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ximilialog2022-01-08 12:12 pm
- ! event log,
- ! open,
- altered carbon: takeshi kovacs,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- doctor who: the doctor (11),
- fear street: ziggy berman,
- grishaverse: alina starkov,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- knives out: marta cabrera,
- marvel comics: gwen stacy,
- mass effect: kaidan alenko,
- mcu: daisy johnson,
- mcu: shang-chi,
- pacific rim: hermann gottlieb,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- pacific rim: raleigh becket,
- star trek aos: james t. kirk,
- star trek aos: leonard mccoy,
- star wars: finn,
- star wars: l3-37,
- the old guard: andromache,
- the untamed: jiang yanli,
- towards the terra: soldier blue,
- transformers: drift,
- transformers: megatron,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: BAD COMPANY, PART 1
● ● ● M I S S I O N 4 . 1
This time it’s barely past noon when the familiar ping of a message alerts you that a new mission file is finally available: it’ll read Scorpion’s Bend, and the file’s arrival is immediately accompanied by Viveca’s voice.
To help you blend in, I’ve prepared bundles of clothes for each of you, rations for those with special diets, and enough of the local currency to buy you a few nights in town. After that, you’ll have to provide for yourselves. I’ve also divided you into groups, and each group will arrive at the town at a different time… so those in the first group, prepare to live in the town for a month or so, while waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. Make up a good story, and don’t blow your cover.
The instructions are clear: after you’ve familiarised yourself with the file and its contents, you find that, indeed, there are neatly laid bundles marked with a name in the common room providing appropriate clothing to help you blend in better… and is somehow tailored to fit you perfectly.
Unlike previous missions, there will be plenty of time to talk to those in the same group as you, to come up with plans and stories that’ll explain your arrival in town. And as the two days pass, you all gather to the center of the station again, some for the fourth time, some for the first — it is not only Viveca, in her robot body, who is there to see you off, but Degar as well. He tips an invisible hat in your direction.
Having probably seen far too many bad spaghetti Westerns, Degar sends fingerguns in the team’s general direction before blowing a breath off the tops of his fingers and re-holstering said fingerguns into equally invisible holsters at his sides. It’s really all extremely cheesy, and he knows it – made obvious from the slight grin on his face.
The platform hums to life as Viveca, too, smiles at the gathered team — even if there’s some tightness to it.
The increasing noise of the teleportation machine nearly drowns out her words as the light around you grows brighter, brighter —
Until it’s all you can see, and the familiar tug drags you away into nothingness. There, the echoing voices speak to you once more, laying out the goal you have to complete… and then, without a chance to respond, you are wrenched away through time and space.
As soon as the light dissipates and the voices die away, you are left floundering in the darkness — seconds, at most, as each of you is sent to a set time on the planet. But how you arrive will depend entirely on when you arrive.
1.0A: GROUP 1 Awareness returns to you as you find yourself on your feet, suddenly standing in the Mayor’s office with a half circle of twenty other Orbers just as mildly disoriented as you are. Madam Reilly is positioned in the centre, her fierce eyes shining with approval as she looks up to meet your eyes.
She rounds her desk, studying every new arrival with care.
She sounds sincere enough, but the glint in her eye betrays her, telling you that she’ll likely expect that the hospitality be repaid through hard work and the wealth it will bring the town.
So take the voucher, thank the Mayor for her audience with you, and leave to do a little exploration; and as you do, many of the locals will wave at you, though some might eye you with suspicion. As Madam Reilly said — it’s been a while since any previous wagons made it to town. New arrivals are … well. They’re something of a novelty.
1.0B: GROUP 2 The first thing you register when you regain your wits about you is that the wagon you’re sitting inside of suddenly stops, making you jolt. Above you, the steady sound of rain hitting the wagon’s fabric cover with increasing intensity fills your ears.
Without preamble, a youthful voice from outside shouts:
With nothing to do but brave the rain and leave the confines of the wagons, you follow your fellow Orbers out on shaky legs. Once outside, blinking away the rain in your eyes, you see riderless horses pulling the wagons, parts of their heads replaced with metal.
It won’t take long before you realize you are in the middle of the town road, and in front of the wagons stand two people: a large man with an eye-patch, and a smaller, young alien with sparkling eyes.
Deputy Duke speaks with a bright grin — one that the Sheriff doesn’t share.
His one eye scans over the Orbers who are slowly getting soaked in the downpour, and snorts.
Somehow, his cheerful disposition makes the threat not really sound like much of a one.
Still, they both watch you carefully as you walk past them. Where you go next within the town depends entirely on you, but the signs pointing to the Saloon and Inn are clearly visible, and you’ll likely want to get out of the rain. And who knows, there might even be a few familiar faces already here to greet you.
1.0C: GROUP 3 You wake up with your face buried in something rough and dirty, paired with the sensation of someone shaking at your shoulders. As you blink your eyes open, someone’s face is too close to yours, a face you’ve never seen before in your life, and they’re dressed in rough-hewn work clothing. They take a step back, crouched on their haunches, but the relief in their eyes is palpable. With a sigh, they shake their head and then yell:
As you get up, you’ll see others dressed similarly, all miners, rousing familiar teammates around you. Scattered in your immediate surroundings are the remains of several wagons, a piece of a roof cover flapping uselessly against a large rock. When all of you have woken — some hale and hearty, some with scabs and bruises, some with bleeding cuts — one of the older miners approaches you, his gaze taking in all your faces.
One of Rex’s miners shouts and the others laugh, hastily helping the rest of you up on your feet to escort you along the road that leads into town.
Perhaps you’ll let yourself be helped, or you’ll rush to help those who have been wounded in an attack you can’t remember … or perhaps you’ve already left the others behind to go into town, to see what it has to offer and to meet those who have come here before you.
With all the introductions said and done, it’s time to take to the small town of Scorpion’s Bend and scope out opportunities for the remainder of your stay. For those of you from more temperate, wetter climates, you might find that desert life takes a little bit of getting used to. Two suns beaming bright white rise high over the cloudless horizon, soaking the land with hot light throughout the daytime. With the dust and debris and very little lush vegetation, it’ll be easy to find yourself quickly heating up, where the only form of shade in this town is found within the establishments themselves and under awnings. The evenings do bring beautiful sunsets, however, with a spectacular sight of the five small moons of Badrock glowing like dim spheres of varying sizes across the dark, night sky. There are very few stars out and the temperatures drop dramatically when the suns are down.
2.0 A Bed Too Large: In front of Crow’s Tooth Saloon and the nearby Thornbush Inn, you’ll find seating as though these buildings can read your mind and understand the need for quick refuge from the scorching temperatures. This is where you’ll be able to find yourselves beds to sleep on tonight.
Crow’s Tooth Saloon is an especially lively hub throughout the day. Mornings will see a cluster of miners grabbing breakfast before their trek out to Guncross Mountain — small breakfasts of eggs and sausage and the blackest coffee; noon will find the desk-job men and stablehands congregating for lunch and a drink — sandwiches, biscuits and meat pies with alcohol; and by mid-afternoon leading into the late night hours, fathers and sons and daughters and miners will have returned for dinner and a chance to let loose before the day’s events repeat again the next day. The occasional lone rider might be found at a table some nights before heading to the next town over. A couple of miners, both younger and old, keep to themselves, sitting alone with their whiskey at the bar. The pianist, Tommy Jellison, makes his wages by playing the evening into the wee hours of the night for tips, spinning jubilant tunes on the keys with his five hands, and belting out the odd vocal accompaniment. Sometimes there will be games of cards and coins, and opiates and stimulants aren’t uncommon: both to obtain and to use. The owner, Emzi Hanegan, turns a blind eye to most of the latter.
But Thornbush Inn won’t be void of life either. A three-story rectangular building with painted black and white exterior wood walls, Thornbush Inn can easily be found not far from behind the Saloon. This is where travelers, not all that frequent lately, will come to stay during their time in Scorpion’s Bend. The Innkeeper, Terrance Trawley, has been doing this for a very, very long time, and boy the stories he could share, once coaxed, would paint a colourful picture of the town’s history. Rumour has it he’s been known to embellish a few details every now and then, though. "Adds flavour," he says. You’ll be welcome to keep a room while you’re here, but he'll encourage you to keep a roommate if you do — space is limited and so are the coins in your purse, but would you be needing the turndown service at all?
3.0 For a Fistful of Dollars: Turns out the money you’ve received to spend in this town goes out sooner than you’d like. This means making quick work of integrating yourself into the workforce by offering your services and using those airtight backstories to find a position best suited for you and your fellow townsfolk. For those of you who are good with people, you may want to speak with the owner, Priory Halhast, of Scorpion’s Bend General Store; she’s always looking for bright, gorgeous faces to greet customers daily, take their orders (simple and practical items such as hygiene products, toiletries, cleaning products, basic cooking ingredients and the like), engage in a little small-talk, and to offer the occasional home delivery service. If you’d rather keep to yourself, ask her about working as a stockist or helping to keep some of the books in the back in order.
Similar positions can be found at the Trading Post, where all it takes is a quick chat with Lawturn, the gruff, bearded stocky owner in the poncho and black stetson. Dealing with imports and exports between other towns, they’ll be expecting strong hands and quick minds to handle some of the sales and incoming stock for the town. Sometimes this includes spare wagon parts and food and supplies for the animals.
And speaking of animals, for those of you who have a sixth sense with them, or simply want to avoid the chatty townsfolk all together, the Stablemaster, known simply as ‘Horseshoe’ could always use an extra set of hands to help with the grooming, feeding, cleaning, and maintenance of the horses and other animals, as well as the travel wagons. The Stables can be found near the Trading Post; it’s just a quick-ish jog (if you can stand the heat) to the large wooden barn in faded red wood where you’ll be greeted by the sounds of dogs, cows, chickens, sheep, owl-shrews, varkdogs, and flower mantisaurs.
4.0 The Good, the Religious and the Spicy: Over the month, some of you might find that even in a place as small as Scorpion’s Bend, there is disparity between the cleaner, ‘nicer’ parts of town versus the more dilapidated and seedier areas. The town’s segregation isn’t quite as clear-cut with the main street and its numerous businesses acting as a central hub for all of the townspeople. However, the schoolhouse and the church, Celestial Mercy, stands proud on one end, while Sindown, the town’s infamous pleasure house marks its place on the opposite side and are often referred to as the ‘Light’ and the ‘Dark’ sides of town respectively, and not always with a smile.
The schoolhouse is directly connected to the church, and the children in Scorpion’s Bend spend most of their days at their desks learning to read, basic arithmetic, history, science, and the planets. While not exactly off-limits to the Orbers, in order to keep disruptions of the childrens’ education to a minimum, the headmistress, Joella Friegrass would prefer scheduling appointments to speak with her or any of the other staff in school.
Some of these students will go on to become teachers at the school, indoctrinated into the Sect of the Eight Divines, or otherwise find positions throughout the town. While not closed to other practices of worship, Father Alois of the Celestial Mercy mainly preaches the gospel of the Eight Divines and would happily spend time explaining this religion with you. The church itself is a brown wood building with a peaked roof and long, arched windows lining the sides. Above the doors is a small bell tower, used to mark celebrations, funerals, the beginning and end of a sermon, and other special occasions.
If you decide to make a thorough exploration of the length of the town, you’ll inevitably wander over to Sindown, the Bend’s pleasure house. Sindown is owned by Madame Rella, whose brief appearances at her own establishment only ever seem to happen during the latest hours of the night, and only for long enough to check in on her clients and workers, and to ensure the peace. She isn’t a woman to be reckoned with and anyone who winds up on her bad side will find themselves regretting it for the rest of their days. Find someone you might want to have a night of pleasure (or pain) with, book a room within the house (with all of the comforts provided), and be sure to pay upfront. Or simply stick around for the drinking, the drugs, and the nightly card games shared among the townsfolk and vagabonds with higher stakes than those you might find at the Saloon.
5.0 After Hours: When the novelty of the stetsons and ponchos have worn off like the shine of the spurs on your boots, the more observant Orbers might find that the whole town feels just a little off. The incoming stock coming into Scorpion’s Bend never seems to change, and so the food at the Saloon arrives at breakfast, noon, and dinner without a hitch, always exactly the same, and all of it tasting just a little less flavourful the more you start to analyze it. Eggs and sausage and bread, for example, all start to taste like the same thing.
Everyone’s got their routine, including you, and you might start paying attention to those schedules as you continue to work at your job, explore the establishments, and speak with the townspeople — both the regular folks of the day-to-day, and the ones with a little more power and sway in the town. Every now and then, someone’s temper might flare up resulting in a dramatic bar fight amongst the drunk and those who happen to arrive at the wrong place and time; or you might watch as a couple of the Saloon’s patrons challenge each other to a noontime duel. Try not to make an obvious target of yourself as you explore the town, of course, or you might wind up in a bar fight or a duel of your own. Don’t have a gun? It might be time to find one.
6.0 Out of Town: Any hooligans and lawbreakers will find themselves facing Sheriff One-Eyed Wilson and his Deputy before you even have the wherewithal to utter: ‘yee-haw’. The Sheriff might only be working with one usable, clear eye, but he’s always been the fastest shot on this side of Badrock and he protects this town with everything he’s got. Petty crimes and rowdy behaviour will be punished in levels of severity ranging from warnings to fines to nights spent in the town jail.
One night you might wake up to the sound of shouts and gunfire. If you aren’t already awake, or if you never went to bed in the first place, you might be able to make out a group of figures on horseback, hollering and hooting with pandemonious glee as they ride through town, their faces covered by scarves and wide-brimmed hats. These bandits dash for the stores with the intention to loot the town for everything they’ve got before making their way out with their spoils. Remembering that this could be the last of the incoming stock for weeks, you might want to join your fellow Orbers and residents alike to defend the town from the pillaging or face weeks of struggling recovery.
A substantial population of Scorpion’s Bend is made up of miners who have snatched up the opportunity for work and a promise of prosperity while in town. Early in the morning, every morning, those who have jobs at the mines wake up before the sun rises, have their breakfast, and head in split directions: some to Guncross mountain, and others, including you, to the mines located right at the edge of the town, for another hard day’s work. Wagons full of workers make the trek every day, digging for the wealth that lies underground: ore and metal and precious stone used in the formation of construction materials, jewelry, and other treasured items. It’s a lucrative enterprise but to maintain some semblance of order, all workers must first be approved by the Miners Guild, not always an easy feat for newcomers. You’ll learn that to be a full member of the Guild and have access to the mines on Guncross, you’ll need at least half a year’s work within the town, but prove yourself and you may have opportunities to gain some experience at least.
7.0 The Ecstasy of Ore: The wagon leaves just as the moons fade for the night and the barest hint of the suns begins to warm up the sky with light. You’ll be packed in with other townsfolk just like you: eager to get to the mines, or maybe still drowsy with sleep, or maybe a combination of both. During the trek there, one of the older miners might be inclined to share a bit of advice with you, give you the basic 101 in mining. “Keep a lookout for the shiny stuff,” he’ll joke. He looks to be in strangely good spirits for someone up so early.
You’re dropped off by the front with your gear and your fellow miners as the sun continues to rise. Soon it’ll be scorching hot but until then, you feel comfortable, maybe even a little chilly. You’ll be working alongside people who look human, and an alien race called tunnel hounds who have a particular talent for this sort of work. If you want to learn quickly, you might want to speak with one of them.
The tunnel is carved deep and bright lanterns lighting the way inside, hung on a long line of rope every six to ten feet (1.8 to 3 meters). As you work your way deeper, these lights become more and more sporadic, however, so it may be a good time to turn on your torchlight and continue with the group. The reflection of your light will inevitably catch on a shiny surface lodged into the tunnel around you and in crevices further in. It’s this metallic ore that you’re meant to be harvesting; this is the 'shiny stuff'. As you get to work, sweat forming along your brow, the rhythmic sound of your pick-axe pinging against stone, you may or may not hear a silent hissing sound in between. One of the tunnel hounds will suddenly reach out to stop you with sharp claws, and then make a silencing motion before gesturing to the flame-coloured serpent coiled near your foot, too close for comfort. This is an embera, a reptile that can infect their victims with a fire-hot venom that burns the blood in your veins until the heat of it kills you if the pain doesn’t first.
Avoid getting bitten by these creatures that seem to make the tunnels their home; and if you do, there’s still a chance you can seek help if you do it quickly. The effects of the venom are slow (but still painful) and will be at its peak in a few hours.
8.0 The Countdown: Anyone that decides to explore the Scorpion’s Bend past the mines and tries to head to the desert or towards Guncross mountain may find that their long walk forward only leads them back into the other end of the town, strangely like they’ve somehow walked an entire loop. No matter the trek, this trajectory never seems to change. You might try leaving from the east, for example, only to wind up entering directly into the west side of the town.
Of course, you could try and ask around for an explanation to this bizarre occurrence, but even the most sensible of townsfolk will look at you with reactions spanning anywhere from sympathy and pity to amusement and disgust. Most will laugh and think that perhaps you should lay off the whiskey, maybe grab another black coffee. Others will simply think you’ve been out in the sun for too long or you've been chewing gravel. Either way, it might make you think; after all, that lone rider from the other night had left by the next day, hadn’t he? And what about those bandits chased out of town?
F Y I
• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.
• To submit a search request speaking to any NPCs mentioned in the log, trying to overhear conversations, or exploring any specific place during any of the prompts, please do so HERE.
• And finally, have a soundtrack for this log! ♪ ♪ ♪
no subject
well, the proverbial horse already left that particular stable. like more of an idiot, in any case.
despite the blood and the shooting pain, rhys doesn't seem horribly effected by having just been shot. he offers her a charming smile in the place of any curses that swarm up into his head and, ignoring any pressure he puts on his wound, uses his chest to slide off the beast's back and onto his feet. see? no problem. )
I wouldn't ask it of you if I didn't need your help.
( rather — had he been shot in the front of his shoulder instead of the back. like this, he couldn't hope to reach the wound himself, let alone fish out the lead bits of a bullet.
taking a few steps away, rhys unbuttons the front of his shirt, pulling it out from its tuck into his pants with a cringe, as he weathers through the pain. rich, tanned skin gives way to the whirling black lines of tattoos which artfully decorate his muscles, across his chest and down his arms. he keeps his back pointed away from clara for the moment, balling his ruined shirt up in his hands before he levels her with a strong look, all his energy put forward into it. )
If you're not up to it, Alina will be here soon. Okay? ( it's better to admit fear than end up ruled by it. violet eyes flicker between each of clara's, reading her expression and what lays behind it — shadows are not the only ability this fairy has tucked away in his arsenal, and he works his second with as little invasiveness as possible. reading clara's thoughts. tasting her fear, and behind that, an overwhelming sense of resolve. rhys nods, having found whatever he was looking for, turning his back to clara to show off the high points of his tattooed shoulder blades, the flowing line interrupted by a bloodied gouge, dripping blood steadily down his waist. ) Okay.
no subject
[She doesn't mean to sound offended by the fact that reinforcements have been called out. Clara absolutely adores Alina, and she trusts her completely. If there was anyone she would've called to assist with this, it would be her beloved Alina. But she's responsible for getting him into this mess, and her pride won't allow her to stand back and let someone else fix the situation.
Her eyes meet his with a determined look, and she gives a quick nod of her head at his consent for her to try. Not wasting any further time, she moves to take the shirt from him.]
It'll be easier if you sit. [He's too tall for her to do this standing up.] Come on.
[If he doesn't comply right away she takes hold of his hand to guide him downward to sit. It's a gentle but firm direction, and she has no problem reaching up to push down on his good shoulder to get him to comply. There's still the issue that this isn't sanitary and she doesn't have the proper tools on hand to fish out a bullet.
But they're in the stables, and there's bound to be supplies here somewhere. She leaves him sitting there bleeding out and runs off to look around. There's not anything like bandages or medicine, but there is a bottle of whiskey and a little kit that contains some cosmetic supplies for caring for the horses. Among those items are tweezers that are probably used to pull bugs and burrs out of the horses' hair.
It's just gonna have to do.
She opens the bottle of alcohol and douses the tweezers in it, hoping it's enough to sanitize. There's no warning that she's about to dump a little right on his wound either, though she does press her hand firmly between his shoulder blades to reassure him that she's right there with him.]
I've got to get the bullet out before I can heal you.
[She calmly explains, voice soft despite her concern. With a shaky exhale she brings the tweezers to the wound, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she dips them inside to try and grab at the metal that's still inside him.]
no subject
( he decides with a reigned bit of authority placed pointedly in clara's deserving hands. your might think rhys was a terrible patient, which is probably true — but he's more than a little bummed by his own failed attempts at valiance, and is therefore on his best behavior with clara to earn a few more good boy points. following her guiding hands, he sits crosslegged on the stable floor, flickering pieces of hay around idly as clara searches for supplies.
their stolen horse huffs at him, and he huffs back. )
I know, right? ( he says to the horse, blowing his lips out as if dolling up a horse face will make them more kindred spirits. ) I can't say I'm a fan of guns either. Too scary. At least one didn't clip you in the ass — don't huff at me, you villain.
( and otherwise occupying his time as clara fetches tweezers, sticking hard bits of hay up the horse's nose and giggling animatedly as it arches in to chomp at his fingers. blood loss, maybe, or maybe he's just an idiot.
in any case he hisses once the whiskey stings his wound, a hand skirting backwards instinctively to grip clara's ankle, as if needing something to hold onto. still, rhysand doesn't make much more than a wayward noise of discontent as she sees to the wound — the body never really gets used to pain, to torture, but rhys has lived with and in it long enough to know how to compartmentalize pain. clara doesn't mean to do him any harm at all — sometimes that point makes all the difference in what stings or not. )
You're a healer? ( he asks after a second, squeezing her ankle. ) Many bullet wounds in your line of work?
no subject
[How to best answer that? She's riding high on the fact that finally, someone has admitted she's the boss. Her confidence is up, she's attempting to get the job done quickly and accurately. And then he goes and asks that. It's enough to make her pause as she debates on how to best answer. Her eyes glance down to his hand at her ankle, and she wishes she could lie smoothly with how concerned she currently was.
Honesty is probably the best policy here.]
This is my first attempt at healing someone. [There's an awkward pause before she presses forward, carefully working with the tweezers as she finds the bullet.]
But I know what I'm doing.
[For the most part.
It's not like she's going to kill him or anything. Even if she doesn't exactly have the experience or credentials to be doing this.]
I'ma teacher. Or was, before I ended up on the Ximilia. [With great focus, she pulls the tweezers upward, carefully removing the bullet. It's dropped onto the floor next to them. There may be remains left inside, and she washes the area away with more alcohol before dipping the tweezers back inside.]
no subject
( if he's meant to be put off by her lack of experience, his expression betrays no inner turmoil at the knowledge. in fact — despite the rooting around inside of him, rhys seems perfectly content to be the recipient of clara's steadfast attention, even if he had to get shot in order to receive it. he only briefly cringes in pain at her prodding, breath caught somewhere in the center of his chest before he steadies himself, remembering old valkyrie breathing tactics for balance. )
Teacher Clara. Any subject in particular? ( the distraction found in talking helps in any case, steadily loosening his hold on her foot until he lets go entirely, drawing his hand back into his lap. ) I had a tutor when I was a boy. Some High Fae from the Day Court, I believe. I played some truly noteworthy pranks on her.
no subject
[It sounds so utterly stupid to be mentioning that she teaches English here, where she's so far removed from the English language that things like writing and reading in it hardly matter. Especially not when she's faced with someone like him, who talks about fae and courts and tells her she's a queen.
She feels pressed to be more than just a teacher, more than who she used to be. Simple and sweet Clara who loves the stars, and who would give up anything to be out among them. Being useful to the other orbers means setting aside that part of herself, and focusing on becoming something more.
Something better.
Something that can heal and take care of other people.
She finishes fishing out pieces of bullet and sets the tweezers aside, eyes closing as her hands press over the wound. It takes a lot of effort to focus on the charter and finding just the right mark among the sea of millions that she seems to drown in every time she tries casting her newfound magic. But then she's able to draw on the right mark and focuses upon it, letting it guide her toward healing him.
In the end, there isn't a blinding light. There's barely any warmth passing from her hands onto him, and she winds up feeling as if she's stumbling in the dark to hold onto the mark so she can try doing as much good as possible.]
Does that make you a fae, then?
[She questions him as she feels her connection to the charter sever with her exhaustion, her inexperience leading her to not being able to cast for long. Standing feels difficult now, so she lowers herself down to her knees onto the ground. With a sigh she slumps forward against his back, eyes closing as she smiles and reaches up to touch the top of one of his ears. Yes, she sees they're pointy and knows he's not human.]
no subject
it's in no shortage a leaking of her own feelings, bleeding out between the drawbridge of their minds, loosely and languidly tied together. it's a lazy reading, rhys hearing her strongest thoughts as if she's standing at the entryway of her mind and shouting them at him. satisfaction and exhaustion, predominately. )
Mm.
( he nods his assent, craning his head back far enough to rest it on the top of hers. his eyes had shut somewhere in the procession, between the pain and listening to clara's thoughts, but he cracks one open now, to the sound of her steadying breaths. his ear twitches in response to her prodding, as you might expect a cat's would flicker to touch. )
Fine work, Clarabelle. You've outdone yourself. ( feeling her slumping, rhys swivels halfway around, snaking an arm around her waist and, with minimal effort, scooping her up to sit her in his lap. a little more comfortable — and less bloody! ) I'll see you safe somewhere, but we might as well wait out the bandit attack in here. I'll know if anyone's in trouble, so how about you take it easy for a bit?
( clara's at least the priority — most of the orbers seem pretty efficient on their own, without need for the high lord. )
no subject
We'll wait it out. But as soon as it's quiet, you're taking me home.
[Her room at the saloon, wherever he's staying. She doesn't really care right now. She just needs to rest, and wants to keep an eye on him to make sure he's alright.]
Deal?
[Her hand reaches up, pinkie held out. Yes, she's an adult that's making him pinkie promise right now.]
no subject
Hm. ( he arches a brow at her offered pinky. with a slightly chastising tone, ) Bargaining with the Fae is very serious, teacher. We do love our tricks and riddles.
( already he can see the pattern it takes behind his eyes — which home and for who? what does quiet even mean? but there's no tricks to his expression as he snags her pinky before she can draw it away, interlacing them with a single shake. and — )
But they are written into stars and being with a proffered kiss.
( this is not true, but it has become his favorite lie to tell since joining their ship in the stars. saccharine and fluffy, he leans in, dotting a quick kiss to the height of her cheek. )
There! We're bound. On risk of death and pain, once all is quiet, I will take you home. Tell me, how does it feel to have such a handsome bodyguard to call your own?
no subject
Oh, I'm incredibly flattered. Honored. Taken with your handsome face, even. Utterly smitten.
[Which isn't entirely a fib. He is unfairly beautiful. Her hand curls upward, patting his cheek before her palm presses firm against his skin.]
I'm not sure how you'll be able to keep me away after this.
[Her dry humor translates into sheer exhaustion right now, but there's an edge of amusement to her voice that helps keep the levity. As her eyes drift closed and her breathing evens out, she fights to stay awake. This magic business is harder than she thought it'd be.]