trans_9 | (no subject)

Stones in the shape of a caern for a body that was never recovered and now never will be. It's down there on that forsaken planet, probably picked over by scavengers, both human and animal. Some criminal warlord is right now probably using his rank tiara to decorate his scarred forehead. Lafiel hopes it's not that bastard McAngus.

Late at night she's painstakingly brought her coffin of rock here. She carved his name on them in Baronh with her klanyu. If anyone wishes to activate their omnicomm's translation functions, they'll see it reads Lynn Su Rock Haidr Jinnto.

Lacking an airlock to eject the "coffin" out of, the alien stars rushing past are the only backdrop she can give for this makeshift funeral. She hopes his last view was of those stars. Maybe they gave him some comfort as starvation or wound stole the last little bit of energy from him and his chest stopped rising and falling in the oppresive, humid night.

She dares to hope he thought of her.

After a minute's rest (the stones were very heavy and awkward to carry from the city) she stands straight. She will have to be both speaker and audience for this wake.

First a crooning dirge, something that would be proud and magnificent if sung by all his friends. From her voice, it comes out too thin though, a small imitation of a grand gesture.

Next the Abh national anthem, not sung but recited in a monotone. This is their equivalent to Taps.

It ends like this:

Dear Stars,
Please listen to the wishes of your short-lived kin.
Our wishes,
It is to live until your are ancient.

Dear Empire, Dear Stars,
Let us pledge ourselves to eternity together.

At this point, the coffin would normally be shot off by an electromagnetic rail cannon, aimed towards the center of the galaxy, to travel eternally. She snaps the Abh salute, middle and index fingers to her forehead and the thing is over.

Abriels are royalty. To be fair rulers, they must not show too much concern for any one subject. Otherwise, they will have to show concern for all of them, and that is of course impossible. They are most definitely not allowed to cry.

So Lafiel stands stock straight but trembling and watches the stars...

Not crying.

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"Fine! Stacy, dress her like one of the prisoners on Lobnas!" Which means daisy dukes and a sport's bra with sandals. Duck season!

"Oh, you jerk!" Luly says, but she starts laughing, and shakes her head sharply as she wills her own outfit into something that's again a dress, but rather different from the last one (http://i26.tinypic.com/zspy8g.jpg). It still manages to be rather slinky on her, though.

"Oh no you don't. If you have to wear something embarrassing, so do I! Stacy, remove all fasteners and joining stitches from that dress!" And it falls open. Someone's forgotten about someone else's complete lack of shame.

"Oh, I didn't know you wanted to peek," Luly says brightly.

Sorry, Lafiel. Were you assuming she was wearing something under the dress, too?

Lafiel stamps her little foot petulantly. "Fine, you win! I'll wear this...this thing while i'm in here."

Luly stretches a little. Given her now-lack-of-clothing, it may be a somewhat intentional attempt to embarrass Lafiel more.

After a moment, though, she concentrates, and is suddenly in a different sort of outfit altogether (http://i26.tinypic.com/104iyis.jpg).

"It looks good on you, so chill," she says, fiddling with her new hat.

"I do not see why everyone has to see such a large amount of my skin, even if these people are imaginary." Luly doesn't seem to mind. ~~By the eight headed dragon, she's got some legs on her...~~

Luly rolls her eyes a little. "That is not a 'large amount'." She reaches over to pinch one of Lafiel's exposed thighs. "If you had a mini, that'd be a large amount." She pulls a knee up against her chest, still sitting on the barstool, other leg stretched out some. "You really are uptight..."

She yawns.

Lafiel stumbles back, knocking over a bar stool. Only her space-sense saves her from an undignified pratfall. She's not used to being touched.

"I am not 'uptight'." She totally is.

"You are totally uptight. If you weren't uptight, you wouldn't have done that." She points, accusingly but amused, and then gestures for Lafiel to sit again. "Siiit. I promise I won't bite." She grins in a way that would like to add 'much' to the end of that sentence.

Trepidatiously, Lafiel resets the barstool and sits. "Liar." She says, turning her shoulder towards her where there are still bandages on the back.

For a moment, Luly's expression flattens a little. "Not now," she says, frowning a little. "I'm—sorry about that." She reaches, though slowly and carefully, to touch Lafiel's shoulder.

"It's...ok. You needed me." Just like I needed you a few minutes ago. Not that she'd ever tell anyone that. "And I grew up with cats, so it's not a big deal."

Luly leans in towards Lafiel a little. Her breath is hot and a bit feverish as she studies the bandages.

Her head tilts up, studying Lafiel's face, and she leans in a little more, head a little to the side of Lafiel's.

If the other girl doesn't move, she's going to end up with a little angled peck of a kiss on the mouth.

What is she- Before Lafiel can process, their lips touch. Luly is soft there, small pillows. Her heart jumps in her chest.

She pulls back. Her first impulse is to slap her. No...for all you know, you were signalling you wanted that. She'd seen Samson's men carrying equally drunk lander girls back to their cabins on leave, venting a little of the fear of war. She knew that sometimes originated from these places.

There was a part of herself that had liked it, but not one she was willing to acknowledge yet. She touched down and backed away, eyes wide, skin flushed. Her body gives every indication of wanting to continue but her expression wavers between compassionate and stony."I'm not sure what sort of person you think I am...Or what kind of obligations go with being your reiozy...But I will be going."

"But—"

"I don't care what sort of person you are," Luly says, voice yearning but a little bit numb. "No, I... you seem like the kind of person I could really fall for," she admits.

"You're so stiff and cold and closed-up most of the time, like..." Her eyes close, and for a moment it could be imagined that she's fallen unconscious, but then they open again. "You're like a flower in winter, waiting for the spring."

Lafiel experiences the briefest urge to run back to her. It passes after a moment, leaving her feeling swimmy and confused, as if she'd bumped her froce.

"Thank you, Luly...But I need to think." She thinks i'm closed off...But how could she understand the pressures? She's free to be an ordinary soldier. She shakes her head again, shaking away that persistent self pity. She is closed off, but she has her reasons.

It's a lot to take in in one night.

"Go," Luly says softly. She's hurt, but guilty that she's hurt, and confused at the contradiction of the first two, and so tired... "We can... talk another day, or something..."

Her head dips, but then she looks back up. "You should take a while sometime to try to be you instead of whatever you think it is you have to be."

~Thwock~ like an arrow through the back of her already wounded shoulder as Lafiel walks away. When she's out, her plantsuit flashes back into existence. Her armor is back up. The first turn she comes to, she collapses against a wall, breathing hard, exhausted in all ways.

It's been a long night.

in the Sensorium, Luly slumps off the barstool and to the floor. She tears off the hat and her perfectly-bobbed hair melts back away into how it normally is.

She leans against the polished wood that sides the bar, head swimming. In a few minutes, if not disturbed, she'kk clamber out of the Sensorium pod, dry-mouthed and tired-eyed and slowly heading for the Medbay.