fighting_mad | [OOM] Simulator Room

Entry tags:

[OOM] Simulator Room

Juke left, juke right, juke left, juke right; lure your opponent into a false sense of security, make him think he knows exactly what you're going to do.

Lasers flash by on the screen.

One last juke to the right, and there's the light-up of a targeting lock; she yanks the stick back and to the left, throwing the sim fighter into a tight roll that should press her back against the seat with its force. Of course, this machine isn't nearly complex enough for that.

She's got to find some way to throw the Priamsta off guard like that. To catch the rebels--the ones who say they're lead by Harran but they're not they can't be--off guard and--

The flash of an explosion and the screen goes dark.

"Sithspit!" Plourr slams an open palm against the overhead frame of the simulator, then lets her hand rest there, hooked on the frame.

She runs her other hand over her head in an unconscious motion; auburn stubble still foreign to the touch, too rough and scratchy. Hell, her whole body feels foreign; her tunic is smooth and skintight, eggshell-colored with deep purple, allowing every cord of muscle to show. She's not used to anything so fine, and she's definitely not used to the matching skirt, to seeing her legs bare in anything but athletic shorts. High heels. She'd drawn whistles from the Rogues that afternoon; joking whistles, yes, and ones that had earned several of them glares and thwappings, but she had caught admiring looks from not a few men at court, too. From the nobles at dinner.

Dinner.

"The tyranny of the nobles is at an end, Laabann. I will see to that. If you wish a place in the future of Eiattu, either stand with the throne-- or fall."

The crash of a breaking wineglass.

"The choice is yours."

Plourr hits the top of the simulator again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't feel guilty about what we did anymore."

Aeryn dipped her head solemnly, feet walking out a distraction, hips swaying as she paced.

"But something hurts like hezmana." She could feel her eyes watering and blinked it away quickly, thankful that her hair hid her face.

"And I just want it to stop."

If there's some relief there, she'd deny it. But nobody really wants to be regretted or thought of as a mistake, whether the words are apologized for or not.

She takes a few steps closer to where Aeryn walks, in a move that would be silent if it weren't for the gold bangles on her ankles that jangle. "You started on the road to figuring it out with the Jedi mind trick stuff, right? Now you've just got to finish it." She fidgets a little, knowing enough not to reach for the other woman. Plourr has never been much good at verbally comforting.

"I never thought --" She stopped, moving, speaking. Furious, helpless tears pricked her eyes again.

She hunched over the simulator, moving away, getting some space; needing to breathe.

It would be too easy to grab Plourr to make it stop aching.

"It hurts. It just really hurts and I can't show any weakness I have to pretend I'm fine and speak droll words and be the angry, sarcastic Peacekeeper."

She doesn't move after her, leaving her her own space. At the words, not that Aeryn is looking, but Plourr glances to her feet for a moment. "You don't have to," she says gently. Or, well, as gently as Plourr Ilo gets, anyway.

"I used to be so strong." She rotated, practically falling into the seat, fingers gripping the edge.

"I used to..."

An honest frown and Plourr pads a little closer, crouches down to balance her weight on the balls of her feet. She looks up at Aeryn. "What do you mean, 'used to'? Are you insane?"

A short laugh.

"Sometimes I think so."

A flat look. "Aeryn. You're so strong you make me want to throw up in my mouth a little."

¬.¬

"Are you joking? I've cried so much I think I my eyes might have exploded."

She points a finger at herself. "This face look like it's joking?"

It is very grim.

But she grows more serious and shrugs. "So you cry sometimes. So what. That doesn't mean you're not strong."

Surely not Jagged Fel grim?

Her hands drifted to settle on her knees and she looked at the younger woman with a new kind of...well, it was certainly something.

"Kiss me."

"Is that a trick question."

Aeryn smirked. "It wasn't a question."

"Okay, whatever, was that a trick statement?" It's a valid question, she thinks, still looking up at Aeryn. One hand twitches on her knee. She forces it to still.

"You are absolutely terrible at following orders."

She reached down, hauling Plourr to her feet none too gently.

"I said kiss me and I mean it." Maybe it would stop the ache. Maybe she should just stop thinking.

Maybe Jaina was right. Not about the stupid shrimp farm and the happy ever after, but about having a good time.

"It's why I joined the military," she deadpans as she's forcibly yanked to her feet, mind whirling even as she speaks.

Her reservations are gone by the time she's up. Kriff it, figure it out later, right?

The second she's on her feet, she sinks a hand in Aeryn's hair and kisses her.

Yes. That was it. That was really it. Simple, good and the ache wasn't for anything other than the urge to press against Plourr.

High Command had always understood. Soldiers had needs. Aeryn never gave it much thought before, but now she knew.

Hopelessness, depression; none of it was an option when the blood started rushing like that. All there could be was the cool feel of her lips over yours and the way your arms pulled her closer.

A low noise into her mouth and Plourr takes the quick half-step forward that's necessary to close all distance between them; there's not one molecule of air separating them now, she would swear. Her other hand starts out high, between Aeryn's shoulderblades, and slides down til it's settled low, and she nips at Aeryn's lower lip.

She muttered a curse word, low and dirty. Leaned into Plourr; like ice, melting over capable hands.

And this wasn't what she came here for, but she did it anyway.

Eyes opened, she tugged her face back, only to move forward again. Her nose was touching Plourr's, pressing an indent.

Wry amusement. "We've got to stop meeting like this."

Quiet laugh. "No, we don't," she points out, blinking slowly and not moving a millimeter.

"Yes --" Her tongue flicked out to touch the lower lip in front of her, nostrils flared, but she stayed just as still as the princess.

"We do."

Pads of her fingers, touched the back of Plourr's tunic, softly wins the day.

"Nope," she persists against Aeryn's lips before she leans in again, tilting her head to the side and kissing her warmly.

Just drifting. It was almost a relief to just drift away on the tide of warmth and safeness and had Plourr said she was strong?

Yes. There was nothing to feel guilty about.

A step backwards to better balance herself, her foot closed on something hard and she stumbled, breaking the kiss.

Reflexes are fast; Plourr has a hold of her arm before there's any chance of her falling, even if she probably wouldn't have. "What--" She looks down. And then has the good grace to grin shame-facedly. "Sorry. I knew those things were devilish; shouldn't have left them to their own devices." She kicks the offending shoe away.

Plourr's grip was hard, Aeryn knew there'd be more bruises. Seemed fitting somehow.

She was still caught there, kept from falling further by some very tight muscles. The look of open-mouthed shock on her face quickly morphed to a smile and she pulled herself back up, using the momentum to push Plourr against the nearby sim.

"Thanks."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject