#lucyb091

"You're going to be alright" Says the elder Spartan Its more of a reassurance for himself than anything. The young Spartan's head was the least of her worries; a 3-foot long shard of Jiralhanae tungsten jutted out of her belly like a speartip. The fact that she was still talking was miraculous in and of itself. @kedvesorias

The Spartan's helmet-clad head had rolled back to rest onto a piece of the broken wall she had taken refuge behind. A labored breath could be heard through her external speakers as her arms hung loosely at her sides. Overhead she watched as plasma fire momentarily sear past through the darkened skies. A glove-covered hand grasped at her MA5B assault rifle with a barely audible sounding grunt. She gives a slow shake of her head in an attempt to clear the bleariness. "I think, I hit my head?" She leans forward in an attempt to stand up but succeeded instead in a sitting position with her head now rolling forward to see something sticking out from her.

That further confused the woman and thinking it was a piece of broken debris tried to brush it off of her midsection. She stopped however when that seemed to send a burst of fire-like pain through her veins accompanied by a rush of nausea. An audible groan left her as she pulls her hand back only to see an all too familiar deep red liquid. That wasn't good, it wasn't the first time she had seen her own blood nor will it be the last. And yet, her words spilled out once more. "I, really think I got hurt." She took a breath to settle the churning wave rolling over her to quarrel the bile rising in her throat to then check her HUD and took to rolling just a bit.

The Spartan II had only been out of his meeting for naught but thirty seconds before something else demanded his attention. He needed some rest, dammit! He needed time to prepare for the day to come, and he couldn’t do it on a mind that hasn’t had a break in three days. Tomorrow was just too damned important for anything to go wrong. The young Spartans were to undergo a rite of passage, the same that Alpha Company and even his own brothers and sisters in arms had gone through. For his own kind, the journey to true Spartanhood had been harrowing. One third of his class never returned from ONI’s flesh-forge. Another third had, but weren’t as lucky as Kurt and ilk. Their bodies were broken and twisted, leaving them with pain and suffering that would never heal with time.  The Alpha’s were fortunate. Fate had spared them of such a terrible fate, up until they met their end in another. It was not fate that killed Alpha, it was Kurt. He had not given them the resources nor time they needed. He had not sufficiently taught them to value each other as much as they valued themselves. For Kurt’s failures, they were picked off one by one. 

He would never let it happen again.

It was the tiny Beta’s hand that pulled him from thought, from fear. 

“Hmm?”

He turned to see none other than dear little b091. How she crept out of her squadbay, snuck past the DIs and ended up here was anyone’s guess. The Lieutenant was caught between frustration over her  blatant disregard for the rules she had been so carefully trained to follow and the pride he had in her for her skill in stealth.  “You’re supposed to be in bed.” Said Kurt. If only Jorge wasn’t asleep. He’d have handled something like this a bit better. 

Infinity Recreational room 2B 0000 hours June 8th 2558. There was something about the couch that was just so uncomfortable. The scratchiness that seemed to creep up on you no matter the position you sit in. It offerring little no comfort when you attempt to lounge. Lucy had taken a position of sprawling out with her hands interlaced behind her head. Though it offered little to no comfort. The Spartan had closed her eyes only to quickly open them once again. She sat up, shaking her head slightly before letting out an unhappy huff. Sleep was just not happening tonight. She looked down at her hands that rested on her lap before biting the inside of her cheek. This hasnt been the first insomnia filled night and it wont be the last she was sure. But why did it feel different?..

Tom was asleep no doubt due to an early training regiment in a few hours. Her eyebrows narrowed. She wanted to see him, she.. Needed to see him. Why was that? She didn't feel mad that he was asleep or disappointed but what was this feeling?.. It made her feel as though she needed to exercise or more or something. Her hands balled into fists. "Anxious?" She thought before her shoulders slumped. That could very well be why she was up more often than not. She shook her head before reaching over to snag her tablet that was sat to her right. Her finger hovered momentarily over the contact before convincing herself to type out a message.

[Sent:] 0100 hours to "Jorge"

"Thanks." Says the Spartan-II

He has no idea exactly what variety of whiskey his progeny has procured, nor how good it was going to be, but he appreciates the gesture anyway. He was never one to turn down a gift, especially when said gift came from family.

Lucy eyes her shattered sunglasses onto the ground, her pale hands were balled into fists at the side as she felt her lips curl back into a toothy grimace.  Her eyes looked up revealing that a deep black had settled into where was once bright brown eyes. “I am not your enemy.” She began in a low voice as she took a couple of steps forward. “You look like you are going to collapse at any moment. A normal person would have quite a bit ago. It is a shame.” With her hands balled up and her body coiled like a predator, she took a deep breath as a sinister-sounding mutter left her.  “It is a shame your arrogance will be your undoing. ” Holding up her hands slowly a black circle that had the consistency of tar started to bubble and form. She turns her hands, exposing the palms and raised them both quickly. The black expanded further out and from the bubbling pool, a large black figure was hunched over. The humanoid looking man was over six feet and lifts his head before turning to look at Pyrrha. He rose to his feet without looking away from her. Clouded, yet unnaturally bright hazel eyes glared at the other with silent calculation and let out a wheezing breath. 

“…?..” The black figure moved his lips though no words seemed to leave it. Lucy raised her hand again and closed it harshly causing the figure to let out another noise and moved around before blinking. The hazel eyes turned to a bright red as a set of orders were received. The woman then flinched as a bright light filled her eyes and shook her head rather quickly to keep her gaze from the rather blinding shield. She was about to let out a groan when her other hand came up and covered her pale mouth. Dread filled her if she would have broken her silent concentration that would be the end of her attack.

“If you are not my enemy then you would prove yourself not to be one. Instead you demand for my surrender and guise it under nice words.” Stop fighting? As if, everything about this person raises red flags. Similar to her sash, the red has become a banner of alertness. She does not trust the body language of the other being, even less when a black and thick consistency festers from the arms. Unbeknownst to what it could be, she stalks from a distance with judgement. It begins to grow until it takes after humanoid mold. It has all the characteristics of a human but it isn’t entirely human, it lacks a soul. She bore into its eyes and saw it shift in hue. One moment hazel, the next red. Reminds her ever so much of a GRIMM (solely based on color palette).

“Do not speak as if you know me. I face every fight to the bitter end whether victory is in my hands or not. I do not give up, nor do I overestimate my skill. You on the other hand seem to underestimate your opponent, and that is an evident sign of arrogance.” Her arm glows black, it is her semblance in motion, and with it she magnetizes her spear. She releases her hold upon it and the weapon begins to float as if its own volition. At a slow pace the spear orbits around its user with vertical stance. It did three whole laps around the armored maiden’s corpus until it stopped mid center and tilted to point at the dark figure ahead. Her weapon gained a burst of speed as it headed straight for it. Linear in its track until with her finger she changed its path. Instead of wasting time and energy on the doppelgänger, she’ll take the fight to the original. Once close enough to her target, Pyrrha utilized both her index and middle finger and paired them together, once conjoined she made them wag in circles, forcing her weapon to do the same. MILO began to spin as it neared it’s target, making it all the more difficult to catch with bare hands.

Wounds heal, it is only a matter of time for hers to undergo the process. Her aura was depleted a long time ago but as long as she draws breath, she will stand her ground. Her left arm bends in front of her, positioning her shield at an angle just so the sun’s light refracts from it. She attempts to create an opening by blinding her opponent, and if that fails, she'll have to exhaust every other option. 

“I’m not giving you much of a choice.”