Shimmer, Glimmer, & Gleam - A Quest of Loss & Gain

Sasha's trying to get used to the tactical armor on loan to her when you track your friend down. Currently, 'trying to get used to' means 'wearing it around everywhere whether or not she's exercising', which in turn means you are struck dead where you stand laughing at her all kitted up and stirring a pot of Eternal Soup. She gives you a long-ass glare while you're doubled over, vision turning black at the edges because you're laughing too hard to breathe, and then she tries to get up and fucking faceplants with that stupid helmet on and to make a long story short one of the other people on shift has to slap your back really hard and yell at you to BREATHE BITCH BREATHE while two others help Sasha to her feet.

"Y'need that?" she drawls sarcastically, but you can catch the smile on Sasha's face while you nod wordlessly and wipe tears from your eyes. "Good, glad to help. 'sup with - uh..."

The two of you watch as...wait a moment...you know this person's name...you've got it...in your head...come on come JALEX THAT'S THE NAME, as Jalex, without saying a word, putters behind the two of you with what you sincerely hope is a sterilized rod, dips it into the soup, and records the level of the liquid before standing there awkwardly holding the thin rod above the pot so the soup will go back into, well, the soup.

"...I feel like the quartermaster ordering the soup measured is either onea those unbelievable common facts or a dire fuckin' sign," Sasha finishes, a little too loudly.

"Yes," Jalex answers, absentmindedly. "Don't mind me."

"We're kinda not minding a lot of people right now," you point out, gesturing to everyone who helped you and Sasha out. "But since you're there anyway you mind if I borrow Sasha for a bit and then come back? Since you're staring at the soup 'n' all?"

And in the weary voice of the perpetually too-busy, Jalex goes, "Yeah, sure, I'll be here. With the soup."

So the two of you walk off to someplace a little more reasonably private (the outside metal stairs on a building, sue you, you like being tall okay) and you lean against the railing together. "So," you begin, quietly. "How you holding up?"

"Haven't slept right in days," Sasha admits. "...I was still running scared during the University rescue, y'know? But I'm the big sister, I gotta show a good face, and anyway people needed help...but like. We won those fights, right? We even got away pretty clean. And it was still the scariest thing I'd ever done. Now I'm gonna go do it again, on purpose? How do you do it every time?"

"...You want the honest answer or a hopeful answer?"

"Just fuck me like Andrea fucks you," Sasha says with a sigh. You blink and try to slap her ass, which fails due to, you see, the tactical gear. "That one was metaphorical, Orchid - wait, you'd fuck me?"

"Would you make it weird?" you ask, still confused.

"...Raincheck," Sasha decides. "And honest answer."

You shrug, and look away, instead of at her. Her hair really is coming back in quite fast, isn't it? And there's dyes that aren't good for anything else, if she wants to...

You're doing that thing again, aren't you?

At least your lighter is easy to toy with, while you work up the courage. "...Mostly I dissociate and then I'm not dead at the end," you admit, at long last. "Barely, in some cases. A lot of cases. I think this body cut its teeth on things you can't exactly parry and riposte. Or it wasn't trained that way, I don't fuckin' know...but I don't want that for you. I want you safe. It should be me going."

Sasha scoffs and ruffles your hair. "You can't fight every dragon wit'cher knight ass, Orchid. I don't want to go, but...I wanna go. That make sense?"

"No."

"Fuck you too," Sasha says with a laugh. "...You got any advice?"

Pick 1
[ ] Bloodlust; malice is greater than fear
[ ] Caution; learn from my mistakes
[ ] Knowledge; it only looks like I've been making shit up, I'm attacking weaknesses

You give the matter some thought, but only, well, some. It's something that's been on your own mind for awhile. "Be careful," you tell Sasha. "I'm not careful. I need to be a bit careful myself, but like...you have backup. You have a team. You've got the option to leave! You can just leave the combat zone! I know I can't demand that everyone come back alive but I really cannot see an excuse for either you specifically dying or a lot of people dying."

"...The fuck you mean you can't demand everyone come back alive?" Sasha asks, with just that little touch of incredulity. "If we're so fuckin' good as all that?"

You give her a long look.

Take the binoculars off her belt ("Hey!").

Put them in front of her eyes.

Forcibly point her head in the direction of the fucking Corporate kaiju perched on top of the Ferris wheel.

"...Yeah, okay, fair," Sasha concedes, her voice suddenly much more sober. She takes the binoculars and puts them back on her belt. "Gods, I don't smoke, and yet I need a cigarette." You go to get out your smokes and she holds up her hand. "That would be by way of a fuckin' metaphor, Orchid. I know you know what metaphors are."

"I mean yeah but they're still a bit of a challenge," you sigh. "...So yeah. Don't take stupid risks. Let your team have your back. If you're not sure, back off and reassess. Maybe Clara can provide support...I gotta see what she's always swearing at anyway."

There is not an immediate reply. Sasha and you sorta stare out at your community busily doing its activities. It's a noisy place; people call out to one another, work crews swear and yell, machines revv up and grind, break, drill, hammer. Off near the docks, further than your eyes can see, a group of people you fucking HOPE are off-shift are either having a breakdancing competition or attempting to see if humans can incorporate bird-like mating dances into their courtship rituals. Possibly both. Someone giving you a bird-like mating dance sounds like a good time, honestly. The effort, y'know?

"Think, when you come see us off, you can give my boys the same advice?" Sasha asks at last. "Might help improve that whole coming-back-alive rate."

"Yeah," you agree casually. "...Hey why are they all 'boys' anyway?"

"Used to be women couldn't serve in uniform and cultural inertia has a more titanic and mythic ass than you do."

"...That's pretty titanic and mythic if I understand right."

"Oh yeah. Mythic as fuck, Orchid. As. Fuck."

* * * *

With Clara on the brain you head off her direction after Sasha decides to go rescue Jalex. She is, as usual, swearing at her computer. Well. Computers. The mermaid has co-opted a great deal of electronic resources into a rig even you can tell is some manner of unholy abomination; she smokes profusely, laying on a hastily-made construction of shaped glass made for her comfort, and types furiously. "The fuck you want," she snaps, as you approach. "I'm busy."

"...Busy doing what?" you ask slowly, holding your hands up in case she can kill you with her mind or something.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Clara mutters. "It won't affect the people under your protection, but since I'm more or less useless for that anyway I figured, why not try to save a few hundred lives thousands of miles - got you you whoreson dog, get the FUCK OUT OF MY BIRDS -"

You wait, and observe. Clara's triumph doesn't seem to immediately precede the cessation of her work, and eventually you sorta squat down on your heels and just observe. She is tearing her way through a supply of roll-ups made from the "tobacco" you helped grow, and smoke trickles out of both her nose and her gills while she does...something. You remember from a movie night that whatever she's doing isn't like 'movie hacking', but blown if you know the difference, since she seems so busy with her hands. You'd like to understand.

It's not a good sign that she's saying she's useless. This place should be a home for her too.

At long last Clara flops over onto her back, punches the air, and closes her eyes. "That'll buy me some time," she says, through heavy breaths still full of smoke. "Hodges was always the better hacker, the prick. Can't fucking believe him."

"...What's he doing?" you ask.

There's a long, drawn-out 'uggghhhh' sound. "You're not gonna let this go, are you? Fine. Fine. Hodges is trying to fucking colony drop the IHORS on Throne City to take out the fuckin' Empress. Which, as far as I'm concerned, would be super based of him if it weren't for the collateral." Clara opens her eyes and gives you a long look. "The rest of Throne goes down with her, is the thing. I dunno how many of the little moving dots I'm seeing from the birds are both alive and free-willed but the ones that definitely are, that's low hundreds. If everyone is? That's the largest surviving population center I've seen in the Empire. Couple thousand. Gone like that." She snaps her fingers.

"Gods," you breathe. "...Why?"

"Hodges figures he's solving a problem two generations down the line, when Throne decides to put its boot on everyone's neck again and we go back to the bad old days when the fags and furries went on pyres. Which, sure, I don't like that idea, I'm the 'furries' half of that and I'm a big fan of fags but this seems a bit fucking extreme. Anyway. The fuck did you want?"

Choose 2. The combination that wins might make attempts to persuade Clara, or support her, better or worse.
[ ] Tell her what you originally came for; eyes in the skies for the attack on Harrow Park
[ ] "I mean, whatever I came for I'm kinda here for you now..."
[ ] Maybe checking in on her expertise will cheer her. What steps need to be taken about the internet?
[ ] Fuck it, wanna slack off a bit?
[ ] Write-in?