#bite's writing

HaHA SURPRISE. Bet u thought I forgot about this sitting in my inbox! :y

Ikindofdidonandoff……oops. :,,,L

I had pretty much all of this done from ages ago and actually kinda like how it turned out. Which is why the hoverskiff’s way different from how you portray it. What I thought it might’ve looked like back then was something of a much smaller version of the sand skiffs from S.tar Wars, but with a couple of seats so it’s slightly safer and can transport two or three people at a time.

Sorry the ending’s abrupt. I forgot where the hell I was going with it. >_>;;

-

The deal had gone bad. The other party had already sold themselves out to Rendain prior in hopes he and his Varelsi horde would spare them from the impending end of the universe. Stupid, cowardly bastards. And the ensuing firefight made the situation worse; three against some twenty or thirty something amount of thugs were terrible odds enough on their own, but even more so when she was the only one carrying a gun. It made thinning the ranks tricky. And positively heart-stopping every time Shayne slipped out of cover, cloaked or not, and darted straight into the middle of the goons and their own (bigger, faster, deadlier) guns to punch and stab them with fists and boomerang and hulking rock monster.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” she’d yelled the first time, when the kid came sprinting back with a couple of scrapes and an already purpling cheek. … And received an irritatingly casual shrug and a positively infuriating, shit-eating grin as a response.

Fucking teenagers… she’d seethed silently, jamming a fresh clip into her pistol. Snapped, “Gimme some sorta warning the next time you feel the urge to eat some lead so I can make sure you don’t, y'know, die. Like an idiot.”

Aurox hissed his agreement. Shayne ignored him; saluted sloppily, grin widening so more crooked teeth could flash at her. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

The next few passes had been pretty uneventful, with the kid suffering injuries no heavier than occasional scrapes and bruises; something she was grateful for. It was only towards the end, when their opposition was running low on numbers and getting desperate, that the scales tipped to an unfavourable balance. At some point, one of the goons had somehow crept up behind her without her knowledge or awareness of the fact, with the intent to gun her down. By some stroke of coincidence or luck, Shayne had been in the midst of breaking off a skirmish to get back to her and caught the bastard in the act; managed to get out a warning holler before the asshole clubbed the back of her head something nasty and left her completely out of it for an indeterminate period of time. When she came to, the fight was over and Shayne had one of her jacketed arms wrapped over a thin shoulder and was trying to haul her to her feet.

“C'mon, boss. Upsy daisy…”

The walk to the hoverskiff was a fragmented blur. But she clearly remembered Shayne struggling valiantly under her weight, with a pronounced limp no less, and the feel of Aurox’s claws gently pinching the back of her jacket to help keep her upright. The hellish heat washing from his open ribcage onto half of her body had her squirming and groaning her discomfort every so often. When she finally came to properly, her head was pounding something awful. She was also already on her ‘skiff. Weird. She didn’t remember getting there in the first place, but whatever. Habitually, she shuffled towards the wheel, ready to head for home, but was stopped by a burnt hand wrapping itself firmly around her bicep.

“Ohhhh no, no, no, no, no.” Shayne said, ushering her back towards the passenger seats. “Si'ddown, Reyna, I got this.”

“Gotta get us home,” she slurred out, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle away.

“What, with a concussion?” The kid scoffed. “Have you lost your mind? Geez. I’ll get us back. Just take it easy.”

“Y'can’t even drive.”

That cocky grin again as long, clever fingers reached for one of the rarely used seatbelts and clipped her into place. “I can, actually. Self-taught. With a couple of lessons with Whisk on the finer points under my belt, too.”

She scowled. The last time the little turd drove her hoverskiff, it was to steal it. Distinctly, she remembered the paintwork on one side had been scraped something awful on the way out the hangar, and one of its thrusters had damn near been broken off while Shayne had been trying to dodge a rock towards the end of the chase.

The kid must’ve remembered too, because the grin she was flashed became sheepish. “Look, I’ll be careful with it this time. Promise.” When her scowl didn’t relent, Shayne sighed. “Reyna, c'mon. That was years ago now; I’ve changed since then, remember? Don’t you trust me?”

Her scowl became a wince. What a button to go pushing. “Well… yeah, but-”

“But nothing,” Shayne interrupted, waggling a finger. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

She watched the kid limp back towards the wheel, frowning. Was that little red bandana always wrapped around Shayne’s calf? Wasn’t it supposed to be just above an ankle? She squinted through blurring vision, noting that red seemed to bleed out from the bottom of the bandana, onto Shayne’s pants. It took longer than it should’ve for what that meant to click, but when it did, her concussion-induced fog seemed to clear a little. “You’re hurt.”

Shayne plopped into the seat, carefully keeping weight off the injured leg. “Yeah.” Then, as an afterthought, “But I’m not concussed, and I don’t need it to drive this thing.”

Her struggle against the seatbelt became more heated as protective instincts took over. Almost succeeded in freeing herself at least three times. “Out. Now. I’ll drive.”

“Nope. Aurox, make sure the passenger stays seated.”

The omnidimensional horror rematerialised, all smoke and cinders and irritated growling, and floated towards her. He flicked her fingers away from the seatbelt with his ungainly claws, the motions carefully gentle, but full of obvious contempt. Eventually, she gave up, slumping defeated against the seat with a one-eyed scowl. She was this close to crossing her arms and pouting like a petulant child. Aurox continued to watch her with beady, critical eyes to ensure she didn’t attempt escape again.

Below her feet the 'skiff hummed to life, throttles flaring and whining, and small screen lighting up with various meters and numbers next to Shayne’s left hand. Their liftoff was surprisingly smooth. Dust and rocks whizzed by as Shayne began driving, the 'skiff zooming across the terrain with far less bumping and jostling and panicked veering than she’d expected. Despite herself, she was impressed. “Whadd'ya know. You actually can drive.”

“Told'ja.”

She hummed. Then, after a beat, “Go straight t’ medbay. Get that leg patched up.”

“Only if you come too to get your head checked.”

She grunted an unhappy affirmative. Shayne just laughed. “Don’t be like that. We’ll get to be recovery neighbours! What’s better than that?”

“Literally anything,” Aurox growled under his breath at the same time she said, “A steaming cup of caffe.”

More laughter, followed by a tone ripe with mock pouting. “Fine then. I’ll hang out with Whiskey instead. At least he appreciates my company.”

She huffed out a laugh. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when he chooses you over me, kid.”

“I mean, you’re probably right.” Shayne expertly zigzagged through a cluster of rocks, not clipping a single one. More flat, barren desert stretched on, but if she squinted, she could see a thin line of green where it ended and the forestry began. Ekkunar’s terrain was weird as hell. “But I like to think the decision’d be difficult for him. What, with me being his favourite and all.”

A playful scoff as she grinned at the kid’s back through the gaps in Aurox’s torso. The wall of heat that kept the ugly sucker moving warped the image. “Don’t kid yourself, I’m his fav.”

“Okay. I’m his second fav, then.”

“Nope. Toby is.”

“Third.”

“Pendles.”

“I’ve gotta be fourth then. No way Orendi’s beating me.”

“Nah. That’s Gruesome here’s position.” She gestured at Aurox, even though the kid was busy focusing on not sending all three of them colliding with rocks and becoming a glorious fireball. Aurox cocked his head at the admission. She got the feeling he’d raise an eyebrow instead if he had any. “You an’ 'Rendi are tied for last.”

“Okay, now I know you’re talking bullshit.”

“Language,” she admonished, to which Shayne flapped a dismissive hand.

“Whatever. Whisk’ll back me up on the recovery neighbours thing anyways, and you know it. He’s almost as bad at mother-henning as you, y'know.”

She slouched in her seat. It made the belt sit strangely; slightly loose, but not nearly enough to actually slip out of. She fiddled with it sulkily, eye slipping closed in a half-hearted attempt to block a fresh headache. “Can you blame me though; for bein’ a mother hen? The stunts you pull sometimes scare me shitless…”

Sometimes when Whip looks in the mirror there are a second pair of eyes staring at her.  They’re wide and intelligent.  Hazel.  Set into a little face on a little body.

A dead one.  One that shouldn’t exist.

Initial sightings of the phenomenon had frightened her, prompting her to whirl in place with a weapon in hand (Voodoo, or her gun, or whatever ever else she could get her hands on in the little bathroom that was even mildly dangerous), in search of the phantom intruder.  But the girl was just that: a phantom.  Likely a figment of her imagination and paranoia taking the form of the dead girl she’d been replicated from.  By now though, she was used to the spectre.  Talked to it, even, despite how nutty it made her feel.  She didn’t yell and scream at it to go away in hysterical tones anymore, but spoke to it quietly.  As if it was really in the bathroom, standing behind her with arms clasped behind its back and rocking gently back and forth on its heels; looking for all the world like it was next in line to brush its teeth or fix its hair.  

Usually, Whip’s pretty tolerant of the spectre, but she’s irritated tonight.  The day’s mission went badly, and ended with her other squad members gaining some pretty serious injuries.  All because of a stupid lapse of judgement on her part.  To top it off, she and K’ had gotten into a heated argument that ended with the both of them storming away in opposite directions, still fuming.  They hadn’t spoken when it came time for him to depart.  It’d made the atmosphere tense and awkward as she was saying her goodbyes to Kula and Maxima.

“Now’s not a good time.” She gritted out.  Shot the dead girl a scowl through the mirror as she swiped fresh antibacterial gel over the cut under her eye.

The spectre hummed.  "I know.  I saw.“

"Then you’ll know that I really don’t want to talk right now.” Whip stuck a bandaid over the cut.  Tugged the hem of her shirt up to assess the stitches in her side.  They were holding.  "So could you just go away and bother me in the morning?“

"It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

Whip heaved an exasperated sigh.  "Go.  Away.“

"The mission wasn’t, anyway.” The ghost girl continued, ignoring Whip’s demands to be left alone.  "That argument you had with our brother was totally your fault though.“ It had the gall to shoot her a disapproving look.

"K’ isn’t-!”

She wasn’t even sure how she was going to finish that sentence - Isn’t your brother, he’s mine.  Or, Isn’t mine, he’s yours. - and frankly, it was probably better that way.  She was already hurt and confused enough about the situation without further riling herself up about it.

“He is,” the ghost said firmly.  Wide eyes softened out of a determined scowl, replaced by earnest compassion.  "Listen.  Clone or not, you’re a real person too.  And you’re definitely just as much his sister as I was.“

"Shut up,” Whip hissed.  She swiped at her watering eyes, uncaring of the sting brought from irritating the cut.  "Just… shut up.“

"He doesn’t show it well, but he thinks so too.”

-

Snuffling and light growls registered at the edge of Gnoll’s consciousness. A sleepy mumble of protest passed from his torn mouth and he wiggled into a more comfortable position. He was utterly exhausted from last night’s escapades, overuse of his lightning, and keeping watch… Five more minutes, please.

Several sets of little claws scraped insistently at his chest and one of his thick arms. A single set of blunt teeth gnawed on his crest, their owner slobbering and growling. A chorus of plaintive whines split the air. Hungry, hungry, hungry. Want eat! Eat, eat eat! But it was the feeling of three-fingered hands on both his cheeks, the claws digging into his leathery flesh, that ultimately woke Gnoll up. He cracked open an eye, managing to contain his sulky look to a minor one, rather than a major. The sight of milky white had the pup wiggling and yipping excitedly. They graced Gnoll with a slobbery lick that had him chortling. He could never stay upset at his little ones for very long. Up, up! Hungry, eat, up!

“Awrright, awrright,” he yawned, pushing himself into a sit. A couple of pups yelped or squealed excitedly as the motion sent them tumbling off his body and sprawling into the dirt. The one still gnawing on his crest simply hung there, growling and drooling. He plucked them off gently, dropping them amongst their brothers. Big knuckles dug away at the worst of the grit in his eyes as Gnoll yawned again, mouth open as wide as it was able. “I’m up now. Let’s git some breakfast, yeah?”

The pups yapped happily, pelting around the clearing chasing one another while Gnoll finished waking himself up and gathering his handful of things. Finally, with javelin in hand and armour buckled back on, he barked to get the pups’ attention and get them to form up. They immediately scrambled to his sides; easy to see, easy to protect. Then without further ado, they set out into the thick of Ekkunar’s jungle in search of food. During their journey, the pups regularly loped ahead or off to the side to investigate things - small creatures, foliage, weirdly shaped rocks - or latched onto him for a free ride. Gnoll let them have their freedom, though he was always one vaguely threatening sound or movement away from reeling them back in to keep whatever nasties were lurking at bay with his lightning.

Today seemed to be a quiet one, though. And bountiful, on the food front. Gnoll had managed to spear a scalewolf and a couple of decently-sized quadruped herbivores. And the pups found an assortment of berries, roots, and bugs. One managed to catch a harressburra all on his own. Gnoll - while very proud of the little one’s achievement - made him share with the other pups, but allowed him to have first dibs on the choicest pieces of meat and innards, since he’d caught it by himself. Their meal was a messy affair, with lots of slobbering and a number of spills amongst the Primals and their Beastmaster, alike. And a couple of minor squabbles over meat.

“That’s ‘nuff now, you lot.” Gnoll scolded as the latest fight to break out started veering out of control. Two of the pups were rolling, wresting, and snapping at each other just a bit too hard to be considered friendly, even by thrall standards. What’s more, they were coming much too close to the campfire he’d been roasting the meat over on some of their passes. He pried the pair apart, keeping them trapped between the prison bars his huge fingers provided until they settled down to growls and the occasional nip at his hands. “Cool off, or you won’t get no supper t'night.”

That got them to buck up, quick-smart. Reduced them to simpering little whines and pleading scratches. Be good. Want eat. Good!

A bullish snort. “’S wot I thought.” Satisfied, Gnoll removed his hands. The freed pups glared at each other briefly before putting aside their differences and crawling onto his lap. An apology to him, of sorts. Gnoll rubbed a knuckle across their backs, one at a time, coaxing out rumbled purrs. It was less a sign of forgiveness and more something that made him happy.

The other pups caught sight of what was going on and suddenly there was a mad dash to secure a spot on the Beastmaster’s lap. A gleeful chuckle made Gnoll’s chest rumble. His arm curled around the little ones, pressing them all close. A few wriggled to become more comfortable. Or remove their faces from the stinky pelt wrapped around his waist in order to breathe better. Their little heads butted against his stomach, all purring in contentment; warm and safe and happy. And sleepy after all that food. Gnoll released a purr of his own, loud and rumbling like an old engine in the otherwise quiet jungle. Milky eyes slipped closed, and his big head began to dip.

Readmore cuz I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, and also I get embarrassed over how excited I get about this kinda stuff when nobody else does…

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This one goes out to @stxrlightkiss cuz I miss the little ball of sunshine. ;w;

-

Attikus had been meaning to come back to this terraformed chunk again for some time. Reyna had proudly introduced him to it a while back with her crew and enough food to feed a small army in tow. He’d very quickly fallen in love with the salt-tinged air, the crash of waves, and even the warm golden sand, despite all the granules slipping into every crack and crevice of his large body in the most irritating and uncomfortable way. He’d gotten to play not-quite-so-full-contact volleyball with the Rogues, eat a hearty greasy meal with them grilled by Foxtrot, and have the best sleep he’d had in… ever, really, under Solus’ warm rays. Coming back from his first ever (bad) sunburn hadn’t been any fun, but the random paler patches of skin where little smilies (and a shell bikini) had been painted on them with sunscreen had made him crack a smile every time he caught sight of them, lessening the sting just a little. It’d been nice… Really, really nice.

Today’s trip wasn’t nearly as action-packed, though. Just a calm tromp through the sand with Cheyanne to unwind after numerous missions in rapid succession. When the painter wasn’t picking up shells or giving him the rundown on something sea-related, she had one of her hands curled around one of his huge fingers, swinging both their limbs gently back and forth. Though while Cheyanne was clearly enjoying herself, she also lapsed into melancholic silences a lot.

“It’s almost like home,” she’d explained after he’d asked what was wrong. “But… not quite. The terraformers did an amazing job, don’t get me wrong! But it’s… it’s not quite the same.”

She’d been very quiet after that - sadder - and Attikus had rested his thumb atop her little hand and let out a soft rumble of awkward comfort. That’d been further back in their journey, though, and his Little Star had since bounced back admirably. Presently, she was joking about burying him up to his neck in sand in order to sculpt him a mermaid body.

“A what now?” He chuckled, wrinkling his nose down at her.

“A mermaid; half human, half fish?” At his cocked head, she let out a laugh of her own. “Okay. I know what stories I’m telling you next time you stay the night on the Favour. I’ll paint you some too, if you’d- oh.”

She’d stopped walking, Attikus taking another step before also falling still, eyes settling on something partially buried in the sand. Cheyenne gently pulled her hand out of his to go dig the something out of the sand. She returned gently brushing sand away from glass and metal with her thumb. Her lips twitched up into a wry smile. “Guess some things never change… Fudging litterbugs.”

Attikus’ brief flare of annoyance at the thought of people already ruining the chunk with garbage was quickly quelled by curiosity. “What on earth is that?”

“Lightbulb.” Chey brushed some more sand away from the glass bit before depositing it into his hand so he could inspect it. Attikus held it up, milky eyes squinting at the tiny thin wire within, wondering about its purpose. “A… super old one. I’m surprised any still exist, to be honest.”

“No kidding,” he murmured, turning his attention to the metal part. There were grooves that ran through the metal in circles; he guessed this thing was supposed to be screwed into something. After another quick look, he passed the lightbulb back. “What’re you gonna do with it? Might fetch a decent handful of shards if given to the right eccentric collector.”

Cheyanne hummed thoughtfully. Scraped away some more sand from the grooved metal with a nail, tongue slightly peeking out. “Actually… I was thinking this might be good for a mixed media or installation-style piece of art. I don’t really do that kind of art much, and I need to build on my ideas a little more before I start… but I could definitely do something interesting with it.” She stuffed the lightbulb into a pocket, the glass dome peeking out, and grasped his finger again so they could continue their stroll. “That, or I’ll keep it as a souvenir.”

“Seems to me you’ve got enough souvenirs,” Attikus rumbled, eyes crinkled with mirth as he shook the felt bag full of shells and rocks and driftwood she’d saddled him with. The contents clicked and clattered merrily at the jostling and Chey laughed.

-

Scorching heat seeped through Reyna’s jacket, licking the back of her neck as she ran. Excited gurgle-hisses followed right behind her, always sounding far too close for comfort. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at the creature, instead willing her aching legs to keep pounding across the dirt and trying to ignore the burn of her struggling lungs and the sound of her own thin, shaky breaths. Orange eyes flicked up from watching her boots pound the earth to lock onto a rocky outcropping in the distance. Mingled hope and relief bloomed beneath her breastbone. She was close. So, so, close! If she could just avoid the guayota’s massive claws for a few minutes more, she’d be golden.

A small spurt of renewed energy had her picking up the pace to get to her destination just that tiniest bit faster. Moments later, a strong gust of hot wind rippled her jacket. She stumbled a little out of surprise but kept running, aware of the click of needled teeth and annoyed snarl the guayota released at having missed its mark. The outcropping was really close now. Just a bit more…. A little more…. More…. Now!

With a tired holler, Reyna’s thumb mashed the little button on the device clutched in her palm then dived forward, between the protective pillars two of the tall rocks provided. Dust filled her mouth and nose as she tucked and rolled messily to lessen the impact, resulting in a choked fit of coughing when she came upright again. She stopped herself just shy of smacking face first into another rock with a hastily thrown out palm. Her head whipped around, catching sight of a horned head with jaws thrown wide open, showing off the roiling flames building behind row upon row of small sharp teeth; the stuff of nightmares, coming to gobble her up. Someone behind her screamed.

Then the trap let out a happy little beep in activation.

The guayota jerked; threw its head back, howling and thrashing, as a strong energy current ripped through its mostly rocky body. Reyna watched it try to phase out of the trap, flickering in and out of transparency, but ultimately failing. It’s anguished yowling quickly transformed into a deafening shriek as the trap pumped out even more painful energy to counteract the creature. A crack, like thick glass breaking, split the air. Reyna’s eyes flicked towards the guayota’s bejewelled chest, shiny and yellow-gold like the shards she hunted, and now sporting a deep crag right in its middle. It’s heart. That was its heart. And it was starting to break under the strain.

Reyna continued to watch the creature with wide eyes, trying to get her breathing back under control and fumbling with her pistol. She need to be ready to put the thing out of it’s misery. Or, Solus help her, be ready to fend it off if it somehow managed to escape. Thankfully, the trap did its job, and after a particularly pitiful sounding gurgle, the guayota collapsed, twitching and spasming, to the dusty earth.

One tiny angry, but mostly exhausted, fiery eye rolled up at her cautious approach. Its breath huffed out in shallow bursts, interrupted briefly by a growl when she planted a boot on its side. With a hard shove punctuated by a grunt, Reyna managed to roll the creature over enough to expose the massive pulsing jewel and it’s marred surface. Reyna took a few generous steps back before swinging her pistol up and flicking off the safety; experience had taught her that guayota hearts were explosive when they died. That, and the ugly sonova gun might somehow be able to muster enough energy to gut her with its massive claws, taking her down with it.

Her pistol thrummed as she poured bullet after bullet into the shining jewel, each projectile striking it with a harsh t'chk t'chk t'chk that she could only barely catch over the anguished roars of the dying beast until, eventually, the guayota’s shiny heart shattered and burst. Reyna threw up an arm to protect her face as fragments of all shapes and sizes were sent hurtling in every which direction. When it was lowered, the guayota looked like a shell of its once proud and terrifying self; more rocky bone than substance.

The small team the LLC had thrown at her as extra help - the ones who had deftly helped assemble the trap, but had also cowered and screamed and pissed themselves behind their rocky hidey hole when the guayota made its appearance - swarmed around her. Their relieved and thankful babbling was white noise to her ears. And their touches and handshakes barely registered. All her focus was on the guayota. What was left of the demon hissed as it frothed in it’s death throes, a pitiful end to a horrific creature. Its inner fire sputtered and died, the final wisps carried away by the wind as it let out a final death rattle. Pieces of rocky body clattered and rolled away, some already beginning to crumble into brimstone-scented ash. The sight made her feel numb.

“Thank you, Miss Valeria,” one of the LLC lackeys gushed, somehow managing to make himself heard over the white noise her subconscious had reduced the rest of his colleagues to. “You’re an absolute hero!”

Ohhhh my god, you have NO idea how sorry I am for how long it took me to finish this. I really hope this is somehow worth the stupidly long wait… oTL

Just a quick important note that Orendi joined the Rogues a fair bit before Shayne and Pendles did, hence why they don’t appear here!

-

It had been a few weeks since Orendi had been pulled out from the battered LLC trade vessel Bizymandias (kicking and clawing and biting savagely at the one she’d later learn was Whiskey Foxtrot whilst in her state of dehydrated desperation when he’d tried yanking her out), and she was finally starting to shed off her initial wariness and act more like herself. Which was all well and good, until she started overstepping her boundaries; making numerous messes - usually of the destructive variety - around the ship and generally just being exceptionally irritating to the other three crew members.

It was during dinner one night, when she was flinging food at everyone while cackling and shrieking at the top of her lungs, that Reyna finally decided she’d had enough. She pushed out of her chair silently - with a glob of mashed potato slowly sliding down her eyepatch and a small collection of peas and pieces of diced carrot making their homes on her hair and shoulders - and strode around the table. As she passed the other occupied seats, she could hear Whiskey growling audibly as he swatted at any projectiles sent his way with teeth bared in annoyance, and Toby whimpering as he cowered behind his plate-turned-shield. He gave Reyna a desperate look as she passed, but the Valkyrie had her eye fixed solely on Orendi.

When Orendi noted the boss’ presence, she grinned widely. “PEW, PEW!” She cackled, playfully flicking a new forkful of peas at Reyna’s stony face. They bounced off her cheek and rolled away under the table. She hadn’t so much as flinched at the squishy green projectiles’ impact.

Before Orendi had a chance to properly feel confused, Reyna’s hand grasped the back of her chair and started dragging it away with a grating squeal. Of course, she thought this was all good fun and threw up her arms with a shrieked WHEEEEEEE!, figuring it was some sort of new game. It was short-lived though, and ended with her face to face with the corner of the room furthest from the table.

Orendi scrunched her brow in confusion, head darting from the corner, to Reyna’s scowl, and back again. “Why’d you stop the Reyna Express? Let’s go! Go, go, gO, GO, GO!” She began rocking the chair back and forth violently, voice rising steadily higher until Reyna slapped a hand on the back of it, holding it still.

Her face was still stony-blank, but her brows had pulled down further, looking very much Angry. Her voice was a low growl as she announced, “No more games. It’s quiet time now.”

Orendi blew a massive raspberry at this. “Boooooooriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.”

“Good,” Reyna grunted, plucking out the fork still clasped in one of Orendi’s hands before she had time to remember its existence and use it to stab anyone. “The Time Out Corner ain’t supposed to be fun.”

“The Whatty Whatsis now?”

Reyna ignored her, striding back to the table and tossing the confiscated fork onto it with a harsh clatter before settling back into place. She calmly went back to finishing her meal, pointedly ignoring the food on her face and hair. Whiskey took her cue, jamming a generous forkful of steak into his mouth, and Toby hesitantly lowered his plate-shield so he could locate his missing fish. Orendi pulled up her knees and swivelled around in her chair, fingers of all four hands curled around its back, to watch the trio, confused.

“Uh… Where’s my baby steak?” She called out, eyes flicking to her abandoned plate of barely-eaten-mostly-flung food. She was suddenly aware of how hungry she was.

“Don’t get any,” Reyna responded airily around a mouthful of peas. Orendi’s jaw dropped.

“WHY NOT?” She immediately switched back to shrieking, kind of hoping it’d get a rise from the Valkyrie. Nothing though. Just more casual eating. Admittedly, she found it frustrating, which was reflected in her next shriek. “REYNA, WHY NOT?”

“‘Cause you were flinging your food around like a frigging animal,” Reyna finally deigned to reply. She sawed off a portion of steak, skewered it, and jabbed it in Orendi’s direction. It was juicy and dripping with gravy. It made Orendi’s stomach growl just looking at it. “Which is not why Foxtrot here slaved over a hot stove. So until you can behave, or at the very least not fling your food around like monkey shit, you’re gonna sit in that corner. Quietly.”

With that, she stuffed the steak into her mouth and switched her focus wholly back to her meal, leaving Orendi to gape at her, dumbfounded; completely and utterly baffled by this turn of events. Her head swivelled quickly between the other two Rogues, waiting for either of them to rush to her defence over this unfairness, but they paid her no attention either, a fact that upset her greatly in the case of Toby. And after all those nice letters she sent him! Rude!

She continued to switch her scowl between the three of them, growing steadily more annoyed with each passing minute until she finally exploded, waving a fist and yelling, “You can’t keep me here! I have rights!”

Just a little thing. Not even that good, really. But I needed to get some sort of writing out. .-.

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Mian twitched the velvet curtains aside a fraction; just enough to see but not be seen. The theatre-turned-fighting ring beyond the velvet barrier she hid behind was absolutely packed with people, all of them dressed in expensive finery and donning an assortment of masquerade masks. Most sat in the stands or in the corporate boxes, but there were plenty on the ground floor, up close and personal to get a good eyeful of the action. Or, perhaps, hoping to bring home any punched-out teeth that may happen to fall their way as grisly souvenirs. Maybe. KoF was completely new to her, but from her minimal experience so far, she’d learned that the fans were really… something.

Their combined chatter registered as an indistinct buzz, but it still set her on edge. After another few seconds, Mian let the curtain fall back into place. She shuffled away from it, wringing sweaty hands and running her tongue over dry lips. She wasn’t sure she could do this. There were just so many people out there… People who would be staring at her the entire time she was fighting. What if she messed up; tripped on the way into the ring, for instance? All of them would laugh and jeer at her. Not just during this match, but for the rest of the tournament. That’d make a terrible impression for the rest of her team. And, in turn, Mr Antonov would probably be less inclined to pay her for ruining the image of the team he’d hand-picked himself; for making them all look foolish. Wait. What if she lost the match? Would he dock her pay and scorn her for that too?

In her anxiousness, Mian hadn’t even realised she’d started pacing until a hearty slap to the back had her pinwheeling frantically to avoid falling flat on her face. She straightened to scowl at the offender, immediately copping an eyeful of bright, poofy (and, in her opinion, ridiculous) clothing, and a pair of giant eyeball accessories peeking out from bowties and thick blond pigtails. Sylvie flashed one of her typical grins, wide and unnerving and full of teeth. And also completely unabashed at the fact she’d almost hurt her own teammate.

Her already loud and high-pitched voice had gone up a few octaves in excited anticipation. That made one of them. “Ready to go out there and show ‘em what you’re made of?”

Mian’s heart jumped into her throat. Wait. It was time already?! Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. She wasn’t ready yet by half; hadn’t gone through her breathing exercises and myriad of other calming techniques, or checked her masks were okay, or the rest of her outfit for that matter! And… and…!!

“I… I can’t breathe,” she managed to choke out, hands coming up to tug at the collar of her mantle. It felt too-tight all of a sudden. Like it was squeezing the air out of her viciously.

Sylvie’s smile faltered, beginning to turn downwards. Blue eyes lost their sparkle, taking on a worried gloss instead. “You don’t look so good… Hey, Kukri!” She pivoted on her heel, wide patchwork skirt bouncing with the movement, to address the darkness-shrouded figure who had seemingly materialised from nowhere and was now skulking towards them. “Mian isn’t feeling well! What do we do? Should we postpone the match?”

Kukri paused. Cocked his hooded head ever so slightly in assessment, then strode forward to grip Mian’s hand. Immediately, he began to drag her towards the curtains separating them from the crowd, uncaring of her thin, wordless whines of protest, and how she struggled to match his long-legged stride.

“You’ll be fine; just wear your mask if you’re scared of the crowd,” he growled. “Now go!”