As she reached the door to her bunk, his fingers touched lightly at the small of her back. Remi leaned close, breathing a low, hungry, desirous growl into her ear. He saw the edge of her smile. The door to her bunk slide open. The door slide closed. The corridor was empty and silent save for the gathering darkness and the whispers of the sea. He pulled the door open and followed her. As soon as he had pushed the door shut, Emily swung around and pushed him against it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself towards him. They kissed, first long and hard, then in short bursts, shuffling back towards Emily's bunk. Remi's breath smelled of the meal they'd just finished, and Emily guessed that hers did as well, but she didn't care. With everything that was happening, she needed something to silence the fear that bubbled just beyond the range of her conscious mind. She needed to stop: To stop thinking, to stop worrying. She needed to let something less rational, something more basically, instinctively human take control. She wanted Remi in that moment, yes - but more than that, she was grateful for what felt like both a relief and a release.
He pulled back from her for a moment, wanting to get a good look at her face. Naked animalistic hunger played in the moonlight that reflected off of his eyes. He grinned at her. Grabbing her behind her thighs he hoisted her onto his torso, wrapping her legs around him. Her weight secure, he traced his fingers up her spine and back. Breathing and kissing and biting at her neck as he carried them over to the bed. There was an uncharacteristic strength to him tonight. An almost desperate surge of fire and fervor for the act. Never before had she seen this in him. Felt this in him. It always felt good; that was why they kept doing this. But tonight was something unfamiliar. He was moving powerfully, maneuvering her towards the bed, but it wasn't just that. There was something powerful about how it felt, too, at least to her.
A thin, scared place in the back of her mind wanted to stop and think about what the difference meant, but his hands roaming her body shut it off. He lay her on the bed, and she kissed his neck, smiling. He had the cutest reaction when she smiled.
"If cooking turns you on this much," she said, breathing heavy, "how come we've never tried it before?"
Remi growled again, almost as if annoyed that she was interrupting their activity. He leaned low as he worked the buttons on his shirt.
"Not cooking. You." Not his best line, but it came out well. Sitting up, he worked his shirt off of his shoulders. His body was lean and strong, a perk of being a conditioned soldier, powerful whipcord muscle that coiled under his skin. Her fingers clawed their way down his abdominals, tracing their way to his belt. She unfastened it easily. They grinned at each other again. Emily felt like they were kids, relishing some shared act of defiance, breaking some secret taboo. Remi ran his hands up her sides, catching the edge of her tank top, slowly peeling it from her body.
Emily didn't think very much in the moments that followed, but later, when she looked back, she was almost shocked at how right it felt. She had always told herself she'd avoid getting involved in cliches, in relationships that followed the patterns so many people repeated over and over. Soldiers having one last fling before a battle. That alone must have been so common. There had to be books on it or stories about it from every war ever fought, but even knowing that, the encounter that night would always stand out against the background, especially against the others.
Eventually, once it was over, Emily would realize why: She had been thinking entirely on herself, and on Remi. Everything else was a non-concern. What was more, she didn't have any fear about doing that - there was that feeling of rightness, again. It wasn't the kind of focus you got when you needed to ace a test, or even when you were fighting, as she had been on the road just hours earlier, it was something freer. Maybe focus wasn't even the right word; Emily was never sure. What she realized, eventually, in the days after it had all come and gone, was that it was the first time since she was a child that she hadn't felt insignificant against the backdrop of reality. It was the first time in a very long time that she hadn't felt small.
Flashback - The Academy, Eight Months Ago Hosting parties wasn't exactly Emily's wheelhouse, but somebody in their group did it every year, had done it every year for ages, and it was her turn. She acquiesced, reluctantly, on the condition that she had help: Somebody to help with the decorations, somebody to clean up afterwards, and of course, somebody to supply the alcohol. It had all worked out pretty well, actually. There wasn't really a theme, or a dress code, or anything like that, but there was food and drink and music and people dancing. It was everything she could have hoped for, low as her self-expectations had been. She had decided it was just warm enough to hold it outside; it was just far enough into fall for the leaves to be changing, but not so far that it was frigid yet.
Still, she was chilly in her green, short-sleeved dress. It was collared, with buttons running down the front, and she'd left the first couple undone. When the cool air on her skin started to get a little irritating, she drank more so the inner warmth of the liquor would mask it. By the end of the night, she had gone beyond buzzed and was firmly planted in relaxing, laid-back tipsiness. She even started to regret that she hadn't done more drinking, or more dancing, but she was still pleased with herself that the whole thing had been a relative success. Even Roy and Thael, who she was sure preferred more extravagant affairs, seemed to have had a good time.
But all such ventures, those that ended in success and those that end in failure, indeed come to an end. One by one the conversations began to wind down, punctuated by an ever-increasing series of yawns. The last record to be put in had repeated for one too many times and there was no one left with the initiative or capacity to change it. First in trickles and then in waves the guests began to depart. Hugs were shared, sloppy in execution, but sharp in affection, and tomorrows' realities finally started to come into focus. At the end, though, she found herself in her apartment, alone save for the company of the myriad detritus of the evening. Most of the liquor had been left behind, and she decided that meant it was hers - so she drank (not too much, she thought, but then, it was hard to tell) while she cleaned up. She moved to begin clean-up, knowing that the fugue she was in now was nothing compared to the hangover to come.
Deciding to start with the deck, Emily stepped out to the back porch. Taking a moment to drink in the early morning air she breathed deep and sighed. There was a yawn - not hers. The sound gave her a small start; she looked around for its source. Remi sat on one of the communal benches. No, sat wasn't the right word. Remi lounged on it. This was in itself a strange sight. Remiel Morgenstern didn't lounge. Lounging required a certain fluidity of natural mien that the man just didn't possess. Though, judging by the bottles at his feet, Remi was most certainly not in his natural mien. His eyes were closed and something approaching a smile played on his face. It would be hard to imagine a person looking ore comfortable and calm than Remi in that moment. As if sensing his observer Remi's eyes slowly opened and he turned to look at Emily. The smile on his face realized.
"Hey there, Emi-bear," he said. His speech was only slightly slurred.
"Emi-bear..." She said. She giggled a little. That was a new one.
She walked over and sat down at the far end of the bench, near his outstretched feet. "Are you comfy there?"
He just continued to smile at her. "Yeah, 'cause you're...did you know that pandas are bears?"
"Do I remind you of a panda?" She said. That one she'd heard before. "Pandas are fat."
Remi shrugged noncommittally. "I like pandas. Red pandas're not bears though." He frown, thinking seriously. "Neither are koalas."
"What are koalas?" Emily said. "They're not marsupials, like, kangaroos and stuff. They're... I dunno." She giggled again.
"Anyway, don't change the subject. Why do I remind you of a panda bear?"
Remi thought seriously for a moment again. "I dunno. They're all monochromatic'n cute...yer all monochromatic and cute. But not like a panda though...I mean, you're cute, just not the same kind of-," his frown got worse. "bear rhymes with there."
"Not your best save, Remiel," Emily said. She took his hands and pulled him up to a sitting position. "Did you get to dance with anyone tonight?"
"Oh I don't dance. Kat said so. Everybody was dancing and someone said I should dance, but I don't do that. Apparently not my fortez...forte...speciality." He stretched his back and sighed, contentedly, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.
"Yeah, me neither," she said. She leaned a little on his shoulder. "That's what people always say. It's just not my thing, I guess. I'm better at more... violent... movements. But I mean, I haven't tried to dance in a long time, so, I dunno."
Abruptly Remi lurched to his feet, his face a mask of fiery determination. "Well you know what. That ain't so. You know what I say. People can talk all they want, you know what I think we should do?" His feet inadvertently kicked over the bottles on the ground, Remi swayed as he tried to focus his straying perceptions on the new stimuli. The frown returned as he looked at his feet. Different. More solemn. Remi cleared his throat. "I think I should help you clean up." Remi's demeanor crystalized a bit, his movement much more measured as he bent to picked up the bottles.
"I can't agree, Remiel," Emily said. "I have a difference of opinion."
Remi continued to collect the bottles without looking up.
"I think you should forget those, and dance with me."
Remi paused. Frozen in place for a moment, trying to work something out in his head. Some calculation of monumental importance seemed to be going on behind his furrowed brow. Finally, he sighed, put down the bottles, and stood.
"One moment," he disappeared into the apartment.
The music stopped. A beat. Another. Then Remi returned. He paused in the doorway for a moment, clearing his throat. His movements were once again characterized by poise and precision. He walked back towards the bench and extended Emily his hand. She smiled at him, and took it, pulling herself up and into his arms.
"What kind of dances do you like?" She asked.
Remi smiled wryly and pulled her close. "I told you, I don't dance." Placing his hands gentle at her hips they swayed softly to a nonexistent rhythm. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and sighed. She could not see the worried expression on his face. He sighed again and moved with her, and for a moment, just a moment, enjoyed the synchronicity they shared. Emily leaned in, pressing herself up against him. Her body was warm, and she smelled nice. He wasn't sure what the scent was, but it was something between vanilla and lavender. They stood there for several minutes, moving gently around in little circles. It was slow dancing, though it would have looked a bit clumsy and awkward, if anybody had seen them - or if they had cared.
"Dancing is just... swaying," she said. "Like a hug where you move. What could be easier?"
Remi chuckled a little. "I have always heard people compare so many things to dancing. Sailing. A duel between two skilled combatants. But no one has ever told me what dancing is supposed to be like." He hummed thoughtfully. "Whatever it is...it's nice."
"I think maybe it's one of those things that's better when you just do it," Emily said. "Not a lot of nice things like that... but I can think of some."
Remi laughed again, a little mellifluous and a little forced. "I'm sure you could." The silence that followed was a little more filled. Expectation. Possibility. Remi looked worried again. The tension built. He could feel the nonexistent music reaching some sort of crescendo. He pulled away from Emily. Stepping back he turned his gaze downwards. "Thanks, uh, thank for that...that was nice. I should really be going though. I think I have- I know I have a field exam tomorrow." He shuffled his feet, whatever rhythm there was, was gone. "I'll help clean up."
Snatching the bottle from the ground with startling speed Remi withdrew into the dorm. He placed them on the table by the couch and started organizing the rest of the bottles and cans. Emily looked down, watching him. She didn't understand why didn't want-- whatever they had been about to do. Was it her? She frowned. She hadn't dated anyone since sophomore year; there had been no time. She hadn't really even thought about it. But now, she felt convinced she had to do something; she had to salvage this. It felt important, for reasons that seemed perfectly clear, even if they existed only in her drunken mind. Emily was nothing if not determined.
She gently hooked a hand under his arm as he passed by, making him turn to face her. "What're you afraid of, Remiel?" She said.
Her words didn't seem to register to Remiel. But her touch did. Perhaps the tension from earlier had not slackened with his retreat. Perhaps the alcohol had just clouded his mind to the point of incomprehension. Perhaps it had been too long since he had really felt contact from another human being that wasn't in a sparring match. Perhaps too much of his life had been fear and violence. Whatever the reason, without thinking Remi responded to her touch as if under attack. Grabbing her wrist he spen her around, hooking his own limbs at the fulcrums of her body he flipped her onto the couch. Moving close he pinned her wrists above her head and positioned his legs between hers to prevent retributive striking. There faces were close, his expression showed his mind slowly catching up with his actions. The pall of battle still clear in his eyes, a hundred stratagems flashing through his sobering and sideways thoughts.
Emily looked shocked for a moment... but then she smiled, laughed, and kissed him.
Neither of them really remembered how it started, or why. They didn't tell their friends; they rarely spoke about it afterwards - but what happened that night happened again a few nights later, and again after that, and even though it kept happening, it was months before they really talked about it.
Norton City + Battle II This whole thing was impossible, Emily realized. There was no way for a small team to save this city. They needed a full-on invasion force, they needed guns, artillery, air support, ground support... but they had none of that. But she was a soldier, they were all soldiers, and soldiers did what had to be done. If that meant gaining access to occupied territory and killing anything in the way of the objective, even a whole opposing army, that was what they would do. They were the best; they had practiced for this. Emily knew that, she believed that.
But amidst all the chaos, she wasn't sure it was going to matter in the slightest.
She glanced at Roy and jerked her head in the direction of a row of low buildings behind where the Storm Guard had emerged. The meaning was clear - she was going to flank them and come from behind.
"Do what I do," she said to him, her voice low. "Go for their guns."
The ground beneath her warped, and she fell for a second, tumbling out of an upright wall on the far side of what was now a battlefield. She manged to land softly, despite the portal shooting her out in an unusual direction, and reorient herself fairly quickly. Roy followed with his rapier drawn, diving through his own portal and rolling out beside her. Without looking, she whipped out her batons and snapped them together to form her staff. She never took her eyes from the uniformed men. Their armor was imposing, but of course Nautilus was better armed and better prepared than they were. Not having to deal with a world full of insane creatures sapping your resources on a daily basis tended to allow that.
Emily broke into a run, sprinting towards the nearest soldier. He wasn't paying her any notice; too busy firing towards the location where the WARG operatives had emerged. The downside, Emily thought, to better and more resources was that you spent less on training... and when you do that, run your foot-soldier up against a relatively poorly equipped elite unit, and your resources became their resources. Emily felt her spirits whirring around her, whispering, protecting her, preparing themselves. Nautilus might not realize its mistakes, but this man was about to.
The SG soldier slid to a halt, staring down at his gun. It had begun to writhe and convulse in his hands. It transformed in seconds into a terrifying worm, or maybe a snake, a slimy creature rife with mouths and teeth and tiny, budding limbs where the magazine and stock ought to have been. He stopped advancing, though his fellow soldiers kept moving forward. He didn't drop the gun - most people didn't know how to react to that level of fear - but Emily stepped up behind him and deftly slid her bo across the front of his neck. She pulled it in, crushing his windpipe, and simultaneously kicked out his right leg. He collapsed onto his knees, sputtering and choking. The gun clattered to the ground in front of him. She released her hold, the bo in her left hand, and grabbed the gun with her right. It was heavy, too heavy to aim properly with only one hand, but she managed to get two shots off - one into his chest, probably absorbed by his armor, but one in his head.
She hoisted the bo onto her back. It clattered into place against her shoulderblades, falling neatly into the open sheathe she wore slung across her chest for just such a purpose. She brought up her now free left hand and took a firm grip on the gun, and began firing into the opposing force from behind.
Crouched low, Roy watched Emily dispatch the first soldier quickly before turning onto the others. He had a faint idea of what to do next, but left most up to improvisation. Spontaneity was a strength of his.
Roy fell through another portal, popping in the midst of the soldiers the moment Emily began her suppression fire. Spinning low, he swept the nearest trooper off his feet before he could react to Emily's attack. Roy brought his foot down, locking the hand that held still gripped the gun between his legs and squeezing. The gun shot just above him, the recoil slamming the top into his chest before the man finally released at the crack of his shoulder. Tumbling back, Roy dropped his rapier to grab the gun and spun around to meet the next soldier, ramming the butt of the gun into the lady's helmet.
Another portal materialized just behind him, giving him a split second to blindly fire and retrieve his sword before flying through and sliding not too far away. He had ample cover there, finding himself a few meters away from Emily. With a raised hand, Roy called to her, signaling her to keep up the firing whilst the ground beneath him began to shake. She darted over to him to take cover, firing as she did so.
His spirits coalesced around him, in bright shimmering lights before darting downward at his call. The tremors rumbled forth, spraying small chunks of rocks in the air as they snaked across the battlefield. They circled around the remaining soldiers, bursting from the ground in anticipation before finally erupting and barreling forward. The ground beneath the Nautilus soldier's feet shook violently, the earth splitting erratically between them. The magnitude increased the longer it lasted and though their boots stabilized their bodies enough to keep them upright, it did nothing for their aim as bullets flew erratically through the air. It was a good enough distraction, but it wouldn't last much longer.
"Gave you an opening, Millie," Roy said with a large smile, "Get creative!"
Emily uses Alien Geometries to flank the oncoming SG and approach them from behind. She uses Crawling Chaos to disarm Storm Guard Alpha, then strangles him, takes his gun and shoots him. She opens fire on the rest as a distraction to allow Roy to attack. Roy disables two soldiers, Gamma and Delta in hand-to-hand combat before taking cover. Emily takes cover and continues to fire as Roy uses his Earthquake ability to attack and disorient the soldiers, and applies fatigue to remaining soldiers.
JJ Doe