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I appreciate the poke, pings keep me honest.
Lictor was adjusting the settings of his tactical HUD into a comfortable opacity in the final moments before the disembarkation. It was a familiar and comforting adjustment. One that brought him forth from the fog of memory. Younger hands and younger eyes faded from his senses until his weathered and gloved hands were all that was left to his mind. The same motion, smooth after thousands of identical moments of practice. The act was pure muscle memory, but in this moment he allowed the act to be deliberate and to center him for what was to come. In the same breath he completed the adjustment to perfection, his pistol seemed to rise from its holster and into his hand before rational thought could notice. His hands did not tremble or waver as the sidearm held its lethal trajectory towards Dombay's head. Lictor's finger was not on the trigger. He did not speak. His aura had shifted subtly in the span of that single breath. The sudden presence had triggered something deep within the veteran warrior. For that briefest of moments, a cataclysmic weight had shifted in the universe and driven Lictor's body into action.
His hand relaxed, the pistol deftly flipping in his palm as he returned it to its holster.
"Fucking hell, stardust, take the stairs like the rest of us. Save your energy for this fight. I don't want to be carrying your head back to the Dawn for rejuvenation."
Lictor may be a White Dwarf, but his reflexes were still as lethal as ever. He shifted atop the mech and took a knee. The bay doors opened. Orders came through. It was time to kill. He toggled the safety on his rifle. He touched a hand over the strap of Carnifex's scabbard.
His voice rang through the shortwave communications with a rumbling authority after Antares' speech;
"They're a-comin'. Kill them all."
From atop Kyra's steeled vantage, Lictor knelt and surveyed the battlefield. A lot was already happening at once, and he naturally maintained his perch with the incredible speeds the rookie pilot was sustaining. Eight-Ball was on a rampage, and whilst the laughter coming through the shortwave was less than ideal he could see the burst of practical effectiveness the young man was putting on display. A clean swathe had been blown open towards the Bishop, and the girl was moving like a homing missile towards the Spearman currently acting as a battering ram through the front line. Lictor shifted focus to the HUD and the display of area mapping overlayed with friend-or-foe designation pings. Dombay was on the move, and Zhegiang was in the vicinity. Three rookies to the brazen spearman. Lictor shifted and slammed a fist atop the cockpit to get Kyra's attention. His blow reverberated through the machine to physically thrum against her flesh.
"Detour to flank. Get me to that Spearman."
He pinged the location on his HUD and shared the destination to her control rig.
"I want to be back to the front with those kids before they get themselves killed, Newman, so give it some ass. This is the tip of the spear."
The mech lurched, and Lictor rolled with the movement this time. He fell back off the head of the machine and fell down its back, reaching out with a single hand and onto the back of the waist. He swung on his arm and mounted the hip as Kyra sent the machine into its altered course, rifle rising into his hands as he braced back against the metal. Another step, and the optimized machine fell into its blistering stride. Comms chatter echoed in his ears as wind tore at his exposed flesh. Acidic ichor tang filled the air as Aberrant and Human blood mingled in the diminishing atmosphere. Plasmic discharge singed ozone as an Abberant battery cascaded into an adjacent combat sector. Gunsmoke overwhelmed all else.
The gun felt light in his hands. The rumbling of the machine's indescribable stride harmonized with his own braced form. Carnifex was warm on his back, even through the scabbard. He thumbed the fire selector into semi-automatic. Kyra's next mechanized footfall carried them over a tide of Legionnaires. Lictor surged into action.
A sickening squelch of ichor plastered itself across the battlefield as Kyra took a very direct path across the battle line towards the disrupted flank. Those Abberants that did not become mere splatters of flesh underfoot clung to the sides of the mechs legs and began to try and inefficiently gnaw into the armored plating on the legs. A few began to scale up the mech even as the wind tore at their flesh. Those were the first to die.
Lictor leaned over the left leg from his position at the hip, and as its footfall struck the ground he fired two pinpoint shots. The first struck the highest Legionnaire square in a barbed foreleg joint, snapping its grip free mid-climb. This made its maw widen in a scream of rage; the second rifle round went through the roof of its mouth. As its body went limp and tumbled from the mech, Lictor shifted aim and fired a methodical stream of high velocity rounds down the left leg until the Legionnaires that steadily clambered onto the mech's limbs every few steps grew wise to the lethal precipitation. Pressure mounted at Lictor's back. He stopped firing and ducked without looking.
A scything limb struck where he had stood just a moment before- yet his avoidance was languid and relaxed. His duck lead to the release of the rifle, allowing it to fall in its sling against his chest. The next moment he surged upwards with a punch that cracked through carapace and left a viscous detonation in its wake. His momentum did not stop. He followed through with his punch and threw the Legionnaire from the mech and far to the ground below. The next breath he was grasping onto the ladder at the base of the spine and swinging himself around the waist of the machine to the right leg, where the impact of his kick rocketed the next Abberant to scale over the machine's armored legs flying into the horde below. He took the situation in at a glance. His HUD revealed that his desire for speed was being met; Kyra's brazen path across the horde was faster than he had even anticipated. It just meant he was having to get his hands dirty. Another footfall hit the ground. Another few abberants began the climb. More bodies fell from the mech in fruitless endeavors of bestial madness...
Kyra leapt, clearing the last few hundred meters to come hurtling like a meteor through the wall of Abberant corpses on the left flank. Lictor braced for the impact by gripping onto the ladder on the spine and letting his rifle fall limp in its strap. A mist of ichor exploded into existence, painting Kyra's machine a new hue of blood-gunmetal as she stuck the landing and skidded across the oncoming wave of flanking monstrosities. Lictor's visor kept his eyes clear. Discipline kept his mouth shut. Instinct drew him forth towards his foe. This lapse of speed, the skidding, trench-digging, impact of the mech's feet into the ground served as Lictor's dismount.
He dropped into the bloodmist even as Kyra regained her pace. She was free of her taxi duty for sixty seconds. The fall from the mech's waist was long enough for Kyra to already be several paces away before Lictor hit the ground. He fell into a crouch, eyes piercing through the bloodied visor as he pulled the strap of Carnifex and loosened the blade on his shoulder. The weapon slid down his arm where he caught it in his hand, holding the scabbard below the hilt. He rose to his feet and spat onto the ground, Aberrant ichor mixed into his spittle. The mist was settling as the Abberant surge regained its footing.
"Check fire. Lictor on site. Keep fire wide of the breach." He barked into the shortwave communications to the nearby soldiers. "Bishop sighted. Execution in progress."
His visor flared, sighting the telltale warnings of a--
Carnifex glowed as he drew it forth from its scabbard. The partial draw cleared enough of the protective material to reveal two feet of the wide, flat, blade which he raised defensively before his body. The laser struck the flat of the blade squarely. Lictor felt the surge of power radiate into him through the blade. Carnifex cleared the scabbard in full. Lictor pulled the scabbard back up onto his shoulder and tightened the strap as he held the now-bared blade in hand. The mist cleared at last. The tide of Abberants was already nearly upon him-- and his prey was surging with it. Lictor planted his feet and whirled Carnifex in hand.
The first swing arced through the air. With it, Lictor expelled the radiation he channeled. A bright light emanated from Carnifex, the blade itself growing dull as this liquid mono-cord of energy flowed from its edge. The arc radiated out from Lictor, following the sword's swing, into a widening semi-circle of death. It was as if the air were a pond, and Lictor a stone cast into it; the ripple of energy eviscerating the Legionnaires directly before him. The Bishop's barrier held. Lictor's next swing, blade now dull, was to deflect the tip of the spear.
The blow would have pierced through a mech's armor or a bunker's shell- but it did not land where the Spearman intended. What appeared to be an almost lazy circling ward with Carnifex caught the spear just behind the head of its lethal point and smashed the Spearman's aim skyward. The point passed over Lictor's shoulder and buried itself deep into the earth just behind the immobile man. His blade halted against the spearhaft, and his left hand rose to half-sword the wide blade as the Bishop was trapped in this precious moment of inertia. He could feel the strength of the Bishop trying to wrench the spear down and crush him- but he rose against it. His slice followed the spearhaft, Carnifex's edge burning into a glorious blaze as he wrenched forth. Carnifex met the barrier and demolished it, its fiery arc honing the sword to a razor's edge.
The Bishop's spear-arm was split in twain down the length of its forearm where it severed completely at the elbow. The bishop leapt back as Lictor followed through on his slice, the half-sword maneuver whirling into a scything blow as his hand fell back to pair with the other on the hilt of Carnifex. The initial arc missed and the Bishop leapt over Lictor to reclaim its spear- but Lictor planted his foot in an earth-trembling stomp and halted his whirling slash, immediately turning to swing the blade vertically upwards as the Bishop landed with its remaining arm grasping the spearhaft. It pulled its weapon free at the precise moment the foremost six inches of Carnifex carved vertically along its spine from hip to neck at a slight angle. The Bishop collapsed forward. The golden arc behind Lictor faded after these precious few seconds of cleared space.
He stepped forward onto the Bishop's back, stomping down onto its exposed and severed spinal column as the monstrosity still tried to rise despite the complete failure of its body. Carnifex rose aloft-- the dulled blade already beginning to glow again from within. Carnifex fell in a blazing arc. The bishop was split fully in two, its horrible symmetry besmirched only by the devastation of its right arm. Lictor took six paces forward. Each step brought the scabbard down off his shoulder, cleaned the blade on its shroud, then returned it to its secure housing within its leaden home. Each step brought the tide of Abberants through the breach in the flank closer to his position. Each step brought the thunder of Kyra's mech closer.
She only had to slow down slightly for Lictor to leap upwards and catch himself on the hip of the Mech.
"Rejoin the front." He barked to Kyra as he braced to reload his rifle.
His hand relaxed, the pistol deftly flipping in his palm as he returned it to its holster.
"Fucking hell, stardust, take the stairs like the rest of us. Save your energy for this fight. I don't want to be carrying your head back to the Dawn for rejuvenation."
Lictor may be a White Dwarf, but his reflexes were still as lethal as ever. He shifted atop the mech and took a knee. The bay doors opened. Orders came through. It was time to kill. He toggled the safety on his rifle. He touched a hand over the strap of Carnifex's scabbard.
His voice rang through the shortwave communications with a rumbling authority after Antares' speech;
"They're a-comin'. Kill them all."
From atop Kyra's steeled vantage, Lictor knelt and surveyed the battlefield. A lot was already happening at once, and he naturally maintained his perch with the incredible speeds the rookie pilot was sustaining. Eight-Ball was on a rampage, and whilst the laughter coming through the shortwave was less than ideal he could see the burst of practical effectiveness the young man was putting on display. A clean swathe had been blown open towards the Bishop, and the girl was moving like a homing missile towards the Spearman currently acting as a battering ram through the front line. Lictor shifted focus to the HUD and the display of area mapping overlayed with friend-or-foe designation pings. Dombay was on the move, and Zhegiang was in the vicinity. Three rookies to the brazen spearman. Lictor shifted and slammed a fist atop the cockpit to get Kyra's attention. His blow reverberated through the machine to physically thrum against her flesh.
"Detour to flank. Get me to that Spearman."
He pinged the location on his HUD and shared the destination to her control rig.
"I want to be back to the front with those kids before they get themselves killed, Newman, so give it some ass. This is the tip of the spear."
The mech lurched, and Lictor rolled with the movement this time. He fell back off the head of the machine and fell down its back, reaching out with a single hand and onto the back of the waist. He swung on his arm and mounted the hip as Kyra sent the machine into its altered course, rifle rising into his hands as he braced back against the metal. Another step, and the optimized machine fell into its blistering stride. Comms chatter echoed in his ears as wind tore at his exposed flesh. Acidic ichor tang filled the air as Aberrant and Human blood mingled in the diminishing atmosphere. Plasmic discharge singed ozone as an Abberant battery cascaded into an adjacent combat sector. Gunsmoke overwhelmed all else.
The gun felt light in his hands. The rumbling of the machine's indescribable stride harmonized with his own braced form. Carnifex was warm on his back, even through the scabbard. He thumbed the fire selector into semi-automatic. Kyra's next mechanized footfall carried them over a tide of Legionnaires. Lictor surged into action.
A sickening squelch of ichor plastered itself across the battlefield as Kyra took a very direct path across the battle line towards the disrupted flank. Those Abberants that did not become mere splatters of flesh underfoot clung to the sides of the mechs legs and began to try and inefficiently gnaw into the armored plating on the legs. A few began to scale up the mech even as the wind tore at their flesh. Those were the first to die.
Lictor leaned over the left leg from his position at the hip, and as its footfall struck the ground he fired two pinpoint shots. The first struck the highest Legionnaire square in a barbed foreleg joint, snapping its grip free mid-climb. This made its maw widen in a scream of rage; the second rifle round went through the roof of its mouth. As its body went limp and tumbled from the mech, Lictor shifted aim and fired a methodical stream of high velocity rounds down the left leg until the Legionnaires that steadily clambered onto the mech's limbs every few steps grew wise to the lethal precipitation. Pressure mounted at Lictor's back. He stopped firing and ducked without looking.
A scything limb struck where he had stood just a moment before- yet his avoidance was languid and relaxed. His duck lead to the release of the rifle, allowing it to fall in its sling against his chest. The next moment he surged upwards with a punch that cracked through carapace and left a viscous detonation in its wake. His momentum did not stop. He followed through with his punch and threw the Legionnaire from the mech and far to the ground below. The next breath he was grasping onto the ladder at the base of the spine and swinging himself around the waist of the machine to the right leg, where the impact of his kick rocketed the next Abberant to scale over the machine's armored legs flying into the horde below. He took the situation in at a glance. His HUD revealed that his desire for speed was being met; Kyra's brazen path across the horde was faster than he had even anticipated. It just meant he was having to get his hands dirty. Another footfall hit the ground. Another few abberants began the climb. More bodies fell from the mech in fruitless endeavors of bestial madness...
Kyra leapt, clearing the last few hundred meters to come hurtling like a meteor through the wall of Abberant corpses on the left flank. Lictor braced for the impact by gripping onto the ladder on the spine and letting his rifle fall limp in its strap. A mist of ichor exploded into existence, painting Kyra's machine a new hue of blood-gunmetal as she stuck the landing and skidded across the oncoming wave of flanking monstrosities. Lictor's visor kept his eyes clear. Discipline kept his mouth shut. Instinct drew him forth towards his foe. This lapse of speed, the skidding, trench-digging, impact of the mech's feet into the ground served as Lictor's dismount.
He dropped into the bloodmist even as Kyra regained her pace. She was free of her taxi duty for sixty seconds. The fall from the mech's waist was long enough for Kyra to already be several paces away before Lictor hit the ground. He fell into a crouch, eyes piercing through the bloodied visor as he pulled the strap of Carnifex and loosened the blade on his shoulder. The weapon slid down his arm where he caught it in his hand, holding the scabbard below the hilt. He rose to his feet and spat onto the ground, Aberrant ichor mixed into his spittle. The mist was settling as the Abberant surge regained its footing.
"Check fire. Lictor on site. Keep fire wide of the breach." He barked into the shortwave communications to the nearby soldiers. "Bishop sighted. Execution in progress."
His visor flared, sighting the telltale warnings of a--
Carnifex glowed as he drew it forth from its scabbard. The partial draw cleared enough of the protective material to reveal two feet of the wide, flat, blade which he raised defensively before his body. The laser struck the flat of the blade squarely. Lictor felt the surge of power radiate into him through the blade. Carnifex cleared the scabbard in full. Lictor pulled the scabbard back up onto his shoulder and tightened the strap as he held the now-bared blade in hand. The mist cleared at last. The tide of Abberants was already nearly upon him-- and his prey was surging with it. Lictor planted his feet and whirled Carnifex in hand.
The first swing arced through the air. With it, Lictor expelled the radiation he channeled. A bright light emanated from Carnifex, the blade itself growing dull as this liquid mono-cord of energy flowed from its edge. The arc radiated out from Lictor, following the sword's swing, into a widening semi-circle of death. It was as if the air were a pond, and Lictor a stone cast into it; the ripple of energy eviscerating the Legionnaires directly before him. The Bishop's barrier held. Lictor's next swing, blade now dull, was to deflect the tip of the spear.
The blow would have pierced through a mech's armor or a bunker's shell- but it did not land where the Spearman intended. What appeared to be an almost lazy circling ward with Carnifex caught the spear just behind the head of its lethal point and smashed the Spearman's aim skyward. The point passed over Lictor's shoulder and buried itself deep into the earth just behind the immobile man. His blade halted against the spearhaft, and his left hand rose to half-sword the wide blade as the Bishop was trapped in this precious moment of inertia. He could feel the strength of the Bishop trying to wrench the spear down and crush him- but he rose against it. His slice followed the spearhaft, Carnifex's edge burning into a glorious blaze as he wrenched forth. Carnifex met the barrier and demolished it, its fiery arc honing the sword to a razor's edge.
The Bishop's spear-arm was split in twain down the length of its forearm where it severed completely at the elbow. The bishop leapt back as Lictor followed through on his slice, the half-sword maneuver whirling into a scything blow as his hand fell back to pair with the other on the hilt of Carnifex. The initial arc missed and the Bishop leapt over Lictor to reclaim its spear- but Lictor planted his foot in an earth-trembling stomp and halted his whirling slash, immediately turning to swing the blade vertically upwards as the Bishop landed with its remaining arm grasping the spearhaft. It pulled its weapon free at the precise moment the foremost six inches of Carnifex carved vertically along its spine from hip to neck at a slight angle. The Bishop collapsed forward. The golden arc behind Lictor faded after these precious few seconds of cleared space.
He stepped forward onto the Bishop's back, stomping down onto its exposed and severed spinal column as the monstrosity still tried to rise despite the complete failure of its body. Carnifex rose aloft-- the dulled blade already beginning to glow again from within. Carnifex fell in a blazing arc. The bishop was split fully in two, its horrible symmetry besmirched only by the devastation of its right arm. Lictor took six paces forward. Each step brought the scabbard down off his shoulder, cleaned the blade on its shroud, then returned it to its secure housing within its leaden home. Each step brought the tide of Abberants through the breach in the flank closer to his position. Each step brought the thunder of Kyra's mech closer.
She only had to slow down slightly for Lictor to leap upwards and catch himself on the hip of the Mech.
"Rejoin the front." He barked to Kyra as he braced to reload his rifle.
I finally reopened my books tonight, knocking some of my dust off. gonna try and get the cogs spinning soon.
the general rule of thumb for 5e, to explain it really short hand, is 'meets it beats it'; if you're using Passives, AC, or DC's, those are target numbers to meet=beat. 5e has very rare contested roll scenarios. Even in a situation where someone is Actively Perceiving (using their Action to do the Skill Check), I personally hold onto the stealth checks made as a DC in the opposite direction.
The way I handle it is thus;
Passive perception 12
Roll stealth: 16 - I am sneaking past this person, until I do something to cause them to become wary or alerted.
They roll Perception 'actively'; aiming to 'meet or beat' my 16 stealth.
Some GMs like to do a 'contested' roll, which is less used in 5e than other systems or editions, where 'ah, they're looking for you now, REroll stealth' and they roll the perception. I prefer my way because it keeps the 'DC's clean and clear, and doesn't get messy with 'who wins ties in a contested roll'. Most MONSTERS who do things like Grapple, Restrain, etc, have a DC associated with it rather than the semi-awkward contested roll mechanic used by PLAYERS when they grapple.
The way I handle it is thus;
Passive perception 12
Roll stealth: 16 - I am sneaking past this person, until I do something to cause them to become wary or alerted.
They roll Perception 'actively'; aiming to 'meet or beat' my 16 stealth.
Some GMs like to do a 'contested' roll, which is less used in 5e than other systems or editions, where 'ah, they're looking for you now, REroll stealth' and they roll the perception. I prefer my way because it keeps the 'DC's clean and clear, and doesn't get messy with 'who wins ties in a contested roll'. Most MONSTERS who do things like Grapple, Restrain, etc, have a DC associated with it rather than the semi-awkward contested roll mechanic used by PLAYERS when they grapple.
Apologies. My workplace and mental state can be described as ‘contemplating becoming a serial killer as a means of achieving catharsis’. Comedy aside, not a good week for my brain due to work tomfoolery. This is on my mind just haven’t had a chance to put fingers to work. Not ghosting y’all just tired lol.
And by YONDER WEEKEND I mean TOMORROW. Huzzah! Every obligation under the sun struck and I squared away all my other hobby tasks besides this particular thread, so this is top priority going into Monday.
Lictor rose to his feet with the declaration of their swiftly approaching arrival. The subtle shifts of atmospheric pressure and engine thrust trembled through the airbus and into his feet. He rolled his neck, tapped his visor, then toggled the shortband feed of his radio transceiver with the same hand. Carnifex's slow lilt was caught by his other hand. Carnifex was lifted up, the scabbard's strap loosely pulled over one shoulder. The buckle was tightened, the long blade situated vertically down Lictor's back. He rested an arm on the rifle slung to his chest, loosely holding it with nary a finger on the trigger, as he turned and walked slowly along Aissi's trajectory towards the hangar doors. It was a languid pace, a comfortable one. A mosey, with purpose. He did not speak up to anyone in passing, but his nods and directed gazes were weighted. A nod to Howser. A lingering glance on Zhejiang. That flicker of familiarity at Alto.
His steps came to a natural conclusion by Kyra's mech as the woman scrambled into her machine. He cast his voice in a bark up to her;
"Keep cool. You're one of the best, yeah?" He prompted Kyra, clearly not expecting an answer. His eyes did not even rise to meet her, as his gaze focused through the HUD of his visor and observed Aissi's spreading wings and the display of her exotic stature. "I'll be up top. I'll keep your ankles clear. Don't worry about me falling off. Don't worry about anything besides keeping up speed. You've got three jobs."
He lifted his hand off the rifle to count the orders he had for her up his hand;
"Keep up with the winged girl." Pinky finger.
"Get me to any Bishops that show up." Ring finger.
"Don't fuckin' die. If things get to be too much and you can't get in contact with me then link up with Howser. That Grizzly is your best bet at not eating shit out there." Middle finger.
"We good, Newman?" He finally looked up at her. His barking voice, while firm, was not harsh. When she finally answered, he would effortlessly scale the mech and take a position atop it.
His steps came to a natural conclusion by Kyra's mech as the woman scrambled into her machine. He cast his voice in a bark up to her;
"Keep cool. You're one of the best, yeah?" He prompted Kyra, clearly not expecting an answer. His eyes did not even rise to meet her, as his gaze focused through the HUD of his visor and observed Aissi's spreading wings and the display of her exotic stature. "I'll be up top. I'll keep your ankles clear. Don't worry about me falling off. Don't worry about anything besides keeping up speed. You've got three jobs."
He lifted his hand off the rifle to count the orders he had for her up his hand;
"Keep up with the winged girl." Pinky finger.
"Get me to any Bishops that show up." Ring finger.
"Don't fuckin' die. If things get to be too much and you can't get in contact with me then link up with Howser. That Grizzly is your best bet at not eating shit out there." Middle finger.
"We good, Newman?" He finally looked up at her. His barking voice, while firm, was not harsh. When she finally answered, he would effortlessly scale the mech and take a position atop it.
The coffee and chatter had done Iris some good. Her heightened nerves were soothed by chatter with Jewel, and her fatigue was smothered in a layer of caffeine. As dialogue unto conversation, Iris' orders of confections unto plates. Whether she wished to admit it or not, home-made meals of familiar treats and fingerfoods sang to her in a siren's sultry voice as the catching-ups and what-to-do's occurred. When the trio had finally concluded their conversation, Iris had finished two and a third cups of sugar-coffee and refilled a plate with delights once. When the time to split came, it seemed to arrive just in time to Iris.
"Oo, yeah, if you're headed that way I need to check on my house." She chimed to get her foot in the door with Chris, then waved goodbye to Jewel with only a hint of mischief in the twitch of her lips.
When she fell into the passenger's seat of the Cessna, there was no forthcoming tirade of dialogue. No torrent of words. No nervous chatter. Just the comfortable silence born of satiation and, perhaps, the false sense of confidence that everything was going to be okay. The preparations, take off, landing, and subsequent docking maneuvers were a blur to her. It wasn't until Chris was suddenly at her side, the door opening, his hand there for her to take that she realized just how deep into her own headspace she had fallen. She flashed a smile. She took his hand and pulled herself out and hopped down onto the dock. She took a few steps then turned and watched his near-instinctual movements of tying the ropes off. She smirked slowly.
"Damn, you make that look easy. Big strong hands like that? Stop me if you've heard this one before, but if you don't have anything going on tonight, a girl could use some help moving some furniture around. All my friends are coming in a few days later with the rest of the equipment and the research boat, so it's just little ol' Bunny on her lonesome tonight."
All of that flowed easily out of her lips as she fell into step beside him when he started moving towards the Whispering Waves, phone suddenly in hand as she opened it to check her messages. Without looking up from the device she continued.
"Mm. Yeah. You can call me Bunny. You're a cool guy. Look alive, swiftly walking woman at two o'clock. Definitely for you, I haven't been back long enough for anyone to come chasing me like that yet."
"Oo, yeah, if you're headed that way I need to check on my house." She chimed to get her foot in the door with Chris, then waved goodbye to Jewel with only a hint of mischief in the twitch of her lips.
When she fell into the passenger's seat of the Cessna, there was no forthcoming tirade of dialogue. No torrent of words. No nervous chatter. Just the comfortable silence born of satiation and, perhaps, the false sense of confidence that everything was going to be okay. The preparations, take off, landing, and subsequent docking maneuvers were a blur to her. It wasn't until Chris was suddenly at her side, the door opening, his hand there for her to take that she realized just how deep into her own headspace she had fallen. She flashed a smile. She took his hand and pulled herself out and hopped down onto the dock. She took a few steps then turned and watched his near-instinctual movements of tying the ropes off. She smirked slowly.
"Damn, you make that look easy. Big strong hands like that? Stop me if you've heard this one before, but if you don't have anything going on tonight, a girl could use some help moving some furniture around. All my friends are coming in a few days later with the rest of the equipment and the research boat, so it's just little ol' Bunny on her lonesome tonight."
All of that flowed easily out of her lips as she fell into step beside him when he started moving towards the Whispering Waves, phone suddenly in hand as she opened it to check her messages. Without looking up from the device she continued.
"Mm. Yeah. You can call me Bunny. You're a cool guy. Look alive, swiftly walking woman at two o'clock. Definitely for you, I haven't been back long enough for anyone to come chasing me like that yet."
Tabiah's immense haste ensures that when she looks up to search for Zaraknvyr to prompt him, it is almost certainly with his back pressed to the wall near the stairwell and peering up it with that malicious and unbenign gleam of paranoia in his eyes. She speaks and he nearly jumps in his skin, whipping to face her.
"Ah, that was quick. Good. You are an efficient companion."
He pulls his cloak about himself and rapidly approaches to try and leave before his horrid fantasies became reality.
"Ah, that was quick. Good. You are an efficient companion."
He pulls his cloak about himself and rapidly approaches to try and leave before his horrid fantasies became reality.
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