[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

[eggshell]

[That seems to be the best course of action!

Until, of course, she starts noticing, in the crowd she'd dispersed into, out of the corner of her eye: someone that resembles him? Is it him? He's bent over a stick of crunchy sugary hawthorn like she'd left him.

No matter where she turns to, or how big or small the crowd is, it seems like he's there. Stuck with sugar in his mouth. How strange.]

[vitainmorte]

[ well how embarrassing for him first of all. Second of all--ah. He's definitely noticed her, then (but why?).

She does her best to ignore it, continuing to put distance between herself and what she hopes is his main body. But eventually she runs out of crowds; she quickly turns down another street, as if looping back will lose him at all. ]

[eggshell]

You are not being very helpful.

[He's bent over in the middle of that street, straightening up, having finally defeated the tanghulu as he crunches through it.]

[vitainmorte]

[ She freezes there, staring at him, all of the feathers in her body bristling up with alarm.

Cautiously: ]

-- My apologies. I am not a doctor.

/2

[eggshell]

[LET ME TASTE ALL OF YOUR FEATHERS LET ME CRUNCH THEM IN MY MOUTH LET ME STRIP THEM FROM PINION TO PINION LET M]

[eggshell]

[OK he is NORMAL!!!! The script says FORCE IS A LAST RESORT WE ALSO NEED HER AS THE CONTAINER DAN FENG CONTAIN YOURSELF but being friendly is Kafka's specialty and not his.]

Must you be a doctor to help those in need?

[vitainmorte]

[ He's just barely on the edge of her telepathy so she clearly gets the vibe of that initial thought-- and he'll probably be pleased to see the way she stiffens in response, her wings folding tight against her neck. ]

... I'm afraid I would not have known how to help you, regardless. I hope you have a good rest of your night, sir.

[ and she tries to step back and away. ]

[eggshell]

[He licks his lips. He hauls the briefcase up to his chest, petting it once, twice, staring at her the entire time as she moves away to leave.]

I know how you can help me.

[Yes he's following her. No, no amount of body language will make him go away.]

[vitainmorte]

Oh, no thank you. I'm not interested.

[ TURNS TO GO, WALKING QUICKLY ]

[eggshell]

But I'm lost?

[WHY ISNT THIS WORKING??? HE PRACTICED WITH KAFKA IN FRONT OF A MIRROR AND EVERYTHING???????]

[vitainmorte]

I would recommend asking a native for directions, sir.

[eggshell]

But I want you.

[I WANT TO FIT YOU INSIDE THIS BRIEFCASE. Dan Feng doesn't mean to think that very hard but he does, because he's excited.]

[vitainmorte]

[ ??????? ]

I'm sorry? Why? No; you have the wrong person, my apologies.

[eggshell]

Have you never been wanted before?

[vitainmorte]

[ this gets her to turn and give him a deeply confused look, brow furrowed. ]

-- I'm not interested! Especially not in the likes of you.

[eggshell]

[He mirrors the confused look.]

What are you talking about? I just want you to come with me.

1/2

[vitainmorte]

I don't take propositions from strange men and especially not wanted criminals.

[vitainmorte]

[ That said-- now that they're essentially alone, having turned down another alley into a more open space less traveled--

She draws her gun, leveling it at him. ]

[eggshell]

If you know who I am, then you know how useless that is, yes? How cruel, I have not drawn any weapon against you.

[vitainmorte]

... It's a matter of public safety, in my eyes. The likelihood of my failure does not outweigh my duty to make the attempt, especially when you seem to have targeted me regardless.

I cannot suffer an abomination to live while I roam these stars.

[eggshell]

I have not done anything to you nor to this wretched little planet. [The very loud unspoken yet rings in the air.]

Would you not hear me out? Or is this justice you mete one-sided?

[vitainmorte]

Monstrosities don't have a side.

[ But she isn't trying to shoot him, yet. Though she doesn't relax, either, and she gives him space to talk. ]

[eggshell]

I see you know your monsters well.

[He tilts his head to the side. It would be cute if he wasn't who he was.]

But yes. You know of me. A Stellaron Hunter; on a backwater little planet. What can you infer?

[vitainmorte]

You seek a mark, or senseless destruction. Or one in pursuit of the other.

[eggshell]

[He takes a step forward, still clutching the briefcase to his chest like a cherished toy. Another step-]

Ah-ah. Half right, for the near future.

[He looks up. Gives her a straight shot to his jugular as he smiles up at the barrier between this planet and the swarm beyond it.]

I have a mark, and it can save this planet. You know where that mark is.