[StarRail PSL]

[themightybosstone]

[The world was one of a constant, strange, cyclical war.

When the night fell on the highest moon of the furthest month, a Howling Storm took the planet, cut its cities off from each other and the visitors from their homes, When the Storm's first whining, hot wind struck, the imposing gates of the iridescent metal of this world would close, folding up and over, in a wall only Qlipoth could love.

The thud of bodies, the scrape of claws, mandibles and fangs added to the cacophony that the setting of the red sun provoked. It ebbed in the morning, but never enough to be safe. Never enough for the walls to come down.

In defiance, however, in these little hubs of survival, the nightlife was something quite impressive. Loud music played, lights blared, the night market was a roar of throats - the call of sellers and the flirtation of buyers.

All to carry on like a shield wasn't holding back the certain death of nearly everyone in the spaceport.

But you're here, waiting for the tired relief of morning. For the spaceport to open back up in a week.

It should have already ended. It SHOULD have been open yesterday.

But the Storm is longer than it's ever been here...]

Comments

[vitainmorte]

[ ignoring that, ]

Your apology is appreciated. ... though I don't understand what you misinterpreted to mean I wanted to do anything like that, or why you thought my trying to kill you could mean I felt-- that way.

[themightybosstone]

[Oh. She picked that bit up. WELP. HE BLOWS A HUFF OF AIR.]

It aint the tryin' t'kill me part. It's just, you know.

There was a CLICK and, well, when you skidded back and cocked your gun and just blew that whole bug's head clean off in one shot it was- you know.

Pretty hot.

[vitainmorte]

[ She turns a little more to look at him over the back of the chair, brow furrowed. What are you TALKING about ]

... No, I don't know. I was just-- doing my duty.

[themightybosstone]

Seriously? You got NO idea??

[vitainmorte]

Why would I?

[themightybosstone]

Don't ask me. Yer the one who can see outside yer head.

[themightybosstone]

If I were you, I'd TOTALLY check myself out from other people's eyes.

[vitainmorte]

[ is that an invitation... her frown deepens. ]

You're overestimating Halovian telepathy.

[ ... but he offered(?) And she's pretty tipsy. So she does extend it again. ]

[themightybosstone]

[It's less thoughts and more senses and memories now. Little flashes of the play of the muscles on her back and blood and adrenaline on the air, the things they fought didn't have fear but they did have PAIN and they KNEW them as pain. The pinkish purple ichor splashed over her halo and wings, the set of her jaw and the predatory, narrowed eyes.

The heart races faster-

Overlapped with a little of now, her uncertain air, the confusion and hesitance, the furrowed look that pinches her brow. The bite of the air that is alcohol. The line of her neck and the throb of her blood.

Deadly, beautiful. The stiffness earlier gone, now more like a golden hound at rest.

Unavailable. There's a little regret and resignation there.]

I really don't know much about it. I mean, it SEEMED to pick up what I was thinkin' earlier.

[vitainmorte]

It can't see-- through other peoples' eyes, or...

[ But it can visualize those thoughts, as they transfer, as strong as the imagery is and... frankly, she doesn't know what to do with it, a reality in which someone is looking at her that way. It's not like she doesn't know that Halovians are, on average, fairly attractive to other races-- they do tend to have a natural charisma and draw and many of them take full advantage in their careers and love lives-- but to have it so blatant is... strange? She's not a charismatic leader or idol, or even particularly good conversation. And yet... even if the draw is purely physical, it's strange, especially tangled into the battle-fever.

She would have never considered the artful splatters of blood or grime, or how they made her look, or the way her muscles tensed under flesh. Her single-minded focus didn't allow that kind of vanity in battle, and outside of it it was nothing more than an annoyance to have to clean off her halo and feathers. And now--

She flushes dark, her neckwings awkwardly folding partially over her face as if to hide her from his gaze, as she huddles back into the seat and throws back the rest of her brandy. And pours another glass. The-- regret, what was that about? Just from giving up a potential conquest, perhaps? Yes, surely. ]

[themightybosstone]

[ If she hasn't pulled out of his thoughts, the image of her tucked in under her wings tugs a bubble of humor that doesn't show on the borisin's face. The tail twitches, and he gives a broad, aimless gesture with one clawed hand. ]

Got two glasses?

[vitainmorte]

[ augh. her wings shift to more thoroughly cover her face.

She gestures vaguely towards the kitchen where he'll be able to find another glass in what seems to be a mini mini bar. ]

[themightybosstone]

[ He grabs an extra from the ultramini bar, it almost invisible in his grip... She might feel the little pop and fizz of curiosity before the clink of glasses, looking at what else is stocked in the bar.

But he returns, this time entering the cockpit, even if he has to fold himself a little to do it, and holds out a glass. ]

I got a great bottle from Xeron II a couple of jumps back. If we finish this, I'll replace it.

[vitainmorte]

[ He's out of range by then at least so she just closes off the connection entirely, mostly to save herself. She DOES have a good collection of small bottles of very expensive booze, many of them gifts with little notes of thanks or well-wishes still tied to the necks. There's some wine of different sorts, a few bottles of mead, but she definitely seems to have a preference for whiskey, bourbon, and brandy.

When he gets back to the cockpit she's still slumped in her seat and deeply flustered, though her wings are no longer completely covering her face. She stares at the glass a moment before picking up the bottle from where she'd sat it next to her chair to pour him a glass. ]

... Is that so? I'll look forward to it, then.

[themightybosstone]

[ It's odd. To find someone with appreciation in their wake. He puts that thought away as he curls his tail and settles in one of the other seats. ]

I do the occasional bounty to get enough to keep going. Sometimes it's worth enough for the finer things in life.

[vitainmorte]

If you can afford it, it's worth a treat.

[ there's a pause, as she just stares out the window at the empty harbor below. ]

I don't expect you to replace my alcohol. It's fine.

[themightybosstone]

Don't make the ground rules complicated with exceptions an' shit.

Cheers.

[vitainmorte]

Alcohol isn't food.

[ but she lifts the glass a bit and sips at it, mostly just wasting time by swirling her ice around after. ]

...

Were you serious? Before.

1/2

[themightybosstone]

[ He takes a larger sip, and lets it linger on his tongue a little, savoring before he swallows. ]

Oh that's good?

[themightybosstone]

... Uh which part? If it's about what I'm doin' out around here? Hell yeah.

If it's about yer amazin? ALSO hell yeah.

... I aint great at makin' shit up, actually.

[vitainmorte]

Amaz--

[ flusters again, feathers ruffling, but only glances at him briefly. ]

-- I don't understand. I don't even know your name.

[themightybosstone]

Oh! Well that's easy.

I'm Sett.

[vitainmorte]

[ blinks at him, then settles again. ]

.... Sett, then. Nice to meet you.

[themightybosstone]

That's settled then.

Anyways, look forward t'workin' with you all the same. We're gonna make a hell of a team.

[vitainmorte]

Y-yes, I... suppose we will.

[ she's quiet for a moment longer, contemplating her drink. ]

... does it hurt? The wound.