was simply hearing things, it did sound like Riley had company…
Not wanting to intrude on anything, Annabell leaned in closer to the door, balancing herself against it slightly, as to make sure she wasn’t about to burst in uninvited on some important leader-y business or something.


Quincy swung his legs off the side of the bed as Izzy moved towards the door, ready to follow.
“Do you want me to come with?” he offered, absentmindedly kicking the heel of his foot against the cold floor.
Upon seeing how glum Izzy had begun, his expression softened, and Quincy went quiet for a moment. After some thought, he spoke up, hesitantly joking and aiming to cheer Izzy up some, “We could, I dunno, get you like, one of the flamethrowers in the training rooms.”


The Eighth worker sipped from the “Don’t Go Bacon My Heart” coffee mug, parted lips from the ceramic with a slight “ah” sound, and then finally glanced back up at the sorry sight standing in front of her.
The Fifth leader had never looked scarier, and she’d only seen him once previously, on the TVs during the Truce matches. Now here he was, in full flesh in front of her, and the only impression she was left with was one wondering what bus had dragged him through the mud.
Five’s outfit was dirty and disheveled, his hair shone with grime and oil, and the Eighth worker had a sinking, horrified suspicion that he hadn’t taken a bath in quite some time. Still, she forced herself to take a deep, deep breath, hold her tongue, ignore the disgustingness and try her hardest not to throw a fit over the leader soiling her clean bunker with his lingering aura of filth and germs.
Instead, she smiled, all white teeth and pleasantries despite how much she wanted to scrunch up her nose and turn him away in disgust.
“So, Five,” she said, putting the coffee mug down near the edge of her desk. She ignored the intense glare he was giving the mug, waving it away as him being envious of her procuring of caffeine, it being in such high demand these days.
“I looked through your files as requested, and yes, I found the same few that you already seem to be aware of.”
“So you did nothing,” the leader deadpanned in reply, and the Eighth worker was caught so off guard by that sharp comment that she stiffened in her chair.
“Um-ahem,” she coughed, eyes suddenly fixated on the laptop in front of her, “But, um, I did some digging into the source of the files we do have on hand, and I believe I am aware of a process that will be able to pull requested and necessary data from a government-sponsored agency like the one your original files came from.” She paused, daring a glance back up at the Fifth leader and feeling some relief at seeing him listening attentively along and no longer actively belittling her job. He seemed okay with what she had to say now, but it was this next part that caused her worry…
“…But,” the Eighth worker began, and drew back instinctively as Five’s brow furrowed sharply.
“But,” she repeated, “This kind of access is only granted to One, erhm, officially. To get what you want, you need to go through her first, which means making it through her assistant, and also there’s the middle-man signature of Miss Jane needed, but that one is rather easy…” She trailed off, and Five grew impatient.
“So what exactly are you telling me I need to do here?” he demanded, and the Eighth worker sighed, bent over, and dug through a small filing cabinet for a few minutes while Five stood agitatedly by and stared down the coffee mug with hatred again as he waited.
“I’m telling you that you need-” with a flourish, the Eighth worker pulled out a large stack of forms from the cabinet and tried to hand it to Five in the same fluid motion, but she misjudged, forget the coffee mug’s placement on her desk, and her elbow knocked into it, sending it shattering to the floor.
She cursed, then remembered she was in the presence of a guy who was technically her professional boss, but then decided her cursing didn’t matter much when the next words out of the leader’s mouth as he picked up the stack of forms was “What’s this” followed by the same “s” word that had flown out of her own mouth moments before.
“That,” the Eighth worker explained as she moved to clean up the shattered mug from the floor, “is paperwork. You need to give a detailed report on your reasons for needing to access this information before One’s assistant will even considering to look at it.” Slightly huffy over the misfortune of one of her favorite coffee mugs having broken in such a silly manner, she added some advice with an embittered mutter, “And if I were you, I’d elaborate the necessity of this request a tad so it will actually be acknowledged.”
Having flipped through the stack of papers with increasingly agitation, Five complained with a, “This is all more trouble than it’s worth” before throwing the paperwork back onto the desk. Despite those words, the Eighth worker heard him say, “Stay here for a while. I’ll be back soon with my assistant” as he turned and exited the door.
Still mopping up the spilt coffee from her once clean and tidy concrete floor, the Eighth worker didn’t much appreciate the idea of having to deal with the Fifth leader again anytime soon.

asi • 13 May 2017 at 9:17 AM

"You idiot," Izzy grumbled fondly at the joke, as it lifted his spirits greatly- not by what Quincy said, that was stupid- but by what he was wanting to do.
It was obvious that it had worked, because Izzy was wearing one of his more cheerful expressions, not including a smile (for few of his gruff range of inexpressive expressions did), but his eyebrows were straight rather than creased and knotted, and he definitely wasn't really under the weather as he critiqued his boyfriend's suggestion with a complaint of; "There's n'way they're gonna gi' me one o' those."
Izzy looked down and saw the shoes he'd cast off yesterday, now remembering to shove them back on his tubby little feet. "'Cause I'd prolly be more of a hazard t'us with one than th'enemy," he self-deprecated, doing his shoes up with inelegant but solid and efficient bows.
"You can come if you like, it's up to you," he told Quincy, just a little unsteady on his feet after straightening up too fast for him. "But you know I'll prolly just find a borin' old knife tha's not half as good as my pesh-kabz," he conceded in a low mutter, in true curmudgeonly form. Izzy was nothing if not real in his expectations here.


"All the way out there, huh," she said finally, once he'd finished talking.
"I guess you can see how that might be a problem, then," Riley replied. His eyebrows pulled together in consternation while he stared across the desk at her plate.
Teij's little last piece of French toast was skewered on her fork, and she twisted it around in her hand several times before popping it into her mouth. When Riley had suggested, all subtlety and full of tact, that she slow down, Teij had listened. She'd listened to everything he wanted to say, and he appreciated that.
"It's pretty dangerous out there, Four," she mused, stretching out her stomach comfortably. She'd enjoyed the second breakfast at least, if not the conversation, as Teija told him; "Not many of ours are familiar with the area enough to teleport ya."
He couldn't ask for more. Riley slid his knife and fork together and stacked the plates before passing them off to his finished and waiting assistant. "And you're not in a state where you can easily take us somewhere far yourself. I understand," Riley nodded, though disappointed, he empathized with her position.
In reply, Teij smirked widely across the table at him. "Oi, Four, don't write me off so fast! After all, I'm going back in that direction, ain't I?"
"You... are?" He jumped out of his seat in excitement, before quickly transforming into the more reserved skeptic. "You are? Where are you going?"
Teija explained, rearranging herself into an especially lax posture upon Riley's simple office chair. "I'm spending the next couple of days with some friends on the E-A line. With the time Two's given me off to recover." She sounded pleased about the latter fact.
"Is that the front line between areas A and E?" He only realized how unnecessary it sounded when he said it.
"Yeah, that's right. The E-A line. And I think you know one of the people I'm talking about stationed over there," she winked, and then winked again, harder and much more deliberately, when he failed to immediately react to her meaning. It still hardly took him any time at all to get there, but Telly was accustomed to instantaneous teleportation.
"You want to take me to see Raven," he realized, then he sat back down, head cornered by his hands on either side; "But it's so soon..." Riley muttered, sounding like less than one hundred percent enthusiasm.
That piqued her interest. "What is it?" She reacted to the vexed look he gave her by adding; "I don't mean to pry, but I really want to pryyyyy," she dragged out the last syllable like a cat might drag her beaten prey over her human's fresh carpet. Teij was nothing if not annoyingly honest to herself, and by the cheeky quirk to her lips, she knew it.
Riley placed his hands back down on his desk with an even sigh. He relented enough to tell her; "When she left, I promised I'd talk to her on a... difficult subject. I'm not sure I'm ready for it yet," he admitted, rubbing idly at a line of ink that had marked the desk's surface. It left faint blue smudges on his fingertips.
Less insistent now, Teij still wanted to delicately confirm one thing. "Something personal?"
He nodded.
"Oh, I getcha. I totally got it," she solemnly nodded in turn, even though she clearly wanted to smile. Riley felt somewhat suspicious about that- what could she already know? Or, more likely, what conclusion did she come to based on what she thought she knew- But not knowing the girl very well, and no longer having mind-reading abilities, he couldn't be confident fielding any guess.
"Anyway," Telly was saying, ignorant of the narrowed state of his eyes, or what they meant, she continued; "While the front line there isn't exactly where you want to go, it'd be a good starting point for your expeditions if you can't get anyone to jump you very far. It'd certainly make it easier for me to help you out," she observed smartly, a judgement Four had to agree with, inciting a single nod again.
Still, he eyed her warily. "I didn't say anything about where else we might need to go," Riley pointed out, although he wasn't really so suspicious of her as he seemed.
Teija wasn't bothered by his nitpicking in the least, as she easily revealed; "I heard what your mission is. 'All the king's horses and all the king's men'," the second assistant quipped with an impudent smile.
She'd judged her audience well, for the reference quickly provoked a smile of Riley's own. "I hope we won't have to put Col back together again. With any luck we just need to find him, wandering around somewhere... hopefully clothed," he blanched at the idea as it occurred to him, while Teij grinned at that, rather too broadly for Riley's complete comfort.
"About your itinerary..." She hazarded a thought, and, on finding an appropriate map among the orderly mess of Riley's desk, put it to the leader, laying out the case for her suggestion in a way that any practiced debater would find it hard to find fault with.
"It makes strategic sense to go here first," she concluded, pointing out the familiar spot on the page to the reluctantly listening leader. "Just ask your tracker! Probably someone you should be consulting when planning these expeditions y'know, even if you do have ulterior motives in it all," Teija surmised with a smirk.
Riley sighed, feeling for once rather thwarted, although he had no real reason to be, outside his own impatience. "Alright, I hear you. I'll reorganize my plans to include that excursion as the first priority. Is there anything else we need to talk about now?"
Something sudden struck the platinum blonde, and she grabbed at the pager on her wrist, jabbing hastily at its buttons. "Give me a moment, I should clue Two in on where I am, in case he wants anything," she narrated to him, hitting send with a triumphant expression.
It didn't last long. They only had to wait several seconds before the beep of an answer came through. Teij had to wait much longer to read the message in full on the primitive device, and when she did, it was punctuated by a painfully long groan. "Uyaa... What a terrible person," she berated the man with a condemning shake of the head, curly blonde pigtails bouncing.
Riley smiled knowingly. "You haven't even started working for him yet, isn't it a bit soon to hate him already? What does he say," he asked, probably more amused than he should be.
She listed the contents, dismay clear on her face and in her voice as she recited them; "He wished me a stressless vacation, gave me ten documents to pick up and look over, and he wants me to... introduce myself... to Eight," her shoulders slumped inwards where she stood, looking like she'd just received news of a terminal illness. "Of all people..."
Riley raised an eyebrow and couldn't manage to keep an edge of laughter out of his tone as he said; "Only ten? That's very restrained for him, I have entire folders from Two I haven't had time to look through yet," he assured her, as if such a fact would offer her any comfort at all. He wasn't even going to try about Eight, who he knew very little firsthand about.
"You should. His first pages have very concise summaries," Four was quietly admonished by his assistant, still lurking nearby.
"I'm sure they do, I'm just a bit busy at the moment," Riley mumbled, somewhat abashed. He made the mental note to take a look at the first opportunity. It paid to remember, Two was very much respected by those in high positions, when they weren't dead terrified of him or preoccupied with hating his guts.
Teija hummed in agreement. "I imagine I too am going to be very busy very soon... But we should work together when we can. I'd love to spar with you sometime," she offered, eyes bright with excitement at the idea.
"I wouldn't stand a chance at keeping up with you, would I," Riley responded rather woodenly, at a loss to even begin matching that enthusiasm. He couldn't imagine being wiped along the floor as very much fun, for the life of him.
She waggled a finger at him, chin turned up high in the air with pride. "I wouldn't be so sure. That fight against Damon was impressive, for someone who'd never had any long-term formal training before, that is," she complimented him earnestly on the display.
"I was raised with a lot of rough-and-tumble," Riley informed her, as if that justified his ability, to which she just smiled and shook her head.
"I suppose I should probably walk there," Telly grumbled, thinking about the trip she had to make now.
"You probably really should," Riley agreed with a wry smile.
"I'll walk with you, I need to make another document run to the Eighth anyway," Stripey-Tee said, eyeing the papers that were piling up in the corner of the desk. "If you don't mind waiting while I get these ready."
"Nah, cool. I'll just step out for a smoke then," said Teija breezily, and Riley gave a nod that was thankful for her consideration of his office breathing-air. Without further ado, Teij did as she said.
Closing the door behind her, the teleporter was surprised to encounter a girl lingering outside, by the looks of it wanting in, but not yet having dared to touch that big scary door.
"Hey. You waiting for Four? He should be free in a minute," Telly jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate inside the room. She elected not to reach into her pocket and enjoy what she had, given the company.

Meanwhile, inside said room, Riley wondered about Two again, and what role he would play in the future at IOD. As his assistant, would Teij assist or hinder him in whatever he did? As for what Two intended... Raven was convinced it was no good, though she didn't have much more to cite than a 'bad feeling' when he was around. Still, Riley knew better than to discount feelings. They were often the only indicator one had for what was to come...
He was startled as his assistant spoke to him abruptly, while still arranging the papers he needed to take for whatever reason- the bureaucratic machine chugged on. "Should I arrange for your future meetings with the second assistant to be in private?" Stripey-Tee was saying, so casually that Riley had to do a double take, thinking he'd heard the words all wrong. "It's not my intention to be a third wheel," he sounded so smarmy saying this that Riley could only cringe.
"What? No..." Suddenly, Riley had a hot flash of a revelation inside his head. "Why you- Who was your leader beforehand, huh? Was it the previous Five?" Riley demanded to know with a tight smile and a provoked tick to his jaw as he realized what, exactly, he was having to put up with here.
"I don't see what that's got to do with it," the assistant replied dryly, and when Riley gave him a look, he continued, defensively; "You rather remind me of him, sometimes."
"Weren't his defining traits his fangirl club, his expensive tastes, and his flirtatious behavior?" Riley remembered by counting these on his fingers, and reminded the other with a very twisted kind of expression on his face, "I don't have any of those."
The assistant shuffled his papers into an orderly stack. "You're getting mixed up with the previous Seven. He was the one known for being flirtatious. My Five was more refined than that. He had a magnetic personality," he claimed, before looking down at his papers once more.
Riley straightened in his chair, a guilty look overcoming his face with shadow. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said in hollow, muted tones, realizing what the other must have thought, but-
"Not my loss," the assistant answered steadily, seeming no closer to emotional than he had been all day, or any of the time Riley had known him. Still, he was feeling thoughtful enough to say; "He was an decent leader, but he was older, much older than everyone else. They were always sending him on more and more dangerous missions because of it-" Riley was continuing to stare at the assistant sympathetically, until the guy noticed and immediately broke off to say and make clear; "We weren't close. It's hard to get near anyone like that."
Riley was confused, he inquired further; "I thought you said he was magnetic. Don't tell me it went the other way-" As soon as he made the teasing jab, he regretted it- he wasn't usually so barbed- but the assistant merely smirked at that.
"You're thinking of the other Five now," the teen clearly took satisfaction from the roasting of a certain other leader they had now. "No, I mean," he held a hand to his chin in thought, before elaborating; "People who draw others in, on the superficial level, can be hard to get really close to, to have a real connection with. I don't think many knew him well, if anyone."
"I see," Riley said, glancing back at the work spread out on his desk, still calling out for further attention after Teija's visit and her suit for revisions. "And I remind you of him... how?"
"Oh, only by the lamest traits he had, I assure you," he said as he made to exit. "Intelligent, orderly but ill-prepared... That sort of thing."
Discreetly, Riley flicked through a few pages on his desk and found a little post-it-note he'd written with a certain reminder... "Buick," he called out his assistant's name, prompting him to stop and wait.
Riley swallowed his pride and asked him, around that prideful lump in his throat; "Can you tell me... what exactly you think... I should do."
"What I think you should do?" Buick repeated, shifting his feet to turn around properly, clasping his load of paperwork to his chest securely.
"To be a better leader," Riley clarified, fidgeting only under his desk where his assistant couldn't see whatever nervous twitches he had. This... only helped marginally hide his personal anguish from the assistant.
The other teen gave him possibly the first pitying look Riley'd ever seen him wear, before saying simply; "Read through the stuff Two set up for you. That should help you be a better leader. And you only need read the summaries..." Buick reminded him with that classic sardonic edge that made Riley awash with embarrassment.
"All right, I'll do so. Thank you," Riley put his forehead on his desk and wondered if someone out there on IOD had the amazing magic power to merge and become one with the inorganic desk. Because what a blessed existence that would be.
Buick sighed, looking rather like he wanted to give Four a somewhat condescending shoulder pat, and only restraining himself through sheer force of will. But honestly, he admitted; "You're not doing too badly, Four. There are just some adjustments to be made. By you and me both." Then he got this look about him and Riley wasn't sure he was interested in hearing what he had to say next- "Like admitting you've clearly a thing for blondes, I mean, it's obvious."
"W-what? No, no way..." Riley shook his head, denying this.
Buick just continued to give that sharply sarcastic look, insisting; "You definitely have a type."
Riley hung his head in disgrace. "Can you please leave?"
"I'm going, I'm going..." Buick left to accompany Teij on her trip to Eighth, the glaring, characteristic clash of his yellow and black color scheme leaving with him.
Sighing, and gradually recovering his original skin color, Riley selected a document at random from the files Two had left him, expecting the title to instantly make his eyelids grow heavy and his head drop back down onto the desk. Instead, what he found had quite the opposite effect. "'A Guide to Recognizing Pre-Feral Behavior: How to identify at-risk individuals before they lose control'..." he read aloud, eyebrows rising up towards his hairline as his eyes went on.

taffy789 • 14 May 2017 at 12:48 AM

“‘Course I’ll come along,” Quincy smiled, pleased to see he’d managed to put his boyfriend in a slightly better mood. “But I gotta get dressed first, hold on.”
As Quincy rummaged through a dresser for some clean clothes, Mikey had finished getting ready, and he paused before leaving the room to wish the two a brief “Stay safe” for their mission. Quincy replied with a muffled “Sure!” while his shirt was still half-pulled over his head, and he waved his arm in goodbye while it was still caught in a sleeve.
After shooting Izzy an exasperated, knowing, “Your boyfriend is a doofus” look, Mikey waved a goodbye back towards the struggling Quincy, and then he disappeared out the door, to the Eighth wing.


At the surprise of the door sliding open suddenly, Annabell jumped backwards to avoid narrowly slamming into the exiting girl.
“Oh, well,” Annabell began softly, having bit back an alarmed yelp. “Um. Yes. I was waiting for Four.” She tactfully avoided mentioning the part of her “waiting” that included her basically pressed up against the door as if she was trying to listen in on the conversation… (Which of course she hadn’t! …Because the door was too thick to hear any real words.)
She brandished the least guilty face she could muster and stubbornly held that expression as if challenging anyone to question her innocence.
“If what Four is doing is incredibly important, I could always come back later,” she made sure to add, to further clarify that she hadn’t been trying to pry, and was merely attempting to be polite.
It was sometime after this assertion of her politeness that a second person exited the door- a person Annabell faintly recognized as Four’s bumblebee-colored assistant. When he glanced over at her, Annabell suddenly felt self-conscious about her…. hair, of all things. Feeling a bit overwhelmed by all these new eyes on her, she began to slide over closer to the door.
“If um. Four’s not preoccupied anymore…” She cautioned and paused, and when she wasn’t corrected, she nodded curtly to the two. “Well, thank you.” With that, she creaked the door open and slipped into Riley’s office, hurried to escape the awfully awkward situation her and her own persuasive nosiness had caused.

asi • 14 May 2017 at 9:35 PM

Playfully, the platinum blonde Finn leaned against the side of the wall and asked of Annabell in a low, rueful tone; "Would I lie to you?" when the other girl so politely expressed her doubt that Four would be open to seeing her.
Of course, there was no chance to continue this exchange, as Four's assistant Buick soon appeared in the door, and with no cause to delay her, neither assistant said anything as Annabell gave a pithy acknowledgement of the two of them before escaping into the office.
They then proceeded to move away, in the direction of the distant Eighth division.
"I can't believe I have to walk," Teij groaned as they started out, already lamenting the tedious practice of ordinary human locomotion. To be fair, for her it seemed to drag out excessively the period of dread preceding her imminent dealing with Eight.
Buick retorted with a 'friendly' question of; "Don't you exercise?"
To which she answered; "Yes, but it's not this boring!"
These two assistants could be heard squabbling lightly right up until Annabell pulled Four's office door shut behind her.
Riley had been reading away at a document on his computer, and so didn't look up when the blonde entered. He did however do so as soon as he was alerted to her presence by the closing of the door.
"Oh, hi there Annabell," he said nicely in greeting, stifling a yawn just under his breath as he talked, "Did you meet those two?" Riley indicated to the door through which the assistants had just left. "I'm afraid neither of them have their full set of marbles, so to speak..." he mumbled, rolling his eyes. Intermittently, between words, he would glance back at the screen he'd been reading, clearly intrigued by its contents. "At least they seem to have fun without them, I suppose," he concluded, looking over at Annabell again and offering her a kind smile in welcome.


True to his word, Izzy spent his time in the armory examining a series of similar-looking knives, all with varying levels of dissatisfaction on his face whilst doing so. He was, however, pleased to be able to hold Quincy's hand for the visit, and took advantage of this privilege for most of its duration, despite the way the bulky teen manning the weapon-issuing counter seemed to glare at him for it.
Possibly because the room was full of weapons, in particular dangerously sharp blades, not all safely packed away, and some kids were known to be reckless when trying them out. It was best to stay at the ready in an environment like that. But Izzy's boyfriend for one, had force-field powers, and two, was the only thing making sure Izzy didn't, in a moment of disorientation or lapse of focus, step or lean anywhere he shouldn't, so really, that manly librarian-type should have had a grateful look on his priggish face instead.
Or maybe he was glowering at them because of Quincy's antics with a very spiky, very imposing, very dangerous-looking mace that he could barely lift, wherein he nearly dropped the thing on his foot and lost three toes for it, while trying to deliver a dumb line to a less-than-delighted Izz. That was a very probable explanation, given that when trying to nudge that horrendous thing back where it belonged, Izzy not only failed to move it an inch in the correct direction, but it also knocked over a large array of related items after he gave up and stood back. Izzy also appeared to pretend not to notice any of this disruption, simply drifting off to the section that interested him as if completely oblivious to his obvious crime. (Quincy had a reaction that was less composed, emitting a swear word and glancing between the terrible mess and Izzy's slowly disappearing back, several times, in a very worried and concerned fashion... before finally making the call to rush after his boyfriend, all sweat and nerves).
Eventually, after much dithering and muttered complaining on Izzy's part, and some good-natured suggestions and reassurances on Quincy's when he wasn't clowning around, the former boy made a decision and took it to the unpleasant kid at the counter to get it registered under his name, as per the tiresome bureaucratic process.

taffy789 • 15 May 2017 at 9:55 PM

After a while of searching, Zach’s power finally led him to a messy room covered in empty food trays, deflated balloons, and no shortage of people laid across the floor in strange and piled-up positions. He stepped over one who was basically blocking the entryway before slipping around another two cuddling near a table. Glancing towards the center of scattered carpet of humans, Zach raised one eyebrow upon finally finding his assistant laying near that messy-haired worker from Management.
He was about to walk over to Raven and shake her awake when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught glimpse of a less-empty tray of food, and his stomach reacted with an unexpected but fully justified response.
As the hunger pains growled in his gut, it dimly dawned upon Zach that, between the haze of sleep deprivation and stress over his power, he couldn’t recall when his last full meal had been. Though it wasn’t the first time he’d realized something similar before, he still blinked in mild surprise and looked back towards the remaining food that his stomach was pulling him towards.
… The small sandwiches on the tray were cut into triangles and stacked in a half-collapsed pyramid structure.
… Being now well-rested and able to think past the nearest horizontal surface to attempt to pass out on, Zach decided waking up Raven could wait.


Annabell tried not to listen in on the two assistants' conversation as she closed the door, but habits were habits and some were more difficult to break than others.
Guiltily, she quickly moved away from the door as Riley acknowledged her entrance and made further comments about the two who’d now left.
“They seemed nice enough, I think,” Annabell replied while wondering if the same could be said about the impression she’d left on them.
Remembering a particular moment, she shivered, and added a thought. “Though the bumble-” she caught herself and stuttered- “your assistant, I believe, may have given me a strange look… Um, but I could’ve just been seeing things.” She amended, knowing Riley not to be the harsh and exacting type of boss, but nevertheless not keen on the idea of getting anyone into hot water for a strange look that could’ve just been her over self-conscious imagination fanning unnecessary flames again…
Leaving those thoughts behind, Annabell grounded herself by focusing back onto Riley.
“Anyway, I just came by to, I guess, see what was on the plate today, and all.” With her thumbs, she rubbed small circles into her arms which were folded so defensively across her chest. She tried to avoid remembering the bitter plate of empty that had been served to her following yesterday’s events, and instead pushed the conversation forward. “But you seem pretty busy, talking to people and… looking at important things and all.” She raised an eyebrow towards the computer Riley was keeping one eye’s attention on, and her arms unfolded from her chest, dropping more relaxed to her sides.
Recalling that stifled yawn, she frowned and asked, the perfect mix of judgmental and concerned, “…You weren’t so busy that you lost some sleep though… Right…?”


The Ninth division officer woke up from the party groggy and hungry and also needing to pee.
Yawning, he stood up, rubbing his eyes and taking in his blurry surroundings as the people laying around him on the floor came slowly into focus. Sometime between squinting at the overly affectionate couple cuddling underneath the table and widening eyes over what looked to be the sleeping form of that one Fifth assistant girl, the Ninth officer remembered where he’d decided to lay down for the night.
He scanned tired eyes around for another awake body and found one munching on some leftover food.
“Hey,” he mumbled in a passive greeting as he carefully stepped his way over the sleeping couple and to the table. “Heeeey, you hungry, too?” He reached out a hand to grab a snack, but was shocked when his hand was rudely swatted back with a command for him to “eff off” and also to go “find his own crap”.
Deeply hurt by this person who’d obviously was never taught that “sharing is caring”, the Ninth officer focused lazy eyes on who had just been so rude to him, and he jumped in startled surprise upon realizing that, surprise, it was Five himself.
Overwhelmed by this development, the Ninth officer stepped an unlucky step backwards right onto the fingers of one of the girls cuddling near the table. With a loud yelp, the girl awoke and immediately began a series of loud cursing directed at no one in particular. When the injured girl’s girlfriend woke up next, a new, even louder series of curses began directing themselves towards the clumsy Ninth officer.

While this entire scene occurred, Zach continued sitting at the table, eating sandwiches and rather entirely indifferent to the ruckus he’d just indirectly caused.

asi • 20 May 2017 at 6:11 AM

"Right, um, Annabell," he squared his shoulders and made sure he looked serious- but not too serious- for this. Say, the difference between a business meeting and a funeral, in which metaphor he was trying for the former, not the latter. But also with a kindly and considerate smile, so as not to worry her. Riley said; "If anyone makes you uncomfortable, you give them a talking to, okay? Or tell someone you trust. Or, you know, beat them up, I have faith in you," he told her in such an earnest but amused way that not even the most perceptive observer should have been able to say if he was joking or not.
And then Riley seemed to reflect on what he had said, and grew anxious and flustered. He hastily tried to correct any impression he may have just made, in a most unhelpful manner., continuing to babble; "Er, not that I have a low opinion of my assistant! I'm sure he's entirely above board, which is to say, I don't know him well at all, save my own impression, and records, um... I think he just inherited a warped sense of humor after working for his last boss- not that he was laughing at you, rather, me..." He finished in a voice that was really quite small.
Riley finally hung his head, mumbling; "Actually, I don't know, please forget I said anything ever."
Now also ready to move things along, he grasped at any new strings for conversation that Annabell gave him.
"Oh, about today? You can take a look at what recent intel we have on the area, it's all spread out as you can see." He gave a one armed gesture over the desk, his other hand still glued to the laptop's keypad, finger sliding ever so slightly to keep the page just gradually scrolling down the screen. "Though some of it's for later, too, so..." Realizing how very specific he was being, Riley used that spare hand of his to fish around on the desk for that map from earlier, and give Annabell something more concrete to go on.
"Today we're going... here," he jabbed a spot on the page before turning back to the screen that held him so captive. As for the place he'd pointed to, it was a pointy-looking part of the map, situated directly to the south of a big lot of blue.
It was also shaded a hot glow of red, with the cooler purple and blue only to its eventual south. To be extra helpful to anyone who might forget the traditional colors of each side, there was a key near the page's border. 'Blue: Falchion. Purple: Neutral. Red: Glaeroes'.
"We're waiting on Teij- that was the blonde," Riley blushed ever so slightly, "The assistant just now- to recover and take us, so it might be several hours yet. Still nice to see you early," he smiled amiably at Annabell, like Riley simply wanted her to know that he did appreciate her presence, regardless of how distracted he may be. That reading, it could wait after all.
As for her motherly worry in regards to his sleeping habits, Riley just shook his head patiently. "What? Oh, no, that's not the case. That was a yawn about what a deep sleep I'd had. Really, slept like the dead," he gave a similar sounding sigh as if to emphasize the point.
Then his computer pinged with a small sound, and Riley leaned over to read the notification. It was... a warning for low battery. With a rather distinct 'oh' registering on his face, the leader bent over to pick up the cable and plug the thing into the grid.


When Raven woke it was to a torrent of curses and yelling that only seemed to half penetrate the thick mass of fog that felt like it had made her head its home. Groaning and trying to tug her legs inwards for warmth, she soon felt the constraints of her jeans pressing into her skin when she tried to bend them too far. That seemed to kick her mind into action, and Raven pushed her torso up off the ground, t-shirt flopping back down over her stomach where it belonged when-
She hit her head on the edge of something, and promptly lay straight back down, clutching a big handful of poofy black hair. Raven thought back, trying to ignore all the growing noise around her and remember where she'd ended up now. It was funny, she could remember talking to Dreadlocks... Tracy, and Telly the teleporter last night? However, Raven couldn't for the life of her recall anything more than a few phrases from what they might have talked about. Oh, but she remembered the smoking though.
Raven opened her eyes, now taking careful note of the nearby crate as she sat up again, gingerly, straightening out the shirt that had gotten all tangled up in her short, restless bout of sleep... She didn't feel half bad though, not like she thought she ought to. Probably because she hadn't anything to base her expectations on, she thought, face distorting as she swallowed and discovered just how dry her throat had gotten.
When she felt ready, Raven peered around at her surroundings. To her right, that crate spewing out the remains of some raided and discarded snack boxes, taking up more space now in their lifeless, vacant state. To her left... A mass of dreadlocks was still coiled up and snoozing, emitting soft snuffling sounds every now and then. Several other prone bodies were strewed around nearby too. Eyes traveling up now, she located the source of all the hubbub. A pair of girls were abusing some kid with insults, probably for having just woken them up, for they looked the part. And Raven was surprised to find, despite having also being unpleasantly woken, that she didn't feel like joining in on the catfight and caterwauling...
Instead, she quietly excused her way around this ruckus, making towards the exit with some vague thoughts of a midday 'morning' shower in mind- when her thought process halted entirely on seeing... Five, hanging casually in the background, paying no heed to all the hullabaloo taking place right in front of him, but instead steadily making his way through a finger food platter he seemed to have taken all for himself. She blinked it at, and, well, it didn't appear to be sweets this time. But maybe those hadn't lasted out the night anyway.
Raven spoke to him while her head was still woozy, since she wasn't bothering to hold her breath for it to clear up. "Oh, you made it... Did you have fun?" she mumbled rather incomprehensibly, her face still not feeling much like motion, but Raven thought that Zach would understand her anyway. She was rather preoccupied as it is, yawning, hiking her jeans up properly around her hips and trying to get her pesky hair all out of her way. As for what she looked like, Raven wasn't yet conscious enough to think.

taffy789 • 20 May 2017 at 9:31 PM

After all that awkward fumbling and questionable advice, Annabell couldn’t help herself. She tried and failed to suppress a small smile and quickly brought her hand up to cover the lower half of her face.
Speaking from between her fingers, Annabell said, amused, “Riley. I appreciate you thinking I’m strong enough to beat up people, but I, um. Doubt I’ll be beating up anyone anytime soon.” She lowered her hand from her face, having now composed that smile into a more serious flat line.
“Let alone me beating up your assistant, sorry,” she added, this time faithfully holding in all the betraying signs of humor.
Noticing her friend’s rush to drop this topic of conversation, she turned her attention onto the map he presented her instead. She picked it up, studied the colors and the map key, and she brushed two fingers over the large swatch of red trying to engulf the southern blue.
Her mouth tightened into a frown as she circled a finger against the red color.
“… Nice to hear you seem to be getting enough sleep, and to know I’m not being a bother coming in so early,” Annabell said instead of the saying the concerned thoughts really on her mind in that moment.
They could wait a while, and she decided to get comfortable first, peeling her small backpack from her shoulders and placing it a corner. She then pulled a chair up a chair across from Riley, and Annabell sat down, placing the map back on the desk between them. Her finger went again to the red patch, and she tapped it a few times before mentioning, casually, “It’s um. Pretty close to some Glaeroe territory, huh? Is looking for Col the main reason why we’re heading here, or is there another interesting place here to explore, um, too?”



Seeing Raven get up, Zach finished shoving the last few bite of a sandwich in his mouth, swallowed, and stood up. He stepped around the ninth worker and the angry lesbians without much care given to their loud conversation, which was beginning to wake up a few others in the room.
As he approached Raven, she appeared to tiredly mumble something Zach did not quite catch, especially over the argument that was in its loud, last few death throes behind him.
“What?” he questioned Raven as he stopped near her. He glanced over his assistant, finding her messy appearance strange, considering how set she’d been on looking clean and professional as of late. Though at the same time, all the heels and skirts had disappeared after she’d returned from the veteran, and it was this memory that prompted Zach to ask:
“Did the veteran end up roughing you up after all?”
He searched her for any signs of bruises or scuff marks and found nothing new, and he shrugged.
“If she didn’t. Well. Good, if she had an issue with anything, she better had come to me first…”
The arguing group behind him had stopped now, and a few people on the floor had begun shifting and turning with a few sitting up.
Aware and annoyed by the slight gawking of the Ninth officer and the two girls, no longer focused on yelling at one another, Zach agitatedly moved closer to the exit of the party room. He seemed like he was trying to herd Raven out of the door without touching her, as if trying to signal his intent to leave.
“I don’t know exactly what happened here yesterday,” Zach said, looking pointedly at Raven and avoiding the staring, now-quiet faces of the group off to his right. “But right now, I need you to come with me.”
He took a step back, inching closer to the door by the second.
Then, at the doorframe, he paused.
“Unless,” he added, finding himself plenty awake enough to raise a smug eyebrow at his assistant. “You’re still too tired, and you want to go snuggle back up against management over there…”

asi • 22 May 2017 at 12:31 AM

Harsh winds whipped by, flicking snow off the side of the mountain and onto the fur of his fleece, turning the faint gray an even paler shade, and bit by bit adding infinitesimal amounts, but nonetheless weight, to the burden he had to carry with each step... Each movement felt for him like a greater endeavor than the last.
The howling picked up, and breathing heavily, the thin young man was forced to hunker down, pressing himself against a depression in the rocky, snow-covered ridge to his right, closing his eyes tightly and praying for the wind to pass him by... A few minutes passed and it did so. He was able to heave a sigh of relief, stepping out into an altogether quieter world the second he was sure the roaring tirade had died down, even as it continued to echo in his ears.
Though eerily beautiful in its striking monochrome, the winter landscape offered a harsh world with little time for respite. The weather conditions were extremely volatile and could change at less than a moment's notice. That was how he'd got separated from his partner, when they'd simply been running a patrol in order to keep their body temperatures up... One moment she'd been right in front of him, four little paws working energetically through the snow- despite how cold it was, he knew she enjoyed the feeling of it under her furry little pads- but the next, everything was a blur of white and he'd lost her.
They'd been prepared for such eventualities, it wasn't even the first time it had happened, this past week. Each time they'd met back up at their campsite, which was to the east and somewhat more thawed out than this freakishly cold mountain range. However, that was more than a few kilometers away from where he was- pretty sure he was- now. He reckoned it would take several hours to reach it, and he wanted to take the chance now to investigate- because he thought he'd seen- oh.
Several dark figures trekking through the snow ahead and below him, heading almost perpendicular to his own course around the mountainside. The weather was still less than clear, and he had a hard time picking out features, or counting their numbers, but each shape appeared small and thin in the not-so-great distance. It was like they'd completely forgone proper winter wear...
Were those rebels, then?
Dustin breathed in a slow, shallow breath, so as to make the least possible disturbance, and felt it pool against the high collar of his jacket on the exhale, lightly warming his cheeks and scarf. Where he stood, he blended so completely into the colors of his surroundings that only one with the most perceptive vision might discern that something was amiss in the spacial dimensions... Except for the clothes. Which were most of his exterior. He couldn't do anything about those, but the grey-white snow-powdered camo did as good a job as possible, and his power dealt with the edges like the eyes that usually gave the hider away. He was essentially invisible in this situation, though he lacked that god-given power. And it was definitely leagues ahead of them.
They should be rebels. Who else would be in the area, looking so recklessly ill-prepared, too? But they were small enough to be a team from either side, so how could he know for sure? Without getting closer, there was no saying-
"Helllo, huuumaaan..."
Something strange was reaching around his collar and under his armpits, and with the winter padding he had, Dustin didn't notice until the thing was wrapped about him and grasping fast. Looking down in a hurry, he identified the material that gripped him with a detached kind of horror and revulsion- human matter, and to be more precise- fingers.
Fingers that were connected to a twisted and distorted form, looking only vaguely reminiscent of a real human, with what passed as its feet planted over two meters away. The creature's fingers were elongated to the zenith degree, with one finger segment stretched the full way around his shoulder, another circling his neck, and the fingertip still managing to tickle the fine little hairs on his chin. Needless to say, the display was completely disgusting and nearly inspired retching in him.
He opted to forgo that in favor of grabbing that thin stringy arm and yanking on it, trying to pull the creature forward and throw it off. However, the horrible limb seemed to respond perfectly to his will, offering as much slack as he tugged for without ever so much as jerking its torso one way or another. What's more, muscles seemed to be built into every eerie, protracted inch of its arm and hand, for its hold didn't loosen, despite being attached to the wobbly, boneless noodle he had in his hands. Instead it only pulled tighter.
Naturally Dustin's next move was to drop his hands down to wield his trusty knife, only to find his belt had been disarmed by the creature's pinky finger sometime when he wasn't looking. Every one of his blades were dangling from the fleshy extension's twisted grip, taunting him by hanging just out of reach. And with that, both his arms were pinned to his sides, legs bound as well by that awful meaty rope.
Seeing his desperate fear now, the thing leered at him, terrible eyes and grin of something much less than human, and far more than nightmares- It raised that blade-laden finger, with the sharp edge of each utensil pointed outwards. Dustin realized with racing urgency exactly how he was about to meet his end when his razor blade lined up nicely with his neck.
Then came the plunge.
Savage teeth goring into a vulnerable human nape. The body dropped forwards onto the snow under the sudden and immense weight of the attack. There was a pause before anything registered, then red started seeping out, along with a ragged, shocked gasp and eyes rolling upwards as a mind went momentarily numb. Dustin staggered forward, one hand clutching his neck through his padded winter garb, the other grabbing the felled power by the hair, pulling its head back so its throat was worse than taut and unable to scream out its pain. If it alerted its friends to their presence- well, he couldn't let that happen. With hard, ruthless hands, Dustin helped keep the dying creature down and silent. Next to him, the large, silvery-brown and densely furred lynx pressing heavy paws into the elasticity-power's back, teeth embedded in its neck, should ensure that the creature expired within two minutes, likely less.
Still, it didn't pay to underestimate a power like that, he thought, reaching for one of the knives dropped into the snow from out of the thing's pinky-finger grasp-
It was lifted and stabbed into his coat instead, cutting his skin through the padding, but not deeply. Batting the weakened string of finger away, Dustin turned back to the more dire situation where the tissue in the lynx's mouth was contorting, stretching down the cat's throat while she tried to pull away. There was still plenty of red, smeared along the humanlike creature's pale skin, but the breakage the lynx's teeth had made appeared immaterial when new expanses of flesh were being rapidly generated, bubbling up like a monstrously rising loaf of bread, with the same kind of consistency as uncooked dough, too. It was going to get stuck between his partner's teeth and expand until it tore her apart, if Dustin didn't do something fast.
Or she could shift into a bigger cougar and tear herself away from it, but the formless mass of skin and fat and all sorts of other things, from extended lengths of hair to bones and teeth, were all integrated into the new horror show that was chasing after the straw-colored mountain lion, no doubt intent on stretching her beyond recognition. He'd already heard the sound of one bone breaking where it had caught her around the leg, and-
Dustin had pulled out the knife buried in his coat (and into the side of his back, that was gonna sting later), and sunk it into that monster, to little effect. The power was prepared enough for this attack to simply flow around the blade like liquidated cake mix, treating the camouflage-user as no more than a nuisance it could ignore while pursuing its prey, the cougar... All the better for him. Because with his other hand, Dustin had been clawing at the surface of that creature's mass, trying to find it, the should-be fatal puncture wound left in what was once this thing's neck.
And then he found that rip, the one left by the lynx's ferocious teeth, and tore. He dug his thickly gloved fingers in and tore it wide open, faster than the power could stretch, faster than it could react. Then the cougar got her claws into it too, and well, then there was no going back. The two of them kept on at it, pulling and pulling and pulling, until it all began unraveling in his hands and her paws, a big, revolting, unimaginable mess.
Then the final moment of exertion passed, and all was still from that terrifying creature, now irrevocably put to rest. Dustin got to his feet, looking down at his hands, arms and chest streaked with red, and griped in his head; that could have gone smoother.
The cougar clearly agreed, spitting bloody lumps out of her fanged mouth with what he understood to be an extremely unhappy frown on her feline face.
Still, all of this had happened without a single yell, growl, cry or roar, nor a significant word that Dustin and his partner might fear the nearby party he'd glimpsed earlier overhearing. From experience, he knew they could rely on the violent scuffle being sufficiently muffled by the wind, snow and distance that none should come to investigate. That group should have made progress in those few minutes too- he squinted into the grey-white wintry landscape, trying to locate with his eyes- Where were they?
Oh, to his left, right, back and straight ahead and, crap. One stepped forward with a thoroughly unreadable expression on his- on its- human-looking face, eyes flicking up from that corpse-of-nightmares to Dustin and the cougar's entirely unready forms.
"Well, what are you lot waiting for?" said the leader to his pack, hand on one hip, wearing an unsettling smile that was far from pleased. "Kill them or something, come on," he entreated his rebels, as if those hungry faces needed the coaxing...

taffy789 • 25 May 2017 at 5:21 PM

“So, like-”
Pausing in his stride, Mikey turned towards the girl walking next to him.
“When am I going to get cool robot fingers?” Tina finished, her expression ever the serious.
“Excuse me?” Mikey asked, coughing a bit in surprise.
Tina lifted her left hand up, wiggling the three fingers she had remaining on it.
“Cool robot fingers,” she repeated, voice unwavering in its resolve.
Mikey laughed.
“Hate to burst your bubble but that’s. Pretty unlikely.”
“Oh, come on.”
“It’s true.” Mikey shrugged. “Coreka is stingy with their tech. I mean. They didn’t even give Quincy a helping hand. Like. Literally.”
Tina looked absolutely disgusted at that pun, and Mikey shook his head.
Teleporters, Mikey thought, scoffing to himself, they’re something, huh? After all, they had a reputation for being overworked and having no sense of humor. Given that Tina had only laughed at that horrible “$4.99 Shrimp Buffet” joke yesterday during her first CAH game, Mikey had low hopes for the girl’s sense of humor, but he at least hoped her short stay in the Eighth division could resurrect some of it.
Still, she seemed just as soured as ever as she motioned to Mikey’s prosthetic leg.
“How’d you get that then?”
Mikey reached down and patted the hard plastic of his leg.
“Complaining.” He grinned.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Tina deadpanned.
“Complaining to the right people,” he winked. Upon feeling the annoyance emitting off of Tina, Mikey decided to elaborate further. “They’d actually tried to send me out with only a cane to begin with, but I was having real bad balance problems for a while there so I convinced the doctors to outfit me with a prosthetic. I think they only do it for legs though, and they were even real grumbly about this one, like it doesn’t even fit as well as it should.”
Mikey frowned at the floor, shrugged, and started walking forward again. The sound of his cane hitting against the metal tiles reminded him of something else, and he added, “Two months in and sometimes it still hurts, ‘cause it doesn’t sit quite right. Kinda sucks, which means I still gotta use the cane just in case, but.” He shrugged again. “Still better than nothing.”
Tina, following behind Mikey, gave a hallow little laugh.
“I mean, yeah. Guess it’s not like they gave you the peg leg.”
“Yeah,” Mikey scoffed at the joke, “that would’ve been bad, real funny.”
A long pause from Tina.
“I uh,” she cleared her throat, “wasn’t kidding about that one.”
Mikey cut his head to a sharp right, looking at the girl in surprise.
“You’re messin’ with me.”
“No!” Tina defended herself. “I was stationed at E-A for the base set-up, you know, a few weeks ago, before, I was sent…. Back here for recovery.” She anxiously flexed the fingers on her left hand. “And!” She continued, vehemently, “The veteran there, I was the one teleporting her there during set-up, and she, uh, was worse off than you, but also had like. A wooden peg leg.”
“A wooden…” Mikey repeated, then, said, gasping in disbelief, “Like- like pirates have?”
“Exactly!” Tina exclaimed, suddenly excitable. “I thought it was the norm before I got sent over to Eighth!”
“I don’t-” Mikey ran his fingers through his hair- “Is it like, having to do something with a plant-using power, or a… love of pirates, or like, personal preference? Which I could dig I mean, Coreka hadn’t given me options, but-”
“No idea,” Tina concluded as Mikey trailed off. “No idea dude, I was only on E-A duty for like, three days before the feral got me.”
“I’m not joking around but like, honestly?” Mikey said, still incredulous, “I’d love to ask her how she’d managed to wrestle that one, and like even maybe. Why? Because that’s rad honestly, like really honestly.”
“My recovery time ends in like, two weeks.” She stretched her arms behind her head, popping her back. “I’m not looking forward to it, but when I head back, I can ask her for you.”
“Two weeks? Already they’re kicking you back out?” Mikey frowned, but Tina pointed out that they’d reached their destination rather than commenting further on that reality, and the conversation ceased there.
They instead pushed the doors open to Eight’s office and were immediately greeted by a frazzled Jane.
“Oh, goodie,” Jane sighed with relief upon seeing those two enter. “I felt like reinforcements here were exactly what I needed.” She pushed sunglasses at the two. “Please put these on. The healer didn’t listen to me the first time, and I caught Eight right before she made it out the door again, so it’s been.” The assistant sniffed. “Highly unpleasant.”
“Er. I can imagine.” Tina said, pitying the girl, while Mikey moved around the office space with some little interest. The girl slipped her sunglasses on, and Mikey only hooked his in the collar of his shirt.
“How long we got left before we get a move on?” Tina asked as, behind her, Mikey shook a snow globe he’d found among the assorted knick-knacks littering the tops of the large, empty filing cabinets.
“Not long.” Jane sighed. “Just waiting for the healer to say everything is good, now. Though I wish he would hurry, I did tell Nine that I’d bring Eight in to meet her as soon as I possibly could…”
Jane continued to twitter anxiously about, and Tina quickly discovered that she’d never felt sorrier for another young woman in her entire life. Perhaps much more accustomed to Jane’s nervousness by now, Mikey mouthed the words “San Diego” as he read the label from the bottom of the snow globe, and he only appeared most concerned when trying to wrap his mind around actual snow falling in southern California.

asi • 26 May 2017 at 9:40 AM

"You need to stop using my hair as a pillow," Septa murmured against the thin cotton of his own, voice rough and heavy with sleep as he had only just begun to wake up. "It makes it... mm, impossible to get up in the mornings."
"That's the idea," L.R.J. returned, shifting so hir face was pressed into his hair, kneading hir hands through it and inhaling deeply. "You can't take this away from me."
Feeling faintly alarmed at those words, Septa began squirming where he lay, trying to tug back his hair and dislodge hem. "Hey! It's my hair, you definitely can't keep-"
There was a small bang as something fell from the bed, the weight vanishing off Septa's thighs and smacking the ground with a worrying crack. "Uh... whoops," he said in the ensuing silence, ever so intelligently.
"That... was the DVD player, we fell asleep watching the movie," L.R.J. said, finally sitting up. Now able to, Septa followed suit, fingers massaging his scalp and giving his bedfellow a kicked-puppy look, while ze peeped over and down onto the floor, at the limp and sorry-looking form that now lay there. It was bent at an awkward angle, and ze sighed.
Septa looked between the two and; "That was totally your fault," he told hem with an unrepentant grin.
But James just thought about it and; "I'll accept it if you get us another one," ze bargained smoothly.
"Done, but if the disk's stuffed, I'm not getting you another copy. I don't think I want to see how that horror ends. In or outside the genre, pregnancy is terrifying," Septa whispered, half humorously, half in actual wide-eyed terror, "Thank god I'm biologically not compatible."
The other was empathetic. "What comes after is definitely more horrifying," L.R.J. pretend-shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around hem.
"I thought you didn't see the end," Septa pointed out, with that delighted kind of satisfaction one gets only from catching onto another's slip-up. Though the sheets were being snatched away from him, he didn't fight back, but pushed the remainder off him, enduring the cooler air on exposed skin.
L.R.J retorted evenly, "I nodded off during the credits-"
"Sure. Or you watched me sleep for six hours..." Septa suggested fully in jest, and then trailed off as he left the bed to pull on some pants while the other watched, the need to reply and deny slipping hir mind completely.
"Where are you going now?" ze asked idly, now wrapped up like ze was in a toga. L.R.James certainly wasn't eager to go anywhere this morning.
"The office. Stocktake for tonight," he informed hem in short, clipped terms, buckling up his belt with a sharp snap. "I've milligrams to measure." There was something colder, calculating, in his chocolate brown eyes that some might be surprised to see. Buried deep in their shadows, set into the faint lines on his face, there was something not often associated with the wild and reckless leader, known for his shameless and no-holds-barred attitude; caution. No doubt it felt right at home with the dark edges of paranoia gripping at the corners of his mind... His long black messy hair fell over his face as Septa looked down to thread the leather through the last belt loop that it reached.
"Oh. It's that night huh," L.R.J. lay back down on the bed, snuggled into the covers, switched to hir side then propped hemself up by the elbow. "Is Manuel going to be there to help you count, do you think?"
Septa shrugged, reaching down to pick up several clothes items strewn across the floor from last night. "I don't know," he answered, moving over to the closet.
"If he is, will you talk to him?" Hir relaxed expression didn't falter remembering the events of last afternoon, although L.R.J. did sigh, considering it regrettable.
"Yeah, I suppose so," Septa's voice was muffled as he stuck his head into hir tiny and somewhat disorderly storage unit. "It would be easier if he'd only realize I'm trying to help him learn English, but nooo, he just thinks I'm giving him the finger when I won't talk to him-!" He complained animatedly, even though all his gestures were lost inside the closet. He grabbed deodorant out of it, then sprayed himself once over.
In a throwaway tone, L.R.J. told him; "That stuff's pretty strong you know."
"It's not like Manny would mind and I'm going to shower before- oh. Crap, it is," Septa said, sniffing himself and making a funny face. Sniffed again. "It smells like death metal..."
James chuckled to hemself, then turned over to stare up at the ceiling again, hands crossed under the back of hir head. "Some people find learning a second language really hard you know," ze reminded the leader.
"Well, neither of us would know." Septa was still going back and forth with the shirts, and it was unclear to L.R.J. if he knew which pile was headed to the wash, but, ze could sort that out later if ze had to.
"Mmn. Maybe you should help him out some more," ze suggested, ever considerate and kind. "Or tutor Brillante. Those two, they're really not great at this language thing," ze conceded with hir eyes tightly closed for a moment.
"He really doesn't want me to." Septa was now doing damage control on the DVD player- or holding it upside down and shaking, whatever.
L.R.J. raised an eyebrow as the flimsy pink plastic machine made another ominous snapping sound in response to Septa trying to bend it back into shape. "... Want me to come help, in case he doesn't?"
"Don't you do enough? You've a shift later." Septa deposited the poor, weary, overworked thing on the end of the bed.
Ze smiled as he passed by them in order to get that shirt he'd forgotten. "If you say so, Boss- you're right. I do far, far too much," ze announced, and smirking ze hugged hir blankets closer.
Septa turned back around to point a finger at hem with a gloved, outstretched arm, teasing; "Careful, you. Dia would be very happy if someone in my squad would do our actual, real work-"
Ze dove down under the covers for protection. "Forget it, I'm way too busy all day doing nothing!" Ze peeked back out at the leader, in time to catch the start of his answering smile.
It evolved into a full-on laugh at that. "Okay, good." Now pulling on a shirt, Septa spun around to face hem, posing with a hand on his hip, chest thrust outwards and his head ridiculously flung back, wearing a blindingly bright grin. "So how's this?"
James squinted a moment, eyes still fuzzy with sleep, before the print on his t-shirt wavered then crystallized, and L.R.J. recognized it. It fit Septa well, being snug around his shoulders and accentuating the flatness of his stomach. Just a little skin peeked out above his jeans when his arms were stretched and raised like they were now. It fit him very well. Ze smiled back; "Perfect, I'd say."

Though he was now prepared to leave, Septa milled around a moment longer, waiting for Molly, and with something obviously on his mind. He looked at the other, sitting on the side of the bed now, by this time dressed casually. Another day, another black band t-shirt for James. This one was skulled and promoted in violent red and white '5FDP'.
Ze was just working through hir hair as Septa spoke up, quietly, using minimal words. "About yesterday... You... brought Xela around..."
"Guithe wanted to come with us, Xela agreed to tag along," L.R.J. answered nonchalantly, while combing back hir dark hair. Hir colorful array of clips were laid out on the small desk before hem, essentially the only piece of furniture in the small and compact room other than the bed. Of course, a single bedroom was a prize in of itself. Perks of being a squad member, or something like that. The reason such a room even existed was that it was a former storage closet crammed in next to the washroom, with one wall consisting entirely of a jungle of pipes.
Septa rested momentarily against these, despite the fact that some ran very hot, and said, with no question to it; "But you went to them." He added, one note lower; "It's not like you to take interest..."
"It's not like you to mind," L.R.J. answered in kind, before saying louder, more casually; "Molly asked me to look for you," ze twisted hir head to look over hir shoulder at him. Ze sounded innocent, but there was something wry in hir expression. "Should I not have checked your room?"
"I'm not using it any more!" Septa quickly corrected hem, with a pointed smile.
"Duly noted," ze said lightly, and hir smile was matching but more amused.
"Don't say it like that, Rrr.Jaaaay..." Septa whined. He tapped his foot in an impatient rhythm. "They wouldn't give me another room for any reason, so what could I do but repurpose it?"
Ze let out a knowing huff, then explained logically. "I figured as much. That's why you've been staying over so much."
Septa leaned over the corner of the bed towards hem. "You don't mind if I keep crashing here, do you? It's here or my office or Tonia's and you know if I stayed over Cenerentola would be kinda pi-"
"Not at all. Think nothing of it," L.R.J. interrupted, waving such troubles aside with not one further thought.
Septa's mouth stopped and his eyes softened, as he raised his fingers to his lips so that he could blow hem an adoring kiss. "I'll see you later."
"Yeah," James simply agreed, turning back to hir idle task, while the door opened behind hem, letting air escape the small room and into the cooler corridor outside. The bustle of others could be heard distantly, Glaeroes going about their duties. It was about mid-morning now, but for these late-starter night-owls, it was still considered glaringly early.
"Hey, R.J." Septa paused in the threshold, one thought still weighing heavy on his tongue, and so he said it. "Don't get too close to her," Septa warned finally, standing sharply straight in the doorway, looking out. "She's leaving at the end of the week anyway, don't forget."
With hir eyes focused on the purple hairclip ze held in front of hem, L.R.J. examined its glossy surface and said, so thoughtfully; "I wonder who it is that has you jealous..."
Septa looked back for one long second. Then he really did walk away.

demon • 29 May 2017 at 12:35 AM

A nonchalant expression now on his face, Riley appeared to try to consider the hypothetical match with impartiality, commenting; "I don't know, I wouldn't be so quick to discount myself if I were you..." However, his goal was not to make Annabell uncomfortable, so he decided not to push the matter, or reveal the height of the esteem he held her in. "Anyway, if I remember right that guy's power is something to do with generating baking ingredients, so I think you could take him," Riley confided, with an edge of laughter that wasn't as easy to conceal as with his personal brand of extremely ambiguous jokes. He'd seen through Annabell's hand to her smile, and couldn't help but feel light-hearted in return.
"Not that I'm trying to start a fight," he assured her when the warm feeling had subsided somewhat. "I'm actually doing my best to avoid them..."
After plugging in his computer and leaving it for a moment to charge happily, Riley pulled in his chair so he could sit closer to Annabell, leaning over the desk to be on the same page as she studied and he explained it.
"As far as I know, there's really nothing there, except-" Riley frowned, looking oddly ill at ease for a moment. "... It's only marked on the map as being the northernmost point of the isle," he said instead, pushing a few less important papers aside so he wasn't laying his forearms all over their ink. "It's also got one of the highest latitudes in the area... on IOD actually, save the mountains, volcano, some points in the canyons and rocks..." he listed these off on his fingers, glancing at each on the map. The way they were illustrated at least made the big ones obvious. Albeit at the expense of geographical accuracy.
"It's a high point to the north, anyway, and the idea is it's supposed to be a good vantage point for our tracker to work from? I'm not too sure on the details, but I'm told it'll do Izzy some good, and maybe point us in the right direction," he summarized. Riley knew he'd have to consult with that Izzy kid before they left, but if Teij had worked with him before and was confident about it, in addition to One herself, then he had to suppose it a well-grounded theory.
As to properly answer Annabell's question, Riley withdrew to the back of his seat again, concluding finally; "So yes, we'll be there looking for Col, or at least a hint as to where he might be."
The basic facts of the matter now divulged, Riley's eyes gained a more lively and involved green light as he allowed himself to speculate aloud to Annie. "Actually, I think management just wants to establish first if Three is still on IOD. Since that's the common helicopter route, if Col left that way, Izzy might be able to sense it or something... I don't know how his power works," Riley scratched one side of his face absently as he admitted this.
Oh, but there was one last thing the leader definitely felt compelled to point out. "It's actually... in Glaeroe territory, so hopefully we won't have to hang out there too long. But of course it's better to go now, when they're just beginning to send out scouts into their territories, than later when they decide to set up encampments in various places. Besides, there's been very little action there since we lost the place twenty odd years ago, as you can see from..." he fished out a graph of all documented incidents in the area over those last twenty years, and continued; "It's not a very strategically useful area, outside of our purpose, and the rare attempts to blow up enemy helicopters, so we shouldn't expect too much danger, even if the area's technically... theirs," Riley surmised with an encouraging and optimistic look to his face.


"She didn't, she didn't, just tortured me," Raven tried to exhale her lingering drowsiness as if it could conveniently manifest in the form of a sigh. After tousling her hair one more time, her hands dropped back down to her sides to await further orders from her brain, slow in coming as they were. "Making me stay up all night..." She yawned like on cue to illustrate the point. "Sleep deprivation, hear it's a technique Two's particularly fond of," she managed a quip and a smile, a sure sign Raven was on the road to recover yet.
Though that smile stiffened directly after, as a sudden thought occurred yet slipped away just as quickly as it had come, like a slickened eel through a crudely woven net. It left her a jumble of indistinct questions and no direction for them in mind. Tiny fish that darted through the gaps and scattered the minute the net began closing around them, her catch found fruitless when drawn. She shook her head to clear it.
After blinking several times, Raven looked to the present and found Zach to be steadily increasing in agitation and impatience before her eyes. For a minute she was completely floundering on what could be the source of his frustration... she was honestly confused by how he seemed to be getting gradually smaller as well. Raven still understood basic physics, of course, but- oh.
Then, getting a hint of his direction, she willingly began following Zach over to the door, where she'd been heading anyway, before she saw him. Though some of what he'd said had passed her by, his last statement certainly made an impact when it registered in her mind.
"But I wasn't SNUGGLING with anyone," Raven said hotly, seeming completely ignorant of any who might be listening. "I mean..." An incredulous look made itself plain upon her face as she thought about his implications. "... I wasn't, right?" She'd been sleeping, after all, so she'd honestly no idea.
The thought filled her with mild alarm, but it judging by the stupid expression on his face, Raven decided it was definitely not anything worth really worrying about. She tried to concentrate on whatever it was Zach wanted from her instead, hoping to make him slow down and tell her. "Ok, ok, so what, what do you want exactly?" she asked, one hand rubbing at her eye.
It felt like he was in a hurry to leave, and at this time, Raven wasn't sure if she'd be able to keep up. It was for that reason that, without thinking, she reached for his hand, intending to take hold of it.

taffy789 • 29 May 2017 at 6:42 PM

After pondering over whether or not Riley was being serious about the baking supplies comment or not, Annabell listened attentively to Riley explain the plan for the day’s mission.
It seemed… easy enough, despite Riley appearing not so convinced on their tracker’s ability. Annabell herself didn’t know how to feel about the boy, or if the plan would be fruitful. Her wondering if the height advantage would actually help Izzy’s power was quickly forgotten, however, upon Riley mentioning the last thing, that comment about Glaeroe territory. Looking surprised, Annabell glanced at the map again, and a dull sense of dread seeped into her as she realized she’d originally had read it wrong.
This new information on her mind, Annabell frowned at the map colors, as if she could shift the front lines herself if she only stared at the drawing for long enough.
That didn’t work however- her power was invisibility after all, not domain over reality itself- and she let out an upset sort of sigh.
“Yeah, hopefully we can be in and out,” Annabell agreed blandly, and she lifted her eyes up towards Riley again.
Perhaps she’d originally had wanted to voice more concerns, more… admitted complaints, but the optimism present on her friend’s face forced her to chicken out of those comments. She just didn’t have the heart to doubt him like that… or maybe the problem was exactly the opposite, her having too much heart..?
Either way, she instead simply said, “If this plan works, then it’ll be worth the trouble, I believe.” Then Annabell, no longer feeling up to discussing the mission due to that new knot of worry forming tight in her stomach, turned her head slightly towards Riley’s laptop.
“Er. Do you mind me asking what you were looking at when I walked in, or was it-” she paused slightly- “Erm. Not my business?”



Knowing from past experience that sleep deprivation was completely survivable if not extremely unpleasant, Zach was left now only feeling mild alarm at Raven’s mental state, not so much her physical one.
She moved slowly, like a languid water droplet taking its sweet time to slide down a dry wall. Zach almost imagined her actions and thoughts to be set to that painfully slow timer, as if her brain was now a bucket collecting slow water drops, and only when the bucket overflowed would the next word be said, step be taken, or blink be made.
He ignored Raven defending herself against the snuggling accusation to observe another painfully slow blink instead, and he was about to ask what the heck was wrong with her when she suddenly started for him.
He’d almost flinched back, instinctually, but before he did he remembered that it was Raven reaching out towards him. Zach froze and cautiously watched her instead.
For a tense moment, he thought she was about to grip tight the raw, painful part of his wrist, but he felt some relief when her palm made contact with his without injuring him any further.
There followed an awkward second of hand holding where Zach waited for Raven to do something else with her newfound leverage, but Raven also appeared to be waiting on him, and after a while of that nonsense, Zach felt anxious enough to be the first to abuse the grip and yank Raven down the hall.
“What I want,” Zach then explained with an agitated huff, determined to make a beeline back to the Eighth division's office, "is for a certain snake to have no reason to interrupt my sleep and complain endlessly about things which are clearly not as important as he believes them to be, whatever his intuition may claim.”
After that very necessary grumble about Egos, Zach added, for now more Raven’s benefit than his, “And I need you to write me a letter to One’s office for that to happen.”

Meanwhile, back in the party room, the Ninth officer and two girls declared a cease fire on their bickering for long enough to watch the Fifth leader and his assistant hold hands as they escaped down the hall.
… After a few glances back and forth at each other, all three began gossiping, loudly.

asi • 30 May 2017 at 6:58 AM

Riley smiled in response to her assent of the proposed plan. Annabell's approval was valuable to him and he was pleased to have it. He'd thought she might have more misgivings, but if that wasn't the case, it was definitely heartening to hear. As for his own opinion... As long as their tracker was able to do his job, things should go smoothly. He just wished he could rely on that unreliable guy. But since thoughts of Izzy caused his eyebrow to twitch in frustration, he focused on Annabell in the present instead.
Another thing that brought a small smile to his face; her niceties. Annabell remained one of the most polite and respecting people Riley knew, despite them having known each other rather longer than some certain brasher individuals, who acted so familiar with him (Riley was thinking facetiously of his insolent assistant here). "You can always ask me anything, Annabell," he told her, before considering her actual question.
"This?" He pushed his chair back around so that he'd a better view of his computer screen. Riley looked at its contents again and seemed to think for a moment on how to describe this to Annabell, without going so far as to read aloud every line. Instead, with an apologetic expression, he only managed to tell her; "This, this is a document about what a leader's duties entail among the Falchions." Realizing what that sounded like, he amended it with the comment; "I'd say that it's boring, but I'm actually very surprised. I'll... tell you about it later, when I've had more time to go over it," Riley said finally, eyes nearly glued back onto the screen.
"I guess I didn't expect a leader's duties to be so... inward-focused," he mused, still examining the thesis curiously.
Then he tore his eyes away again, looking sheepishly at the blonde. "But I should prepare for the mission today, make sure we get all the supplies we might need for the trek..." he muttered, now moving about the room, thinking to himself.
The first thing Riley did to get ready was retrieve his swords from where they rested, propped up in a display case just to the side of his desk. His assistant had cleaned the blades directly after they'd returned to base from their previous mission, but Riley wanted to polish them thoroughly before leaving today. It was perhaps a mite superstitious of him, but Riley had always thought clear, shiny blades a good omen for going into any dangerous situation, and it had certainly never hurt him in the past.
While fetching his, Riley glanced over to the left at the neighboring display case that had used to hold the original pair of butterfly blades, the ones his had been modeled on. It was empty now, it had been since Two left for the front lines. He could only guess that the guy had taken them with him. Though they had appeared far too worn to really be of use...
With that last thought trailing off, Riley's mind simply idled, as he settled down with the oil and a gentle cloth, applying with the latter the former evenly to the surface of the blade.


Raven, meanwhile, was only vaguely aware that something about their interaction that had just taken place was not, strictly, normal, and it was quickly distracted from when she was just trying to keep apace with the leader's too-long, too-frequent strides this morning.
It seemed like Zach had more than the usual hive of bees in his bonnet right now, but those bees also unusually appeared to have a very particular direction to them, which Raven could appreciate even when she wasn't particularly up to following it too well. There was one bit that actually made sense to her; "Sure, I can do a letter," she answered as the two walked briskly down the corridor, Zach leading the way. "I can write you that, but..."
Her ears had caught upon one little detail from earlier and it snagged her attention entirely, along with her imagination which felt so lively today.
"Wait, wait, a snake?" Raven peeked over at him with an amused kind of smile creeping slowly across her face. "Zach, did you get anything from them last night? 'Cause wow, it must've been pretty lit for you to hallucinate snakes..." she started giggling slightly at the idea. "Whiny paperwork snakes..."

taffy789 • 31 May 2017 at 12:14 PM

Watching Riley move off to go get ready for the mission, Annabell stayed seated where she was at, feeling suddenly misplaced in the universe. She swallowed down the feeling and tapped her heel anxiously against the metal floor for a few beats before ceasing the action entirely.
Now that Riley seemed preoccupied, Annabell would have normally taken her leave, not having anything more to add to the conversation herself, honestly. Besides, Riley did seem busy, and she had no other reason to be her, nothing else to say, but…
Saying things wasn’t exactly the reason she came to hang out, right?
Annabell felt the void of conversation eating its way into that already gapping sinkhole in the pit of her stomach- that empty, inconclusive one that had swallowed her guts yesterday evening and refused to cough them back up since. The lack of white noise gnawed at the edges of that sinkhole and widened it, and it began to bother Annabell so much that she decided something had to be done about it.
“Um, um.” Was what her agitated brain finally decided on saying.
When those conflicted noises finally got Riley’s attention, Annabell flushed with the realization that her brain hadn’t pieced together a conversational topic worthy of purposefully distracting Riley from his preparations.
“… Um. Hey. …. What’s your favorite color?”
…. Inwardly, Annabell wanted to die.


They’d reached the Eighth division office at this point, but considering Raven’s giggling, Zach felt reluctant to drag her in.
Instead, he dropped her hand and left her in the hallway, opting to disappear into the office alone.
A few moments and a couple of grumbles to the Eighth worker later, Zach reappeared in the hall, and he seemed to want to push the large stack of papers he was now holding Raven’s way before pausing and reconsidering that action. He held onto the papers, and he frowned warily at his assistant, glancing her over with a mix of confusion and exasperation before finally speaking.
“… I’d been talking about my power.” He sighed out that delayed explanation. “My power has taken the form of a snake to talk to me in my mind. But my power, at best, is so annoying that I’d rather he’d be actively trying to kill me than give me advice.” Zach deadpanned this, then added, “But that’s not important right now.”
He stopped talking for a while after that, choosing again to look over Raven again, as if actively searching for her despite the girl standing right in front of him. Apparently not finding her, Zach shifted in a slight unease before meeting Raven’s eyes straight on and saying, seriously, “You’re obviously messed up. Do you need to go back to sleep?”

asi • 4 June 2017 at 12:27 AM

His hands paused in his task, taken aback as his mind stewed over Annabell's question. Mostly he wondered what had prompted her to ask it- not because Riley thought it a bad question, not at all. He just thought that nobody could expect him to have a good answer. He simply wasn't that interesting of a person.
But, running a cloth-covered finger once more over the dull end of his left-hand sword, Riley made an honest effort to maintain his side of the conversation, and hopefully not bore the poor blonde to death in doing so.
He took a moment to think about his answer before speaking. "Jeez, you ask the tough questions, Annie," Riley joked, leaning back in his chair now. He stretched his back muscles like that might stimulate his memory somehow. "I think it used to be blue. Typical, right? Not even like light blue or dark blue, just the most basic blue you could find. That's pretty much every boy ever," he sighed and smiled at the same time. Riley felt a bit lame, owning up to how ordinary he was, but at least he was truthful.
"Now I think it's something different, but I don't really know what," Riley allowed, thinking. This was exactly the kind of thing he never put any kind of thought to by himself, so it was nice to be prompted into it, so he could find that kind of answer... even if it wasn't very interesting to hear for anyone else.
He slid one hand down the flat of the butterfly sword as he said; "Well, I did say you could ask me anything, so I'll say... Maybe it's a paler, pinky-purple thing now. I feel like that might remind me of someone," Riley threw that idea out there, a wistful expression taking prominence on his face for a moment. It quickly receded again to behind his usual, calm exterior. "So, what's yours?"
For the second time in so many seconds, he stole another quick glance at Annie, finally asking aloud; "You don't have anything you want to clean, do you?" Riley observed how much better prepared she was than him, seeming already set to rush off on any mission they might have, in spite of the lack of knowledge that Riley knew she'd had.


Raven waited outside the office, not quite at the state of self-awareness to feel awkward or impatient in the act. Instead, the quiet moments allowed her enough respite to recover from her mild case of the giggles, largely regaining her composure.
On Zach's return, she noticed the papers in hand only a few beats after she normally might have, and Raven held her hands out to take them as she was in the habit of doing with him. When he didn't shove the stack her way at all, instead keeping them close to his own chest, she was puzzled by the change in behavior, but figured the papers were important somehow, and didn't think too deeply on it.
The explanation about his talk of snakes unsettled Raven in a very different way that her initial conclusion had. She turned away slightly, unwilling to directly meet his eyes as she managed to sputter out; "O-oh, so you two... talk a lot huh..." Although she refused to be hugely embarrassed, Raven also wasn't eager to jump into this topic so quickly, and so was appeased when he dismissed the topic for now.
That statement raised the question in Raven's mind on what was important right now, and gathering that the leader might actually have some work that needed doing now, she vehemently felt the urge to reject whatever concerns he so uncharacteristically expressed about her current state of facility.
"No! I'm fine, you just haven't given me a chance to wake up yet," Raven complained, moving to snatch those papers from Zach's arms instead of waiting to let the leader decide.
"Nothing's wrong with me." Unbidden, a thought sprung to mind about the stuff that had happened the other day, that interrogation, and she shuddered, suddenly feeling cold. But it was only a ghost of a chill wind in the earthy tunnel complex.

taffy789 • 4 June 2017 at 8:27 PM

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that blue is completely a boyish color,” Annabell said to Riley, a fond memory tugging a smile to her lips. “My little sister loved the color blue. But then again, she was always a bit of the tomboy type…”
Trailing off, she attentively listened as Riley answered with his piece, and she scooted her chair a bit closer to Riley as he spoke in an attempt to get situated more comfortably. As he asked his own questions, Annabell finished shifting to a sitting cross-legged position on her chair. Her hands and attention both focused on the belt around her waist soon after, and as she undid the loops on her knife sheath, she continued to speak.
“Well, your new favorite color sounds lovely, really. Very pretty. And it sounds nice, and it probably fits whoever it reminded you of very well.” That wistful comment had not been lost on Annabell for a second, and she smiled comfortingly as she made a mental note of that slight sadness, having a few rough guesses as to who Riley could be going on about. She continued to both smile and fiddle with the sheath as she considered Riley’s questions. “Funnily enough though, I think our favorite colors are pretty similar. My favorite is pink.” She answered this easily, without a hint of shame. “Like, light pink. All pinks are nice, but hot pink can be too overwhelming sometimes, hard on the eyes and such.” She finished wrestling the knife sheath out of a loop on her belt.
“Honestly though,” she continued to comment, now sporting an amused smile very much so at Riley’s expense, “I know we weren’t exactly best friends at the school but… I didn’t think it would be that difficult to assume.” There followed a tiny dry huff of laughter. “I mean. Back at the school, I always had my nails painted some shade of pink. And in my room, I had this big fluffy pink blanket, but of course I don’t think you ever saw that… But you’ve had to have seen that jacket I’d started wearing when it had got colder! Or those shirts…” She grinned a bit, there, moreso now at her own expense rather than Riley’s. Thinking back on it, being distracted by this furious recollection of every pink thing she had in her possession at the school, it occurred to Annabell that she may have been just a tad… overboard on her favorite color. Almost sheepishly now, she continued with one particularly personal confession,
“My pig… pillow pet…”
Not only was pink Annabell’s favorite color, but now it was the color of her cheeks, and she laid her knife sheath in her lap in favor of pressing both hands to her face to absorb all that new, flushed heat.
She continued on like that until she remembered one last pink item she used to have, and her face cooled, and she set both hands back down into her lap.
“But, you must remember…” She hesitated, slightly. “… The bracelet...?” She turned the knife sheath over in her hands a few times. “That um. Pink one, which I’d gotten from my time as a, um. Gov. agent…” Annabell appeared almost embarrassed to be bringing that up again. “It blocked mental powers, and I think I remember you once mentioning not being able to read my mind…”
Sighing, she said, now wistful herself, “I know the government had given me that thing but. No doubt it would’ve been useful for IOD here… But I had ended up giving it to Leon to help him out, and then he’d lost it when he was…” She stopped, and her heart began hurting. He lost it… here, on IOD? Or… not here? And if not here, where then, where else could he have gone?
It wasn’t like Annabell knew, or even had any leads, for that matter.
But she didn’t want to think about that, not wanting to think about that brand new Leon issue was the exact reason she’d come to Riley’s in the first place. To talk, yes, but mainly to… not… have to... think…
“…He lost it when he’d been messing around, probably.” Annabell finished her last sentence for Riley’s sake. Not wanting to focus much more on that train of thought, Annabell picked up her knife sheath and pulled her dagger from it.
“… And um, speaking of ancient old things the government gave me that I probably should’ve traded in by now…” But her small blade felt so familiar in her hands at this point that she wouldn’t think to do that, no, never. For that reason, she could almost emphasize with what happened to Izzy yesterday, when his knife had been stolen by that small evil child… Although her own standard-issued dagger held very little sentimental value, it was the thing she’d been using to protect herself for the past few years, so losing it would feel wrong, like a sin against the very world.
Carefully, Annabell held up her knife slightly for Riley to see. “Um. This could do for a cleaning, yep. And maybe even a sharpening too, now that I think about it.”




“Well, then wake up then.” Zach said this plainly, allowing Raven to snatch the overwhelmingly large stack of paper’s from his hands. “You’re freaking me out.”
While his perfectly neutral expression did not seem “freaked out” in the slightest, he wore a slight downturn on mouth that appeared to decrease in severity when Raven assured him that nothing was wrong.
Ready to consider the Raven issue solved, Zach started in the direction of his office and waited for Raven to follow. When she did, he began walking a bit faster to his destination, and began to explain, somewhat impatiently.
“Actually, my power talking to me ‘a lot’ is what is causing me to do this.” Zach grumbled. “He won’t shut up about certain things, and whatever files the government has on me is one of those things.”
He elaborated, “Yesterday Tabs threw a small stack of files about myself in my face during that interrogation, and despite me wanting nothing to do with those few files, my lovely power Egos has said that there are other files about me somewhere which he wants me to find and read. For whatever reason he gave, but it honestly sounded like dumb curiosity on his part.” Here Zach rolled his eyes at his power’s apparent stupidity.
“So to get Egos to stop breathing down my back, I talked to the head of the Eighth division here. She told me to ask One to get those files for me if I wanted to see them. So.” He turned to Raven, and stopped walking completely, choosing to lean against a tunnel wall. “That’s what I need you to do.”
Then, Zach reached across Raven and pushed open a door to her right, revealing a sparsely decorated room with a messy bed, a clean desk, and a half unpacked duffel bag in the middle of the floor. They’d arrived to the Five’s room in record time.
Zach motioned Raven inside, and he followed after her, saying, “That Eighth girl gave me all these papers, and from what I know they were a bunch of forms with rules to sign off on and reasons to give. Or something like that.” He seemed almost unsure with himself as he added, blandly, “I didn’t read all of them. And I don’t want to try to. Or even write all that crap they want me to write.”
He made a slight, involuntary face at the very idea of having to struggle through that. The expression evened out fast enough, however, and then he looked back at Raven and shrugged aloofly, completely unconcerned with his own aversion to reading and writing.
He finished, “But you handled all the paperwork before, so this can’t be hard for you.”

asi • 8 June 2017 at 5:12 AM

Riley quirked a small, self-deprecating smile. "Oh I wouldn't either, I was only saying boys are unoriginal... Your little sister, huh," there was an awkward weight of pity in his last statement, as Riley considered all the other teens he knew with little siblings, and how much hope they had for that child's future. If the kid also had a power, as often seemed to be the case... It usually didn't mean anything good, and the elder knew it.
Seeing Annabell move to a more leisurely position, Riley followed the trend, putting one foot up on the chair he was sitting on, and leaning into that raised knee. When she smiled and complimented his favorite color on his admitting to it, his face actually colored with a faint blush, since he'd no idea how to begin to respond to that.
He nodded in agreement to her critique of brighter, stronger shades- Riley was never really one for flashy things himself. Except, that is, when his best friend was shoving a pair of sunglasses into his hands that matched the guy's own, telling Riley that the two of them were going to play at 'secret agent' for a school trip. Riley supposed that might be the kind of exception he'd accept.
Then, when Annabell began to describe all the burgeoning symptoms of her pink epidemic, his eyes seemed to gradually widen, as if only then coming to a realization. All accumulation of suspense and build-up was broken, however, as soon as she bashfully confessed to a pig... pillow pet, whatever exactly that was.
Riley started laughing- he couldn't help himself. "That's probably... one of the cutest things I ever heard." Green eyes glinting with mirth, he kept on chuckling lightly about this right up until the blonde mentioned the pink power-blocking bracelet. The topic caused him to slowly sober and straighten in his seat. He heard out her slightly confused recount of the object's history and how it related to that missing boy intently, and with a reserved expression on his face- moreso than usual.
He didn't say anything right away, couldn't either, as Annabell plied the conversation back towards weapons' care. When she pulled out her knife and showed him, he responded by reaching into a drawer on his desk, retrieving a whetstone from the former owner's copious collection and silently sliding the object across the desk to her in offering. Once that objective was achieved, Riley's immediate thoughts returned to the bracelet... that Riley didn't remember at all.
"I'm not sure I'll be able to help you with anything relating to those days," he informed her, brow downturned, face like a gray, overcast autumn day. Fingers still stroked the cold metal of his sword with the microfiber cloth, furnishing the blade with oil. The task required little of Riley's concentration, and all else was dedicated to the girl in front of him, and the explanation he had to give her.
He continued; "You'll have to forgive me if I've forgotten some things, about you or anything else. I..." Riley paused, hesitating over the wording, which he selected carefully for the next sentence. "If my estimation is correct, the amount of memories my," he gave a brief grimace, "other half has from over the past several years is... somewhat substantial. Consequently, the amount I lack is... of equal measure," he swallowed upon revealing as much, feeling uncertain as to what the other's reaction might be, though a large part of his reluctance truthfully came from not wanting to have to say this aloud.
"So I couldn't tell you what color you wore most often, or the names of very many of our classmates," Riley concluded a little despondently, the thought evidently weighing heavily on his mind and shoulders, and in his deep bottle green eyes.
Still, he wouldn't end without an optimistic note. "But if it comes down to resources, then you know I'd happily use or abuse my position if it can help you or your friend somehow. Leon, right? Did I ever meet him? Raven mentioned him once or twice I think..." he mused over the matter quietly, hands continuing to slowly work polish into his held blade.


Raven laughed her disbelief at his being, 'freaked out', but after that, her attention was fully occupied with balancing the papers, keeping pace behind Zach and listening to his description of how exactly she'd ended up with such a monster pile in her arms. Apparently it all came back to that smug sensing 'snake' of a power- the assistant was just starting to glean an inkling for how much that character liked to meddle, from just behind the scenes.
"So if I'm following correctly, your power's name is 'Egos'?" Raven pulled up a very high eyebrow at that conspicuous name, but once she gained his confirmation on the matter, demurred to talk further on the topic.
In due course they came to a stop. Zach presented her with his designated room, she moved inside at his instruction, and he finished up his vaguely explanatory spiel.
"I do have a bachelor's from the college of bull," she remarked on her qualifications and the offensive weight of paper in her arms, for what it was apparently worth. Raven was far from eager to resign herself to this dull paper-pusher fate, but she wasn't going to complain either, knowing that they weren't any other options for people with the ability and authority to handle all this crap. Given that she could do it better than anyone else around, she thought it better to get it over with, huffing some frizzy strands away from her face.
"Fine, but while I do this for you, what are you going to do?" she asked him while setting the paperwork on Five's desk, preparing to get started as soon as possible- she was efficient like that, even in her current condition.
As for their new surroundings, Raven wasn't entirely sure why Zach had brought her to his room to work, but since it had a clear desk and a quiet environment, it certainly wasn't worse than anywhere else around here that she knew of. And he hadn't been staying there long enough for it to start to smell or anything. Eyeing the leader's current state, she suspected that given time it might. Raven made a mental note to bug him about hygiene, later. When she would look less hypocritical in doing so.
In the meantime, she suggested to him dispassionately; "Try and make amends with the people running this place? They're ticked off with you over something. I can't tell if it's because you gorged yourself on their stupid candy rations or because they consider your joining that scouting expedition criminally reckless endangerment, or anything else. With these weirdos, honestly who knows," Raven muttered this, rolling her eyes in time with a shrug.
"But you do know why you were sent out here in the first place, right?" she finally prompted him, giving the so-called leader a meaningful look. Perhaps not one so impressive as it might have been had she her hair in order and hazel eyes as focused as they were apt to be- they remained somewhat glazed, little light or color shining through- but it had resolve nonetheless.

taffy789 • 11 June 2017 at 2:58 PM

When Riley had handed Annabell the whetstone, she took it while still spluttering in embarrassment over all that laughter and that “cute” comment. Her stomach squirmed and warmed like a space heater, and she squashed the rising heat by sinking down into her chair, slightly, as if subconsciously wanting to hide under the desk.
When Riley shifted to the topic of his memory, or his lack therefore of, Annabell calmed enough to begin to sharpen her blade against the provided whetstone.
“… I’m sorry to hear about those missing memories,” she said once Riley had finished with his piece. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin to fix that… I mean, there’s Eight, but,” Annabell shook her head, “I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere near her, honestly!”
She concentrated on scraping the dagger twice against the sharpening tool, before setting both down and looking back towards Riley. “If you really don’t remember much, I’ll be happy to fill in the blanks for you. My memory tends to be good, um, luckily. And I remember most of what happened at the school.”
She joked, “We can start with recounting the past few years of my fashion choices, I guess, since we’ve already established the pink monopoly.”
Then disappeared most of the good humor. “… And then we can talk about Leon.”
Annabell didn’t like that idea very much, considering everything she wanted to stop stressing over, and the reluctance was obvious in her expression.
“Um.”
Right after she worked up the energy to discuss Leon, it occurred to her that, huh, she didn’t really know… if Riley and Leon even had ever really…. talked?
“Other than us encountering his feral for a few seconds there, a while back… You probably had to have… talked to him once before, at the school?” Annabell ventured, unsure. “At least you saw him, or had to have… known about him.”
She ignored the obvious connection the two could have had in favor of seeing if any other descriptors jogged Riley’s memory first.
“Leon was like. A wild guy, brown hair, got into trouble a lot and often? Tried to make jokes too often, hated to fight or practice fighting, self-described as ‘half-brown’, um.” It was a struggle to come up with more, but somehow Annabell managed.
“Skipped class a lot, snuck out of the school a lot, use his electric power to climb walls and stick balloons to the backs of people... Um. Took over the intercom of the school on like, three separate occasions. Um…. Bad at…. Baking…”
She appeared to drift off there, for a split second, as if recalling some surely traumatic experience. Then the moment was gone, and Annabell grounded herself back in reality and faced the truth that, if Riley surely didn’t remember Leon from all of THAT, then there was only one last thing to see if he remembered…
Deciding to bite the bullet, she dove straight into the easiest explanation of Leon to Riley-
“He kinda, um! Dated Alex for quite a while, a few months?” Knowing this to be potentially shocking information for Riley, she observed his reaction to this carefully, while adding, “It seemed to really work out for them until it… Didn’t?” She sighed, her fingers twittering agitatedly against the desk. “Didn’t work for reasons out of everyone’s control, I suppose, I don’t know. Honestly, I wasn’t that best of friends with Leon until after they broke up, and after he disappeared from the school and came back… And even what had happened there, that’s all-” Here she breathed in deeply; her hands leaving the table to run through her hair once, puffing it up and making it messy.
Annabell seemed resigned to a defeated sort of despair as she admitted, frustrated and frowning, “- And that’s all messed up too, in a whole different, confusing way.”
Her hands ceased tearing at her hair, dropping back to the desk as her shoulders hung like deadweight on her body. The nails of her fingers clenched softly into a fist and bit at her palms with a distracted effort.
“And it’s like,” Annabell said, not looking at Riley but down at her half-clenched fists. She dully noticed how her fingernails were devoid of that pink polish she once loved to wear back when she still had the freedom to go buy simple pleasures.
“I-it’s like,”
She chewed on her bottom lip in sheer frustration at the words being unable to vocalize themselves, to leave the dark hole in her gut where her feelings swarmed and buzzed and refused to breach.
“It’s… extremely aggravating,” was all Annabell could think to confess, and even that adjective rolled heavy off her tongue. “Trying to help Leon all this time, since he came back with his power issues, has been very… yeah, aggravating at times, because I’ve never felt so…” That voiced, anxious frustration became small before it trailed off completely, disappearing without leaving, invisible.
Still not looking upwards, Annabell’s eyes darted down to desk, as if looking over the map again. She swallowed, cleared her throat, and tried to ignore the gapping, dulled hollowness like an acid inside her, eating her intestines and making her feel fuzzy yet empty- her vital organs now all grey TV static.
Instead of acknowledging the feeling and risking it rising and drowning her out, she squashed it with a dismissive, “… Sorry. It’s probably not even worth talking about, really.”



“Talking with anyone who runs this place is the very last thing I want to do,” Zach deadpanned in response to Raven’s question.
He had taken a seat on the mattress of his large cot, watching Raven as she bustled around on the other side of the desk. Seeming content with Raven’s focus on the task, Zach appeared to relax some, leaning backwards onto the mattress and lying perpendicular to it. His boots and legs hung off of one side and his shoulders and head were suspended in air on the other.
He stretched, slowly, before continuing on, “Like I said before. If the veteran or anyone else has a problem with me, they can come complain to me about it. Otherwise they can go eff off.” He grumbled that last part, his voice partly lost due to the fact he was speaking upwards, towards the concrete ceiling above.
Shifting again, Zach sat up and swung his legs sideways, up on the mattress despite him still wearing his boots. He laid down again, this time on his stomach with his head facing towards the desk where Raven worked.
He spoke to her. “I was planning on staying here to help you write the letter. That Eighth worker made it sound like there were things in that paper mess I needed to sign or answer.” He paused, then admitted, “I didn’t want to write the letter, but I still want to know what the heck they needed me to say.”
Shrugging at that, Zach flipped around on his cot, now laying on his back. He crossed his legs, one boot heel digging into the end of the mattress to hold the other leg up. Speaking towards the ceiling again, he told Raven, candidly as ever, “Before I left, One pulled me aside and told me I was here to train, and also for back-up for some crappy spying mission of some sort, that death mission those two old leaders had been basically forced to volunteer for, remember?”

asi • 14 June 2017 at 9:57 AM

Septa walked down the hallway in an exceptionally regular way, strides measured and even, face so carefully blank it was impossible to tell whether he was fully concentrating on his surroundings, or deeply lost in thought. His hair was fluffed up warmly around his face and over his shoulders, as if to ensure he'd never want for a scarf. And his hands were stuck behind him in his jeans pockets, one tightly squeezed in there with his cellphone.
Suddenly, he stopped, at the head of the next passage he'd been about to walk through. It was very quiet that way... No one was there, and no sounds could be heard.
At least, not as far as he could tell, rubbing the inside of the ear on his right and wincing over the way it still ached and rang. His date of last night really had a unnatural tolerance for music in the form of screaming... His head was still full of it.
While the sounds of his finger shifting were being magnified in one ear, the other seemed to pick up on a different echoing; that of silence, which for love of all things contradictory elected to whisper and howl down the empty corridor at him. Inexplicably, the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise, despite being covered by his great black mane, and his pulse began to pick up pace. His bare hand dove back into that pocket to fish out his cellphone, and Septa's dark, wide and fraught eyes grasped for the sight of his latest text from Molly-
He had only a single, long-winded 'coming', sent almost eight minutes ago now to assuage him. No new messages showed on its display. His fingers hovered over the keypad screen, and for about a minute he thought about going back the way he'd come, back to the apparent safety of that room, that bed and that person- L.R.J.... "I wonder who it is that has you jealous..." His gaze hardened and he put the device away again.
He stared down the hall, as he stood somewhat nursing that slight 'morning after' feeling, and the walls seemed to stare back at him.
Septa was broken out of his transfixed state by an interruption of human noises, emitting from a more occupied offshoot of the corridor network to his left. He turned and swiftly walked in that direction, keeping his head down and refusing to answer whatever called on him to look back...
The people that he'd heard were coming the way he was going, as it turned out, so he encountered them sooner than anticipated.
"That's Septa, right?" One nudged the other in a hurry, to which that other answered quickly; "Look, he's not all dressed up..." Then they unabashedly ogled him, like he was some exotic creature that fascinated humans, but one too dangerous to actually approach.
"Hii~!" Septa called out cheerfully to the pair, complete with a wide sunny wave, and they nervously twittered and smiled back, chattering in hushed and flustered voices as soon as he was half out-of-earshot from the two of them. He heard one word from their babble; 'alone', and his countenance turned instantly solemn.
But that look couldn't last long, as he continued to walk and emerged into a broader, busier, public area. Because the seventh leader was such an oh-so-recognizable figure, not just for those who'd entered his domain, but for those who'd never met him before- forget even a glimpse, a third-hand description was enough... And with no accompaniment to draw their fire- or to possess his own attention rather than leave him wide open... Since he looked casual and so very approachable today...
The first Glaeroe to make a beeline toward him was one of a group of four, perhaps a squad preparing to head out on a mission together. While the other three hung back, just watching, that kid spoke aloud Septa's rank and the leader subsequently stopped his walking, turned to the petitioner and offered a welcoming smile. Even if he wanted to, this kind of interaction couldn't be avoided- even if it could be avoided, Septa wouldn't want to do so, not in this situation.
But what did the teen want? To know where Dia's Spec-Ops had been deployed lately. Listening to this question, Septa narrowly resisted sighing, settling instead for sticking his hands again in the back pockets of his jeans, and decided. He'd let this one lucky winner in on his top strategy for retrieving well-baked information still piping hot from the happenings-oven. Leaning close enough to the asker to cause them to stumble backwards, he answered helpfully;
"I don't have a clue~! But you could ask them." Eyes sliding to their left corners and head tilting to indicate some other bystanders that had just shown up, Septa used the ultimate technique... of asking someone smarter than himself. "Hey, where's Dee Dee's squad at?" he put it to them instead with a perfect air of nonchalance.
They all paled at what he called her, but one still managed to reply with some confidence; "Um, aren't they heading for the Northern front?"
Septa just gave an expansive shrug in return, and grinned in a way that probably didn't put anyone's worries to rest, since they'd apparently wanted a leader for the confirmation. In which case, they'd definitely come to the wrong one.
One of the petitioner's team members pulled them back now, admonishing them in an audible mutter; "What were you thinking, asking him? Shouldn't you know better by now?"
Privately, Septa couldn't help but agree, but since the asker was looking so abashed as they were pulled away, he simply called over to them; "Nice talkin' to ya~!" Since they wouldn't be getting another chance anytime soon.
After that, it was like the floodgates had been unlocked, and then flung open. Suddenly this place seemed to be as full of greetings for him as it was foot-traffic, people were eager and clamoring to approach him as soon as they saw him as he was, already conversing with others.
Septa displayed a friendly countenance to all, demonstrating an easy-going willingness to engage with anyone in conversation, to the extent that the others demanding his attention would allow. For the majority of the gathering, a brilliant smile and a well-placed remark was all that was needed to smoothly satisfy those wanting a word with him, especially when their words were compliments, for him or some time they'd enjoyed at his establishment. Additional interest was given to any that were sufficiently flirtatious, of course.
"Rocking that look, Septa!" shouted a face he recognized from the club- naturally that kind of confidence belonged to a regular from his circle of sin. In return, the leader revealed a wide grin and called back in a low, suggestive tone; "Hey, not half bad yourself," to a boisterous reception from the crowd, with one notably sharp 'wert whirl' whistle mixed in.
"Who was that?" Septa laughed and demanded to know, and fortunately there were people here who were more than willing to help him out. Spurred on by the crowd, he waded his way over to the stranger and actually planted a kiss on his cheek before the guy pushed his skinny frame away, looking amusingly mortified at the outcome and wiping all real or imagined traces from his face.
Like a performer who'd finished his first act, but had not the personal space to bow, Septa waved merrily at the people surrounding him, giving equal treatment to the expressions that were delighted, as to those which were disapproving and appalled.
There were still others who wished to speak with him, including a few supplicants, entreating him to take a look at their or a friend's assignments, if there was a chance to change it, and he always promised to see what he could do... though there was seldom anything he could, he still assured them he would try. As for whether giving them hope was more or less cruel... There shouldn't be anyone who didn't know better than to rely on him anyway.
This time, one in particular had sorry eyes and seemed halfway to hugging his leg and begging him for a way off of the island. Taking pity on this individual, Septa decided to treat them to an extra special offer of aid. "I can't help get you out of here, but I can make you forget where you are," smiling invitingly, dark eyes alight with wicked promise, he stretched out an arm and offered them a more temporary solution.
With that, of course, he'd managed to provoke his dissenters into speaking up.
One merely protested his actions with an outcry of; "Aren't you a leader?" and he was sorry if he offended their sensibilities.
But another grabbed the poor kid Septa had extended the offer to and pulled them back from the leader, scoffing and dismissing him with derision. "He is just a bad influence."
Seeing that the troubled kid was now in safe hands, he rewarded those three with a cavalier and sloppily-executed salute, saying, "That's Leader Bad Influence to you," and most of the Glaeroes who were going to turn away in disgust had already done so. His personality had done a good job thinning them down. That just left a swamp of around thirty, vying for his attention or just there to watch the spectacle. On second thought, maybe more than been drawn in than he'd alienated yet.
He wondered if he would get in trouble for congesting a main corridor again.
"When is your Spec-Ops team gonna hit the field, Septa?" someone in the crowd asked him, and the leader looked over, brown eyes searching, and just smiled when he saw them.
"Why, at the very last minute or later, on the milkiest milk run I can milk from the missions roster," he declared with much pizzazz and his infamously blatant disregard for propriety, to an audience of mixed reactions. Some laughed, and some glared like the devil as he teased the asker; "Did you want them as back-up?"
It was a good thing he didn't care for popularity in the least, because some sour Glaeroes would just never be pleased with him.
It took some time, but eventually Septa made it out of that corridor alive, having said his goodbyes and now none the worse for wear from them. Taking the next corner, the cool, empty air told him how alone he was again. As if on cue, his heart leapt off the starting block, running a rate like it'd been coerced into racing a spontaneous 100-meter sprint. He was alone-
Save for the little girl, sitting against the hallway wall and playing with her ferret.
"Guithe?" he called out her name, frowning a little at the unexpected appearance.

demon • 14 June 2017 at 5:40 PM

Riley began quietly to reply, recounting the past with slow deliberation. "Two took me to Eight. She enabled me to remember everything that I can now. Before, I spent some months here without any kind of concept of my past. I guess you could say I was a shell of myself, simply living in the present- if that can be called living, since I didn't know who 'I' was." Looking down, the steel blade in his hands was now shining brightly with polish, gleaming under the office's artifical light. He imagined briefly what it would look like if the flat surface could capture his reflection. What would he see in his own visage, mirrored in monotone by the blade? In reality, the light the steel held was only dull and blinding in nature, revealing nothing.
He picked up the second sword and started from its hilt. "I'm guessing that I can't be made to remember things that my power took with him. That seems to be the extent of Eight's powers," Riley hypothesized, his surmise effectively letting Annabell know that he wasn't planning on recklessly seeking out that leader's help again.
He listened gratefully as the blonde described to him the boy that he couldn't seem to remember. When she mentioned this Leon's hijacking of the school intercom, he thought something did stir in his memories. Still, it wasn't like vaguely remembering a disembodied voice, and very little of the substance of what it said, could really help him identify or put a face to the boy. Even though they'd physically encountered him as a feral recently... That had been a fight so Riley had hardly been at liberty to get a good look. He'd also been wiped out for most of that, he figured, remembering jumping in front of a bolt of bright, crackling electricity, which burst into black until he woke up later, having been moved some ways away, on the ground...
Riley made an 'ah' sound of acknowledgement when Annabell stated the relation to his twin- but only because Raven had mentioned that tidbit too. He responded mildly, observing the look that had taken over Annabell's face, and wanting for those troubles to lift again from over her eyes. "I'm not surprised that I don't really remember much about him, Alex and I hadn't been close for... quite a while, I think. I didn't always know what was going on with her. We're two very different people," he pointed out, voice soft and expression infused with calm and sympathetic melancholy. "And you know what school is." Something that only pulled people together as much as it pulled others apart.
Whatever slight sadness he felt then paled in importance when he saw the increasing distress in Annabell's body language, punctuated by frustrated breaths of air and clenching hand muscles. After listening to her attentively, Riley knew he had to say something in return- he couldn't leave Annabell looking so small and... awfully empty. It was clear to him from the way that her eyes were just staring into space, even as they pretended to examine that irrelevant map again, they were unseeing. His heart went out to the girl, for he thought he knew how she felt.
Searching for the words, Riley knew he couldn't tell her anything about Leon or her situation directly, because he knew so little about that case, but he could certainly relate to her... He wanted Annabell to understand how he felt, too.
"You know my sister was never very..." he trailed off, making a face as he shrugged helplessly at Annabell. "I have no idea how to finish that sentence," he admitted wryly, trying to wring a smile out of the blonde again- and she ought to be familiar enough with Alex's character to know what he meant.
"But even though I'm missing some things, I do remember more than enough of what she's really like," he smiled fondly while thinking more on his sister, going on to elaborate; "Even though Alex may be inconsistent from moment to moment, as her attention is easily captured by fleeting things, I know her fundamental feelings are more enduring. It's been a long time since we last saw each other, but I'm sure she still cares about me," Riley drew his eyes away from Annabell's for the first time in a while now, lowering them down to the desk where the blades he'd been cleaning lay, half done. They'd been left abandoned as his mind had grown too engrossed in the conversation to work his hands.
He returned his gaze to Annabell's face after just a beat, saying now on the subject of his sister and her friend, since both he and Annabell cared for them; "I trust she probably wouldn't enter into a relationship if she didn't have strong and lasting feelings for that person. She's someone who puts passion into everything she does." Riley had a very dear look in his eyes as he said that. In that moment, he couldn't be mistaken for someone who didn't care deeply for his sibling.
"That's why, while I want to find her again and make sure she's okay, I'm not panicked about her running off. She's done it before, I bet she's doing it again. Last time she joined a circus. That's no joke," he added in good humor. Then it sounded like he was feeling something akin to wonder as he said with a sweet, tranquil kind of confidence; "Wherever she is now, she's definitely doing something incredible."
"But I still think I understand something about how you feel, worrying about Leon." His hands grasped around the edge of his desk, fingers feeling the slight imperfections in its cold surface that were imperceivable to the naked eye. "In my case, I just have hope that everything might work out in the end, as long as we keep trying our best at it. Maybe that's stupidly optimistic, but, we haven't really lost anything yet, right? Nothing that can't be got back. That's how I feel," he told her with some embarrassment, cheeks glowing with heat as he realized all the silly and sentimental things he'd said. He still didn't wish to take any of them back, though. Sappiness didn't make any of it less sincere.
Riley swallowed that heat down and tried to speak more coolly in regards to the rest of it, though he was bound to fail. "You can talk about anything with me," he reiterated to Annabell, with a foolish but gentle lingering smile, "Even if you think it's the least important thing in the world. I won't think that it's unimportant, if it's something you want to talk about," he told her, matching in his earnestness now the seriousness with which he intended to treat whatever subject she chose. That was unless, of course, she did want to laugh with him... "I would never find it unworthy or-"
A strange feeling struck him and all of a sudden Riley was aware of all the hard and sharp-edged weapons between them in a different light. Did she see it that way? Did Annabell think she was... It was almost saddening, but also it helped Riley find another way to say the feeling he really wanted to communicate. "You... don't have to fight alone."
No longer did he have to think about the words he wanted to speak. These words just poured out of the seventeen year-old boy's mouth, and that was probably because, for once, they came straight from the source of Riley's heart, as he said to her; "You know, even if I remembered everything from before... I'm sure I'd still want to know you better. Regardless of individual memories, I always had the same impression of you, Annabell, and that is... that you're pretty amazing. You always struck me as kind, but willing to stand up and fight for the things you believe in. Unless I'm severely mistaken, and I don't think I am," he smiled softly. "You have my sincere admiration, Annabell."
His green eyes had brilliance that couldn't be rivaled by gemstones as he laid one hand down on the table near her and finally ended his impromptu speech with a heartfelt; "I consider it a privilege to work with you. And I really like being in your company. So please let me help you in any way I can."

asi • 14 June 2017 at 5:51 PM

When she looked over and saw him, Guithe sprung up immediately to her feet, ferret riding her shoulder and all.
"Big Bro Lich-y!" she cried out, dashing her way over to meet him. Bouncing to a halt in front of Septa, Guithe couldn't help but smile brightly in welcome to the leader.
His tense posture quickly slackened, hands now resting on bent knees. "Heey! Fancy meeting you here, Guiffs. What's cooking, kid?" he grinned down at her in a big, friendly manner.
Her happiness faltered and faded somewhat. Guithe glanced over in a certain direction that Septa had no trouble recognizing as back the way he had come, towards the Spec-Ops dorms. Where the both of them were staying. Was there a reason she was out here by herself, save for Rambo? "Big Sister Xe-Xe and Miss Cindy are having a fight."
At that, Septa laughed. "Say what? Those two, fighting! I just can't see it," he giggled, fingers trembling over his mouth as he tried to take this seriously.
Guithe's own lips automatically tweaked up into a smile in return, although her eyes remained hesitant. "I'm kinda worried for Miss Cindy, though," she confessed, adding; "You know how scary Xe-Xe gets with those blazing eyes-"
What was in one moment a struggle, was a simple necessity in the next. Septa's smile dropped and his blood ran cold as he stared down at Guithe. "What! You wouldn't leave if Xela was actually-"
Any reassurance Guithe had felt from Septa's appearance and ensuing disbelief on the subject evaporated as fast as he turned serious. A little tearfully, she told him; "She told me to leave and kicked me out herself when I wouldn't and now the door won't open- Septa?!" she called out, shocked by the grim expression on his face.
"Are they in yours and Xela's room?" he asked her, voice calm and smooth as he drew up to his full height.
Following his example, Guithe grew steady and nodded resolutely in affirmation. Grabbing Septa's hand, the two of them hurried back to that room, doing well at keeping pace as one was a short-legged child and the other a notoriously poor athlete, though he got better if he tried.
Guithe stood to the side as he grabbed for the door, and, with only a second of wrestling with the handle, sent it reeling open with a push.
"Tonia!" he gasped her name just as he lurched inside to find...
Those two were going at it, yeah, but with pillows. It was a pillow fight. Xela was proving to be quite brutal- that is, with pillows. Septa slapped a hand to his forehead and slumped over against the door frame in relief. "Wow. I can't believe I almost missed out on two hot babes having a pillow fight. Thank god I made it in time," he said, still busy comically exhaling his lungs as if he'd ran a full-on marathon just to get there.
"Sorry to disappoint, Septa, we are fully dressed," Cindy told him with one artistically sculpted eyebrow raised. Her high-maintenance look held out slightly better than her composure against all the fun she seemed to be having. "Xela just wanted to practice her fight moves with me!" she beamed, bursting into a low-pitched round of chuckles when Xela threw her last pillow at her, a tear in its seams allowing some little puffs of cotton wool to come floating out.
"Septa," the fiery redhead power scoffed his name aloud, as if it were some kind of universal profanity even the heavens would understand. "As if something like that would happen."
"Because that's never happened before," Septa replied, in an extremely convincing tone, propping himself up with one elbow on the door frame and oh-so very innocuously grinning.
Cindy's brown irises drifted off into the corners of her eyes as she neglected to meet anyone else's, muttering; "If it did, I was not in the involvement."
Snickering to himself, Septa turned around to give Guithe what was going to be a proper noogie for this latest episode of her trickery, when-
That look on Guithe's face. It hadn't changed at all... But why would she remain concerned when it had been made clear that nothing adverse was going on at all? His fingers twitched as if shocked with static electricity, he made to spin back around-
Behind him, Cindy cried out. "Xela! You- uaaagh..." The sound of something or things falling to the ground, a kerfuffle and a constricted, pained groan all served to stir that thick dark liquid mess of dread in the pit of Septa's stomach, the stuff that was always there, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Xela? What are you doing," Septa stopped approaching when he caught sight of the serious look in the power's eyes, as she pinned the helpless blonde down with a practiced hold that any martial artist might struggle to escape, let alone Cenerentola...
"So why don't you tell me why these people you surround yourself with are so very weak, Septa," said Xela, with a hard threatening glint in seafoam blue-green eyes.


Raven sighed, letting out one single big breath of air. She didn't feel like there was any use saying any more on the matter, and she didn't care to, regardless. Hopefully the matter of cooperation with the locals here wouldn't prove to be her problem. Or much of a problem at all, with any luck. She tended to have little though, and therefore kept it for herself.
She needed it, because she hadn't a power to assist her, annoying or actively trying to kill her or anything else. That thought burned in her mind a moment while her hands sorted through the papers he'd given her, eyes coming to terms with their layout, but nothing substantial registering.
Then Raven looked over at where Zach was resting on the bed, saw the way the shadows had fallen over one side of his face, and found she didn't mind things so much as she thought. Her hair then bounced in front of her eyes and Raven had to push it away impatiently.
She let her fingers slip out from between the sheets, losing the section she'd been leafing through in order to start properly, from the beginning. Ordinarily she would ask him about the parts she specifically needed information on, and then go about filling in the rest of the dull and tedious stuff by herself, but if he wanted to help... They could go through it together.
Maybe working with Zach wouldn't be so bad.
Before really getting started, she made sure to stretch and flex her muscles in the chair that she sat in, not wanting her fingers or shoulders to get cramps or grow stiff if she ended up working on it a long time. As she did so, Raven had to hide a wince. Her injured arm hurt, still. Luckily it wasn't the one she needed to write with.
Then; "Wait, who needs help writing a letter," Raven asked with the driest incredulity she could possibly muster as the realization on what exactly he'd said struck her.
Because he better not be implying that she did.
Facetious indignity aside, she began skim-reading the document and reading aloud to Zach the relevant passages and questions that applied.