Aoife patch note 1.1: Theme song added.
Lemons
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Resident Of The Bargain Bin
STATUS: I've been on this stupid site for an entire decade now and it's been fantastic, thank you all so much 5 mos ago
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I've been on this stupid site for an entire decade now and it's been fantastic, thank you all so much
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Nine years seems a lot longer than it feels.
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They will look for him from the white tower...but he will not return, from mountains or from sea...
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Quinn lay on the ground, almost in a daze. Firebrand. Axan Dane. The words existed in her head, but her mental real estate was a bit occupied right now as she closed her eye, letting the horrific pain that had been eating through her core fade away as her real sensations took over, and the mystery sound that she never heard but only knew that she couldn't anymore stopped feeling so odd. She talked over the comms, but sounded odd, almost a bit dreamy, mechanical, like the world wasn't entirely real.
'Uh huh. I'm Quinn. You too."
She'd thought she was going to die. She had been so certain she was going to die. That she was never, ever going to see her family again. She'd fought six Modir. She'd killed four. It just...really didn't feel fully real.
She spoke again, this time sounded a little more grounded, but critically exhausted, if filled with gratitude. "Thanks. Again. You saved my life, you didn't need to. So...thanks." She was pretty sure she couldn't reasonably sit on Ablaze's shoulder like she usually like to, given that the entire Savior was probably completely covered in ichor from countless flesh wounds. She flexed the fingers on her right hand; in absolute darkness, she had to grab it with her left before she could fully convince her mind that her body was still intact.
Then, again, to the Aerie: "Can someone come get me out? I'm really really tired." And if she connected again she was going to feel a lot of pain. A lot of pain.
So instead, she lay there on the cool metal floor, and spoke aloud into the darkness:
"We did it."
Four Modir. Four.
"We make a good team."
'Uh huh. I'm Quinn. You too."
She'd thought she was going to die. She had been so certain she was going to die. That she was never, ever going to see her family again. She'd fought six Modir. She'd killed four. It just...really didn't feel fully real.
She spoke again, this time sounded a little more grounded, but critically exhausted, if filled with gratitude. "Thanks. Again. You saved my life, you didn't need to. So...thanks." She was pretty sure she couldn't reasonably sit on Ablaze's shoulder like she usually like to, given that the entire Savior was probably completely covered in ichor from countless flesh wounds. She flexed the fingers on her right hand; in absolute darkness, she had to grab it with her left before she could fully convince her mind that her body was still intact.
Then, again, to the Aerie: "Can someone come get me out? I'm really really tired." And if she connected again she was going to feel a lot of pain. A lot of pain.
So instead, she lay there on the cool metal floor, and spoke aloud into the darkness:
"We did it."
Four Modir. Four.
"We make a good team."
Shin-Ae Yun was usually a master of calming herself down. Or at least she considered herself that way. Nothing important, really; the occasional scuffle at school that she tried to break up, the occasional awkward moment with her mom at home, all these little things that she'd considered important, she was good at coming down from without anybody really knowing.
This was not one of those things.
She leaned against the wall underneath the clock in Mr. Potter's room with a few other students; Hera, Quinn, Ethan, Aaron...she paused a moment, trying to remember the other girl's name. She had in her head somewhere, she knew, but she'd talked to her so little in the past she couldn't quite place it. Something with a J. She'd figure it out later, when she managed to calm herself down. Eventually. She tried to get her heart to beat in time with the tick-tock of the second hand, but she couldn't manage deep breathing, couldn't slow her heart. She'd been in the front row of seats in the auditorium; consequently, when the entire flipped the switch and decided to go insane, she'd been mostly clear from the stampede that had claimed so many. All things considered, her version of the entire nightmarish experience wasn't all that bad compared to a lot of people.
That didn't make it much better to think about.
School had always been extremely important to Shin-Ae. For obvious reasons, of course, but also because she genuinely cared for the place and wanted to see both it and the people in it happy and prosperous. Being happy and prosperous did not involve watching someone's throat get ripped out by the treasurer's teeth. She was hyperventilated and didn't realize it until she started to get lightheaded; she managed to calm herself down after that, if only to the point where she was no longer maybe going to pass out. For that reason, of course, there were a few others.
What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.
For what must've been the tenth time that minute, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her flip phone, checking for texts, missed calls, anything. She'd tried to call both of her parents and the home phone, but nobody had picked up. She didn't text much because texting with a flip phone numpad was a pain, but she'd texted both of them too, as well as her vice president Simon Creighton. Eerie radio silence, all of it.
Hera spoke; the first voice that she'd heard in something other than a scream, or a gurgled bubbling noise, or a no, help me! in quite a few minutes, and twitchy as she was right now, she nearly jumped out of her skin. A moment later, J girl responded, and her words were surmounted with a simple question: "And unless we intend to join them, we're going to need a way out. Any ideas?" Shin-Ae finally managed to take one or two deep breaths, enough to think about the question.
She thought a moment before responding, trying to keep herself calm once again, to keep the tremble out of her voice. She absolutely did not succeed.
"I think...our best bet would be the doors near administration, I think? People don't tend to use them very often, so they might not be too crowded right now. Or maybe if we get to roof access we can climb down somehow."
Quinn actually grinned at that. A harried, awkward grin, and one that was massacred on a Savior's face, but a grin nonetheless. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?" The way the Euseran pirouetted and danced through the slaughter had a way of capturing the imagination, and she caught herself watching her for perhaps a bit longer than she should, until her attention was brought back to the front again.
The bladed Modir was running at her. One Modir, running at her. Her, Quinnlash Loughvein in all the fullness of her power. And at that, she laughed. A long, loud, bright laugh, the release of a terrible tension and an intense glee at fulfilling their purpose. And instead of hanging back like it perhaps expected...she dashed at it. Fast. It didn't have the range to hit her now, and she was fully phased. She knew exactly what she was doing. As they drew together, it leapt for her.
Only to be met with the barrel of her cannon slamming into its chest like a solid metal battering ram. She felt bones crack and organ rupture under the pressure. But only for a split second. A moment later, there was another tremendous report, another brilliant searing flash of light that tore into the sky, and chunks of Modir that had been blown apart but not fully caught in the blast raining down for hundreds of feet around. She snarled her laugh into a pseudo-smiling rictus.
FOUR!
But after that, her voice dropped off, and silence fell. Because it was...
It was...
Over.
There were no more Modir coming at her. There was nothing else to fight, no other weapons questing for her guts. The singularity collapsed.
Quinn stood there a moment more, breathing heavily, holding her agonized torso and who knew what other wounds. Her voice, when she spoke to Firebrand, was choked with effort and pain and emotion. "Thanks, Firebrand. I...thank you."
She closed her eye. She'd already been phased for a little while. Anything else would be an unnecessary risk. She tapped into the Aerie comms: "I'm okay, Besca. I'm...I made it. I'm okay."
Then, Quinnlash Loughvein disconnected.
The bladed Modir was running at her. One Modir, running at her. Her, Quinnlash Loughvein in all the fullness of her power. And at that, she laughed. A long, loud, bright laugh, the release of a terrible tension and an intense glee at fulfilling their purpose. And instead of hanging back like it perhaps expected...she dashed at it. Fast. It didn't have the range to hit her now, and she was fully phased. She knew exactly what she was doing. As they drew together, it leapt for her.
Only to be met with the barrel of her cannon slamming into its chest like a solid metal battering ram. She felt bones crack and organ rupture under the pressure. But only for a split second. A moment later, there was another tremendous report, another brilliant searing flash of light that tore into the sky, and chunks of Modir that had been blown apart but not fully caught in the blast raining down for hundreds of feet around. She snarled her laugh into a pseudo-smiling rictus.
FOUR!
But after that, her voice dropped off, and silence fell. Because it was...
It was...
Over.
There were no more Modir coming at her. There was nothing else to fight, no other weapons questing for her guts. The singularity collapsed.
Quinn stood there a moment more, breathing heavily, holding her agonized torso and who knew what other wounds. Her voice, when she spoke to Firebrand, was choked with effort and pain and emotion. "Thanks, Firebrand. I...thank you."
She closed her eye. She'd already been phased for a little while. Anything else would be an unnecessary risk. She tapped into the Aerie comms: "I'm okay, Besca. I'm...I made it. I'm okay."
Then, Quinnlash Loughvein disconnected.
Quinn could only stare dumbly at the new arrival, her entire body trembling as she realized she was no longer about to die. It might've been ESC. But at that moment, all Quinn could do was be happy she was still alive.
Speaking of, the sudden jerk of pain reminded her of that fact as she let the barrier fall greatly in intensity. She gasped and nearly doubled over as all of her aches and injuries ripped through her and she realized just how injured she really was. If Firebrand hadn't arrived, she would be...No. That's not a good thing to think about. Don't think about it. Because alongside the pain came something that was far more welcome. Her eye ignited with blazing white light, and she ripped the cannon from the aether with a savage roar, ichor-black spittle flying from her shredded jaws. She could feel its heart beat alongside her own alien thing, and the fire sweltered, swelled, and roared in her hands.
She started off. And though it was at first halting, eventually she adapted to the pain, and she regained a measure of her speed. Strafing left, she gritted her enormous maw. Her trigger finger was gone. How was she...?
But then...She breathed deep. She felt the cannon. She was linked to it, even deeper than the Savior. It was hers. Her own, despite how terrifying it might be. It was as much as part of her as her own hands and feet.
Using the trigger was stupid.
There. The rifleman. Trained on Firebrand, not paying attention to her at all. And with the impulse of a thought...
THOOM
Her phase-empowered cannon roared in her claws and the blast cut a massive flaming hole through the already wrecked wheat, and despite the sun above, it cast shadows against it with a horrifying and magnificent light that rampaged through the field.
When the light was gone, so was the rifleman.
...Three.
Speaking of, the sudden jerk of pain reminded her of that fact as she let the barrier fall greatly in intensity. She gasped and nearly doubled over as all of her aches and injuries ripped through her and she realized just how injured she really was. If Firebrand hadn't arrived, she would be...No. That's not a good thing to think about. Don't think about it. Because alongside the pain came something that was far more welcome. Her eye ignited with blazing white light, and she ripped the cannon from the aether with a savage roar, ichor-black spittle flying from her shredded jaws. She could feel its heart beat alongside her own alien thing, and the fire sweltered, swelled, and roared in her hands.
She started off. And though it was at first halting, eventually she adapted to the pain, and she regained a measure of her speed. Strafing left, she gritted her enormous maw. Her trigger finger was gone. How was she...?
But then...She breathed deep. She felt the cannon. She was linked to it, even deeper than the Savior. It was hers. Her own, despite how terrifying it might be. It was as much as part of her as her own hands and feet.
Using the trigger was stupid.
There. The rifleman. Trained on Firebrand, not paying attention to her at all. And with the impulse of a thought...
THOOM
Her phase-empowered cannon roared in her claws and the blast cut a massive flaming hole through the already wrecked wheat, and despite the sun above, it cast shadows against it with a horrifying and magnificent light that rampaged through the field.
When the light was gone, so was the rifleman.
...Three.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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