ErsatzEmpress
Noctis
ButtsnBalls
Kaithe Dame
Andreyich
Rightful Heir
Naril
JJ Doe
DamyclesKysar “Venator” Proctus
Solveig “Wraith” Winstrom
Iron-side Chats
Kysar was wide for a Turian. A fact which was most inconvenient when it came to sleeping on a couch. A quarter of his torso hung over the lip of the cushion, leaving one of his arms to flop about uncomfortably. The length of his body didn’t help either, being too long for the blasted thing, his legs draped over the wicker twinned arm, undoubtedly leaving their mark on his skin. All this would have been tolerable if not for the racket next door. A night of Nadara and her new plaything kept the Turian awake, forcing him to sleep with a pillow over his face just to block out the noise.
The hallways weren’t safe either. At one point Kysar had wanted to take a break but as he left the room, he caught the human quickly ducking back inside, leaving a foul smelling odour in his wake. The Turian had made a mental note to ask Awks if her kind had some sort of defence mechanism when scared though such a thing would be news to him.
Still, dawn broke all the same and Kysar had made the most of their complementary breakfast by ordering it up to the room. Zenn was splayed out on the bed. His lack of snoring was an eerie feature of his enviro suit but the Quarian tossed and turned every now and then, displaying at least some sign of life. Munching on a dextro sausage, the Turian opened his omni-tool and began browsing the web. Ugh, he thought, a message from Primarch Invectus, what does he want this time?
Flicking the notification to the side, the Turian decided to deal with the Primarch’s nonsense at a time of his choosing.
Next was the news. Right, Batarian’s being Batarian, Human’s being Human, corporations doing what they do… oh that’s interesting, Konesh you ballsy old dog. Kysar’s eyes darted from the orange glow of his omni-tool to Zenn, then back to his wrist. Wonder how that one is going to go down. He isn’t going to haul our asses into the middle of nowhere again, right?
Moving on, the Turian raised an eyebrow at news from the Hierarchy. What was left of his old unit was being turfed out into space under the guise of “pardons”. Conditional pardons maybe. He mused, tempted to return to his messages to see if he’d been given the same raw deal. Fuck him, he can at least wait for me to finish breakfast. With a bite of his final sausage, Kysar flicked onto the last story.
Human memorial service, how sweet, I wonder if… wait, what the fuck? Kysar’s back straightened in an instant as his face closed in on the hologram. Winstrom, Vice Admiral Agnes Wistrom. Following a hyperlink, the Turian jumped to another article.
Heart attack. Survived by her only daughter, a well decorated Alliance soldier.
Sifting through a few more press releases, Kysar found a date. Oh Sol… Windhoek, I had no idea. Standing, the Turian kicked the leg of the table. You fucking idiot Kysar, how could you not know?
Tearing out of the room, the Turian bounced down the stairs dodging staff and any other early risers. Galloping up to the front desk, Kysar demanded a cab from the receptionist. “Of course Mr. Proctus, where are you headed?” Panting, he replied. “The gym, take me to the gym.”
Solveig's morning had started much like it always did. Mornings were never different. She opened her eyes in the bed that could stand to be more comfortable. She couldn’t complain, she’d slept on hard floors when it had been necessary. Something different today disturbed her routine… a smile.
A shower, lukewarm today to wash her hair, and then her hands got to work in setting the length of it into two Dutch braids - finishing up at the base of her shoulder blades. Others still slept in their beds at the hour she left the dorms, and she wondered if she’d even slept enough. She couldn’t complain, she’d taken on missions on less.
The gym was empty and cold - the equipment stark, basic, and uninviting - some of it broken even. She couldn’t complain, she was used to the cold. After a quick warm up and stretch, she made her way today to the punching bag in the corner and began punching it with her right hand swiftly, following with a low kick, before moving around the bag and doing it again. Over and over. Over and over. Her mind fell blank of thoughts, Solveig had only a sense of complete focus on the movement of her body - feeling each and every muscle as it worked. She felt the strength of her kick in the way the bag absorbed it, the sound it made. A solid and heavy thud.
Higher kicks now. Three in a row. One. Two. Higher. Three. Highest - twist. One. Two. Higher. Three. Highest - twist. Over and over. Over and over. Outside, the sun would be rising soon, but inside the time slipped away in her quiet, meditative focus. She had no idea of the news update, and no idea when Team 2 or 3 would be stirring.
The gym door creaked, echoing around the room as Kysar pushed it open. Despite practically pelting it to the gym from the lodge, the Turian had taken a moment to compose himself just outside the door. Perhaps he wasn’t willing to foot the bill for another broken door or, more likely, he didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Sol!” The entrance to the gym was on the opposite side to the punching bags. Without so much of a second thought, Kysar had called out to the woman as soon as he saw her. Idiot. So much for not sounding desperate.
Kysar’s voice immediately drew Solveig out of her focus and toward the Turian. ”Venato-uh, Kysar,” she answered, facing him, the bag swinging just so, the last of her kick’s momentum leaving it. ”You need something?”
“I-er…” Kysar stuttered, his hands wringing each other out as the Turian began to feel beads of sweat form along his forehead. Why was he so nervous? He had never shied away from conflict before. Ky could feel his heart beat in his ears, seemingly thumping with irregularity. In truth, the Turian had grown accustomed to conflict but what he didn’t realise is that he wasn’t used to caring about someone else.
“Sol… Windhoek. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
As Solveig stepped away from the equipment and toward Kysar, she paid close attention to his movements, the way his hands twisted around each other. She did that too when she was unsure or anxious. Her eyes narrowed, the silver-blue of them focused closely on her teammate and her head cocked to the side. Curious, she thought to herself. It wasn’t like him to be nervous. ”Windhoek…? You haven’t – didn’t do anything to apologise… I’m…”
She paused then. She read it in his eyes, and when she finished the word, what she’d been avoiding blew back in. How does he know? she asked herself and her eyes inadvertently narrowed further, her posture changed. ”Don’t be. Or… Thank you, but no need.” Both fists were balled, and she shook her head, turning away. ”I’m.. I’m fine. I, I trust you slept well?” she asked, changing the subject - unable to look at him.
Kysar stepped in towards Sol, tempted to stop and embrace her just as he had once before. Instead, the Turian kept moving, taking another step towards the still swinging bag. Placing a hand on it, he brought it to a stop. Opening his mouth, he croaked once more. Say it! A voice deep from within hissed, familiar in its venom. Scipio. Quit being such a coward and say it!
Gritting his teeth, the Turian’s fingers balled into a tightly wound fist. Say it! Scipio repeated. With a sharp exhale through his nose, he opened his mouth again. “I was angry with you. Angry when you left. At the time, I… I dunno, I thought I blew it off. Didn’t care about you or the Alliance but when I woke up, when Nadara found me and I saw you again, I was angry.”
”But you’re right to be angry!” Solveig said clearly, her voice raising. She rolled her shoulder back with a twitch. ”I-I left. I left.” She breathed in, wringing her own hands now, pacing. ”If only. I mean. I just. Just why? Why then? Ev-everyone gone…” She motioned between stopping and starting with her pacing. She couldn’t hate Kysar for what he’d admitted, she could only feel his sudden regret for it and that was even worse. ”If this hadn’t happened, if I was there…” Not wanting to sound like she was some big shot hero, she shrugged and shook her head. ”At least someone else might- could have saved one of them. Even one. Be… Be fucking angry Kysar...”
Solveig exhaled, looking down at the floor. She felt her voice quieten again. ”I am.”
Kysar swung the bag, following it with his fist as it drifted back and forth, giving it momentum. It was mesmerising, as if it was a metronome, something to help keep his stray thoughts at bay and the potential gaze of his friend out of his cone of vision. The Turian couldn’t bear to look at her, not yet at least. “No, Sol, I’m trying to say I was wrong to be.”
An image of fire flickered across his mind as he thought back. “I was there that day. It was Jelize over the encrypted channel, telling us to go down the alley. Then a different voice told us to drop the device. We hardly got an answer out when they activated another one hidden in a dumpster. Everyone went down except for Keslia and I…”
Kysar felt his chest tighten, rage sparked inside his heart, seeping into his lungs. His torso began to rotate back as he cocked his fist. “Her biotic barrier and my tech armour saved us but they knew what they were doing. The bastards rained molotovs down on Karnoc.” The Turian fired, his body rotating back, flinging forth his arm and striking the bag. “Keslia stepped forward to retaliate when they hit her too. Drenched her in fire.” Kysar hit the bag again with a left. “She saved my life, gave me time to activate the beacon.” Another, harder, hook from his right.
“But it was already too late. They swarmed us, dragged off Katya and Tamás before I could even take a step. I didn’t even see where Kaya went.” More punches. Left, right, left, left right. “They fired a shotgun right into Karnoc’s head.” An image of bright orange blood coated the interior of his mind. “I fell back, trying to find cover behind a gap in the fence when they hit me too. I tried. I crawled away when those humans got me. Last thing I remember is the butt of a shotgun closing in on my head.”
Shutting his eyes, the Turian hammered the bag with a flurry of punches, only stopping to catch his breath. “I was there Sol, if you were too, you’d just be another name on that wall.”
The bag moved with every punch of Kysar’s, the sound enough to turn Solveig’s head back to him, and as he spoke - not daring to interrupt, she let him go at it. Let him speak it out loud, she just listened to him and allowed his words to burn a clear image of it all in her mind. It filled out the clear space she had worked to create, a storm of blood and ash swirling against the backdrop of Havana. She made her way to his side, and then in front of him - catching the punching bag to hold it still as it swung. She held it for a while, in silence as she thought.
”If… You were angry then and aren’t now… I. I don’t care about that.” She held it tightly, gripping into its material. ”It doesn’t matter. No time to… Dwell. Matters how…” Solveig paused, closing her eyes, biting on her lip. ”Matters how we honour who we lost… Matters how we… Protect our team now.” She thought of Zenn. Then of her jumping on that violent Brute without much time for second thought of consequence. How the three of them took it down, Kysar with the killing blow. ”If I’m on that wall…” She opened her eyes again and stared across the gym. ”It’s so someone else doesn't have to be. Th-that’s my job. That’s… What I was made for…” Her arm twitched again, as if the thing was responding to her words.
Kysar sighed, unclenching his fists as his arms fell to his side. “You’re more than that, Sol.” Now standing in front of the Turian, he made sure to catch the woman’s eye. “You aren’t just a name waiting to join a memorial. You’re a friend, a comrade, a real life person with thoughts and feelings. Not just some tool for a militaristic organisation.” Kysar sighed again, rocking on his back foot.
“My point is I should’ve just talked to you about this. I should have known better or realised there was something more to you leaving when you did. I’m sorry about your mum. I know how losing a parent can change things.” Pausing for just a moment, Ky felt a sense of warmth emanate from his hand, the final touch of his dying father still lingered within him after all this time.
“So, I dunno, if you ever want to talk about it?” The Turian smiled as a small chuckle escaped him. “I know that’s not quite your strong suit but ah-” Putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, Kysar continued. “I’m here.”
Solveig looked at Kysar’s hand, and then into his eyes. She wanted to keep the box closed, pushed right back in the dark corners where it was just a quiet, constant hum and nothing else. But… She’d already made up her mind that this was someone she trusted, and more than anything else - she appreciated the patience that he and the rest of the SRN team had for her. “She was… a great Vice Admiral, soldier… Those things.” Her fingers tapped lightly against the punching bag, her tone was calm, respectful, as if she was being listened to just then. Was she? Did that matter now? “Reason that I feel… Like some tool. I… That’s, what I was - to her. All I was.”
She couldn’t believe she’d said that. Let her biggest wound open up just enough. She slowly brought a hand to her mouth, rubbing at her lip. “I wasn’t a good daughter. I was born wrong…” she stopped herself, stepping away from the bag. She felt a sting in her chest as the face of her mother came to her mind. Cold and chastising, and her eyes always looking the other way. She took a breath, a long pause as she often did - letting her words come to her without a feeling of rushing to speak. ”I’ve lived… In her shadow… All my life, Kysar. Got used to silence. To working alone... Being alone. But… I’m trying to be Solveig, again… Trying.”
Kysar grimaced. It was difficult for him to imagine what it would’ve been like to have a parent like that. What level of fucked up would he even be if that was the case?
“Impossible to be a good daughter to someone who wasn’t a good mother.” Fuck! The Turian eyes slammed shut, the thought had escaped him without a filter. “Shit, sorry, I mean that parents are people and some people fuck up. A lot.” Letting her shoulder go, Kysar kicked an imaginary rock away. “I’m sorry your mother didn’t see you for who you really were. She missed out. We do though, I mean shit, Zenn is pretty taken with you and I don’t think that would’ve happened if he didn’t see the real you.”
The Turian shrugged, smiling. “Plus, y’know, you do some of your best work in the shadows.”
It was a relief for Solveig to hear that. To feel validated, at least for something small. A small step on a long road she knew was in front of her, but a step regardless. “Thanks Kysar,” was all she said for a bit, a smile teased at the corner of her mouth when he mentioned Zenn, and she wondered if he was well. “I… appreciate it. I don’t think I’m… Really ready to talk about any more but… Maybe another day. Sink a bottle of something… Let it rip. I don’t know…”
She shrugged too, watching Kysar. “Being so quiet for so long, I’m good at listening. If you ever had something to say, to share…” She sighed again, reaching out her own arm to touch Kysar’s arm. “I’m glad you talked about Karnoc, Tamaz, Kaya, Keslia… I don’t want us to forget them, you know? Even if remembering is hard it… Means they meant something.”
Kysar nodded, although he wished there were some other way he could remember them. There was a part of him that regretted not getting to know the crew in Namibia but then again, it may have only meant their deaths would have hit him even harder. Either way, Sol was right. “I’ve got stories for days.” He chuckled. “But yeah, let's wait until we meet next over a bottle of something strong. That human vodka is probably the best thing your species has produced so far.”
“Can’t argue with that…” Solveig said, flashing a brief smile. “Let’s… Save these conversations for the bar then… And next time we’re here, get some real practice in?” She gave him a jab in the arm as she spoke, he seemed to be swimming in the memory again, she hoped it would pull him out - reaffirm she was there, in her own way.
“Punching bag is no opponent for us.” She was thankful for his time, and to him - even if she couldn’t quite express it like he’d have been able to. In her own way, she did. Her mind felt clouded with thoughts of Team 1, but she didn’t mind that they were there, she wanted to feel them. To know. To share that knowing with Kysar, he deserved to at least speak out the burden of it, didn’t he?
“I should go… Mission briefing.” With that, she began heading in the direction of the door - as she walked through it, she made sure it was completely open. “Oh and Kysar… This door is no opponent either, remember,” she added with a smirk, and then she was gone.
Kysar laughed, rubbing his throbbing arm as he considered her offer. Even her real arm still packed quite the punch but the Turian wasn’t in the business of backing down from any challenge. Following his friend out of the room, he stopped at the open entrance. Quickly, Kysar lashed out, stepping towards the door with his fist raised, only to stop an inch away. “Better watch yourself buddy, let all your door friends know you’re all on notice.” Chuckling, the Turian left the room, headed towards the briefing.
Solveig, clearly full of beans after beating down the punching bag, had scurried off ahead to the meeting. Kysar had been left in the dust and was almost at the board room when he remembered the email. Propping himself up against a wall, he opened his omni-tool.
Fuck, here we go again.
