trans_9 | No rest for the weary [Open]

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No rest for the weary [Open]

Samus had been through hell and back. Several times by now, actually. That never seemed to slow the hunter down, though. There was always work to be done. When Samus got knocked down, she had to pick up and keep going.

It just so happened that the last thing to (literally) knock her down was an anti-tank rocket. Fortunately, she had a full suit of powered armor to protect (mostly) her. Unfortunately, it kind of did some serious damage. Nothing she wasn't able to fix, she just needed time do do so.

The hunter patched her injuries up well enough and hauled herself down to the engineering department, picking out a spot in special weapons to start on the tedious task of restoring her armor.

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"Right. Grif."

He knows. It makes him want to smack his head against something hard and blunt.

"I can file it myself if you're busy."

It makes Samus want to smack Grif's head against something hard and blunt.

"I'm not one to neglect my duties. I'll find time."

"Alright."

And back to work he goes.

...for a while, anyways. Komali's been there all along, alternately dozing and watching in a rag-strewn corner, and now he's trailed out to peer up up up at Chief, trailing a much-stained and discarded blueprint over his head like a cowl, as if hiding behind the ruined paper would save him if John proved dangerous.

"Wow," He says, not remembering to whisper, "You're really big."

Samus quirks an eyebrow at Komali. She's almost amused at his actions. Her expression doesn't change much, but even the slightest twitch of her lips speaks volumes for the stoic hunter.

"Awake already?"

The Chief looks up from his work, then down. He hesitates for a moment. He doesn't have much experience with children, the last time he was really around kids was when he was a kid himself.

"I suppose I am," he replies. He's fairly quiet, but that's normal. He pauses, then continues, "Who are you?"

"I can't sleep anymore, my head hurts," He replies brightly, then blinks as he realizes that that's not a good thing, "I'm Komali. What are you doing?"

"That's Chief. Do you need to go to the medbay?" Fuss, fuss, fuss, motherly concern, etc.

"I'm fixing my armor. Some monsters made a mess of it," the Chief replies. "Do you know why your head hurts?"

Komali backed away a little under that more direct regard. Chief was....very tall, and very scarred. He wasn't afraid, merely wary, but wrapping one arm around Samus' leg increased his security. He looked up at her from that angle and smiled.

"I'm okay," He told her, then blinked at the Chief, "When the city exploded, a house fell on me. I was bleeding, so they sewed up my head."

Then, he hesitated before continuing, "Y'wanna see?"

What? He is a boy, after all.

Samus may or may not have just remembered a time when she was young, and she would run up to Old Bird or Gray Voice, absolutely thrilled to show off her collection of bruises and cuts she had acquired during her daily adventures. Oh, those were the good old days...

She is still, however, concerned about Komali. She purses her lips slightly, wondering if she should take him back to the Medbay anyway. He seems lively enough, though, so she decides against it for now.

Well, so long as it isn't a random headache. Those can mean any number of bad, bad things.

The Chief tosses a split second glance at Samus to gauge her reaction, then says, "Sure."

What's the harm? He had all kinds of cuts and scrapes when he was a kid. A kid in Spartan training, sure, but none of it killed him.

Eagerly, Komali presses back a line of white n his head to expose the jagged, stitched-up wound. It's an ugly blue-black color, shading to angry red around the lip of the injury. In a mammal, the area around it would have been shaved away, but feathers bleed when cut so close to the surface, and so the work had been done delicately, around the downy pinions.

"It hurt really bad, but I didn't cry," he lied, straight-faced. Of course, he hadn't been crying about the stitching, he'd been crying on the way in, but no-one needed to know that, in his young opinion.

The teeniest smile tugs at Samus' lips, but it was only there for a moment. It wouldn't be surprising if her current company missed it.

"Yes, Komali, you were very brave," Mama Samus will vouch for you this time, little bird boy.

"I bet," John replies, nodding once. Komali seems to be alright, and that's what's important here. He's talkative and inquisitive too, so that's a good sign.

"Don't let any more buildings fall on you, hmm?"

The smile falls a little as Komali scratched at his elbow, sheepishly. He couldn't see it, but where there had ever been creamy brown little speckles of white were starting to show through as his flight feathers grew in, "I didn't mean to. It just happened."

He'd been hiding from nightmares when Aang had come blasting through. It's...not a pleasant memory, for more reason than one. Creeping magma flow was a terrifying thing for a flightless bird.

Samus drops a hand down to offer some comfort to Komali. The gesture is a little awkward (she's still getting used to this whole "mothering" thing) but her intentions are good.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Komali. It was just unlucky."

"She's right. Happens to everybody."

Luckily not with buildings, most of the time. He kind of raises an eyebrow ever so slightly at Samus. This is the last thing he'd expect to see from her, really. It's kind of funny.

"Okay," he smiles leaning into Samus gladly. Komali blinks and tilts his head at that, leaving off scratching for a moment to ask, "Is that why you got so many scars?"

Ah, the tact of children.

Samus avoids eye contact with Chief. She is so completely out of her element it's not even funny (or incredibly amusing depending on the perspective). She just pays attention to Komali, letting him lean on her leg, and manages to avoid snerking at his lack of tact.

The Chief actually does smile. Just a little. It's very slight and doesn't stay long.

"Yes, it is."

John's luck is debatable that way. On the one hand, he's insanely lucky to be alive. On the other, if he were truly lucky he would never have been drawn into the life that gave him these scars at all.

Komali thinks about that for a while, leaning his head on Samus' knee. After a bit, he scowls and lets go, going to poke his nose over the edge of the table and peer at the assembled mechanics of Samus' suit.

"My father wanted me to be warrior too..."

Samus frowns for a moment at Komali's last statement. It's about as slight and gone as quickly as Chief's smile, but it was there. She can't help but mirror her own childhood experience and the ambitions of her "fathers" with Komali's. While she holds no issues with the Chozo and their choice of life for Samus, she can't help but feel a little anxious when the topic comes up around Komali.

"You're still very young, Komali," the words are heavy in her mouth. As much as she tries to hide it, she sounds as if she's suppressing some underlying feelings. "You have a lot of time to decide what you want to do."

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No rest for the weary [Open]

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