[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]

[ PUNCHES HIM IN THE FACE ]

[eggshell]

[CRUNCHING SOUND????]



What was that for? [Petulant, as he lifts a hand to wipe at his now-bleeding nose.]

[vitainmorte]

[ gets up and moves around, to put the chair between them ]

In what world is it fine to just put your hands on a woman's chest?!

[eggshell]

Valencia you are not a woman. You are not even Halovian.

[There is a small part of his brain that remarkably sounds like Kafka telling him this is NOT the correct thing to say, but he ignores it in favor of trying to reach over the chair to. Pat Valencia's cheek.]

[vitainmorte]

[ slaps his hand away, all of her feathers bristling. ]

You are both blind and an idiot. It's a wonder you manage to do anything at all.

[eggshell]

My cute little container is so prickly.

[His tone is so condescending he might as well be the dictionary definition of it. He decides to go around the chair and try to sit in it.]

[vitainmorte]

Just tell me what you're bothering me for already.

[eggshell]

[Literal jazz hands]

Why will you not give me the Stellaron? It would be a lot easier if it was consensual.

[vitainmorte]

I don't have a stellaron. There's no fragmentum or other corruption on this ship, or on me.

[eggshell]

Denial isn't really a good look on you. I suppose the Swarm came after this ship for absolutely no reason then?

[vitainmorte]

The swarm that appeared with you? Obviously you're the one who attracted them.

[ turns to leave the cockpit ]

[eggshell]

[This is the sound of him pressing things that perhaps should not be pressed.]

And I suppose the fragmentum that swallowed the port blossomed out of absolutely nothing?

[vitainmorte]

[ TURNS BACK AROUND TO SPIN THE SEAT AWAY FROM THE CONTROLS ]

-- Whatever you brought to that place, with your own corruption, or whatever you were hunting has nothing to do with me.

[eggshell]

[The seat spins around to reveal Dan Feng sprawled on it, tailtip fluff sweeping the floor, amused.]

It could have been me. But it could have been you. When you go home to roost, what if you corrupt your haven too? It is not like you to take that chance.

[vitainmorte]

I spent many years in my home, and traveling, to no ill effect until you appeared.

[ stomps down on his tail tip as it sweeps over her shoes, irritated. ]

This is your fault. The swarms arrival was your fault. That the port was lost was your fault. The only reason I don't splatter your brain matter all over this chair is that I care more about the cleanliness of my ship than I do any inconvenience I cause you.

I should call the Yaoqing. I bet they'd love to have you.