Tess/Tez Bola
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"...I've discounted suicide in favor of killing everyone else in the entire world instead."
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Saarlan
Apr 9, 2014 5:22:32 GMT -8
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Post by Tess/Tez Bola on Apr 9, 2014 5:22:32 GMT -8
Tess shot up from the position she held upon the log when the ship had landed not that far off. She watched, fully alert, as a figure disembarked and approached them. Tess fought back the urge to ask her co-conspirator what the hell that twitching thing was, and why it was acting so strangely. It, she, paused too close for comfort, giving Tess a reason to be both cautious and curious. She glanced at Rip from the side of her eye, but she looked just as she did moments ago, only with a slight addition of annoyance and derision. In fact, Rip appeared to almost not even care for this whole situation; she merely seemed to be perturbed that her afternoon was ending in a less than desired way.
The mangled spectacles landed on the grass in a spittle filled heap, which made Tess take a step back. She took a survey of the being, but it was difficult to properly categorize its species or lethality. Her mind was begging the question, "Who was this, and how was Rip connected to this... person?" Why was this happening now? What did it have to gain? What was at stake here?
Tess suddenly felt out of place. She reasoned that this must be a spector from Rip's past with an agenda of some sort. Tess also felt a feeble sense of defensiveness- of course Rip could handle herself in an extreme combat situation, but it was her duty to protect her in any way possible. She was the princess, after all. What if this thing overpowered her? She didn't even know what it was capable of. It could kill her with a knife, or a thought, and it would be too late to notice. At least she had a back-up plan to an extent. She never wanted to rely on it, but if there was no other way, so be it. She would succumb to it if it meant rescuing her lover and doing away with this foe.
Tess stood there, eyes focused and silent. She held her composure as best she could, not betraying the rapid moving thoughts in her head. She was ready for whatever this creature threatened.
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The Major
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Saarlan
Apr 9, 2014 9:04:43 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by The Major on Apr 9, 2014 9:04:43 GMT -8
There was always the mobile, quick response defense. In this case it would also serve as the offense. A newcomer, an unknown entity -and yet this one was entirely known. What was its stance? Why was it excited? Why was it nervous? Why was it upset? Why were the Schiff so seemingly comfortable around it? A quick scan with her data glasses could confirm any number of things -but ultimately it was all irrelevant, devilry in the detail. Why, this thing would simply show its intentions, or it wouldn't. Or it would waste all of their time. So far, the thing was succeeding in wasting a number of seconds by tossing those very familiar spectacles along with the ruined remains of machine stamped parts. What a charming sense of humor this Thing possessed. Farewell to Gukky and his maid? How could his death be confirmed if there wasn't even any traces of blood left on these half chewed bits? Hilarious! This Thing was like a big puppy, bringing trinkets to showcase actions that had no effect on anything whatsoever.
As if the Major was concerned about his safety. How funny. She had no patience for those that could not control their own abominations, and the resulting product wasn't even the genuine article, but a cheap copy. Still, it at least proved this hound had an extensive bite. One might even say it was even a terrible maw. If the Thing was so heinous, why was the Major so at ease with its company?
"Tsk, tut, Gustav. His end is hardly of consequence. So then . . . Who might you be?" It would seem that the Major's gaze was transfixed upon the ruined glasses laying down in their impromptu resting place. The angle causes the parasol to dip enough and at such a level that it screens everything above her nose from view.
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Chloro
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Saarlan
Apr 9, 2014 21:31:09 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Apr 9, 2014 21:31:09 GMT -8
Glowing glasses and unanswered questions. She curtly replied, forgoing a lengthy introduction. Major had met her before on the fields of Onderon. She didn't bother returning the question because she knew exactly who was the Major was. One question answered but she had a feeling that wasn't what the Major would be looking for. But not waiting for the follow-up question, Chloro's mouth began to slowly pace around the Major until she was standing in front of Tess. Chloro had little left of what she had when she was brought into the world, such as her shaggy brown hair and her lithe build. But her face? Gone, swallowed by the tooth-lined maw that comprised her entire face. She was still wearing the waitress's dress, which did little to cover the scars of thousands of burns and reconstructed tissue. She had stopped even trying to patch up the damage around her hands, which held on tightly to the skirt. Chloro was a career monster. From humble beginnings, she had clawed her was to the top with those hands of hers. They were ambitious and she was clearly restraining them from touching Major's companion. Instead, it smiled, streching the mouth a little wider and displaying the spherical ring of spiky pearly enamel, taking a closer look at Tess. ~  She growled softly at the Major's companion. She wasn't dead like all the others around the Major. Chloro inhaled audioably, trying to get a better feel for her. Quite... ordinary? Female, gunpowder, Major's scent, tension, soap, Major's scent, alcohol, herbal mouthwash, Major's scent... Chloro didn't have a name for her. But she knew exactly who she was, in relation to the Major. She would have been happy at that point, content that she had discovered something about the Major that she didn't know before. The late doctor's comments about the Major's androgyny and preferences were spot on. Tess was a sweet girl, the Major's girl. And sour too. Inexplicably, she had a dual flavour, something that she hadn't encountered before. What was it? Her hands clenched even tighter. What a terrible curiosity at such an inappropriate time.
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Tess/Tez Bola
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"...I've discounted suicide in favor of killing everyone else in the entire world instead."
Posts: 633
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Saarlan
Apr 12, 2014 14:15:52 GMT -8
Post by Tess/Tez Bola on Apr 12, 2014 14:15:52 GMT -8
Questioning eyes darted up at the freckled faced woman, searching for answers that clearly weren't visible. Tess took another half step backwards away from the figure invading her personal space. What could she say to it? Should she say anything? If she were to say something, should she lie or tell the truth to avoid confrontation? What were the right things to say, anyway? Its capabilities were unknown, yet Rip appeared to be less than amused. Was that a good or bad sign though? Tess noticed all the fidgeting it was doing, and it added to her nervousness. Was it about to do something violent and/or extreme? Was it concealing some sort of weapon? Was it a weapon itself? Or, was it just as nervous having found the planet's leader? What was even the point of all these theatrics?
"My name is Tess," she answered firmly. "I am under the employ of the one dubbed Major, and that is all you need to know. What are you? What do you want? What is it you wish to gain by intruding on our affairs in Saarlan?"
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The Major
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Saarlan
Apr 12, 2014 19:40:00 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Apr 12, 2014 19:40:00 GMT -8
So many questions. So much factual evidence was reliant on perspective and interpretation -enough to constitute irrelevancy and be otherwise dismissed. However, this would be folly. There was always, always, something to win along with something to gain and more importantly there was always a means to make an enemy suffer or weaken themselves in the process. Perhaps these things would reveal themselves. Perhaps this thing that was similar to Chloro would make generous with details. Tess certainly was asking the right questions; it's just that the intended target was, in a sense, being given a little more space to make whatever case it purposed than was normal for a certain rifle toting Fallanassi. Thankfully there was someone nearby that was willing to ask the thing that was similar to Chloro questions. Honestly, the Major wasn't very interested in the petty lives of the undead, or lower tier monsters. Sure, she had been a few years back, but at this point there better be some good, nay, essential, even ecstatic reason for this interruption. At least the background information provided a hint of promise. For now, the markswoman maintains her silence and now gazes upwards to see what exactly how the Thing responds with drooping eyelids.
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Chloro
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Saarlan
Apr 13, 2014 7:39:35 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Apr 13, 2014 7:39:35 GMT -8
That brought Chloro up short.  She shouted at Tess with a sudden fury. What was she?! Wasn't it obvious? Tess took a half-step back, Chloro took two. The hands broke free of the dress and grabbed Tess by the face, forcing her to look at her squarely in the face. Didn't she want to believe what her eyes were telling her?  This time it a little quieter, as in none of the cutting volume of before but more of a full-throated growl. Yes, what she saw was an unvarnished, unsophisticated, unwashed creature from one of the hellholes in the galaxy. She was done terrorising Tess though. She had done nothing to deserve the abuse that she was laying on.
But the Major was different. The Mouth turned and directed her attention to the almost apathetic scarecrow and her umbrella. Aloof, plotting, those delicate fingers pulling the strings with her unspotted gloves from her lakeside retreat. Chloro was very deliberate now, moving with the consciousness of a person performing an elaborate ceremony. Ever since Chloro had made the realisation that she wasn't normal, it was like being reborn and the world was filled with a newness unlike anything she had ever experienced. She wanted to make sure that Major could share the sense of wonder. And now that Tess was asking the right questions, what would she make of the answers that the Major had to answer?
She pointed to the mangled remains of Gustav's glasses. No, it wasn't a gift or memento for the Major's collection. It was a message. Her casual indifference sickened her. She saw her as another lapdog monster. Something beneath her notice.  Kryptman had rambled on endlessly about Major's day of reckoning. But who was he to condemn her? He chose to be who he was. Misguided as he was, she could see the need to stop her, although for a completely different set of reasons. And just like Gustav, and his unhealthy curiousity that he thought he could control, he was so sure of himself. Exactly up to the moment he couldn't.
The anger had returned. To heck with whether the Major thought that she, just another monster, was beneath her notice. She wanted an answer. Within the monster there was a rational soul that was asking a why of its own. Naturally, Chloro would have been biting someone's head off instead of talking but having the opportunity to at least guess at why the Major was using monster was just as satisfying.
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Tess/Tez Bola
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"...I've discounted suicide in favor of killing everyone else in the entire world instead."
Posts: 633
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Saarlan
Apr 13, 2014 12:50:20 GMT -8
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Post by Tess/Tez Bola on Apr 13, 2014 12:50:20 GMT -8
Trembling slightly, Tess rolled her fists into balls. Her fingernails dug deep into her palms as her vision began to blur and her breathing intensified. A sickly hot feeling began to well up from her stomach and crawled upwards to her throat. Fighting back the familiar feeling was not going to be easy, especially with that thing getting physical. She glared at the self proclaimed monster from the same spot it put its clammy hands on her face. She tried to stay as still as possible, but that wasn't going to work if it kept advancing towards Rip.
"GET AWAY FROM HER!" she growled in a voice that hardly sounded like her own. "Lay a finger on her, or touch me again, I WILL RIP YOUR THROAT OUT."
Tess was straddling the fine line of her self conscious that separated her from her own personal monster. In the field of all these monstrosities, who would be the first to strike or last to back down? Who would make it out the least damaged?
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The Major
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Saarlan
Apr 13, 2014 20:23:30 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Apr 13, 2014 20:23:30 GMT -8
Issue: Tess' temper was flaring. Invading her personal space was a definite no-no, and considering some recent otherworldly interactions the Fallanassi could not exactly say this was choice happenstance. On the other hand the Major found it charming that the woman was mentally prepared to die in order to protect her charge out of that motivating and foolish source of strength called love. How defensive. How staunch. She liked this especially. She found herself suddenly enamored with the concept of a protector like the chevaliers that Subject 67 used. However, Tess was not indestructible. It would also be a complete fabrication if the Major acted as if she was just another expendable creature. As ridiculous as it may seem to someone so amoral and selfish, she was in love, and that also consisted of returning the gesture of proffered protection. Minding this, the Major reluctantly yet triumphantly stands to and collects her warhammer while simultaneously dropping her parasol. Cue Force Immersion. One of her pennyloafers kicks over the discarded glasses of the late Dr. Gustav as she saunters over lazily past Chloro Mouth to a point about five of her paces past the monster and mayhem of shouts and words. As she maneuvered her hips would canted left and right as though she walked a tightrope on a stage that only she could fathom -twirling her musket, masher, slicer, puree potter with the ease of a conductor's baton. Swagger, swagger, swagger, smirk. A loud open palm smack forces the tool into stationary positioning against the dirt. Facing the lake, the Major surveys the reflecting ripples.
"How paradoxical: you are pushing out breath and working your mouth; yet you are not saying words. How does it feel? How ironic: for a Mouth to drivel and spit out irrelevant tokens from irrelevant persons who make irrelevant beings who in their irrelevant egos are forced into irrelevant quests of vengeance. How does it feel? How sardonic: you seek an identity and come allllll the way here just to identify with a sense of individuality. How does that feel?
"Stay in place for a moment. I have something for you. I have, for you, the secret of your life. I have your answer. I have the answer to your fire, to your hunger, and to your calm. However, you have just burned one of your three chances to hear it. Think carefully, and then begin your interview again. But before all of this, and before I answer your questions, just answer me this:
" How do you feel?"
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Chloro
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Saarlan
Apr 14, 2014 19:33:25 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Apr 14, 2014 19:33:25 GMT -8
That was the fun of being a flame. Tess, an ordinary human, a powerless speck, buffeted between the currents of the powerful otherworldly creatures and a Major, didn't melt. Her snarl had enough force to actually pull her attention away from the Major. Looking her up and down again, Chloro knew she had no weapons that could pose any threat to Chloro nor anything that stop her from macerating her outright. Yet, she was so prepared to fight her, tear her throat out for even touching her squeeze.
When she had grabbed her by the head, she had lit a fire. That was the fun of being a flame. You either got to see things burn or light an inferno. Now, to fan the flames. Oh, how she would love to touch her again, with her own hands and have her throw herself at Chloro. Tear her throat out? Wasn't she in a relationship already?
Promise?
But Tess had distracted her for the critical second. She was supposed to be within reach of the Major, but instead, she was behind her. Damn. Not only had she been given a gap to escape but also to evade her own question. Now, the Major forced her to whirl around and attempt to find the source of the words. Silver bullets, silver tongue. The response was almost the same, Chloro wanted to duck and take cover. People had spun words around her and left her damaged in ways that bullets never could.
Just when she thought she could trust her own voice, she felt Major's homing bullet perforate it. Irrelevant.
She lost contact with herself, her ideas, her goals. She would have crumpled to the dirt, but she was no longer the empty vessel she used to be. The fire swirled. Kill her, now.
But Chloro had been housebroken. So, when the Major asked her to stand and listen, she arrests her intent, leaving her swaying, hopeful. She listens.
Time crawls on by. She is dimly aware that she needs to answer how she feels and she doesn't know. She can't describe what she feels as love, or even hate. She's not afraid of dying, nor happy of living. Everything burns.
I don't know.
You tell me.
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Tess/Tez Bola
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"...I've discounted suicide in favor of killing everyone else in the entire world instead."
Posts: 633
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Saarlan
Apr 16, 2014 17:02:18 GMT -8
Post by Tess/Tez Bola on Apr 16, 2014 17:02:18 GMT -8
Her face was flushed. There was a faint smell of smoke in her nostrils. Her head harbored a dull ache. Tess was feeling uneasy. Naseous. Faint. She was going to lose control at any moment. Rip was her anchor in this reality, her harbinger of ardor, her patron saint of "normalcy." She couldn't lose control now. Not yet. It wasn't time. Tess thought of the cobble stoned path. The lake with the family of ducks lined in a row. A bottle of pinot noir. Tears. Soft lips. A particular supple body. She had to stay focused. Strong. Be the knight she felt herself to be. And yet-
Why did this whole affair seem so familiar? Was Tess forgetting something? Did she dream this before, this bizarre showdown? When was she fighting the other side with Major being in the forefont of her thoughts? How and why did this happen? Her head pain intensified slightly, but she ignored it as best as she could. She clenched her teeth and remained silent. Vigilant. Ready.
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The Major
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Saarlan
Apr 16, 2014 17:31:58 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Apr 16, 2014 17:31:58 GMT -8
What glory, what combinations, what expressions of the tormented living. Each struggled in a vain, hopeless war, losing, destined for gallows and oblivion, but each continued to churn step after step, thought after suffering thought. What a happy day, but sleepy. Too predictable. But the living had their needs and their place. If it was up to the Major to humor them, so be it -she brought it freely upon herself. The morbid scientist maintained her position, but hefted the rifled musket upwards and rested it with both hands upon the nape of her neck.
"Simple: nothing. You feel nothing of importance, note, or relevancy to anything -even yourself. You are a self contained burp and waste of time, far more fungal than imaginary numbers on a map. Why? Because you come here to squander your precious tenure in existence by calling me a monster.
"Ja? That is really something!
"There are many kinds of people and people shaped weapons in the universe. Monsters, yes. Masters, dogs, roaches -all kinds. You are carpet.
"Why do you not lay down and let me walk over your face? Lay down and I can step on your chest and continue my day. I think: this will save us all time, Carpet. Act today, and you can do it laying nose in the dirt. Perhaps I can wipe my shoes on your hair? No?
"Give yourself a true purpose: commit to my will, and you will be raised from inconsequential carpet to a person shaped chainsaw tooth, cutting away at what does not fit. Because, Carpet, if you think I do what I do to tiny fibers like you for something called power, then I suppose even calling you carpet is a touch too empathetic."
Grin.
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Chloro
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Saarlan
Apr 17, 2014 22:08:00 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Apr 17, 2014 22:08:00 GMT -8
Don't panic. She couldn't be right. So think of something else, something nice. Lunch. Something with nitrates. Those were good. Duck and cover until its over. She was human artillery. She'd weather the storm, relocate and next time, make no mistake, there would be no talking. She would face those homing bullets any day of the week, but not this.
She had fought so many different battles against so many different enemies. There was fear. She demanded their respect. For the first time, it felt good that her enemies acknowledged her. She led militias, partisans, guerilllas, with varying degrees of success. She had so much to bank on.
Then why did Major's words punch her in the guts and then pull them out? Oh no, she had been listening. They were inside her. The big and little monsters, Diva, Kryptman, the centipedes and roaches were everywhere. Major's offensive had broken through. But she couldn't just burn her home in her head, destroying them in the inferno. She could. But she couldn't. Why couldn't she?! They were going own her!
Chloro swayed gently in the breeze. It was hard to see what exactly she was thinking but judging from the slack-jawed stupor, she had been knocked out of commission. She wasn't about to topple to the ground, like a lesser person would have, but it was awfully tempting. Stop fighting gravity. Stop the struggle to oxygenate the brain. Stop resisting the Major and let her walk over her.
Dimly, she was aware that she was huddled mentally as high as she could get.
Don't worry, I've got another one.
The girl's voice was dry and filled with the cheerful innocence of a junior team captain. Chloro felt the hard plastic gently pressed into her hand. A conical magnetic anti-tank mine. Chloro swallowed nervously, just like she had the first time and accepted it from her younger self.
Find a hole to hide in until those Tigers come over then poke 'em in the belly.
Pat on the head. She was wearing a dress but it was hard to remember what it looked like because it was caked with mud. It was difficult to breathe, hidden in the slope that led to her home. They had tried over and over again to get up there but they had fought like wolves. Wolves fighting tigers. The turf had been bombarded into mire and if you lay still enough, they'd never see you. Silly tigers. Her brilliant white milk teeth flashed.
I've gotten three and I'm eight already! They said that I'm doing really good.
There was a crack of artillery. The monsters were coming up. The smile was gone.
They said we're winning. We're winning, right? I'm doing good, aren't I?
Chloro's jaw snapped shut and she knelt on her haunches, her hands on the ground, trying to stabilise herself. What could she use to answer? She needed the Major to tell her. Tell her how she felt, what to do, what could she do to win. What was the purpose to it all? Tell her something that would help her make sense of hiding with a mine.
What is your will?
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Tess/Tez Bola
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"...I've discounted suicide in favor of killing everyone else in the entire world instead."
Posts: 633
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Saarlan
Apr 19, 2014 7:17:17 GMT -8
Post by Tess/Tez Bola on Apr 19, 2014 7:17:17 GMT -8
Watching Chloro prop herself on the ground was a mixture of sentiments for Tess; curiousity was the champion, held aloft by pity and surprise. How did she go so fast from conniving and bold to sheepish and unsure? What was going on with this, for lack of better descriptions, person? What exactly had transpired between Rip and her? Was there some deeper link that went back farther than just recent events? How long had they been visitors in each other's lives?
Too many questions, no opportunity to ask them. Maybe one day in the foreseeable future Rip would fill her in. There was so much to tell, explain, share, regret. They had all the time left in the world to tell their stories. This instance would be a footnote in her tale, bookmarked by its complexity.
Tess felt her heart rate lessen. Her breathing stabilized. The tide in her mind slowed with the ebb and flow of all things, and was able to see this situation for what it was. Two individuals were searching for meaning, thinking the other possesses a key to achieving self enlightenment. Hopefully, maybe, one or even both of them will find what they are looking for today. But who, and through what means?
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Apr 19, 2014 16:59:46 GMT -8
These disjointed, forsaken, unloved, and destroyed people: they surrounded Riplian, Major, woman, she, Warmonger, Romantic, Huntress, flower detector. Legions of them magnetized towards the epicene insanity, the idea cancer, the invigorating, liberating, claustrophobic freedom that was vengeance. Life was unfair because you had to scratch out anything positive because everyone shows you murk and septic tanks; fight, then, Destroyer, get that revenge -shut every person who sought to defang and cripple you. Don't be a fool, Monster Chloro: it's just not your time to die.
The Major thought such things, listening to the details of color, seeing the huffs and breathing patterns. She was the only one. She was the only one that would truly embrace the monstrosity in every being and gush because it was true. Violence was pure, malice veritable, anguish endearing, murder as tenderness. She was the self styled angel to these morbid tumors seeking an answer -the doctor who would cut and cut and cut and cut and touch and cut until her patient smiled. Oh, beautiful troops, each a shining beacon of watery mistakes, torment, and war crimes. Oh, exquisite undead, unfortunately true to themselves only when the heart finally stopped -each of you are a walking tragedy. She loved them, hated them, would always think on them, gave them what they wanted, and got them vanquished even when they didn't know it was their deepest of desires.
"Sister Monster, Fellow Boogeything, what else could I want but to give you a place of acceptance, and an opportunity to be cherished. Shifting the genome to resemble an abomination torn from time is strenuous but unremarkable. One can make hundreds of these, and equip them, train them, regimentalize them, militarize them, and give them honor. It is meaningless. But make each in the million a person, a true person, a monster shaped person, a feeling, thinking, wanting person -why, it is not a freak show, a menagerie auf macabre, not even a death wish, or even a cannibalistic orgy.
"It is evolution."
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on Apr 21, 2014 7:59:55 GMT -8
It was so quiet now. Chloro could hear Tess' heart blow its valves and settle back into its silent running rhythm. The shift of the gravel beneath her hands. The soft click of the minie ball inside the Major's musket. She could always hear them, but without her eight-year-old self drowning her in unanswerable questions, it was so much easier to focus. She could see her rolling the mine around in her hand and trying to puzzle out how that, to make a human out of the monster, equals evolution.
To see herself, at eight, react with the lighting fast reflexes that would make her one of the galaxy's longest running terrorist-for-hire was something terrifying, different from the fright she felt when she had fought Diva, but deeply disquieting.
She shrugged and smiled, not sure how she gelled so well with their plans. She was unable to quantify it or even describe it, but so willing to accept it. To willingly, unreservedly, load herself into the barrel and throw herself at the enemy, for the cause. She trusted. Looking at the Major, the bizarrely tall woman, who wore men's clothes, who stared at her in all kinds of ways that was weird, who was always in the shadows and trusted her. Chloro felt so secure around this shadow. She wanted to hug the Major and never let her out of her go. Someone in the damaged psyche of Chloro, a pruned hedge of nerve fibers sprouted and joined hands to fill a hole in her head.
~It's beautiful, Major-dono.
~Thank you.
But she didn't embrace her. Instead, she moved away from the pair, with the air of someone preoccupied with a vexing problem. It was necessiary. She had come there intent on turning the Major into mincemeat and left her filled with adoration and purpose. She needed time to herself to think. Blindly, she chose a path into the undergrowth and walked. And walked.
And her better half watched her walk away and scoffed.
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The Major
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Saarlan
Apr 25, 2014 9:26:06 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Apr 25, 2014 9:26:06 GMT -8
What a refreshing change of pace to not have to use soul priced musket balls to further simplify a problem by dividing it into compartmentalized pieces. It wasn't so much that the Major anticipated for Chloro to fall in line like the rank and file soldiers. At the moment, there was no guarantee that the renown galactic terrorist wouldn't come back through the brush with a shoulder mounted, woman portable missile launcher firing nerve toxin tipped shells, leveled and aimed to cause pinning death.
But why waste what each party could offer the other. They at least shared some kind of connection: both have managed to elude/survive Subject 67. Some form of respect should be shared between the two. How often did it even happen. Who had ever come into contact with the thing and managed to slip away? Alive?
Were they marked for death? Toys? High level toys? And if Diva's doctrine was a gospel of death, then where did that put people like Chloro and Riplian, as jokes? Priests? In short, why were they spared and what motivated one party to seek the other, and if they somehow managed to put aside their differences -one as control, the other as chaos (grossly oversimplified)- to what end did that lead them?
"She is special, is she not? But why is it that the most compelling of cases are always interrupting my day? You did the same." Said the Major while re-positioning herself on the log.
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Tess/Tez Bola
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"...I've discounted suicide in favor of killing everyone else in the entire world instead."
Posts: 633
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Saarlan
Apr 26, 2014 10:10:11 GMT -8
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Post by Tess/Tez Bola on Apr 26, 2014 10:10:11 GMT -8
"Wait a second," Tess exclaimed rather abruptly. She moved in front of Rip and looked down upon her as she ranted. "What the hell was that all about?! What's going on? What was that thing? I thought you said it was out to get you, but all it did was stare and say weird things! Where did you meet it? How do you know it again? Why was it after you? What did you do to it?" Tess' voice raised slightly, as if losing control of coherent thought. She also was on a question-asking frenzy, unaware that she wasnt even giving Rip a chance to answer any of them. "Oh, and excuse me for interrupting your day when we first 'bumped in to each other!' From what I remember, I was just minding my business with those military drop outs, which you scared away in case you forgot, then YOU interrupted MY day. Hello, I was heading to Corvala before you side tracked me and hijacked my sensibilities! I was trying to get off this planet because I was afraid I would get murdered for something I didn't even do by soldiers that I found out were under YOUR command!"
Tess's face once again flushed, but this time it was a combination of both anger and embarrassment. "Oh boy," she breathed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or our relationship. I feel very tense and confused right now. Please don't be mad." Tess knelt in front of Rip, placing her hands on her knees. "I don't regret anything that has happened between us at all. In fact, thank you for scaring those losers and whisking me away. Everything that has happened so far couldn't have been more perfect."
Tess went stammering on, despite whatever remained (or didn't remain) lurking in the background. She would continue to do so until Rip assured her all was well- or wasn't, and what they could do about it.
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The Major
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Also known as Sailor Titan
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Saarlan
Apr 26, 2014 20:18:44 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Apr 26, 2014 20:18:44 GMT -8
"Shuuooosh." Came the cooing call from the back of the Major's mouth as a black nail tipped thumb first tapped upon the point of the beseeching woman's nose, before a long finger placed itself upon those beloved lips. And while these careful gestures of peace were done as deliberately and softly as possible, there was something virulent in the dark eyes of the Fallanassi. Was it malice peering through those shadow choked irises between every cold, exhausted, slow blink of the eyes? The expression was nigh incomprehensible.
"I was not trying to state that I regret meeting your interjection. Perhaps: possible faulty word choice to represent current pensive state?"
It wasn't. The sharpshooter didn't mince or erroneously apply her tongue without motive. Chloro, Mouth, had both interjected themselves during a critical operation, causing an established plan to list, careening off kilter into a situation that was less than choice. They were lose ends that were supposed to perish once Diva had made her appearance, long after the Major has made her tactical retreat. Well that was botched, and now they were bloody asterisks in an otherwise depressing but well formulated treatise. Tess and her rancor like sibling were the largest type of dissension and interruption. If becoming obsessed to the point of compassion wasn't a deviation from plan: wallowing in self hatred until some ultimatum caused a grievous tear in one direction or another, then what was? This love was rapidly causing the good and usually dishonest Major to wax bluntly and straightforwardly.
Why?
Misdirection, false representation, and omission had systematically enabled her to survive past crimes both against nature and life -yet the Fascist Fallanassi paradoxically considered herself to be a champion of human nature. Murderers and traitors don't get mercy, or the happy demise. And in the Major's tired, reprieve laced life the end was more or less fate, because she was a piss-poor human, but one Hell of a netherworld spindle lost in the tranny that was this existence, this proving ground, this purgatory. Statistics and fatalistic equations proved a rather narcissistic, solipsism powered delusion: that do to the inhumanity of past actions, she wasn't 'allowed' to enjoy the pleasures of the living.
One does not make deals with the Diva and not expect her to exert her influence in those that are stupid enough not to look away.
"I will not ever regret these days which rise from ashen pits. So you invaded preconceptions doused in alcohol and woe -what of it? You embraced everything; be embraced. Yet, I feel my knees bending and shaking as you kneel. I am afraid! The more you entwine and the more you become entwined, the more I fear -of all things- death! Do you not think it is ridiculous? After everything seen and done, all it took to break into a mental cold sweat was your presence? It is incredulous. But is it weakness, or our strength? Do we hide like a secret, or march onwards in unison, as a force?"
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Tess/Tez Bola
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"...I've discounted suicide in favor of killing everyone else in the entire world instead."
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Saarlan
Apr 27, 2014 9:44:23 GMT -8
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Post by Tess/Tez Bola on Apr 27, 2014 9:44:23 GMT -8
"Why would we hide like a secret?" Tess asked, nose crinkled. "What is there to be afraid of? There isn't any shame being harbored here between us, so we don't need to go about life playing the part of thieves. I mean, the last I checked, you are the Shilian princess people are afraid to look at in the eye. If anything, everyone else should be watching their steps around us. That's what makes our union so wonderful: we're not phonies. We're honest with ourselves and each other and don't give a damn about criticisms. It can only get better from here, right?"
Tess placed her head on Rip's lap and exhaled audibly. "Where do you want to go from here? What shall we do about tomorrow? Not literally tomorrow, but the poetic way of looking into the future. Er, nevermind, this day has been long enough. Well, do you want to go back to our little home and drink away the stresses of the day in our pajamas? Hey, wait, we don't have any, do we? Hmm. I'd suggest nixing the pajama idea and do so in our skivvies but it's probably too soon for that, eh? Heh. We can buy a couple of sets on the way back home, if you'd like." Tess paused in her ramblings and picked her head up again. She pushed herself up from Rip's knees, and took a seat beside her on the log.
"You're beautiful, you know that?" she said firmly, putting her arms around Rip's waist. "If we're going to buy anything, it should be a lovely pink dress for you. Can we, please? We can go to the dress shop and I'll pretend it's for me. Except, you know, I'll make sure it's too long for me so your abnormally long legs won't poke out too much."
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The Major
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Saarlan
Apr 27, 2014 14:33:00 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Apr 27, 2014 14:33:00 GMT -8
Can do spunk. How fortunate that of all people to make a crack into the icy shell of calculation that was the machine cog mind it was someone with an unabashed sense of self; furthermore, this person didn't even have full control over her mental function. A dark realization, but the amount of positivity the auburn haired one could shove into a situation certainly provided a boost in morale. Surely, if she could be so loving and hopeful when there was absolutely nothing promising it wouldn't all fall into dust covered clumps then what excuse did anyone else have in regards to boldly facing their insecurities.
None.
"Oy, Chloro. Tess fights them. I fight them. Will you?" Or worse.
"About that and the color pink: it is remarkable to think you see me as some one who could manage such. . . beautification. However, while there is no doubt you have conviction in your view, I hesitantly say I am -how you do you say- not ready for that yet.
"Spending a lifetime of resisting such indulgences skews my sensibilities as to finding it weak, and too gender limitation based. Women are only acceptable in frocks, blouses, and skirts? Hodgepodge, I say. Nonsense. How is one supposed to carry ammunition in a pillowly dress? How-
"Bah. Do not mind me. I just do not see myself making such accoutrements work in my favor. Look! You have made many a concession in my favor. Perhaps we can have an arrangement of sorts? Maybe as a present of sorts. A birthday present? I have never given one to a person. Maybe that would be something interesting to try out?"
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