Lemons

Amygdala Circuit

Oh fuck.

So, so much of Quinn's strategy in combat revolved around her cannon. It was how he maneuvered, how she deflected, how she attacked, how she kept space. So as it crumbled to ashes in her hand, she downright felt her options decrease. This was something new; she'd never lost her weapon for more than a moment. And at that thought, a memory from the deep mists of time crept back.

If your weapons can't be relied upon, then you need to know how to kick and punch like you mean it.

Well, here was the test. She brought her hands up in the instinctive stance that she used when fighting, blind spot kept as far away from the enemies as possible, hands up in front. The icy grip of dread started to encroach on her heart, but with a fierce shake of her head, she shut it out. No. No. She was a pilot. She could do this. This is what they were born for.

The spear came at her first, and she dipped low, then brought her arm up elbow-first, catching it on the modium scutes that ran along her arm. She took advantage of the recoil to sneak in a low kick on the spear-wielding Modir's shin, and it made a vocalization of frustration and perhaps a little pain before Ablaze danced back and out of the way...

...Only to be caught off guard and barely slide to the side of the other Modir's vicious blades. This time she had less of a reach disadvantage so she snapped her leg out hard this time, catching its arm by the shoulder. She felt a pop, but unfortunately, it didn't seem like it had broken, just dislocated. Still, it gave her time to nip in and rake it across the back of the neck with her claws before she backed off again. And again, she was nearly impaled by the flying spear. As it was, it skated along her ribs, setting her teeth to snarling. They were coming again, this time faster, more together. The seconds ticked by.

One of the blades clattered against her leg, only barely caught on the scutes. She gave a silent thanks that Ablaze had them; life would've been much harder otherwise. Even then, she was rapidly being covered in small superficial wounds. Not enough to really be a danger, but enough to slow her down, and enough to pierce much more through the numbing field.

She forsook any opportunity to counterattack now; focusing solely on dodging. The thread of her cannon was growing stronger, but not fast enough. Never fast enough.

The seconds ticked by. The clock ticked down.

Amygdala Circuit

Ablaze's teeth locked together, clicking and straining in their gums as Quinn tried to throw the huge Modir off. But it was just that: huge. This was a bit of a blind spot in her training, admittely. She'd fought Roaki and Dahlia, mostly; oh, there were sims, of course, but sims only went so far in preparing you for the real thing. She was wholly unused to fighting someone who was just...much bigger. Not taller, because Dragon was taller; but heavier, bulkier. Massive. And though she hissed and spat and strained and clawed, she couldn't get the damn thing off of her. It was too close for her to shoot.

Although...hm.

Quinnlash's numbing aid was already straining; Quinn could feel it in the uncomfortable heat where she'd been charred, had little craters dug out of her flesh. What she was about to do may or may not strain it to snapping, which would be...unpleasant, extremely so. But she couldn't just sit here and let it tear her up. She needed to do something. So she wrapped her claws around the grip of her cannon, and aimed down, towards her feet.

Here's hoping.

Pop. pop. pop.

Three cannon shots rang out over the field. The first shifted her back. The second rattled the Modir's grip. They soared afar, in the same direction as the new Modir, but nowhere near them.

The third was what she needed.

The force of the kick finally did its work, and though a claw tore a long shallow furrow down her side as she went, she slid out from under the Modir like she'd been greased, skidding hundreds of feet on her back before she popped back up. She could feel the static starting to well. It wouldn't be long now. Just a minute, two minutes more. She popped another shot off, this time straight at the center mass of the rocket Modir.

Minutes always felt so long.

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn's thoughts raced at a mile a minute. She'd barely landed and things were already moving very fast. But that was the pilot's lot. She took a deep breath and tried to do what Dahlia'd told her to do so many times in sparring. She was too set on looking at each individual piece. She needed to focus and see the whole picture. Backing up to buy even just a little bit of time, she scanned over the battlefield, trying to see it as a single holistic entity.

Okay. Smaller modir would hit her in about three seconds, it looked like. The other modir wasn't in any hurry, not nearly as much, but it was a threat from a distance. The rockets would get there in...three, or...no, two, right before the flail modir. The world seemed to crawl by as her thoughts raced like lightning. The flail modir was like Blotklau; if she shot it, there was no guarantee she would even hit it. And even if she did, then she wouldn't have time to avoid the rockets. She somehow needed to deal with both of them at the same time, with a single shot. It was all she had time for, after all. What could she...

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Her mind flicked back to a memory; blasting Roaki's axe away with her cannon, way back at the start of their duel. If that could be shot, then...

She brought her cannon to bear, aiming at the flail modir. She saw its course change, if only the slightest bit; yeah, it was ready to dodge at a moment's notice. So she needed to hit it with something it couldn't see. Her aim went up to it...and then past it. She could swear she saw it following it. Maybe confusion; what was this Savior doing? It would never hit.

But she wasn't aiming for the modir. She squeezed the trigger. The blast of white fire soared up above the flail modir...and slammed right into the shower of missiles that hung just above its head.

She barely had time to prepare for impact before the blast wave tore the field apart around them, sending what missiles it didn't impact spinning off into the sky. The entire upper half of the flail modir was consumed in a plume of brilliant white light. It screamed, an utterly inhuman sound that ran knives along Quinn's ears, and lost all composure, its sprint turning into a stumbling crash. She stepped to the side, letting it careen past her. Its head and torso were...well, ablaze, as it struggled to regain its feet. She brought her cannon to bear again, drawing a bead on it with a fierce satisfaction. One more shot should do. Once more, her cannon kicked and roared.

One down.

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn understood the concept of shock-dropping; she'd read up a little on it after Dahlia had saved her in Sacre-Colline. But understanding the principle behind something and actually doing it were two very different things, and dropping out of orbit certainly wasn't a small thing. She felt herself waver.

But she was there. As soon as she started to flag, she remembered, and dug deep into the reserves of energy and courage that she'd been building up since the duel. She'd fought tooth and nail; against modir, and the Board, and the peoples of multiple countries all telling her that she was being a stupid kid. And now Roaki was safe aboard the Aerie, and was staying there, damnit. That was proof positive, wasn't it? She wasn't the same terrified child that had first woken up screaming in medical all those months ago. When Quinnlash Loughvein put their mind to something, nothing could stop them.

We've got this. A keen acquiescence returned to her, as though to say: Damn right we do.

"Alright. Go."

The same shuttering sound that had played with Dahlia played again right behind her, and--

Everything was suddenly and eerily silent. She was...she was falling through space. Remembering Besca's instructions, she disconnected, and stared into the darkness that suddenly held no fear for her.

She wasn't alone.

"I've disconnected, Besca. Waiting on reentry." It might fascinate Quinn to hear her own voice there, though she wasn't paying attention, of course; it was possessed with a level of confidence and surety that it nearly never was.

"Alright, you're clear."

Quinn sucked in one breath. Two. Three.

Then she blurred past herself again, and for another heartbeat moment, she thought she saw her grinning at her. Then she was flipping through the air, plummeting down towards the ground at a frankly concerning speed. She sucked in an unsteady breath, nearly destabilized and knocked out of her precious moment of confident clarity. And then she nearly laughed. It was just like the last time in Casoban, wasn't it? Hurtling backwards through the air? She might not have cannoned herself back this time, but she still felt some similarity in the wind ripping past her. And those instincts took over; she twisted in the air, righting herself just before she made contact, sending up an explosion of dirt and stone with a sound like thunder and fire.

As she pulled herself to a standing position and the curtain of earth fell, she saw them in the distance. Two modir, closing on her with a fast, loping run. She reached out, grabbed the sheet, and wrenched her cannon into existence, its horror lost on her, at least for the moment.

"Landed safe. I'm about to engage.

Ready when you are.

Arknights: 5S

I still gotta work on getting some NPCs written up, but I need to spend my sanity Reed Alter in the event, so there might be a delay.

@Stern Algorithm

Well that's because our Loughshinny is fuckin worth it.

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn's heartbeat, so recently slowed, roared back to life again. One singularity. Two singularities. Three, four, five. And then...Besca spoke over the comms. A piece of Quinn had known what she was going to say before she said it, had known it'd happen before the loudspeaker had crackled. Speaking objectively, it was like a gift from above; if she'd learned anything political from her brief career as a pilot, she knew that this was the perfect way of extending the olive branch and mending relations with Casoban.

All that being said, though, whenever she thought of fighting a modir again--after the disastrous outcome of the duel--she could feel fear and anxiety and any number of other things tearing into her, pulling at her skin, dragging her down and trying to stop her from moving forwards. Moving anywhere. But...but...

There was something else there too.

From deep down within her, a brilliant warmth burned upwards, chasing out the shadows of doubt with...she frowned distractedly, trying to figure out which emotion it--

Joy. It was joy, and a hot and wild anticipation that nearly stole her breath away. She could almost hear the voice resonating out from inside:

This is what we were made to do.

It ripped through her like fire, purging the cloying odor of fear that clung to her and setting her veins alight. And standing there for just a brief moment after Tillie flickered away, she felt her mouth spread in a wide, fierce smile.

These were monsters.

A loud clanging noise of machinery from below, and the spell was broken. Blood still running hot, she whipped around, dashing to the lift and hammering the button, even after it had already started to descend. She hadn't come within ten feet of the ground when she leapt, barely touching the ground before she skidded off again towards the lockers, making it there a few moments after Dahlia. Her breath hissed through her tight teeth, and she near ripped her clothing, taking it off so quickly. It wasn't more than thirty seconds before she was running back up the hallway, this time sweating through the heat suit as she went. She spared a terse "good luck" at her sister before she split off again, back towards Ablaze.

The lift had never taken so long on the trip up.

She trusted that Tillie had done her job, and flung herself into the skullport, barely sparing even the vaguest through at the door as she slammed it closed and hopped into her seat like she'd done it a million times. She closed her eye, and took a deep breath.

This...is what at we were born to do.

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn leaned lopsided against the railing as Tillie shucked off the antimodium suit. Her heart was still hammering, and showed no real sign of stopping. She'd sprinted across the hangar, of course; that was a given. And at the time, she had been desperately afraid for Tillie. But up here--she didn't know why, she didn't know if it was her or Quinnlash--but she felt like something awful was going to happen. And the faint, vague whiff of modium in the air didn't exactly help matters any.

Ah. Tillie was done taking off the suit, and flung it off into a chair. Then with an astonished smile on her face, she zipped in and scooped Quinn up.

For just a brief moment as her arms engulfed Quinn--the space between pounding heartbeats, the silence between harsh and jagged breaths--everything was right with the world. That feeling of impending good fell away, and the smell faded into obscurity. For that moment, that precious, beautiful moment, there was nothing else in the world but Quinn and Tillie. She squeezed tight, a part of her knowing that the hug would end soon, and that she'd need to face the rest of the world again afterwards. But for that terrifyingly long instant, she felt...

Safe.

Then Tillie let go and stepped away, and the world came rushing back in. She let out a vague half-vocalization of frustration that it had ended, but she was much calmer now. Hugs seemed to have a way of calming her down no matter what the situation, she thought. So it was with a lighter heart that she looked at Tillie again, though she was still shaking a little bit, and gave her a trembling smile as she stammered back into motion.

"You can--anytime--you can hug me--" Her mouth clamped shut on her stuttering and she cringed internally in embarrassment before she tried again:

"Thank you."

Arknights: 5S

Aww hell yeah! Can't wait to bounce Ash Girl off someone!

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn had learned a few things about the way that she responded to fear and stress while on the Aerie, and she'd started to catalogue what went where so she would know what was going on and what felt like what. After all, she still didn't have the firmest handle on what her emotions were at any given moment, didn't always know the words for them. It had been a strange life she'd lead up to that point, after all.

So it was with that more practiced eye than before that Quinn recognized the bouquet of unpleasant things she was feeling at the moment. Lethagic, twitchy, and suppressing shivers; the aftermath of panic. She reached out one of those slightly shaking hands as Tillie gushed over the data to her--she didn't get it, but at least Tillie looked excited--and rested it gently against the black hide of the monstrous alien, still staring at the almost hypnotic spreadsheets that Tillie bore. She took a deep breath in; then out.

One was all she got before Tillie jumped, and asked Quinn...well, if she needed anything. The girl in question looked up at the ceiling far above in thought. Did she need anything? Well, the short answer was yes. But did she need anything that Tillie could provide?

A few moments later, she started speaking, a bit hesitant, seeming almost shy. "Well," she scuffed her shoe into the ground, “It's been a really hard week." She seemed almost to shrink in front of Tillia as she asked, "So do you think you could..." She swallowed, suddenly conscious of how ridiculous she must sound and look and yet unable to fully stop herself.

"...Could I have another hug, Tillie?"

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn had rather not expected to knock Tillie completely over with a tackling hug. And since she'd latched on with a grip born of the pure fear of a child, well, she went right along with her. With a bonk of her head to the ground, a sharp “gneh,” and a shot of aggravation from the no-longer-quite-so-alien voice that called out from within her, she came to the clear-headed realization that she'd thrown herself at Tillie in a way that the woman was evidently clearly unused to. She tore her hands away and stumbled backwards, suddenly conscious that her vision was blurring in a way that she was incredibly, intimately familiar with. She blinked hard a few times, trying to squeeze the tears back as Tillie spoke.

Offering to do the same thing again.

Wondering if Quinn wanted to do it.

Quinn had heard of checking the assimilation functions, but she'd never actually seen it done. She supposed that she technically understood that it meant entering the modir, but just hearing that was clearly not even close to preparing her for the reaction that she'd had. The flickering image of Ablaze staring down at her, cannon primed, teeth bared, resurfaced briefly, and she hissed in a sharp and sudden enhalaation.

Her voice was perhaps a few notes shriller than it usually was when she responded after a moment of dead air perhaps slightly longer than it should've been, and there was a note of fear only barely hidden beneath. “No that's okay don't worry about it you did great Tillie!” She sucked in a few deep breaths and did her best to level herself again, to squeeze that fear and worry out. She guessed it was...

...Well, it certainly wasn't a cure all to say the least. But it definitely helped, as the painful squeezing of her heart slowly slackened, and she threw out a smile that she hoped didn't look as forced as it felt. “I think you did a great job!”