“I suppose it’s time we had a little chat.” The click of a compact mirror is the only other thing that gives her away. With a mere flick of the wrist, it seems to vanish from view before she crosses, approaches Anita with a masked expression. As fun as the charade had been in the past, this entire hunt has ripped off the crafted veneer she once wore, exposing her for who she is. No need for a honeyed tongue, here. It never worked on Williams anyways.

  There seems to be no winning at this, and for once, Anita knows when to withdraw, to retreat. As much as she hates the fact Loba is getting on her nerves like this, they do still have a mission ahead of them. Winning, preferably. 

  “Shut up. That lesson ain’t gonna happen, even though I’m sure you get off on that kinda thing.” The barrel of her rifle rests against the railing, crouched in the corner. She’s expecting movement to come between the cliffs at any moment, keeping watch to the east. Her hands shift the Sentinel slightly – eager to pull the trigger. Yet, they don’t come. Not yet. Damnit. 

crypto doesn’t take well to surprises —  never did, not with a sister-figure who found more pleasure in bullying her older brother than in any other entertainment their rugged childhood had to offer. Tae-joon was always a careful boy, but he learnt to take extra precaution when passing through places that Mila had alone to herself for a minute too long. There was no choice if he wanted to escape the terror of being endlessly pounced on and tackled from behind. And, as family is forever, young Tae-joon’s mind followed suit, adapting quickly to a state of permanent wariness.

Months on end of second-guessing every step he took — of laying low as he could out of fear for his life — have done his natural skittishness no favours. Unsurprisingly.

Ji-ho and Ji-ha had been taken down from their usual posts. Neither chirped their usual warning when a visitor entered their radius, both too busy transferring bits and pieces of their software that will be integrated into the newest addition to Crypto’s drone collection. Crypto had opted out of the noisiness of the dropship several hours earlier when he plugged his drones into his laptop, and his ears muffled even the clack of Loba’s heels as she strolled in and made herself comfortable.

So maybe he prides himself on just barely forcing down the whole-body flinch that nearly seized him when he surfaced from his tense concentration and realised that she was there… had been there, and for far too long without his notice.

He glances her up and down (chest first, he’s ashamed to admit. Because Loba is the daring sort of liar, unafraid to flaunt what she has to get what she wants. Untamed, yes. But never to be mistook for undisciplined or inelegant) before settling his gaze up top to meet hers.

“I think you’ll forgive me.” He leans back into his chair, pressing his fingers firmly against his neck to rub circles into his spine. The way he’s going, poor posture might finish him off before the Games or the Syndicate get the chance. But the dull ache of a mistreated back doesn’t distract his eyes from hers. “You’re not that shy yourself, are you, Loba.”

It’s not a question. Her name is spoken (nearly spat) with a dryness that rivals the dirt of Talos’ domes, scorched to ashes by magma. ‘Loba,’ tinged at the edges with biting ice, so barren of affection that it might as well have a code name rather than her own.

No — Crypto doesn’t trust her at all.

Shy, Loba Andrade is anything but. There’s little that she hides, whether it be her name or her assets. But the show she puts on is as much of a mask as Hyeon’s; there is another Loba Andrade hiding beneath that charming and fiery display, and Crypto intends to dig down straight to it. To dismantle and decode her pretences until he hits that vein that runs, cold and calculating and honest, through her core.  

“Crypto is good enough. I have no interest in you as a lady. But as a liar…” He pushes away from his desk, swivelling his seat around to face her bodily. It’s rare to have Crypto’s undivided attention for this long. Maybe it would be just rare enough that Loba would consider it a treasure worth chasing.

“그렇습니다.  From one liar to another…. What brings you here?”

They camouflage themselves in different things -- clothes, hair, even tech -- but it’s that look in their eyes that give them both away. A certain commonality, perhaps, but the effect is the same: they look upon others with mistrust and suspicion, and they have known what it is like to spend their life constantly checking under the bed to see what dangers lurk beneath it. 

Strokes of luck are ephemeral things that maybe only save you once or twice. A lack of caution, though? It will kill you, every time. Luckily for Crypto, she doesn’t take advantage of it here, even if her mouth pulls in a slight curve at his shock. There’s always an enjoyment to be found with getting the drop on others, after all. In this, she is a simple woman. 

And apparently, he is a simple man. Her expression remains muted, even if it’s tempting to want to roll her eyes. Let him look. It’s always easier for her to get what she wants when they’re distracted, after all. 

“Will I?” There’s something catlike in her stare as she leans back, crossing one leg over the other with a certain calculated grace. It’s a distraction, a ploy to buy her time as she mulls over his question. A lack of caution kills every time. She certainly won’t make that mistake around someone like him. 

          𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒,  𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐃 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 a gracefulness etched into their movements.  they holster the bow,  a quiver of arrows sitting on the opposing shoulder;  a small chuckle escapes bloodhound,  and whether it is out of a reaction or deflection to loba’s prying remains unknown.  ❛  if you remain patient,  you may find out soon enough.  ❜ their open palm clasps on her back briefly and lightly,  just enough not to rub any dirt on the material she wore,  opting to push themselves off the rock shortly after.  there was no time to waste.  a few more hours will have dusk breaking and the sky will darken.

     ❛  a long trek is nothing,  andrade-fighter,  but i see your spirit is not broken thus far.  the hunt is only beginning and i welcome you on its journey.  ❜ the muffled jingle of their gear is faint as bloodhound turns and offers an outstretched hand towards loba,  helping her stand.    a brief two-fingered salute turns into a gesture towards the forest,  where it lined the outskirts of the area for miles;  they already admired its view long enough,  wordlessly descending down the hill’s slope before loba can squeeze in another snide comment.

     ❛  as the long vetr passes,  the beasts have come out of hiding in their dens.  i find it curious that no howl has been heard since YOUR arrival,  however.  ❜

It takes control to tamp down the instinct to flinch at the sudden contact; a hand connecting against her back, and Loba’s fingers curl inward into loose fists. Distrust runs like deep waters in her for all her pretenses at intimacy and flattery. Still, the smile, the lidded eyes remain; coy and unflinching is her mask, even here. She doesn’t have the luxury of a mask like theirs. Her voice hums, sweet before crumbling to a small laugh in the throat at the comment.

“Oh, it will take so much more than a nature hike to break my spirit, sweetheart.” Her hand curls around their wrist before pulling herself up. Heels sink into soft earth, but she still meets them eye-to-goggle. But the only thing she sees looking back is her reflection in the glass. The reflection’s mouth curves in a sly smirk.

  “Ser-geant. Sounds like it’s going in one ear and out the other ‘cause there’s nothin’ in between them, apparently.” The glower over Anita’s shoulder to Loba would almost be enough to set her alight out of sheer annoyance. Maybe if she wills it hard enough, Miss Andrade will be out of her hair sooner rather than later. 

  Anita continues to push up the stairs to get into position. Her heavy boots hit the steel catwalk with a distinct thud. When she pauses to swap her shotgun for the sniper slung across her back, her hands grip the length of the barrel, nails digging into the metal.

 It seems like whatever God is out there, they’re testing her patience.

  “Eyes up, Andrade, unless you want a sniper round in your pretty little face.” Ugh. With that thought left behind, Anita clambers up to the side of the building structure that overlooks the now vast valley of sand and sea ahead of them. Over their comms, she hopes her order will be followed through. “Make yourself useful and spot me.”

“Whatever you say, Major.” It gets harder, tamping down the urge to laugh, but Loba manages it swimmingly. When the sergeant shoots a glare over the shoulder at her, Loba only smiles, offering a two-fingered salute in response just to stoke the fires a little bit more. 

This is a sideblog. I follow back from @synthmama​. 

Rules/About page here. 

Asks will either be sent from my main blog or via anon. 

          𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ( 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 bloodhound would wear ),  leopard printed patterning,  a fur collar acquired from the last northern hunt — all worn in humility for tonight’s escapade.  they didn’t fit in to the petty world of socialites and materialistic reputation others sought,  but out of mere respect they complied.  most of zaldana’s inhabitants were wealthy,  loba among them:  a cue bloth accepted as an unwritten rule of this outing and,  at the very least,  wanted to mirror some form of acknowledgement.

     the subtle hum of vocals ring from beneath the respirator,  ❛  a hunter of the gods always keeps their word–  ❜it was a statement potent with nothing but truth,  and they planned to keep it that way.  both straps around their gauntlets are tightened,  head tilted in her direction.    ❛  –as for now,  we will see about that.  i was not raised by technology as you were,  and neither with civilization this dense…  but it does fill me with wonder to study your world more closely.  ❜

Her eyes are alight, plush mouth curved in an easy smile, but despite the friendliness there is something hungry in her stare. At heart, she is her namesake. Companionable as needed, and ruthless as necessary. The greatest thieves are only the most capable hunters in their environment, but how will a hunter the likes of Bloth survive in this one? It’s a question Loba is eager to find out.

The sound of Loba’s translocation device clinks into the sand just a few feet ahead of Anita; for a moment, she’d thought she’d get peace, but in the end, she started it - and she’ll finish it. 

The sand flicks up and at least it doesn’t quite get in her eyes but there are grits between her teeth. How irritating. “That’s SERGEANT 1st Class to you, Thigh Highs. Not sure how you haven’t figured that one out yet, being a know-it-all.” Not to be out done, Anita picks up the pace. Besides, trudging uphill in sand is a great work out for calves and quads. 

Their objective lies ahead in the structures that once overlooked Bone Town from a distance - a perfect sniper perch. Panting but not out of breath, Anita leaps over the railing of the compound, shotgun at the ready for the approach, only casting a brief glance at her unfortunate teammate. “Don’t get in my way.”

“Oooh -- such fire from you, corporal! I could just bask in the glow of it.” She makes it too easy, Loba muses to herself with a smug satisfaction. Try as Anita does to claim to know exactly the type of woman Loba is, she still falls for it all hook, line and sinker. It may not be the way the others do; with fascination; with attraction; but she believes it well enough to hate it just the same. 

And that’s good enough for her.

CLONG! Her armor sings; Vee tenses. The sugar-sweet words in a voice like hot honey don’t help, either. When she opens her mouth, it takes three tries to get the words out. “I’m f — ” Her grip tightens on her blade. Classic Viktoria, looking towards a weapon for moral support. “ — f — fine.” She most certainly isn’t, but that’s not her armor’s fault. “Don’t even notice it much anymore.” 

Vee backpedals a step or two. Her cheeks feel puffy and hot. She raises her chin, gestures at the fanciful figure before her. Damn.

“If you hear gunfire, please get behind me, ma’am. I think my attire can take a bullet or two a bit better than yours.” 

Isn’t this delicious? Loba smiles like the cat that got into the cream, eyes alight and sly. She comes to a stop before Vee, staff setting down firm into the earth with a solid tap as hands fold over the wolfheaded handle. The thief shifts her weight from one foot to the next; chin lifted, listening patiently as the soldier works to find the words that seem lodged in the throat. 

“Yeah, you wish.” Anita can no longer hold back the eye roll. Of course she has questions because there need to be answers. Of course, badgering the woman  for them doesn’t mean she’s going to get them, but it makes the time driving to their objective go by a lot faster. 

“My reason doesn’t involve crime or blowing up half of the damn island.” At last, they finally arrive. She pulls on the gear shift to put it in park. Her head turns towards Loba. “I’d bet if winning the Games meant being able to see your parents again, you wouldn’t hesitate.” 

Without waiting for an answer this time, Anita’s hand pulls the door handle, and her boots hit the sand. 

The soldier refuses to let go. She anticipates this, expects it almost. Her work in getting here was never going to be easy. It will only get harder the further they go. But -- it means everything, more than Anita or anyone else can even realize. So, she doesn’t dignify the petty digs with any response beyond unbuckling her seatbelt. A flick of the wrist, and silver catches the sun in a wide arc before she teleports ahead of Bangalore.