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Default   #78   sylvanSpider sylvanSpider is offline
Weaver of Webs
Riola's suppressed smile went well over Ashi's head as she recovered from the drag. Tears began to collect in the corners of her eyes and she groaned only to have a bubble of smoke creep back up her throat and poofing outside her slightly parted lips. The princess looked and felt utterly terrible. There was no chance for her to respond to Riola's attempt at comforting words when Shaldag turned on Mendez. He understood, of course, the man was a fountain of patience (she supposed he had to be, considering his choice of a partner)--so he bore no ill will against the man. She could see it on his face. He was bewildered, yes, but not angry.

“I'm alright,” Mendez croaked, “I'm fine; it's fine.” The half-Edensian's face said otherwise, however, and he gladly took to Riola's offer of his shoulder as the pair made it out of the room before their accents and hair could set the man off again. Riola was bound to be the next target if he made the mistake of getting within arm's reach of the Ogrunu. When they were safely situated outside in the common room, Mendez laughed, “Atrix'll be upset if that leaves a mark, won't she hermano?” He sighed, “I'm hoping the mental scares don't last beyond the Pools. It's gonna be one helluva fuckin' journey if they don't...”

Rosalind kept her mouth shut, nodding when she was supposed to but swallowed some spit that had gathered at the back of her throat. The felis truly led miserable lives. Damage to their property, as if these living, sentient beings could properly be owned by anyone. Then, they quite literally were. They were humanoid cargo, meant to serve their purpose and fixed...to serve that purpose. If she tried, she could almost imagine the misery that Magali felt when she needed to clean up in front of Nokra, the shame. Or for Nokra to see. The life was beyond her reckoning. As far as backstories went, Rosalind had a fairly happy one. Sure, she had a failed engagement and her father died, but her father wasn't murdered, and she'd had a great upbringing. Magali and Nokra? Shit, Fikri too...They all were raised believing that they were only worth as much as someone paid for them, and treated like far less than that. And Nokra was a fighter on top of that. His life would have been no walk in the park by itself. “Yer secrets good wit' me,” she said, eyes glinting in sincerity. “So long as ye live, some poisoned stuff is fine by me.

Fikri could feel Atrix's eyes on him, but he looked down shifting his weight. His ears were still pressed against his head as she assessed him but he managed to keep eye contact. Something told him that the usual expectations of his old masters were the exact opposite of what someone like Atrix would respect. “I...am aware of the risks,” Fikri said, cautiously, but not without appreciation, “I've decided to take them. Besides, my hobbies include delicate work. I have experience with that, at least. I know it's different, but I'm hoping that skill will carry over. And if it doesn't and I end up killing myself in the process, then I guess I'll be meeting Vail sooner than anticipated. It's all the same to me.” Fikri gave the Terskix a nonchalant shrug, his ears giving a bit of an involuntary twitch. “What's driving me to do this? Sure, Vail's death is part of it. I found out what love means because of that woman, and to have her stripped from me like a blanket when you're not quite ready to wake up? It's unbearable, and I will have vengeance or die trying...But,” Fikri paused for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, his ears rising from their flattened position, “But I'm going to fight for more than that. I'll fight for Rosie, you, Riola, Mendez...I'm going to fight for the living as well. And you can bet your ass I'll be giving it my all.” As he made his manifesto, his hands drifted down to the gun at his hip, feeling the cool feel of the metal under his fingertips. It was heavy, heavier than expected anyway, and lethal by nature. He would be making use of it sooner rather than later, and he knew it.

Magali shrunk back, not immune to Hyun's glare boring into her core. The sight was pathetic, but one suited to a near albino felis covered in blood not her own. Every emotion that she felt was clearly readable in more than just her face, but her ears and tail as well. She never had a reason to pretend to be strong—most liked them weak, so Magali in her job didn't need to change a thing. This timidity, this weakness, it was not only a part of Magali but it had been fostered, cultivated to make the perfect, obedient slave. It was no wonder she survived as long as she did; she was precious. “I'll—I'll relay the message,” she whimpered, her tail dangling behind her resembling a limp, furry noodle. She backed out of the room, closing the door behind her and breathed. The air in there was tense, and stepping into the common room felt to her like swimming to the surface for air. Her eyes drifted to a digital reading of the time, conveniently located by the door lock that led outside the ship. Five minutes. She'd be watching to make sure that it was five minutes, no more, no less—unless Hyun asked for otherwise. She nodded to herself, resolutely, and made her way to the cockpit.

Rosalind sipped at her coffee to test the temperature, then tipped the mug back taking a larger swig and sighed contently, “Ah, et's just the way ah like it, thank ye.”

Fikri offered Rosalind that smile he'd given Atrix earlier, and though Rosalind noticed it didn't comment, “Anytime, Rosie. Do you have an ETA yet?” She wondered if she'd ever see a real smile on the Felis's face ever again.

“Aye, we're about t'enter 'yperspeed. The gravity es fixed in this ship, so ye don't 'ave t'worry 'bout 'angin' on, but be wary of et,” Rosalind said, flicking a switch above her and grabbing a mic, “'Tention all passengers, we're enterin' 'yperdrive, so brace yerselves!” The voice was heard throughout the ship, and outside the cockpit, Magali quickly found a wall to hang onto, not knowing any better, bracing herself against it and slowly making her way to the cockpit. Now off the loudspeaker, the Pyra turned to Fikri, “We've got about ten minutes before enterin' the grav'tation'l pull, an' five more on that t'land.”

As the words were uttered, Magali appeared, and those in the cockpit turned to stare at her in horror. From head to toe red stained the normally white bodice and hair and fur. It was thickest around her hands, and she looked more like someone who had just committed a murder than someone who was trying to save another's life, “I'm... I'm sorry, but Fikri, in three...” she stopped to look at one of the screens, “...and a half minutes, we need to go back to tend to the princess and Shaldag. They are worse for the wear, but for the next three...” she paused looking back at the screen, “yes, three minutes, we need you to help. Are you...are you willing?” The last bit came out cracked as the realization that he might say no crept into her consciousness and a great relief was met with the answer.

“Sure thing, Magali,” his face was anything but reassuring as he raked over the blood-soaked woman with nervous, wide eyes.

Magali sighed and grinned, “Thank goodness. Uhm, we should probably head there soon. You said fifteen minutes, Rosalind?”

“Aye.”
All that is empty in the drawing should be filled in, the teacher said to us kids. First you sharpen the pencil to fill in the thin whiskers, then you use the thick crayon to fill in the wings with brown, meticulously and without letting the crayon leave the page. Six feet can be traced below the soft belly. Now, breathing is hard to detect on paper, the teacher said to me when I asked, but it is easier to feel it in real life.

Even insects breathe.

-Rawi Hage, Cockroach
Old Posted 02-18-2018, 07:39 AM Reply With Quote