Mcmolly

Amygdala Circuit

Follen never once pressured her to speak in these sessions. Sometimes Quinn came in ready to go, and would talk almost the entire time, in her own halting way. Others, they would for minutes, quiet, while she thought and he smiled, encouraging but not insistent. Now and then he would scratch something down on his folder, even when she didn’t speak, as though he’d heard something anyway.

This time he didn’t, though when she finally did break her silence, and mentioned the dream journal, the pen did move. “Oh, well that’s alright,” he said. “‘Busy’ is certainly an understatement. I don’t think you could be faulted for forgetting your own name in all this, ah, excitement—to make an understatement of my own.”

The light in the faux-window was still early-dawn, violets and bloody oranges. No birdsongs today—he sometimes forewent those when he had something that required his focus early in the morning.

“Dreams are important of course, and I’m very interested to hear about them, but I believe the waking world has taken precedence these past few days, wouldn’t you say?” He smiled again, knowingly, comfortingly. He so rarely asked her to speak on a topic directly, but now and then it seemed necessary to offer a gentle nudge. “Perhaps you would like to talk about what happened at the duel. Or perhaps you’ve had quite enough talk about that. Tell me, Quinn, darling: what has been on your mind, really?”

Amygdala Circuit

Medical was quiet by the time Quinn arrived, but there had been a general, visible unrest in the station on her way. People in the commons were talking, muttering about Helburke, and Casoban. It was beginning to seem like relations were souring on Runa’s side of that partnership as well, though that could have just been the sentiments of the people who actually worked with the CSC.

Towards her though, the faces were all smiles, all respect. Quinn was still the golden girl of the hour. Whatever ill feelings extended into a particular room of the ward did not reach her, and it seemed like they never would. Quinn’s guilt over failing Roaki might be stuck in her mind, but it would linger in very few others. Whether they gave her to Casoban, Eusero, or Helburke, it wouldn’t matter. In a few weeks’ time her name would be forgotten. She’d be Blotklau, a footnote in Quinn’s own newborn legend.

Perhaps not a comforting notion.

Follen’s door was open, and he spotted her as she arrived. He had his feet up on his desk, scratching absently on a notepad in his lap, and when he saw her a big smile split his face.

“Quinn, darling! Good morning. Please, come in, come right in.” He brought his feet down, set the notepad down before him, and gestured to one of the seats. “How are you feeling? Here for the eval? Well, let’s get right into it, shall we?”

Amygdala Circuit

Dahlia nodded. Quinn was getting better at dealing with her anxieties, but it was still obvious enough when she had them. She balled up, her eyes found sudden interest in everything but the eyes of others. She was shivering despite the stove behind her. Dahlia wanted very much to reach out and hold her hand, or to go over and hug her, but gradually she saw how Quinn got a handle on herself. Her eyes turned upward, her brow went low. Thoughtful, not afraid. A good step to make, an important one.

She listened, and it would have been a lie to say the same worries hadn’t come to her—more or less. What would the Board do to Besca, or Follen? Quinn had led the charge last night, but everything would have fallen apart by now without them. If they couldn’t touch her or Quinn, then it stood to reason they’d go after whoever was closest.

“Me too,” she said. She didn’t lie to her sister. “But I’m trying to be optimistic. Besca has a good record. She’s from Westwel, she’s experienced, and under her leadership you won your first duel, and we survived a Modir ambush. Follen’s the same way. They’re, ah, ingrained, y’know? It’d be hard to get rid of them. Maybe harder than it’d be to just…let things go.”

It wasn’t a good answer, it was hardly an answer at all. But it was honest, and it was, if nothing else, a start. “For now, I don’t really know. We’ll just have to be alert. Make sure at least one of us is always available in case they try something. If push comes to shove I can put my foot down, maybe they’ll listen. I just hope it doesn’t come to any of that.”

Her phone buzzed, and she checked it dreading a message from Besca. Blessedly it was just an alarm. “Shoot, right. I’ve got sims today.” She hopped up from the counter, taking a few slices of toast with her as she grabbed the bright yellow jacket from the hanger and threw it on. “Late lunch, early dinner? I can meet you wherever.”

At the door she stopped, whirling on her heel and jogging back to the counter. She threw an arm around Quinn, held her for a long moment. “Love ya,” she said, and then hurried out of the dorms.

That left Quinn alone with her unfinished food, and no real help with her problem. And the TV. Low as the sound was, she could still hear the anchors talking about her. About the duel, and the upset, and how it was just so strange that Quinnlash Loughvein hadn’t made a single public appearance yet. The only footage anyone had of her were the clips from the duel, and even zoomed in the details were blurry.

“—and our sources at the Casobani parliament are suggesting that we may see a formal request for the transfer of the captured Helburkan pilot, Roaki Tormont, from the RISC to the CSC’s station. This coming only hours after Helburke’s sovereign approved House Tormont’s appeal to declare her a fugitive. Officials claim she faces charges for the murder of five other members of the Great House. These requests are expected to hit the desk of the RISC’s Board of Directors together later this evening…”

Amygdala Circuit

Dahlia saw Quinn set down her fork, breathe deeply, and knew that something was coming. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but a question of rebelliousness had not been it. Then again, why not? It was a fair question, and the answer…complex. Likely to be disappointing, but at least not in the way Dahlia feared it would be.

“No,” she said, and it was a bit like admitting she didn’t know how to ride a bike, or whistle. It felt…not quite shameful, but certainly embarrassing. “I’ve wanted to, but…there haven’t been a lot. At least, not a lot that they’ve tried to use with me. I guess I’ve never made them mad, is more like what I mean. Yeah I’ve skipped training days, or played hooky on interviews, but nothing serious.”

She knew why well enough. She never questioned things, never caused problems—though saying it like that made it sound like Quinn was a troublemaker, which, technically she was. But what Quinn was doing was good trouble. Needed trouble. No one should have been mad at Quinn for what she did, not at the duel and not last night.

They would be anyway.

“I’ve never done a lot of things. Being a pilot kinda takes more opportunities than it gives you. But just because you’ve never done something before doesn’t mean it’s wrong—you’re the proof.” She crossed her arms on the counter, laid her head down on them to be more level with Quinn. “You’re worried about what they’ll do, huh? ‘Cause of Roaki.”

Amygdala Circuit

“Mo-orning~!” Dahlia called, sing-song, as soon as Quinn emerged from her room. She quickly prepped a plate for her; eggs, sweet toast with syrup, a peeled orange. Besca had drilled into her the merits of a healthy breakfast long ago, and she’d come to find that even on the hardest and most grueling days, she never regretted a good start to the morning.

She watched Quinn’s focus shift to the TV, and frowned. She’d meant to at least mute it. Talk still hadn’t died down, and while a modest singularity in Tohoki had diluted global attention somewhat, Runa itself was still very keyed-in on their newest, strangest pilot.

“Ah…sort of, yeah. Usually it’s a couple of days, then there’s a singularity somewhere, or another duel starts, or there’s a conflict brewing somewhere, and everyone starts speculating who gets pitted against who.” Besca had showed her one of those ‘Fantasy Duel’ leagues before, where people drafted matches and bet on the winners. There was, evidently, quite a lot of money in it. It never sat quite right with her.

“But things are pretty settled right now. Casoban and Helburke aren’t happy, but we’re involved in that, so the eye is still on you.” She made herself a plate, sat down. “I mean, can you blame them? There’s a lot to talk about, and once word gets out that we’re still looking after Roaki, they’re only gonna get more interested. People wanna…know, y’know? They wanna know about you, about the duel, about all that stuff. Actually, you might have to start thinking about your first interview. The Board’ll prolly keep you in Runa, but you’ll get to choose from a few of the big stations. Besca’ll know more about that though—she had to go take care of something, said she’d be around later.”

Amygdala Circuit

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A crowd was forming in the medical ward by the time Besca arrived. Nurses and orderlies, and even a handful of people from other divisions who’d yet to start their shifts. But chief among them was a station security officer. RISC’s military police, plucked from the soldiers that had been steadily replenishing since Hovvi.

They were all gathered outside of a room she could only guess was Roaki Tormont’s. There was a general murmur filling the air, but the loudest sounds came from the officer demanding to be let in. Standing there with his back to the door, refusing him calmly, was Follen.

Security didn’t usually come out this way—really, there wasn’t all that much for them to do, and Besca had heard the shift referred to as a paid break. With how frequently the soldiery rotated in and out of the Aerie, it was entirely possible he didn’t know who Follen was. By his own design he was disarming and unremarkable, and he tended to eschew his coat and badge in favor of the normalcy of his own clothes.

So, when he put a hand on Follen’s shoulder and shoved him aside, it shouldn’t have been surprising. It also shouldn’t have made Besca upset, considering how many times she’d wanted to do that and worse to him.

But, it did.

“Hey!” she barked, and the whole crowd turned, the officer included. He might not have recognized Follen, but he would her. “What the everloving fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The officer paled for a moment, but collected himself quickly. “Ma’am—commander—the Helburkan pilot was removed from custody last night against orders, and relocated here.”

“I’m aware. I ordered it.”

He blinked. “Well, I’m here to return her to holding.”

“On who’s orders would that be?” She asked, stern, but she knew the answer already.

“Ma’am, the Board.”

She’d expected this, but not so soon. Stupid. There’d likely been videos and articles on the Board’s desk before the sun had come up in Runa, the real surprise is that they’d waited at all. In truth, she should have conceded, that really was the end of it. The Board’s orders were absolute, even over her own, and if she stayed this course it was likely to end poorly for just about everyone involved.

But she glanced at the door, and imagined Roaki in there, having had barely enough time to shut her eyes let alone recover from her stint in holding. Despite what she’d said to Quinn last night, it was still…difficult to separate the girl entirely from the duel, and who she represented.

Nevertheless, she stepped closer to the officer, then past him, and stood in front of the door. “As commander of this station, it is my direct order that the prisoner remain here. If the Board has a problem with that, they can get ahold of me directly.”

He hesitated, and she could tell he was thinking of what to say—what he’d likely been told to say when she resisted. “Commander,” he started. “You do not have the authority to refuse a command from the Board.”

“I’m telling you to leave.”

“You don’t—”

“You’re fired.”

He blinked again. Then, confused, he began to repeat: “You don’t—”

“I’m not refusing a command from the Board. I’m firing you. As of this moment you are no longer employed by the RISC. You are a civilian onboard at my pleasure, and as such have no authority to carry out anyone’s orders.” She stared up at him, unblinking, and nodded down the hall. “Go. This ward is for personnel only. You can stay in the commons until we schedule a time to ship you planetside.”

The murmuring erupted around them, and though the officer stared hard at her for a long time, eventually he relented. “Talking to the supe about this,” he grumbled, and stormed off down the hall.

Besca looked to the crowd, frowning. “Anyone who isn’t sick, dying, or attending to the sick and dying, get out of here and back to wherever you’re supposed to be.”

They did, slow and uncertainly, but they did, and eventually it was just her and Follen left at Roaki’s door. He brushed himself off, regarding her in the plain, direct way he did when it was just the two of them.

“That was interesting,” he said, all trace of warmth gone from his voice. “Whatever will you do now?”

“No idea,” she sighed. “No fuckin’ idea.”

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Dahlia had breakfast cooking when Quinn awoke. The smells of cooked eggs, honeyed-toast and cinnamon drifted through the cracked doorway to her bedroom, along with sounds from the TV. She could hear people talking, newscasters. Their words were fainted and garbled, but now and then there was a familiar word or two.

“Quinnlash.”

“Casobani conflict.

“Soon.”

Though Dahlia’s humming wove in and out, there was no hint that Besca was around. She’d said she’d be back in the morning, but perhaps work had called her away. Regardless, it was a new day. Whatever it had in store for her, Quinn would do well not to meet it on an empty stomach.

The Shattering of Aegis

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Lilann tried to suck in her smile when she saw how unamused Ceolfric was with her answer, but a small smirk escaped her anyway. If he’d expected honesty from her after having introduced himself sword-first, he was bold. If it was straightforwardness he’d wanted, he was a fool—she was hardly straightforward with the people she liked. Either way, the exchange helped ease what lingering worry she had for Kyreth.

Her attention turned then to Aleka, who laid out the details of what would be their trial contract. An escort, delivering a supply of Red Fern along with the cropmaster’s daughter. Simple, true, but if she’d learned nothing else from her journeys in Dranir, it was that simple things could quite easily take a turn for the exciting. Good for the taverns, but when it came to an evaluation? Well, even then, she supposed she’d rather have the excitement. Her mind raced with possibilities at the mention of animal attacks; one or two isolated incidents were within the realm of coincidence, but weeks of consistent trouble? And all in the open day?

The bardic side of her felt the strings of fate at play, detestable as they were. Her sword seemed at once heavier, and distinctly important.

Of course the real danger—and reward—was an extended trip in the company of her fellow hopefuls. The moody hedgeman, the moodier boy, and the suspiciously kind woman. Oh, and her brother-in-hue, Cerric. A saving grace of sorts, he was interesting, but the idea of spending days and nights with him prickled at the back of her neck. He had that look to him, that peculiar demeanor that she’d seen in the strong and the cruel—you could never be certain if he was smiling because he was happy, or because he was about to do something utterly horrific.

She decided the risk was worth it.

Amygdala Circuit

It took some time, but as Quinn continued to speak, she could see Quinnlash was listening. Whether or not she was understand was impossible to tell, but gradually, that moodiness left her, and she stared blankly out at the water, at her lure which had yet to catch. Quinn couldn’t see beneath the surface, deep blue as it was past the sun’s reflection, but she might be forgiven for thinking there were hardly any fish at all today.

Though her own line did tug now and then with the nibbles of hungry passersby.

When she reached out and place her hand on Quinnlash’s shoulder, the girl startled, just barely, and turned her head fully towards her. Black eyes wide, she stared between the hand, and Quinn’s face. Back and forth, slow and perplexed, as if she’d never been touched before. Not an entirely strange idea, all things considered.

Eventually she turned back to the water. Her legs uncurled, and she came to sit naturally upon the railing again. The shadows slipped off her like water, leaving her dry and bright, though that light still didn’t quite touch her expression yet. She began to reel her line in again.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, she said quietly. “I don’t like being angry, it feels a lot like being scared. But Dahlia says you can still be brave when you’re scared. So maybe…maybe it’s the same with being angry. I still think we have to kill evil when we find it. That’s what we are. But…”

Her line rose from the water. At the end was not a dull weight, but a hook whose bait was untouched. Quinnlash’s brow furrowed.

“But maybe there’s not as much evil as we thought…”

Amygdala Circuit

Quinnlash shrunk when Quinn came close, curling tighter, angling her pole away like she thought it might be taken from her. Her eyes followed the line Quinn cast out onto the water, watched it plunk beneath the surface and settle. For a long few moments it seemed like there might not be anything in the lake at all, that perhaps Quinnlash was denying her. Did she expect to aggravate her? To goad her into another argument?

No. Quinn could feel that wasn’t the case. The air was warm, the water still and gentle. The sounds in the air were those of happiness, and the unseen dawn promised a long day before the dark returned. No, there was no fight to be had here, tonight.

Quinn’s lure bobbed. Quinnlash eased. Her face was still scrunched into a moody pout, and it didn’t seem like she wanted to hear any excuse or explanation. It was like she’d been denied something herself. Like she’d worked so hard, waited so long, only to come up empty-handed.

But then Quinn mentioned them. The good “them”.

“They didn’t, though,” she said, not so much upset as she was confused. “They thought we had the right idea before. You changed their minds. It shouldn’t have been so easy—it’s not fair. We’re good, aren’t we? We…we didn’t do anything wrong. Why does it feel like we did something wrong?”

Amygdala Circuit

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It had become familiar, this feeling, ironically so much like waking up. When Quinn opened her eyes that night, she was there again, laying on the boat atop the spread-out towels. The sky was pale blue, darkness receding from the edges eclipsed by the distant forests. Beyond the lake’s cliff-faced rim, a warm orange light was beginning to rise. Though the sun itself wasn’t quite visible yet, it was reflected there in the water, surrounding the boat like a glowing, red-orange pond.

It was at once pleasantly quiet, but if she listened, Quinn could hear the sounds of people on Hovvi’s shore, see little dots of them scattered about the harbor and the beach. Too far for detail, too far to have been heard, really, but there it was anyway. The shadows of Dahlia and Safie laughed and chatted out by the buoy.

Behind her, there was a slight whooshing sound, and a distant splash.

Quinnlash was sat on the railing, fishing pole in her hands. The line was cast out far, though no farther than Quinn could remember having sent her own that day.

Even in the burgeoning daylight she looked gloomy, darkened by shadows cast from nowhere, as if it were still night for her. The only exceptions were here eyes, which were no blacker or lighter than they ever were, and the horns on her head. They’d grown again, ever so slightly, and had begun to branch at their tips. Like the rest of her, they were unaffected by the sun. Instead, they caught moonlight that wasn’t there, and glinted and shimmered like polished white gold.

She glanced sidelong at Quinn. Her knees came up, tucked in close to her chest, and though it should have thrown her wildly off balance back onto the deck, she just hovered there, only tangentially touching the railing.

“You didn’t do it…” she grumbled. “You didn’t kill her.”