#rpurl

in the quiet of night,  the queen leaves her bedchamber to head down to the castle's kitchens.   she knows it will be empty,  given that the cooks  &  servants who prepared  &  served her meals or refreshments throughout the day are gone for the night,  returned to their own quarters in the servant's wing of the castle to prepare for morrow,  leaving her alone when the nightmares take hold of her.   she prefers it this way,  as although she has been a queen for a few years now,  she was not raised in this environment.   she didn't grow up in a house full of servants to do her simple tasks,  &  so she's found these moments to be reflective for her as she tries to lull herself to sleep.

once she arrives in the kitchen,  she fills the kettle and warms it on the hob before preparing the tea leaves  —  the classic chamomille to help ease her back to sleep.   when she finishes,  she kills the fire beside the hob with her air magick  &  takes a tray with her teacup  &  saucer back toward her bedchamber.

it is as she is walking toward the corridor of her chamber when he appears from the shadows.   peekaboo,   yer highness.

the tray falls to the ground from the shock,  the ceramic cup shattering as it hits the stone,  gasp audible as her eyes fall on the creature before her.   an undead might be a welcomed guest in the day time,  but at night,  when no one is around her   ...   it doesn't take a sleuth to deduce what he's here for.   after all,  there are plenty of people who are interested in taking the crown off her head,  &  her head off her shoulders.

kezia isn't sure what his point is. profound wisdom, an observation or is he pondering aloud? they'd just returned from a mission, having had to drag a teenager with supernatural abilities away from his parents and set him up for a life of experimentation. perhaps brute is projecting. " we did our job, " kezia shrugs. she's never allowed herself to think too deeply into it. realistically, they count as a percentage of those shitbags. who abducts a kid from their family? who could do that? she's done far worse in her previous job. she'd been trained to tune out empathy.

@rpurl said: " why are you crying? " from seven. [ prompt. ]

no matter what, i'll always have your back. where are you now, grant? she thinks to herself. where are you when i need you most? daisy hasn't been here for long. with these strangers. maul's words play over in her head. you have little choice here... if you do not come with me, then you are marked for death... or worse. the empire is hunting her. slowly, agonisingly slow, through the tall grass of the galaxy. and in the grand scheme of things, it's not been that long since she lost grant, her partner in crime. her other half. her future. just like that, everything had changed so terrifyingly fast.

recalls her hands clutching at her boyfriend's throat as she attempted to stop the bleeding, pleading for him not to die. while vaas laughed. anger begins to swell at the memory, inflating behind her ribs and threatening to crack them before it deflates in an instant and she instead bursts into tears. despite her best efforts to reassure herself, she doesn't think this change is one she can cope with. it's all too much. maul expects so much from her already and while she appreciates the distraction, she realises she's yet to really allow herself to mourn what once had been.

tears stream down her cheeks and are swiftly wiped away by the back of her hand. she hugs her knees to her chest. and just when she thinks she has a moment of peace to herself... why are you crying? seven asks from the shadow he occupies and daisy startles, turning her gaze in the opposite direction; as though hiding her tears will save her from this uncomfortable situation. " because that's what humans do, " she says, a nasty bite to her tone. " they feel things. "

mutuals,   send me a 🍓 and ill compliment u!

the shooting range is busy. a mixture of people occupy the spaces. the sound of blaster fire is deafening. to his left, a kid is overseen by its parents as it blasts the targets, or rather... attempts to. crosshair tunes it out, but upon first entering and noticing he had grimaced. children should be taught to respect a weapon such as a blaster. any weapon, in fact. to be a soldier, you must respect your tools. appreciate and understand their complexities and dangers. they're not a toy.

crosshair huffs as he recalls his efforts being rewarded with his current rifle. she's seen him through thick and thin, been there for him when no one else had. knows all his secrets. his rifle is... intimate, for him. precious. perhaps the only object he's sentimental about. he can't imagine manhandling her. he rolls his eyes as he leans into it, positioning himself and aiming for the targets. he needs the practice, specifically since he'd lost his right hand. his left hand is weaker, not trained like his right. it's going to take a lot of time and patience, and even then he may never regain his accuracy.

inhaling, he holds his breath and his finger steadily touches the trigger. a gentle pull and the shot sounds out, zipping through the air. it takes out the left shoulder of all his targets. crosshair exhales in frustration. can you teach me to shoot like that? he glances over his shoulder to find a man observing him. he's wearing special goggles, and crosshair is immediately reminded of tech. in fact, he almost says his name, on the tip of his tongue, before he stops himself and performs a judgemental once over.

crosshair is yet to gauge where seven's loyalty lies. selfish, self-serving... skilled but reckless. what use does maul have for you? he wonders to himself. crosshair is a former soldier. naturally, his uses are limitless. but someone like seven has a specific skillset, rather than something general. sincerely disliked by many of maul's people, seven is needed rather than wanted. and of course he ignores the reality that such is the same for himself, too. required but not desired. he is but a clone, after all. crosshair tries not to think too deeply about it, lest he open up the void in his cavernous chest.

his brows furrow as he cleans his rifle, balancing it on his leg for lack of a spare hand. and when seven makes his intentions clear, an apparent backstabbing of maul - seeking to recruit his people for seven's own gain, crosshair understands him better. i could use someone like you. he grimaces, not turning his attention away from his beloved rifle. use. like a tool, like a dog, like a clone. " there is no one like me, " he asserts boldly. smug, he clicks the last piece of his weapon into place and turns his gaze towards the other. " are you not content, serving lord maul? "

@rpurl said: " perhaps i misjudged you. i’m… i’m sorry. " from rook. [ prompt. ]

daisy wraps the bandage around rook's arm tentatively. she's quick and efficient while being gentle. her gaze scans rook's features and daisy notices a pinch in her expression. she's holding back, has something to say. " what is it? " the woman asks, testing whether the bandage is secure. there's a pause, before rook says, perhaps i misjudged you. i'm... i'm sorry. daisy doesn't smile, at least not immediately.

the imminent threat outside hasn't gone, and being holed up inside a now-enemy's camp isn't doing them any favours. a simple meeting gone south. they'd assumed because maul had sent two women to do his dirty work, they could be taken advantage of. wrong. rook is perhaps the strongest woman daisy has met, and while daisy's faced fragility and vulnerability these last few months, she'd argue that she's also strong. nevertheless, it'd ended in a blaster fight and a bolt had grazed rook's arm, causing it to bleed.