She was surrounded. There was at least a dozen insurgents in the room, all of them pointing weapons at her. The one in charge was shouting, but her blood was rushing in her ears, and she couldn't make out a single word that he was saying. He paused, breathing heavily for a minute, and then he said another thing that wasn't registered, and then the butt of a gun hit her upper back.
She grunted as she was pushed closer to the ground. If she was going to do this... She needed to act. And she needed to act quickly. She took a deep breath and tried to work up the courage, but then she saw a small face peek out in a window of a closet door. It quickly disappeared again, and she was grateful that none of the insurgents seemed to notice... But it definitely meant that she couldn't do what she was going to do. Not here. Not now.
The had of the insurgents took her by the arm and forced her into a stand. He grinned smugly and "frisked" her to check for anymore weapons. Finding none, he unlatched her helmet and threw it off. "Pretty little blondie... You know, I prefer blondes..."
A rush of panic flooded her. "I know something!" she exclaimed. "S-something you want. It's plans. My Commanding Officer told me that they keep strategy plans in the school. Hidden in plain sight. B-but only I can show you."
Spirit felt a small jolt of gratitude as Cyber stayed on her left beside her. She didn't know if the other girl had planned to do so - if she had considered her one-eyed disability, but with all of the chaos about, she definitely appreciated it. Just one moment of clarity and normality in the face of a half-dozen people she didn't know and a far-too-small (or so it felt) home to sustain everyone.
When the woman - Aunt Jemma, as Cyber introduced her - went for Jojo, Spirit instinctively tightened her grip on his small hand just a tad. It was stupid, and irrational, but in that moment, she didn't want him to get lost in the chaos.
Ever since she was young, Spirit had always known she had wanted a large amount of kids. She wanted to be surrounded by her children, like her parents were. She loved children, and she wanted to have a small army of her own for her to love and teach and rear in the way that her mother didn't quite do with her. She wanted sons that she could teach to be whatever they wanted to be and daughters she could teach what love is - assuming she'd know by then.
Three years ago, she had taken in her niece and nephews, and... She was fairly certain it was an act of God that Jojo was here today. He had been one year old, so young and new. He could hardly talk, he could hardly walk, he was still wearing diapers...
Part of her had fantasized. Even though her life had deemed it impossible for her ever to achieve the dream family she had yearned for, she had fantasized. She wouldn't ever tell him so, or mock his parents, but... She wished Jojo was hers. By God, she wished he was hers...
"A-actually, I'd rather he stayed with me," she interjected, her smile feeling just a bit more forced than it had been a minute ago.
-
It was wonderful.
Just the feeling of cool, fresh air all around her, surrounding her for the first time in six years, was enough to solidify her determination to never go back. Every day, she'd stand at the sliding door, sticking her hand out, maybe her face if she was feeling brave. She'd watch her dogs with just a touch of envy, wishing she could roll in the grass with them. But she couldn't. Not with that monitor around her ankle.
Charlie couldn't help a small glance at her right ankle, unable to smile a little at the lack of plastic machinery (something which, mind, she had to applaud them being able to create completely metal-free).
"Don't get too cocky. One screw-up and you're straight back to your prison in Comino."
"Aww, Kenneth, I like having to spend the rest of my life with you, too!" she joked, linking her arm with that of her personal bodyguard, there to protect....everyone but her. From her. As if she were some sort of animal that cared only for hurting others - something, which, mind, she had never done before!
But she wasn't going to let his sour mood ruin her euphoria at the closest thing to freedom she'd ever have. They entered the plain, boring building and rode the elevator up to one of the highest floors. Charlie had to contain her excitement at being so high up, for, even though she had just spent many hours on an airplane, she was still ecstatic at being able to be anywhere besides the ground floor, to experience different views and postures.
They entered an office, Kenneth escorting her to a semi-comfortable chair as she glanced at the strict-looking man across it. After she was sat with her elbows on her lap, Kenneth retreated, closed the door, and stood beside it.
"Now, just sit tight for a minute while we wait for your trainer," the office head instructed.
Edited By Creativity on 6/19/2019 at 8:52 PM.
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 6/20/2019 at 6:48 PM
Post #512
If Cyber had to rate the evening so far she would probably say things were going...okay. She was familiar enough with Spirit now that she could tell the other woman was feeling somewhat anxious, but the introductions were going fairly well, she thought. It made her feel good that her friend was making such an effort to be comfortable with the situation, even though she knew Spirit was anything but comfortable. She hoped that in time it might get better for the blonde woman, but she wasn't sure if it was going to happen...
Especially once Aunt Jemma offered to watch Jojo while Cyber took Spirit into the kitchen. She could practically feel her friend tense up beside her ever so slightly, and even she felt her chest tighten. It was a complex situation with Spirit and the kids, but anyone who spent time around them could tell that Spirit and Jojo had a particular bond. It was hard to imagine what was going through her friend's mind and she wanted desperately to know how to diffuse the situation, but this sort of thing had never been her strong suit. Her family was the way it was, and she loved them for it. However...
"Oh, honey," Aunt Jemma drawled at Spirit, "I don't blame ya, darlin', but if ya don't mind my sayin' so I think you could do with some 'you' time. Baby boy will be jus' fine and you can Sym can go relax for a little while till dinnah." Her radiant smile was like a spotlight in the room.
Worried that her aunts domineering personality might be rubbing Spirit the wrong way, Cyber decided it was time to act. She stepped forward and turned her body to face her friend, shielding her slightly from the family while also providing them with a very small amount of privacy. She reached her hand out and placed it on Spirit's upper arm, looking into her face with an expression of apologetic pleading in her grass green eyes.
"You don' hafta," she told Spirit first and foremost, "But Jojo will be alrigh' wit dem and you an' I can
worry 'bout talkin' ta Nana, yeah?" She didn't want Spirit to feel pressured, which is why she made sure to say what she'd said first, but she also knew that they needed some time to talk about what the plan was now that things were going differently than they'd expected.
-----
Quiet, dull, mind-numbingly boring. These were the words Remy would use if asked to describe his place of work. He hated it here at this financial institution, hated logging hour after hour as an analyst, dealing with cold numbers and heartless graphs. It ground at his nerves in ways no human being should ever have to endure. He was an artist, a creative soul who longed to be free from the confines of this cubicle, to set this desk on fire in a blaze of glory as he exited the building forever.
Unfortunately, things like rent, utility bills, and food could not be bought up artistic spirit alone. This meant that Remy was stuck here, where his intellect was coveted and molded into a stuffy, professional box. He was doomed to remain in this bureaucratic prison purely for the purpose of survival, and he could feel his will to carry on drain away with each passing day. It was torture, it was agony, but even he understood the necessity of it all. He would never enjoy this, but it was better than starving to death.
With his eyes down, mind divided, Remy made notes on the report in front of him with one hand, while he doodled absently on a scrap of paper with the other. When the phone on his desk rang he was momentarily blinded by the sudden, jarring splash of jagged blue which dominated his vision as he grasped around. Holding the phone up to his ear, he closed his eyes tightly and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he listened.
"Yes, Mr. Lawrence," he said, his voice a horribly depressing monotone, "I'm finishing up this report and I'll be right there...yes, sir." He hung up with a groan, and let his face fall into his hands as he propped his arms up on his elbows.
The choice to work at this company had been a difficult one for Remy, but it was because he could be left alone, with little interaction with other people. Not to mention the fact that the conversations here were dull enough he didn't have to worry about being constantly bombarded by flashes of color all the time when people spoke. Now, however, because of his exemplary work record, his boss was having him train a new employee. It was his worst nightmare, but he couldn't protest. He needed this job, so he finished his final annotations on the report, stuck it in his OUT box and got up to head to the office.
A very short walk, and a soft knock on his boss's door later, Remy found himself inside Mr. Lawrence's office, though he gave the muscular man standing rigidly outside a curious glance as he passed by.
"Mr. Lawrence," Remy said as he shut the door quietly behind him, "Reporting as asked, sir." He tried not look at the woman sitting in the chair in the office, but she was somewhat hard to miss.
Edited By Britters on 6/21/2019 at 1:42 AM.
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 6/21/2019 at 7:17 PM
Post #513
It was almost miraculous that the head of the insurgent group was intrigued enough by the fake knowledge she had, just enough to heed her lies. She lead the group, with a gun held at the small of her back, to the cafeteria.
"I-It's in a closet here. Just... Just let me find the safe the plans are in."
It was now or never. She knew very well that this plan could end terribly, but there was that solid 3% chance that she'd manage it without suffering a swiss-cheese death. She had to do it, if only for that small chance. There was no way out of it anyway...
She ducked down and phased, bullets going through where her body should be. The insurgents were shouting, and she grimaced before intercepting her hand into one of the insurgents' and unphasing it. His hand was split, destroyed, and she managed to nab his gun as he screamed and fell to the ground.
It was unlikely. That 3% chance. But she did it. And within just a few seconds, all twelve of the insurgents lay dead around her, and she didn't have a single scratch on her - besides for where a last-second bullet had grazed the top of her left shoulder. It was nothing, still, compared to the holes in the chests, necks, and heads of the twelve men and women surrounding her.
She couldn't breathe. The images wouldn't leave her, and every loud noise made by Cyber's cousins was a trigger for another reminder of the horrors of the war. There was nothing more devastating or barbaric than war. No one at the Resistance seemed to understand that...
Jojo was taken from her, and she felt, for a moment, like the remainder of her soul was taken with him. But then there was Cyber beside her, grounding her. She was conscious enough, even, to take a slight amount of offense to Aunt Jemma's implications. She bit her tongue, though. She was never the type of person to pick a fight, but with all of the chaos and war implications, she was feeling a tad bit vulnerable.
But Cyber grounded her. And as they entered the kitchen, the nice, quiet kitchen, Spirit felt most of the pressure on her lungs clear. She was able to relax a little bit, and she saw the pleading in Cyber's eyes... It brought a sense of self-hatred to settle in the pit of her stomach, and she straightened up a little bit, swallowing hard.
"No, no no, it's fine," she covered up quickly, reaching a hand out and gently brushing her friend's upper arm. "Really. I just need a few minutes to adjust is all. And I know Jojo will be fine. It's probably better he gets to meet new people." She smiled and tilted her head forward a bit. "I'm fine. I promise."
-
Now, Charlie didn't really like the idea of having a "trainer". After all, how difficult could the job be? Americans knew nothing (or next to nothing) about finance - or else they wouldn't be so far in debt, would they? Americans only knew how to spend, never to save. She doubted she'd have any issues if she was thrown into the fray cold, where she had to learn how to swim or drown. Overall, she knew she'd learn how to swim in record time, because she never did anything without analyzing it first.
When the lanky, thin man entered and stood in front of the desk, not bothering to sit down, Charlie immediately knew that this simply could not be the man that was designated to train her. No. She wouldn't allow it. After him, Kenneth entered again and stood quietly in the back of the office, his gaze trained on her.
"You will be trained in the position by one of my finest analysts, Remy," their superior - Jackson Lawrence, as the name plaque on his desk read - told her monotonically. He then turned to the taller man, Remy. "Remy, this is your trainee, Charlene."
"Charlie," she corrected immediately, her eyes flashing dangerously at Lawrence.
"Whatever," he disregarded it. "Now, Remy, there are a few restrictions. She can only write in pencils - she's not allowed to hold a pen. So, you must outline important forms and signatures of hers in pen. You need to keep your eye on her constantly, but her bodyguard will be doing that, too, so you're just going to be an extra pair of hands if anything were to occur."
There it was. Another leash. Another ball and chain. Charlie felt anger flair up within her, and she had to clench her fists to keep from acting out. Kenneth cleared his throat behind her, and she glanced at him, catching his meaningful look. One screw-up, and it's back to Comino.
She forced herself to breathe through the anger. "With all due respect, sir," she spoke. "I don't really need to be babysat by a twelve year-old Barbie doll."
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 6/22/2019 at 2:53 PM
Post #514
Entering the kitchen, Cyber was for a moment transported back to her younger days, her concerns for Spirit briefly forgotten. She could remember standing in here as a teenager, watching her Nana cook or bake something that smelled so heavenly. Over the years she had tried learning, but she just didn't have the natural flair in the kitchen, not like her Nana. More than once she had filled this room with horrible black smoke, but she always remember that no one in her family ever made her feel embarrassed about it.
It was her cousin Yvonne that had inherited the gift of culinary prowess, and why she was in the kitchen now. She gave the two of them no more than a passing glance and nod of greeting before returning her attention back to the potatoes she was mashing. This was Cyber's cue to turn her attention back to Spirit.
"Sure ya are," she said to her friend, her tone not betraying how little she believed such a statement while she busied herself with getting two glasses from the cupboard and filling them both with lemonade from the fridge, "My fam'ly definitely can take gettin' used ta, tha's fa sure." She handed Spirit a glass of lemonade, jumping up so she was seated on the island counter in the middle of the room.
Occupying herself with drinking her own beverage, Cyber tried to quiet her mind from all the troubled thoughts which were plaguing her. She couldn't stop thinking about how Spirit was really holding up under all of the craziness that came with being around her boisterous family, or how their purpose for being here might have been entirely thwarted. It was difficult to see a clear path through the evening, especially with her feelings of joy at seeing her family warring with those of regret that her friend had to endure this without warning.
"They all mean well, ya know," she found herself musing aloud, staring off across the room at nothing, "They all have so much love ta give, it has a tendency to just...splash out at ya. Tha's what Nana always said, anyway. What do you want to do abou' why we came?" She turned her gaze back to Spirit as she finished speaking, reaching up absently with one hand to push her glassed back up to the bridge of her nose.
-----
This room was stifling and confining, and Remy longed to be as far away from it as possible, but this was where his life required him to be and so here he was stuck. He stood rigidly behind the other chair across from Mr. Lawrence's desk, making the choice not to sit down. He preferred the freedom of movement that standing allowed him, especially in situations such as this. There was nothing he wished to waste his attention on in here, not even the extravagant looking woman who was seated within one of the chairs.
As his boss spoke, Remy tried to allow his grey eyes to remain focused on one of the pockets of the man's suit. It was a trick he had taught himself so that he did not get overwhelmed by the colors which bombarded him during conversations. Thankfully, it was not quite as necessary in this case as the only colors which flooded his vision while Mr. Lawrence droned on about the new employee were muted gray tones mixed with the occasional splash of beige.
Boring though the exchange was, and not surprisingly so, Remy found himself quirking an eyebrow as Mr. Lawrence outlined the "restrictions" that the young woman he would be training must adhere to. It seemed rather absurd, and made very little sense, but he was not one to argue. It wasted time and angry conversations were...uncomfortable to watch in technicolor. He simply nodded and then turned to address the woman, Charlene (no...Charlie, she'd said she preferred), but before he had a chance to do so...
A bright flash of color dominated his vision, and despite his best efforts Remy squinted his eyes shut tight and took a stumbling step backwards as though he'd been struck. Honestly, the wave of...fuschia? Magenta? Perhaps it had been both with some rouge thrown in, but it was hard to tell without opening his eyes. Once Charlie had stopped speaking, he risked peeling his eyelids back, blinking against the bright lights which danced before him as the colors faded away to nothing.
"I take no great pleasure in the task myself, Miss Charlene," he said to her, his monotone voice barely containing his own frustration, though his purposeful use of her full name probably portrayed it well, "However, while I'm sure your qualifications are many, there are still things such as company policies and procedures that are necessary to learn, and are not something that you can simply just know on instinct. Shall we begin?" He pursed his lips, turning his body sideways and indicating the door.
Edited By Britters on 6/22/2019 at 3:27 PM.
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 6/22/2019 at 5:50 PM
Post #515
Twelve. Twelve people lay dead around her, their lives taken by her own very hand. She suddenly dropped the gun as if she had been burned by it. She quickly went to each insurgent, checking for a pulse, trying to cover up their bullet holes like she hadn't just murdered them ruthlessly, but by the end of it, all she had was a dozen definitely-deceased people and blood-soaked hands.
She stumbled back a couple steps, then turned and vomited. They could have had families... People, waiting for them. Mothers, fathers. Wives, husbands. Children. Twins. And now... Because of her, those families would have to be informed that the member they loved had died.
Slowly, she began to tremble, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried, but failed, to tear her eyes away from those twelve bodies. It was only when she let out a choked sob that she fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands, unable to bear the sight anymore, but still being forced to feel the wetness of their blood on her hands.
In her misery, she didn't hear the slight movement of wheels upon the ground. She didn't look up to see as the little girl, no older than six years old, crept out from behind the folded lunch table she had been cowering behind. She didn't notice any of it until two tiny arms had wrapped around her thin frame.
Taking the glass of lemonade, Spirit leaned up against the wall opposite of the kitchen island that Cyber had hopped onto. She didn't say anything for a while, one arm crossed over her chest and the other supporting the glass, which she drank from occasionally.
She didn't meet Cyber's gaze, only stared at a spot on the top of the kitchen island she occupied. She hated when people doubted her. Not that Cyber was, of course - she wasn't accusing her. Though, sometimes it felt like everyone was doubting her, no matter how well-intentioned they were. It was the one thing that Spirit had never been able to handle - others underestimating her. Her competitive nature only pushed her to prove people wrong, and whether or not it was Strength, or her mother, or Teddy, or Aunt Jemma... No matter who it was, she had to prove people wrong. She had to prove her own strength.
"I mean," she finally spoke up, her gaze unmoving. "I know why we came, and I thought it was going to be a lot faster than it's seeming to turn out to be. That's fine and all. I really do want to meet your family, see if they are all as... endearing, as you," she finally looked back at her with a small, teasing smile.
Lifting her glass, she took another sip before lowering it again and staring down at the pale yellow liquid inside. There was a small thud from the other room, and she immediately reacted, jumping and phasing. Her glass fell, but she managed to catch it (after all, having lived with her PTSD for ten years, she was used to having to catch things she'd unwittingly drop).
Offering a small, shaky laugh to show that she was okay in spite of the searing pain that coursed through her body from the phasing, she took a step forward and placed the glass on the counter beside Cyber, trying her best to hide the slight trembling of her hand.
"We have no choice but to stay for dinner, then, right? We can always load your Nana into my truck afterwards."
-
Having been forced to live in near-complete isolation for the past six years, Charlie had had, as they say, a lot of time to think about things. She liked to look on the bright side of things - silver linings were kind of her obsession. The silver lining of her isolation, she supposed, was that she felt she had a much better understanding of what life meant, and what death meant, after all of the solitude. Some decisions had made the two subjects so glaringly clear, she felt she might even be able to write a book on it.
Hey, that wasn't a bad idea... Life and Death: The Deciphering. Well... She'd have to work on the title. She ached to get her hands on a keyboard this very moment so that she could start spilling the ideas in her brain, but she knew she'd have to wait.
"Charlie," she snapped again immediately when Remy called her by the wrong name, probably on purpose. She glared at him over her shoulder, hating the fact that he wouldn't sit.
Did he think he was so much better than them? Did he think that he didn't have to submit? Sometimes, you needed to submit, because it was the only way to manipulate a situation or another person's mindset. She was itching to get up, get out, and explore the world, but even she understood that, in the name of societal convention, it was more polite to submit in this situation.
At his suggestion, she stood up, hastily moving the chair back to the desk. "All of those things seem to me like they are plenty acquirable from a book. But I suppose I will let you stroke your own ego if it is required."
She risked a glance at Kenneth, noticing the dangerous look on his face. His hands were in his pockets, but somehow, she knew that he was just inching to encase her wrists in two-inch thick plastic handcuffs. After all, plastic was the only thing that the Maltese government had, really, that she could not...bend to her will, as it were.
"Oui," she responded to Remy, mocking his accent with a quirked eyebrow. "Lead the way."
Edited By Creativity on 6/22/2019 at 5:50 PM.
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 6/23/2019 at 2:13 PM
Post #516
The lemonade was tart and refreshing, just as Cyber always remembered it being as a teenager. Her mother's parents had tried so hard to keep her way from this side of the family, but once she'd found them she refused to let them go. It had caused such strife between her and her mother's family, and she wished things could have been different. However, she had finally found a place where she was welcomed for who and what she chose to be, and that was worth more than trying to make everyone happy.
In the back of her mind, Cyber felt somewhat silly for wanting Spirit to like her family so desperately. Her feelings for the blonde woman were confusing to say the least, though it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that she had a crush. The confusing part came with the fact that even after all these weeks she still had zero idea about what could possibly be done about her feelings. Things at the Resistance being what they were, things with Spirit and the kids being what they were, she just didn't know whether saying anything would cause more harm than good.
For now, Cyber deemed it best to do nothing, as she had for some time now. She turned her attention back to her friend as she spoke of the situation.
"I'm fairly certain no one's as endearin' as me, love," she quipped back wittily, returning Spirit's smile with a lopsided one of her own, "But I thank you'll come find them all purty pleasant...unfortunately, they don' get any less noisy." She finish her glass of lemonade, which she had been sipping from this whole time, and hopped down off the counter to deposit it in the sink.
Before Cyber could say another word to Spirit on the subject of their purpose for having come here in the first place, she heard her cousin clear her throat loudly behind them. Yvonne had placed several platters of food, including the bowl of mashed potatoes she'd been working so diligently on, and was giving Cyber a pointed look before going back to the stove. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Cyber grabbed the tray of dinner rolls and turned to Spirit.
"Back into the fray then, babe," she said to her friend, shaking her dreads back over her shoulder, giving Spirit a playful look as she journeyed into the dining room, "Be sure ta grab somethin', Yvonne may be the quiet one, but she ain't above throwin' a wooden spoon a' people." With a glare from her cousin following her, she exited the kitchen laughing.
-----
Well, this whole thing was going just swimmingly, wasn't it? Remy wanted nothing more than to return to his desk, to the hidden stash of aspirin which he kept in one of his drawers. The familiar warning signs of a developing migraine were starting to present themselves. A hammering sensation was forming between his eyes, and black dots were floating in his peripheral vision as he began to feel a sensitivity to light plague him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay focused on the situation at hand.
Not, of course, that Remy cared very particularly about this young woman, or the job that his boss had tasked him with. His position at this company was decently secured, much to his own self-hatred, due to his proficiency with numbers, and so he knew that he could refuse having to partake in this training. However, there was something most infuriatingly refreshing about Charlie's presence within his world, though he once again hated himself for even thinking it.
The whole reason Remy had allowed himself to take such a menial, spirit killing job such as this was that he could spend most of his days in relative peace. His peculiar ability to see sounds as marvelous displays of colors had little effect on him in his place. However, his artistic nature did leave him with a longing for the spectacular colors which he knew existed in this world, especially since his long work hours gave him little free time to indulge in his want for a less monochromatic environment.
Whatever else Remy might feel about his new trainee, the fact was Charlie had brought the first splash of color into his world than he'd had in some time. More sparks of bright fuschia followed her as she stood up and spat more insults at him.
"Much obliged, milady," he said to her with a mocking tone and a curt little bow, "I am by nature a great fan of doing my own stroking...when it comes to my ego anyway." He arched an eyebrow at her, giving her a look that said he would not cave under her tongue lightly.
There was a distinct conflict happening within him, and Remy found himself rather irritated about the whole mess. He wanted his carefully curated life to get back to the way it had been before this woman had entered it, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to tell his boss he had to assign her to someone else. It was a conundrum...and he hated it.
"Let us begin then," he said to her, hesitating almost a moment before walking out of the door ahead of her, "Right this way, my little casse couille." He smiled to himself, for whether or not she knew what he'd just said, it always gave him great pleasure to us his native language in such a way.
Edited By Britters on 6/23/2019 at 3:24 PM.
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 6/26/2019 at 7:42 PM
Post #517
When the small arms of the little girl wrapped around her, she flinched violently, having thought she'd been completely alone. The small English girl was dark-haired, with pretty green eyes and tanned skin. Her arms were thin and trembling and warm.
Her eyes opened and her hands left her face, but the little girl still hadn't pulled back. She stared down at the ground in a confusion concoction of emotions that she was far too muddled to identify any of. Tentatively, she enveloped the girl loosely in her own arms, not quite having the strength to stand or pull back. The girl herself didn't retreat, only tightened her grip around her savior.
"Maisie! Maisie!" came a sudden voice from the left. The doors to the cafeteria burst open, and a frazzled woman ran in. The little girl finally pulled back, and was quickly swept up by her mother. "Oh, Maisie, I've been looking everywhere for you!"
"Ma'am, you really shouldn't-!" The muscular gray-haired man shouted as he followed after her, but stopped dead at the sight before him. The mother, sobbing as she held her daughter close. The dozen insurgents, laying dead on the ground. And then her, with hands and face stained with blood.
There was something incredibly adorable about Cyber's confidence, although Spirit would never use that word aloud. She didn't even know why that thought alarmed her so, but it seemed a bit too intimate a word. Maybe... Cute? Was her confidence cute? That's how you described something your friend does or has that you enjoy, right? Having never had any female friends before, she was unsure.
When Cyber started ushering her away from the kitchen, Spirit hastily finished her lemonade, enjoying the taste of citrus on her tongue, but didn't bother to grab food as she had been instructed. She was fairly certain that for dinner tonight, she'd have more food on her plate than had been at one time in years...
Since money was such an incredible issue for her, she often didn't have, really, a ton to spend on herself. When someone she loved needed it more... Well. She only spent enough on herself to sustain herself, just enough to have strength to keep going and fighting for them.
Not bothering to say anything quite yet, she instead braced herself for the chaos that she knew she'd soon be facing, and followed Cyber out of the kitchen.
-
Before she had been confined to a metal-less prison of her own, Charlie had been the daughter of wealthy, high-profile parents. Her mother had friends in high places, and her father had contacts in higher places. The weekends at her father's house were often spent hiding from her "step-mom" and her half-brothers who would try to bully her endlessly before she learned the concept of fighting back.
When at her father's house, he'd often have "associates" over to discuss business, each one slimier than the last. Her mother's contacts were generally nicer, and it was through these adult contacts that Charlie got a grasp on quite a few languages. While in her isolation, she used her allowance from her mother to sometimes order books and such that would help her learn them in more depth. After all, she spent a long time in there, and... She needed ways to occupy her time.
French was one of the languages that she knew quite a bit of. After all, it was one of the big influences on Maltese, and there were many Frenchmen that her mother knew (some, quite intimately, she'd say, but Charlie never quite understood what it meant).
She was torn between slapping Remy and laughing, but instead she settled on merely biting back with words - physical violence on her part would not end well at all. "Mur hudu f'sormok. I am not 'your little' anything," she snapped at him as she followed him, Kenneth at her rear.
"Bite your tongue," Kenneth told her. "What would your mother say if she heard you saying such language?"
Charlie turned her head and flashed him an innocent smile, almost bumping into Remy as she did so. She managed to catch herself before doing so and slowed her space. "Where do you think I learned it?" she called back to her guard as she faced forward again. "Oh, and Remy, you must think me so rude," she shook her head with a mock-posh voice. "That back there is my Emotional Support Kenneth."
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 6/27/2019 at 4:27 PM
Post #518
The scene which greeted Cyber in the dining room was at once both chaotic and comforting. Her family was gathered around the table, everyone talking together at once. The blanket of conversation wrapped itself around her as she set her bowl of rolls down on the table where other platters and trays of food had already been placed. Her green eyes traveled around the room slowly, a soft smile upon her face as she looked at each member of her family in turn and felt her heart threaten to overflow with love and emotion.
It made her feel ashamed, but Cyber's time with the Resistance had given her so many new things to occupy her time and her mind that she had begun to forget how deeply she'd missed her family. She was sure she was probably being too hard on herself. After all, what she was doing with the Resistance was important in so many ways, and she was really making a difference. If her family were to have any idea exactly what it was she was doing, she knew that they would be proud of her.
Even so, Cyber still felt like that didn't give her an excuse to have thought of them as little as she had lately...
"Elsa, here," she said pulling out a chair that was on the end of one side of the table and where Jojo could be seated next to her on the left, "Might's'well sit down and git comfy." She took her own seat in the chair at the end of the table, on Spirit's right, having decided it would be better for her to be in the other woman's blindspot rather than a member of her family.
There were a few more minutes where the conversations around the room continued, but they all ceased when Yvonne entered with the centerpiece of the dinner table: a large silver platter of fried chicken. Cyber gave her cousin a smile and wink as everyone started settling into their seats. Jojo, who had been seated in Aunt Jemma's ample lap, hopped down and was guided over to Spirit by Ayisha who sat down next to him. She was by far the best with children among Cyber's cousins. Once Great Uncle Arthur was seated at the head of the table, Aunt Jemma (who sat to his right) called for order.
"Alright, folks," she said in her jovial, yet commanding voice, "We got comp'ny tonight so y'all know the drill..." She put her hands together in front of her and bowed her head quietly.
For a moment, Cyber felt her cheeks grow warm again, more for her aunts consideration than anything else. Her family were open-minded and understanding. When it was just them they all held hands to say grace, but anytime there was company who might be made uncomfortable by such things it just became a short, personal moment of silence. It was over tonight soon enough and without further ceremony everyone began filling their plates, passing trays back and forth between them.
"So, Elsa," Aunt Jemma finally spoke up from her end of the table, "How did you and Cyber meet?" The question was innocent enough, but Cyber very nearly snorted sweet tea out of her nose as she choked taking a drink out of her glass.
-----
The level of amusement which Remy felt when Charlie reacted to what he'd sad was palpable, and for a moment he saw the corners of his vision tint with pale sunshine yellow, which momentarily gave him pause. It had been some time since any of his interactions with other people had elicited such a response. It was both intriguing and something which caused him a brief feeling of alarm. Some people, he had to remind himself, were just more suited, more bold in their own feelings, and they were the ones who more often triggered his own innate emotions.
Emotions were another point of conflict for Remy. On one hand, as an artist, he wanted his work to able to out his feelings into his work to some degree and therefore elicit emotional responses from the people who viewed his pieces. However, on the other hand, as he had long ago found out, when it came to emotions linked to other people...all it was was pain. He lived in a world where all he had to care about was himself, and that suited him just fine at th3 end of the day.
Not that Remy thought Charlie was the type of person who would understand such things. Her understanding of French came as very little surprise to him, for he had pegged her as a daughter of wealth and privilege during his time around her. She was the type who would claim to have feelings, to care about others, but she would turn out just as conceited as the worst of them in the end. Still, there was still something about her presence that gave him enough reason to be leading her to the tiny cubicle right across the walkway from his own.
"How could I ever think such a sweet-natured creature rude, mademoiselle?" he asked her, his tone stepping away from its usual monotony to sound quite mockingly sugary, "And it's a pleasure to meet you,
Emotional Support Kenneth. Shall I just call you Ken?" He perhaps should not be mocking such an imposing figure such as the man which had accompanied them, but once he began he usually could not stop as easily.
"Here is your pencil," he said to her with the condescending nature of a teacher with a troublesome student, "We'll start with the basics..."
Edited By Britters on 6/27/2019 at 5:48 PM.
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 6/28/2019 at 7:42 AM
Post #519
The man who had followed the mother in assessed the situation in a matter of seconds, and then gently guided the mother, now holding her child, towards the door they entered through. "Go ahead and get back to safety. There could still be insurgents here." She nodded, mute with happiness, and left obediently.
She was standing now, and when he turned back to her, there was a certain fire in his eyes that she felt a sudden burst of energy to combat. He growled and stormed to her, grabbing her by the front of her uniform and forcing her against the wall. "What the hell? What the absolute hell, Icey? You went against direct orders! Do not engage! Do not enter! I ought to send you home after such disobedience!"
It was with a steely resolve that she glared back down at her commanding officer. He caught sight of one of the bodies in the corner of his eye, turned his head a bit to stare at it for a moment, and then let her down with a sigh.
Once on the ground again, she took a few swift steps away from him, letting her glare do all of the talking. She wasn't proud of what she did. But... The feel of the little girl's arms, and the relieved cries of her mother... Those were enough to give her a strange sort of confidence. She spat on the ground for good measure and stared back at her commanding officer with determination.
He sighed, putting one hand on the top of his helmet. "Okay... I get it. You... Go back to camp. Rest up."
How was it that Cyber always seemed to know what to say or do to make her as comfortable as possible? Spirit couldn't really express how grateful she was for the seating arrangement that Cyber had set up, with her being the only person on her right. Spirit trusted her friend enough that her paranoia about her missing side of vision was lowered with her there.
When Jojo returned to her, she instinctively reached out and brushed back his hair. "Hey, buddy," she murmured to him with a small smile, but then looked up as Aunt Jemma caught everyone's attention, and then everyone bowed their head in a moment of silence.
Spirit hesitated before joining them. Of course she knew religion. When she was young, she would join her family in prayers. She grew up in a Lutheran household, and although she didn't practice it actively, she still considered it a part of her.
After the moment of silence, she was taken by slight surprise when Aunt Jemma addressed her. Her question was... Well. The implications were clear, and Spirit sent Cyber a quick glance as the other girl choked, then reached out and gently patted her back in support.
She turned her attention back to Aunt Jemma, deciding in that split second to keep her answer as innocent as the question so as to not confirm or deny anything. And what Aron always told her, what she held close to her heart, was the advice that a lie was best told if it was as close as possible to the truth.
"I work at a rescue, and we ended up hiring Symphony to do some tech work for us. Set up our website and everything."
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 7/5/2019 at 5:23 PM
Post #520
For Cyber's part, she had never been much for religion. She had attended church with her mother's family, and then later her father's family. She had found the latter less stuffy and more enjoyable, but she still found it difficult to commit to their beliefs. Her faith lay in technology and the intentions of good people...people like Spirit. The errant thought made her cheeks flush, and she was infinitely glad that everyone had their heads bowed in the moment of silence. She really needed to get a handle on herself.
The family began to dig into dinner, platters of biscuits and chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, we're passed around the table as everybody filled their plates. It was while Cyber was busy taking a sip of her sweet tea (another house specialty) that her Aunt Jemma suddenly asked her question about how she and Spirit had "met", and she had to hastily grab her napkin to cover her mouth as she nearly choked on her beverage. Her mind raced as she tried to think of something to say. Before she could, though, Spirit was answering with her usual confidence and diplomacy.
"I see," Aunt Jemma said conversationally while Cy gave Spirit a grateful sideways glance, "That sounds tonne like something Symphony could have done from home. We've missed her these last several months, you know..." Her aunt gave her a look now from across the table.
There was moment of guilt that surged through Cy's body, because she knew that what her aunt really meant was that her help around the house and with Nana had been missed, not that she didn't think her family had missed her as well. However, she also knew that she had left with a purpose.
"Auntie J," she said, her tone serious but warm, "I've missed ya all, too. The work we doin' is important, and it 'quires me to be linked inta their network. I'm sorry I can' be here more, but my...skills are bein' put ta good use." She gave her aunt a knowing look, and she could tell her aunt understood what she meant.
Within her family, only a handful of Cyber's relatives knew the details of her technopath ability. They pretty much all knew that she was excellent woth computers, and most knew that she used those skills to make money on the side to help pay for Nana's medical expenses. Aunt Jemma, however, was one of the few who knew exactly why her niece was so talented.
"I underarand, honey," Jemma said to Cyber with a warm, loving smile, pausing a moment as she accepted a bowl of collard greens from her husband, "So then, Elsa, if ya don't mind my asking, where are you and your family from. You certainly have an exotic sounding last name." She fixed her chocolate eyes on Spirit, and for a moment Cyber started breathing a sigh of relief now that the conversation had become more mundane.
And then...
"Yeah, and what happened to your eye?" Jackson, who was seated on Cyber's right, blurted out suddenly, looking for all the world as though he'd been holding the question in for a while.
As his mother, Aunt Jemma, began to shout "Jackson Benjamin Campbell!", Cyber aimed a sturdy and furious kick to his shins under the table, her combat boots finding their target. Her left hand went out toay on top of Spirit's hand before she could even think about what she was doing. She left it there, both not wanting to remove it and also not wanting to give Spirit the wrong idea.
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