Avatar of shylarah

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2 yrs ago
Current The way some people spell makes me wonder about their pronunciation.
3 likes
8 yrs ago
They say it's about the journey, not the destination. This is true of many things. Pizza delivery is not one of them.
4 likes
8 yrs ago
TFW you know what you want to happen but the words aren't cooperating. Why is plot suddenly so much harder to write?
8 likes
8 yrs ago
So ded. Cannot brain. Just one massive poorly coordinated and balance-lacking headache. But don't send help. I don't want to people either. X.x
4 likes
8 yrs ago
Glad to see I'm not the only follower of Lord Cato, god of wisdom, on this most auspicious Superb Owl Sunday.
1 like

Bio

I am an adult, though I don't usually act like it. I'm a voracious reader, and not overly picky about books. I am artistic in a variety of areas, including music, drawing, writing, and sculpting. I have a minor obsession with dragons, and love the color violet. Fantasy is my preferred genre, be it past, future, urban...as long as it has a fantasy flavor to it. I also like scifi, mystery, and some horror. I am crazy, and I like tormenting my characters. But I don't bite...much. ^.~


Color Sergeant in Bot Killer Squad

Most Recent Posts

She was ten years old again, hurrying down a dimly lit hallway with five of her squadmates, and two other teams. Jacob was a week dead, and Richie had gone to help the demolitions division. He’d mentioned something about blasting their way to freedom before he’d left, with Rico’s blessing. Henrietta was missing, but the last she’d heard, the other girl had been severely ill. Someone had already gotten to the main powerlines, and now the facility was running solely on backup power, turning already dingy corridors into intermittent pools of generator-powered emergency lights breaking up long stretches of darkness. That didn’t bother the children much; they’d been trained to face less-than-ideal conditions. The guards and scientists, however, found it put them at a severe disadvantage, and many areas were littered with the corpses of the adults that formerly controlled the compound.

The lead signalled for the group to move forward around the corner and down the hallway beyond. They were sweeping one of the wings for survivors, intending to eliminate the adults and bring as many of the other children that were still alive but had been unable to join the fight to a central location, so they could be brought with once an escape route was secured. She hoped one of those they recovered would be the missing Henrietta.

They encountered few still living as they methodically covered their assigned wing. Few scientist had fled in this direction, and most of the children too sick to be able to force themselves out of bed were so poorly off that Rico and the other medic didn’t think they’d make it. She felt a rush of relief when Henrietta was not only lucid but sitting up in bed. “Hey guys,” the other girl said weakly, giving them half a smile before coughing. “Sorry I didn’t show, but I’m too dizzy to be able to tell friend from foe. I’d be a liability. Had to sit it out.”
“Don’t worry about it, Henri, we’re here to get you out. We’re getting out of here, and you’re coming with,” Rico responded briskly. “Dan! You take her.”

In the end, they only rescued a handful, but even one would have been worth it. They’d gone back to the common area to regroup, taking a quick detour to circle behind a team of guards that was fighting better than most. They’d managed to make themselves a barricade with two desks and a heavy table, and had pinned down a group of melee fighters that had already lost several of their number trying to overtake the fortified position. She hung back; body armor wasn’t perfect protection, after all, and the team members with guns were more than able to handle it. She stayed behind cover as Angie and Tommy advanced, covered by two boys from another team. She saw the flash of guns firing as they opened fire on the dug in guards, taking them from surprise from behind. Three of them fell right away, with a fourth wounded, and two more tried desperately to turn one of the desks, but were immediately targeted by their new opponents. The melee squad emerged from cover, with nods of thanks, and headed with to the commons.

Several more divisions were in the common area already, but they didn’t get much time to relax before a runner turned up, with news that the demolitions team had blown a hole in the outer wall of the compound, and it was time to head out. There were vehicles in a nearby lot, and most would fit through the gap that had been created. They wouldn’t be able to leave unopposed, but the tacticians figured they had some time before the adults brought out any of the really dangerous weapons. Still, it was going to be close. Her team stayed back, helping the injured up the steps while other squads went to secure vehicles and assist in fending off the adults intent on keeping them from escaping. She boosted Angie up to the low roof, where the sniper unslung her rifle and lay down in the lee of a set of chimneys, to act as overwatch.

A shot from an approaching group of enemies found its mark in a moment when Rico stepped too far out of cover to assist an eight-year-old struggling to carry a nearly-unconscious teammate that had been badly hurt in the earlier combat. The boy went down with a cry, and she dragged him back to cover, as Will and Tommy pulled the two he’d been helping out of the line of fire. She carefully rolled him over. “How bad is it?” she asked softly, trying to pull his hand away from his side enough to get a look.
“Bad,” Rico rasped, barely able to get the word out. Blood stained his lips. “Lung...maybe both.”

She looked around at the rest of her team. She was the healthiest, out of all of them. Whatever had spread like wildfire through the children of the ALICE project, it hadn’t hit her very hard at all. She was worn out from fighting, of course, but the others had been running on close to empty from the beginning. Will was pale and trembling, Dan kept having to shake his head to clear it, and Tommy looked exhausted. Henrietta was too dizzy to stand on her own, and though Angie was out of sight she’d seen that the smallest girl was having difficulty too. Richie had yet to return, though he was not as ill as most. “Stick with me, Rico. I’ll get you out of here,” she said softly. She started to tell the others they needed to move forward, but the boy in her arms grabbed her sleeve. She looked down at him, and he shook his head. She frowned. “You’ll make it,” she insisted, despite realizing he probably would not. She knew she shouldn’t, but she didn’t want to give up hope just yet. She’d been criticized in training for her tendency towards overly positive assessments. Rico shook his head, struggling to breath, and reached for the closest of her knives. A cold hand gripped her heart, and she reluctantly batted his fumbling fingers away and drew the blade herself.

“You’re sure?” she whispered. He nodded. She flipped the knife in her hand, but still she held it loosely. The members of her team were the closest thing she had to family. Rico covered her hand with his, making her grip the handle tighter, and gave her a weak smile. He couldn’t talk, but his pained eyes said enough.

Please.
She steeled herself for what needed to be done.

The woman awoke with a stifled gasp. Beside her, her partner’s eyes shot open, one hand reaching for her nearby pistol. “It’s alright, Angie, go back to sleep.” Angie let herself relax and pulled her hand back under the covers, but instead of closing her eyes she rolled over to look at her bedmate. “Y’okay?” she asked, voice rough with sleep.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
The green eyes didn’t look away, however. She could almost see the rings turning, though it was really too dim to make out such details. “Tha’ dream ’gain, eh?” The only response Angie got was a sigh. “Though’ so. Think y’ gonna be able t’ get back t’ sleep, ’r should we ge’ up fer a bit?”
“I’ve told you before, it doesn’t bother me /that/ much anymore. It’s just...unpleasant.”
The watching eyes blinked slowly. “So ya ’ave. Sorreh, not complet’ly ’wake righ’ now.”
“Then go back to sleep, freckle-face.”
“Now, tha’s not very nice, seein’s ’ow yer th’ one as woke me up,” Angie teased, pleased when she managed to earn a groan and a shove. “Haa, tha’s be’er. Nigh’, Lexie.”
“Night, Angie. Now shut up.”

Late spring, y2198

Angie cleaned up after their breakfast as Lexie took down the tent. It was a well-established ritual, and they knew exactly where each item went inside the Hunk without even thinking about it. It didn’t take long for the pair to finish, and they were ready to move out before the sun had gotten too far above the horizon. The day had started out brisk, as it did most mornings, but it wouldn’t be long before it warmed up. Lexie slid into the driver’s seat as Angie went around to the other side. They were in between jobs, though they were doing a minor favor for someone and heading to visit an old friend in the process. It generally took them a day or two to travel between places, since vehicles were no longer quite as fast as the stories said they once were, certainly not if you wanted them to last any length of time. That meant sleeping out in the Wild a day or two in between stops, though the pair didn’t mind. Sleeping out in the middle of nowhere was often somewhat safer than making a camp near other people. You never could be certain someone wouldn’t take a liking to a tool, or a weapon, or even to you. And while each of them could take out just about any individual in a straight up fight, people didn’t always make it a straight up fight, and they rarely fought fair. Not that the two were above using dirty tricks themselves, but they’d been designed to work in teams, with well-coordinated support. It wouldn’t do to grow careless and end up dead.

Angie’s eyes continually swept the sand between them and the horizon, searching for any sign of life. When she saw a trace of movement, she waved to her partner to stop, and hopped out of the truck with her .22 rifle in hand. There, about a hundred thirty yards out, a jackrabbit was foraging for its breakfast. The redhead took aim, and a shot through the head landed the rabbit on the ladies’ lunch menu.

The sun was high in the sky before Lexie cut the motor again, and the pair got out and stretched their legs. A gust of hot wind caught the loose beige-colored wraps the pair wore to help stay cool, and the taller woman took advantage of it to help open the reflective tarp she was unfolding. It took hardly any time at all to hang it between the Hunk and a pair of short poles, creating a patch of shade where they could rest through the hottest part of the day. Running the Hunk at that hour was asking for trouble in the way of overheating, at least during the hotter months, and the practice had become a tradition for most of the year. Angie settled next to her and started cleaning her air rifle.

“So.” Lexie raised an eyebrow at her partner as the other woman spoke. “Tha’ dream ’gain.”
Exasperated, she looked away. “I told you, it really doesn’t bother me that much anymore.”
“Eyah, but...ya ’aven’ ’ad i’ in wha’, a couple years? ’Sides, e’en if’n i’ don’ trouble ya, doesn’ mean ya ain’ troubled. So why now?”
She gave the question a bit of thought, but shook her head. “I really don’t know, I mean...actually no, hold on. I might have an idea after all.” Angie glanced in her direction for a moment before returning her gaze to her work. “The focus was Rico, and how...you know. I woke up right after that part this time. And, well, it’s not the same circumstances, but I couldn’t keep Tal from dying either. Heck, they didn’t even want me going near him, what with me not having had Greater Canilo yet.” She scowled at the ground between her outstretched feet. The man had been supportive of the pair, even when they were going against the norms of both Saints and Bears. They’d looked up to him.
“Eh, i’ sucks, but wha’ could ya possibly ’ave done t’ ’elp?” the other woman asked sensibly. “Ya’ al’ays were too much o’ a bleedin’ ’eart, if’n y’ask me.” She laughed as her comment got her a playful swat.
“Go make yourself useful, why don’t you, and bag us something else? I’d go instead to get away from you, but I’m not the one with the creepy stalker eyes,” Lexie grinned back.
“Ha~” Angie finished putting the air rifle back together and got to her feet, heading out into the wasteland.

Some time later, Lexie looked up from the shirt she was mending to see someone in the distance, specific features blurred by the heat haze of the desert. She closed the sewing kit, putting put kit and clothing back in the Hunk, and waited for the person to get closer.

((Person at the end is intended to be Sythi @Krinos Solstice))
@ClocktowerEchos Sorry to hear that. *waves bye*
Amuné did her best to ignore the Machina's expression. Her feelings were all mixed up regarding him, and it wasn't pleasant. She only half payed attention as Ethan and Nymira asked after the missing healer, speaking with various townsfolk. They didn't seem to be having any luck, and the girl was glad, though she didn't tell them. Maybe if they didn't find Zander they would get to leave without him. That would be nice.

Unfortunately, when Nymira talked to a man playing a song for a small crowd from the balcony of an inn, he recognized the name. The girl frowned. So much for leaving Zander behind. The man vanished inside, and soon a woman opened the front door for them. Amuné didn't want to go inside. She wanted to stay far away from someone like that. But Ethan was going in, and she didn't want to be left behind either. So she let him help her down and went inside, keeping her gaze on her shoes. Wyth stayed close by, ears flattening whenever Cecil got too close to his girl.

They were shown to a smaller room off the main area, one that was filled with smells from the kitchen, but Amuné didn't really pay attention to the wonderful aroma. She wasn't hungry, not after what had happened just a short while ago. She just slid into a seat and regarded her clasped hands in her lap as Wyth settled himself at her feet. The child ignored the pitcher of juice set on the table. Even if she'd wanted any, this was an inn and they'd have to pay for it, so she'd need to ask before having some. She'd heard the lady at the door coughing. Had Zander done that to her, like he'd killed the mayor? She hoped the woman would be okay. Amuné let the conversation wash over her for the most part, still sulking. Her only contribution was a grumpy comment of, "Well /I/ don't think he's a good fit."
@Mogtaki Well you're doing a good job of both that. =P
Every time @Mogtaki posts I feel like Cecil needs a hug. WHY YOU DO DIS?! Amune, I love you, but dodging like that was unkind. You hurt his feelings. *puts her in time out*




@Overlord24 404 pic not found, on your char sheet. Please fix the link. Also consider using [img] tags to display it here.
Wyth does /not/ like Cecil, and I'm not sure what it's going to take to make him change his mind. *amused -- and sorry for the poor boy*
The way Cecil described what he'd seen, it certainly /sounded/ like a vision to the child Seer. Things she Saw could be familiar, even if she'd never seen them before, though it didn't happen often. Amuné put the thought aside and got to her feet when Nymira pointed out that they should go. "I still think we should go talk to the guard," she grumbled. Leaving town now meant that she wasn't going to get to listen to the minstrel that evening, something she could really use after such an awful day. However, Ethan's words made her plant her feet. "Get Zander?" she echoed, folding her arms. "Why do we need to get him? He's not nice, and he killed the mayor and he's using being a healer to hurt people, and that's wrong!" The man's reply didn't convince her. "He ran away!" she retorted, refusing to move. "If he didn't do it, why'd he run away like that?" Ethan had an answer to that as well, one that seemed possible if not likely. The girl looked down and scuffed a foot in the dirt. "He's still mean," she said in a petulant voice, her expression sulky, but she at least went to take the man's outstretched hand.

Wyth didn't look pleased at how close his girl was to the metal boy but the one she liked was in between them, so he limited himself to a soft hiss. The moorcat fell in behind the three so he could keep an eye on the metal boy, ready to lunge if he tried anything. Perhaps his girl had not been physically injured, but she had been distraught, and the boy was the cause. For that matter, he'd been acting with such cold violence that it was unclear if he would have hurt the kit, and simply hadn't gotten around to it. Nor was the boy any sort of creature Wyth recognized -- his shell was harder than the turtles that sometimes lazed on hot rocks near the creek back home, while he looked like the people-kits and smelled more like a metal beast, like the ones some of the farmers used in their fields.

Amuné had the feline get in the cart, but as Cecil started to follow the moorcat laid his ears back and snarled. "Wyth, stop that," she scolded, frowning at him. Instead the cat got to his feet and moved between his girl and the Machina. "No!" the girl went to grab his tail, knowing that it wouldn't do any good if Wyth really wanted to hurt Cecil, but it was a stronger signal than just words. "No, he's a--" Her gaze flicked to the Machina's face for a brief moment before she dropped her eyes, feeling guilty. She couldn't quite bring herself to say friend, not just then. "He's not bad. Don't hurt him. Um...I think maybe Wyth shouldn't ride in the cart right now...If you'll just...let us get down...." The last part was addressed mostly to Cecil, but she couldn't look at him. Between cat and Machina, she was embarrassed and ashamed and quite clearly unhappy. Still, they managed to sort things out, and Wyth ended up pacing along at the cart's side as the group headed to look for the stray healer.
I am very glad to be aboard this train~
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