[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/LfErXKU.jpg[/IMG]

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[b]SOLDIER base; Nearest Ridge Point. 0430.[/b]
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[color=c8c8c8]
There was something mortally prophetic that lingered and created a stagnation of juxtaposed hope and hopelessness early in the genesis, before even the first notch of sunlight thrummed across the ridge line. It provoked a strain that took up inhabitance upon her tightened and stiff jaw muscle as she listened for the discordance and correspondence of the main star to tug at the reality she feigned cohesion amongst. The taut muscle was pressed against the cold soulless gunmetal of the R-36 particle rifle, teasing the particle accelerators with a viscous finality that had created a vague curl on her barely parted lips. The scene had remained an unflinching tableau for the antecedent dawn. The only movement to denote life signs was the soft agitation of her escaping mortality, a heated breath that licked across the barrel in listless succession just below the sight. Her eyes were a burnt umbra coated in a machinelike sheen, unblinking, refined in a death of self and exhilarated with a faux melding of femme fatale, machinery, and predawn; a corporealization of the godlike sickness that promised dominion over every flinching life sign within the scope.


The sickness was prevalent and palpable as the sympathetic mist that kissed at what little exposed skin it could find, leaving wakes of tiny dew drops that helped ground her cognizance. It seduced her aura and laid claim to it’s own exposure in the fringes of her pupils, coaxing the suffocating pupil to cynosure. The intent of all of this was muddled in training and meditation; with rumors wrapping those in a shroud of insatiable drive circumscribed in a flittering sanity so that the only one who could give meaning to this ante meridiem was the untrustworthy narrator of its experience. Rather than force an understanding she would leave the why to linger in minds more hindered by necessity of explanation than her own, she simply did; the ever malleable perfect SOLDIER. 


When some intangible moment, predetermined within aberrant subconscious, struck upon the scene the lissome girl joined the living with a shifting of her tense shoulders, removing the eradicating muzzle from the play field and aiming at the once praised palace of divinity that now served as a reminder of new gods. She pulled herself groggily from the zen like contemplation of destruction and connection so that she could rise up, finding her body a poor symbiotic friend to the vociferous and malignant intent within, enough so that a pout nudged itself onto her lips. The pout did little to subdue the allurement that somehow continued to cling to her flesh; abused by a myriad of both recreational and employment incidents; but, as it seems to be with youth, the foothold of the abuses was misplaced in an immutable genetic bounty. 


It was at once the same, and not the same, genetic fruition that coaxed in the latent ability; recalling wisps of  atmospheric cover and harking a latent deception of form that currently strolled towards the Valkyrie bike; a feral beast by design and nature, powered by a soft hum of electricity that charged and fired to life with a prehensile nudge of her defining imprints. She had not strayed far from the central hub of the base, a little over a click out into the grounds, but it proved enough of a journey that time fabricated validation to thoughts questioning self in the philosophical limits of her overall apathy. It was not “to be, or not to be”, but rather “to become, or to recede” and her life had been such a banal tryst with recessions that she was even more hardened in the righteousness of her current placement.


Her vehement study through the scope should not be taken as indicative to a need for release, no, like many of her counterparts she found the grounds expansive and inclusive to the her needs. But there was something else: a soul quivering beckoning that was carried on the wisps of moon laced zephyrs as they whispered to her already restless spirit; a promise of harmony and understanding that rested just out of apprehension so that she spent as many waking hours in this endeavor to reclaim something that felt, misappropriated. She found a semblance of this while the guns internal operating system and her own, both freshly programmed, sorted through the scope as they reached far into the horizon; grasping for the infinite loop of nothing and everything. She never fired the gun up there. That wasn’t the point.


All of these preceding observations and insights slithered back into the mists of a tainted mind as the SOLDIER mess hall and barracks took monopoly of her outlook. The pout had long since dissipated, but she failed at any attempt for stoic and instead donned a lax smirk. A melodic and catchy doom chantey portraying the Aeons as silly creatures of rainbow deaths and fluffy bears exploding insanity began to play across her mind as she parked the Valkyrie in its designated spot. A languid movement detached her stature from the quieting bike and she adopted a jovial tempo towards the main entrance while rolling shoulders that threatened to ossify without some alleviation. By the time her carriage lined a muscle hugged hip to the mess hall door and smacked an entry she was humming the ridiculous tune at a level only audible to anyone violating her personal space.


A pair of sunglasses were tugged by digits that recalled something spider like, covering dilated pupils that persisted in a burdensome focus even as they were willed to desist. Routine ambled towards the food, unrushed. It was early yet and it seemed the heavy shift had thus far not found themselves here so she collected a mundane variation of the usual; a whole grain nut muffin, a pear, orange and glass of water. Luck found a slightly dimmer corner and abating sleeplessness inclined her head to press her ear to the calming pulse of her conditioned heartbeat cascading within the corpuscles that seemed barely contained, yet thoroughly a static resident. She would just entertain this lackadaisical pinching of food into her mouth, rest her eyes for a moment, on[/color][color=#c5c5c5]e[/color] [color=#bdbdbd]t[/color][color=#b9b9b9]i[/color][color=#b6b6b6]n[/color][color=#b2b2b2]y[/color] [color=#aaaaaa]b[/color][color=#a7a7a7]r[/color][color=#a3a3a3]i[/color][color=#9f9f9f]e[/color][color=#9b9b9b]f[/color] [color=#949494]i[/color][color=#909090]n[/color][color=#8d8d8d]s[/color][color=#898989]i[/color][color=#858585]g[/color][color=#818181]n[/color][color=#7e7e7e]i[/color][color=#7a7a7a]f[/color][color=#767676]i[/color][color=#727272]c[/color][color=#6f6f6f]a[/color][color=#6b6b6b]n[/color][color=#676767]t[/color] [color=#606060]f[/color][color=#5c5c5c]a[/color][color=#585858]d[/color][color=#555555]i[/color][color=#515151]n[/color][color=#4d4d4d]g[/color] [color=#464646]m[/color][color=#424242]o[/color][color=#3e3e3e]m[/color][color=#3a3a3a]e[/color][color=#373737]n[/color][color=#333333]t[/color]


[color=585858][i][sub]how long did she drift off, 15 minutes, 30?[/sub][/i][/color]

[color=c8c8c8]Sunglasses were pushed back as she raised her head, a rosewood tinted stare interrupted by an annoyance of blinking as her mind fluttered from alarm to intrigue and was caught by a man across from her. Confusion followed his out turned hand past the point of his finger and to her summons before tagging-in excitement, who rarely sauntered in without nerves. Her own voice, unused in any hominid vocalization in hours, surprised her as she thanked her compatriot before taking up a determined pace towards the Council Room. Excitement, nerves, exhaustion; the choice of culprit offers varied selections but the effect was the same, shaking fingers draw stray hair segments into narrow braids that are tucked within other braids, multitasking for the modern woman as she tried not to think of every possibility that could be clicking into place as she walked. She would know soon enough, but the eagerness seemed wired into her so much as breathing. She could only hope for an opportunity to prove herself.[/color]