#notpetals

The scrap of paper was unfurled between her fingers, revealing the message that was so-archaically delivered, but its contents caused not only a eyebrow to quirk over one of her dark eyes, but surprise to flicker within them as well. Her gaze shifted as she leaned against the railing, her body backlit in the darkness by the light of the small apartment’s interior as she watched pedestrians wander the City’s streets. 

It didn’t take her long to take to the streets, dipping down alleyways with soundless agility. She moved through the light of the moon into a busy bar, her eyes locking with the bartender from entrance, who had thereafter flickered their gaze to a patron who sat in a booth at the back of the tavern. Sul gave her informant a subtle, acknowledged nod, and meandered through throngs of drunken patrons to the bartop where she plucked two drinks that were quickly made–a duplicate of whatever he currently held, and the other a whiskey sour–and she moved with practiced ease through the bodies, din of music and murmur of conversation. 

The glasses clinked together as she neared, the thick glass bottoms thudding against the lacquered table as she slid into the booth beside him. She turned her luminescent gaze towards him, pushing a drink before him and removing what little remained in his glass by setting it at the edge of the table in a single, fluid motion. 

“My, what a sight for sore eyes.” She all but cooed as she leaned back into the booth’s thinning padding. “Let me buy you a drink.” And she lifted her own to her lips.

It takes her a moment to grasp the string that lingers in the air. Like a crimson strand, they had called it fate, before.

The eeriness that follows his very being, the bulk that seemed to encase itself in shadow despite the sun bleeding through the cracks in the walls. The air that swirled differently across his frame, reeking of anomaly. His mannerisms, they rattle a certain precaution she's felt before.

Data's warning - He has no Light.

It had been years - but the de ja vu was unmistaken.

" I'd say we have, " her voice stands, carrying that same weight of curiosity bidding naivety. She cannot recall the memory as a whole, but something about it that warns her to keep her distance. A feeling of longing... she had questions. But for some reason unclear, she never got the answers. " Before the Darkness took us whole. Or was it shortly after...? "

How uncanny of a meeting place the snow-lost planet was becoming, the tundra of Europa granting a new experience each time she visited - for better or worst. One would have thought she be better to leave it alone, after that time. But again & again, she found herself back.

' Mars, ' Data's voice chirps internally. ' He's... the one from the signal, when Rasputin disappeared. ' Not often did his voice rattle in the way that it did. A primordial fear in his shell - even after all they had been through. Her stubbornness would be the death of them, both.

' We need to leave. '

She'll take account her Ghost's concern, but refuses to believe it's a mere coincidence.

          yor’s always been stronger. stronger and crueler and everything shin has never been. renegade has never had power behind his movements. his light and his instincts is all he ever is and even those don’t do him justice now. not when cannon is thrown from his grip by a well timed jab that leaves shin reeling. he doesn’t hear yor’s words. he’s sure there are words. doesn’t hear them as he watches the last word land in the undergrowth. as he feels his light surge and panic much like he does at the sight. he’s not fast enough. he never is around yor. not as he reaches for unspoken truth, only to have it too dumped to the ground as ice cold grip tightens ‘round his wrist. the wrist that’s used to twist his arm behind his back despite the protest of the muscle and bone. despite the way voice chokes from shin’s throat in a panic. 

          he doesn’t get to fight back. doesn’t get to feel solar light latch onto yor and burn the hand holding him. not before feet are knocked from beneath him and shin is scrabbling on the ground in the dirt as he feels the monster loom behind him. he doesn’t see the water. doesn’t register the way the river laps up to meet him before dredgen is yanking his helmet off and dropping it into the flow. shin is midway through standing, midway through spinning on the larger man when a boot finds the center of his back, between shoulder blades. breath hitches and body coils but he doesn’t get time to fight back before he’s shoved forward into the water, as a hand find shin’s hair. fisting in it harsh and biting as he’s shoved beneath the water. 

This human seemed to be surrounded by shadows. And it was not so much the metaphorical kind as it was the physical kind; the man stood cloaked in the darkness, hiding, watching.

Waiting.

It was clear enough to Khyl that the man was on the prowl. Hunting. His body language, while relaxed, suggested that the human was dangerous, that he would not hesitate to prove himself a threat if he were to come under attack. A manner that doubtless fit the attitude of a Sangheili, and yet there was something else about him that the Warlord could not figure out.

Something else that he could not even begin to put a name on.

“What kind of human are you?” he questioned, voice deep, rumbling, with a growl edging his tone. There was no need to act intimidating; most humans were intimidated by the very presence of one of his kind alone. And so far, this man had done nothing to show that he was uncooperative.

u notice that but not the continuous spelling mistakes of a muse's name in ur replies smh