Burden of the Blade

He respected the members of the Blade as equally or more so than they respected him. He didn’t understand what about him happened to put a kink in the large Galra male’s tail but he wasn’t going to just let him push him around. There wasn’t enough room in the hallway for both of them to get into a shoving match. But the cramped hallway did give him a slight edge over Antok as Keith was smaller.

“Just how am I supposed to do that? I can’t shape shift and I sure as hell won’t let you walk all over me. What do you want me to do, climb over you?” Keith snapped back. “I’m half Galra and half human, not half squirrel.”

Antok tried to hold back a sneer when the word ‘Galra’ left Keith’s lips. Antok could make a lot of excuses for why he was upset about their initiation: the fact they had disobeyed Kolivan’s orders about weaponry, how effortlessly they passed the trial without knowing the commitment or purpose. It all came down to one thing, though.

Unlike Antok, who had fought for the privilege to called Galra, Keith was hardly like one of their race. He even seemed ashamed of his heritage. It annoyed Antok how quickly Keith had been accepted as one of their own despite the fact he had never wanted to be Galra.

All he could think of while listening to the chaos was numbers, counting out beats, trying to remember the tune of his newest song, anything to avoid coming to terms with the danger he was in. Perhaps it was crazy to only feel the tug of unease at his gut, rather than attempting to make his way to the exit like most other patrons and workers.

His demeanor wouldn’t remain so cool as he heard the door being pummeled in, and shattering on the floor.

The generator was rumbling, and while Ziikya had no idea of what his assailant looked like, his natural reaction was to bellow in warning. The deep sound reverberated through the ground, and any ribcage that was within earshot. Along with the generator, the sound was nearly deafening.

Despite telling himself he should stop, that it was only going to make his capture all the more swift, his petrification and instincts wouldn’t let up, and he was being biologically forced to stand his ground. If anything really happened, surely he could outrun her for a little while.

Clang, clang, clang. The shuddering of the generator was deafening. When the attacker crashed through the door, sending it flying back, she rolled to a sudden stop. Her bat-like ears swiveled wildly. With no visible eyes, someone may make the connection that she navigated largely by sound.

It took her a moment to locate her target in the cacophony. But when she did? Stumbling back, she flashed her teeth at them in a furious snarl. That bellow happened to be on a frequency that caused her physical pain, something that only pissed her off more.

But the important thing was that she was distracted.

It gave Antok the chance he needed. No, he was far from altruistic. If this had been any other circumstances, he would have been happy to let her tear the other galra to shreds. The Blade of Marmora’s secrets were more important than one person’s life. But he needed answers out of her.

He had been hoping he could trail the Galra Empire’s agent, learn what they were buying from her from a safe distance. But since that hadn’t worked out, he would have to ask. Considering how great she seemed at talking, though, that was the biggest challenge of the night.

Crack. Antok leaped over the shattered remnants of the door, aiming for her back. ‘The ears are her weakness,’ he realized, if her reaction to the noise was anything to by. The large Galra landed and made a grab at them. Not that she was eager to oblige. The moment she felt Antok’s weight crash into her she started to buck wildly.

“Well, then, I guess it’s only fair if I let you choose any fun activity that suits your talents”, Kolivan hummed, eyes shut as they enjoyed the way Antok played with their hair.

They knew, though, that their words felt more like an empty promise. The Blade of Marmora had no such luxury to indulge in careless leisure, not when there was a war to fight and comrades to mourn.

The tug was enough to pull Kolivan out of their musing– for that, they were eternally grateful. Their sigh turned into something like a relaxed purr deep in their chest.

Antok’s mood, Kolivan learned, was infectious.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Antok”, Kolivan turned slightly, ears flicking amusement. “Nor you have to worry about me asking you to start grooming me. I don’t want your teeth to accidentally clip my ear.”

“Anything?” Antok whispered back. The wild pendulum of his tail slowed, stopped as he contemplated. A teasing offer, he realized, but that didn’t make it any less intriguing.

‘What do I want?’ he thought. Another night squinting at maps until his vision blurred, the last-minute whispers before an assault, the cold bite of another blade’s weapon. But his desires were not so simple as that, as much as he tried to define himself as a warrior. To hear Kolivan speak about their passions until their eyes shimmered, to stand at their side, and above all else to claim this moment.

The fact such moments seemed to be slipping away only made him more urgent, more eager. If Kolivan didn’t pull back, Antok would give another yank on their braid. Harder this time, any attempts at gentle completely abandoned. “Look at me,” he snapped, a note of impatience creeping into his voice.

“Forget them,” he added, tilting his head in the direction of the discarded robe. Antok’s fingers twitched; how he would love to rip that dreadful thing to shreds. “All I ask is for is this night.”

However Kolivan chose to define that. It could mean staying up til dawn listening to Kolivan speak about their plans; it could mean Kolivan having to suffer his terrible grooming; it could mean making good on his promise to bite. Antok no longer cared as long as he had this memory to call his own.

“No more trifles. Just this night. What do you want to do with it?”

Galra in this sector of space were rare enough that the new arrival drew Antok’s gaze instantly. Had he been followed? Better to take care of this issue as soon as possible. His tail began to lash back and forth, stalking in the stranger’s direction. As he walked past, his voice dropped to a whisper, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn back.”

Antok gave a growl of annoyance when he spotted the red paladin. Most of the other Blade of Marmora members had accepted Keith as their equal, but the large galra is still upset over what happened.

He didn’t have to be told twice, and soon Ziikya was scrambling away as fast as his legs could take him. He had no idea where he was going, but there had to be a good place to hide around here, right? With an anxious bellow, he goes into a room that had a sign on it. What it said was lost on the Idol, but he went in anyway. It seemed to be somewhere important, and it became clear that it was the generator room. Looking around, he decides to press himself against the wall behind the revving machine that was powering the building.

Looking like he was almost crushed against the wall with how tightly he had pressed himself against it, he waits. How he would know when it was safe was a mystery, but if he waited long enough those aliens were bound to be gone, surely.

Crack. The table was enough to open a jagged cut in her hide. She staggered back, bracing herself against the impact. It was easier to get a good look at her now that she had come to a stop. Beyond the sharp claws and teeth, the rock-like skin gleamed a dull brown under the stage lights. Bat-like ears swiveled in every direction, taking in the sound of screaming patrons and employees.

She had no eyes, but she managed to convey her anger easily enough. Her lips peeled back from her muzzle, the teeth inside glittering like diamonds. ‘Just as sharp, too,’ Antok thought with a wince. He had pissed off the wrong person today.

The chair finally in his hands, he tested the weight. Lobbing it would only buy him another few moments. While he wasn’t big on talk, maybe today? “Look, I didn’t mean to scare off your customer. I was just trying t-” he started to say.

Antok lifted the chair to block a swipe from one of her paws. The deep gouges left in the chair made him wince. ‘Alright, no talking.’ Before he could do much else, though, she had set her eyes on something else. The bat-like ears swiveled in the stranger’s direction when she heard the screech. “If you’re too much of a coward, the price will be pulled from your friend’s flesh,” she snarled.

It took Antok a moment to realize. Friend? Guilt by association. The mere fact he had talked to the stranger and told them to run had likely implicated them. He had to admit the things he had said had sounded somewhat familiar. While hardly the altruistic type... “Wait!” he said, throwing the chair aside so he could explain without clinging to it like a kit.

“I see that your mood has improved. I hope for your own sake that your own winter uniform still fits your bulk”, Kolivan said. They still found it odd that Antok would rather have people to fear him instead of the opposite, but well–

Deft fingers undid their own neat braid, smoothing out the knots and tangles. Loose strands fell down to their coat and they flicked them off to Antok’s direction.

“Careful, now. We want them to be our ally, not dead”, they said, before offering his back to Antok. A teasing smile played at their lips. “Braid my hair?”

“First picking your clothes, now braiding your hair?” Antok muttered, leaning closer to Kolivan. The purr deepened, his whole body thrumming with barely-restrained energy. Swish, swish, swish. His tail moved so quickly that it was little more than a blur. “It seems our allies are not the only ones who need reminded of my talents.”

Reaching up, Antok grabbed a fistful of their hair. What he would really like to do was give it a hard yank, bear his teeth at Kolivan again, and make good on that promise to bite. Instead, he rolled the strands of hair between his fingers, testing the thickness and length. Once he had a good measure, the large galra started to twist it into the proper shape. Quick, concise movements.

Unlike the clothing, Antok was no stranger to this activity. He had known how to do it long before he ever met Kolivan.

A snort escapes Cyrus, and he quickly covers his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter, “Sorry, sorry, no, it’s just a plastic wrapper.”

He moves his hand away from his mouth, a big smile still on his face and he seems much more relaxed than when he first came in. Cyrus laughs a little more, softer now and leans against the counter. He shoves one in his mouth and shrugs a little.

“Probably, it should hold me over until I can pester Hunk to teach me what is safe to eat. I honestly haven’t eaten much since I got here so I’m kind of used to it.”

Cyrus looks at the counter full of food and looks to see if there was anything else more that looks familiar or at least like something from earth. As he stuffs a couple more crackers into his mouth, he looks around, “Do you know if the castle has drinking water?”

Antok turned his attention back on the ‘cracker,’ turning it over and over in his hand. ‘Well, it doesn’t move,’ he thought to himself. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be bested by something so innocuous, even if the crinkling of that ‘plastic wrapper’ had done a lot to turn his appetite sour.

The galra raised the cracker to his mouth and crack. It crumbled in his hands as he shoved it against his mask. ‘Right, you pulled your mask back down a moment ago,’ he thought, eyes suddenly lashing around to challenge Cyrus. It usually only took a look to dissuade people from talking.

The large galra’s body relaxed when he realized Cyrus’s attention was on the counter, not him. He flicked the last crumbs from his hands, wanting to forget that whole episode a moment before. Just for good measure, he took a step forwards to crunch the last bits of cracker under his foot. ‘There. Evidence obliterated.’

Bold any fears which apply to your muse. Italicize what makes them uncomfortable.

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched. fame. peace. steady life habits. routine. being looked down on. responsibility.

Tagged by: lostghostboyy

Ziikya had been contentedly observing the saloon patrons, and was idly curious about the rumored entertainment. He let out a small yelp at the sudden comotion, his glossy fur standing on end as he pressed hard against the back of his seat.

He had unintentionally puffed himself out in fear, his eyes wide as he looked at the large male who spoke. What in the universe was going on here? In the back of his mind, he can’t help but think that this reminded him of more than one film he had seen back off planet.

He doesn’t say anything, mostly because he had no idea what to say.

The red curtains billowed out as Antok’s pursuer charged from backstage. Moving at such fast speeds, it was difficult to get a good look at them: big, flashing teeth, bared claws. The saloon erupted into startled cries, chair legs screeching across tile as people jumped to their feet.The employee in the sound booth was mouthing something, but the words were lost in the cacophony.

Not that there was a lot of time to take stock of the scenery. There was something very large and very pissed headed in their direction. ‘I need to slow her down,’ Antok thought, his mind running through the options. ‘Quick.’

His eyes darted over the objects near at hand: a few chairs, a table, a very puffed-up lookin- Was that another Galra? It was hard to tell under all that frizz. Antok was nice enough to warn them about what was going to happen next, though. Sort of. “Table!” he shouted.

Antok leaped over the top of their table, his lashing tail sending silverware flying in all directions. Once he was on the other side he gripped the edge and pushed with all his might, sending it spinning right into his pursuer’s path. That would buy him at least a few seconds.