Sett, the Boss (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
themightybosstone) wrote2024-07-15 04:39 pm
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...]
1/2
She could barely hear his words, muffled by the smothering terror that had filled her mind, cotton-like, a bright and blinding light,
(unbeknownst to her, as the thing within her glistens and glows, fed by the terror of imminent death, begging like that, like that, that's the way. It is your destiny. It has always been your destiny. I am here, with you, and I will see you to paradise, and we will go together, where the Merciful One cannot hold fast to us, and keep us long within THEIR grasp, like this pitiful creature. Fight, and fight, and save what you must, and perish under that blade, and you will know THEIR touch and rejoice in harmonious order. I promise you, I promise you, I promise you--)
so that she did not even see Sett anymore, somewhere to her left, or the victorious shrieks of the swarm snapping carapace and leg and mandibles through the weakening curtain, or the alarm and discordant panic throughout the city.
So when Sett grabs her it's more than a surprise-- on reflex she releases her gun to yank her dagger from its sheath and viciously stab into his side, every inch of her tense with fear and rage, and then-- ]