Sett, the Boss (
themightybosstone) wrote2024-07-15 04:39 pm
[StarRail PSL]
[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...]
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...]

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[ she sets the kit down to dig through it for some cleaning supplies and a clean bandage pad. ]
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[He knocks back his own and starts pulling off his jacket and shirt.] I gotta catch up.
[The wound is wrapped, the hasty and efficient style of someone who gets injured often but doesn't have to think about it long. It's soaking through in parts, a muddy black of his blood. Other scars criss cross his body. Laser, teeth, claws, steel and gunshot, even a borisin bridle lash crosses his entire body.]
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[ she watches him though, brow furrowing at the scars-- she can guess some of those for sure, but...
In any case, once he's done she reaches for the wrapping to undo it and begin to clean, clinically. ]
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She stops, then. ... and just hands it to him, stepping back. ]
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That said, he is forgoing the cleaning just to wrap it up.]
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-- you need to clean it.
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[He grumbles, but grabs the antiseptic.]
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[ Just takes it from him to do it herself; quick and efficient. And with no coddling. ]
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[ He's absolutely pretending that was no big deal now.
His tail is completely fluffed out though as he reaches around her to refill his glass. ]
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[ ... Huffs herself, but starts cleaning up the supplies to put away. ]
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[He looks down at the - actually pretty decent patch job then back up at her.]
Aint it... yer job t'be killin' folks like me?
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[ She looks away a bit, unwilling to meet his eyes. ]
... If I need to kill you later, then-- it is what it is.
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Well, that's a later problem, if we're all good til then.
[He reaches out a hand to offer to shake on it.] I'll take you right to my Pa's doorstep if you wanna go with me. Only thing is? I get last hit.
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... It's not something I can guarantee, but I can try.
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Good enough for me.
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Good.
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