"I wouldn't be surprised if you predated SEED, my darling." Nicole responds with a twist of a smile, as the two of you walk to the pads. The other questions she doesn't answer. She places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you as you speak into Lucille. Cephie should be waiting for you, in full kit, with supplies and a gun. As well as a Null. Zero informs you, in a quiet monotone, that he will send Eight to assist -- you know her as Jane Morris. She has specialties in combat and could be of good use to whatever venture it is that you are planning.
The two, punctual and precise, however in differing ways, are both waiting for you to arrive. Cephie is wearing a long, black dress over trousers and boots. No part of her outfit is separate. All of it is connected by a patch of cloth or twisting thread. She smiles with sharp teeth, giving a mock bow. "Y'know Pheobe, if I knew I'd be seeing you again so soon, I would have waited on the parting advice-- it's meant to come before a parting, y'feel? It kinda loses teeth when you see me ten minutes later."
"What is that you're wearing? I was expecting armor." You idly question, examining the shifting, shiny, silky black fabric.
"Watch!" Cephie straightens, and with a dramatic gesture, a wave of her hand over her skinny form. Her clothing changes, shimmering as armor suddenly forms from the cloth. It lingers, before reforming into the outfit. "The newest models are the best. No clinking armor, no maintenance. Just a twist of your will and a stunning, modern dress turns into full body armor."
You smirk as you look over Jane Morris. Where Cephie is flamboyant, excited, Eight, or, Jane Morris, is quiet. She's wearing full Heavy Crusader Kit; marching pack and all. No color, no exaggeration, or emotion. A perfect killing machine with a face you can't remember. She straps her gas mask on, hiding even that feature, and leaving her a bulky, organized soldier. "Mother Pheonix." Is her slightly less than monotone greeting. Out of all the Nulls, you decide then and there you hate her less than the rest. There's an attempt at being human. An icy, emotionless one, but a human nonetheless.
A hovercraft sits idling nearby with two pilots standing at attention at its side. The bow when you and your...motley party approach. Comments are held. The only words out of their mouths are their names, their ranks, and 'yes, Mother Pheonix'.
Maybe they're Nulls too.
You begin boarding. A cutter blade finds its way to your belt. A 'sawn-down' las-rifle is slung around your shoulder. Food rations and a water purifier are stowed away, along with a camp tent. Nicole sits across from you, the Null nearby her. Cephie takes a seat to your immediate right. In an instant, she's laying against you with a datapad out, reading a book before the ship can even take off. Nicole raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Instead, Nicole lays back and shuts her eyes. She's fast asleep before you even pull away from Stormmont.
"[That's a soldier's trick if I ever saw one.]" Cephie points out in low Empyrean, the tongue of pirates, of freelancers, of the 'civilized' rim. "[Being able to fall asleep anywhere, at any time. If we needed that much sleep, it would be the same for us.]"
"Mmh."
"[Ah. Still a little upset about the day before? I probably shouldn't have involved myself in your ex-lover's quarrel. I was only trying to help.]"
"[No. You were not. I know your game, Cephelia, I know what you want from me.]"
"[...and I know your game too, Pheonix. Pretending you're scared of yourself. Of your power? Of your potential? It's adorable. You're a Goddess of Fire. Of Victory. Of Blood. You should act like one instead of acting like a scared little girl playing with matches.]" Cephie's tone has not a hint of harshness in it, even as she invades your personal space and presses against your uncomfortable armor. Your arm still lays between the two of you, "[Now, if you could be so kind, wrap your arm around me. You're messing up my posture.]"
[10 vs 17] It is a little uncomfortable, keeping your arm there...and Cephie smells...like blood. Like burning oil and trees and the warm smell of a plastic las-gun's exterior after it's just been discharged.
"[You always smell like blood and ash.]" Cephie quietly states, scrolling through her book, eyes tracking across the text in a blur.
"[I didn't tell you to sit so close, Cephie.]"
"[Is that why you were staring at me earlier? Or was it just the dress? Too plunging of a neckline?]" She pauses, "[Besides, I didn't say it smelled bad.]" There's another pause, "[And if it was so bad, your heart wouldn't be beating like a drum, your muscles wouldn't be tense, and you wouldn't be trying so damn hard to pretend this doesn't bother you. Now move your arm before I get pissy and we end up killing someone by doing nothing more than arguing. Most likely the emotionless weirdo you decided to bring along despite that if we got serious we could rip this planet in half.]"
You hesitate, then you quietly shift your arm.
"[Good girl. Now, I bet you and your ancestors have questions for me since your brain is still so fucked. According to your...charming grandmother, we've got a few hours to burn and I've got answers.]"
What questions do you ask Cephie?
((Remember, you don't have to +1. I will take any questions. You can even have multiple questions!))
Poll
0 (0%)
Author
Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 240363 times)