nysalogs | mercenary jobs #3

Entry tags:

mercenary jobs #3 — open to all

Who: Anyone interested in taking some mercenary jobs via Aranea Highwind's offerings. This log is focused on Wyver and can be found on job boards across the city as well as personal handwaved texts.
What: Mercenary posting!
When: N/A
Where: N/A
Warning(s): Possible sex threads based off heat-event for this month. This was posted early for the holidays, btw. Happy Thanksgiving, etc!

Thank you for stopping by to check out this month's job postings for Highwind Hires — a freelance mercenary group!

Aranea Highwind will ICly be contacting characters and offering them jobs based off the assumption she will receive 30% of the cut.

JOB #1 — DOOR TO DOOR

With the abundance of new visitors, it seems there have been ample amounts of donations to the temple. Unfortunately, that is not enough. When you approach, you're stopped by a young woman named Igo who is requesting you help her: please pass out 100 pamphlets to refugees enlisting donations.

OUTCOMES:
- For all pamphlets passed out, the Shaman will pay you 100 Silver.

JOB #2 — DRAGON DERBY

In the West, you hear about this month's Wyver Derby, a small event where dragons are put to race on a track. It seems the fan favorite is Fangface but the newcomer Wingslash ranked high in their first few races. You're hired for body guard duty, keeping the peace and ensuring no riots occur. Enjoy drinks as you watch the show, try to bet for the right one.

OUTCOMES:
- Wingslash wins by a nose, so anyone who votes for that dragon will win double their bet.
- Those who bet on Fangface or any other participant will lose their bet.

JOB #3 — AFTERMATH

Tied to Job #2, the Derby went relatively smoothly... You're enjoying discounted drinks at the bar. It wasn't until you notice one of the ticketers cashing out a suspicious amount of extra money to a small group of people who very vocally complained about losing. As the small group leaves, you can either: report the ticketer or two, track them down.

OUTCOMES:
- If you simply report the ticketer, you'll be rewarded with an additional 125 Silver.
- If you track down the group, you'll find they're all in a small gambling ring, petty crooks that drank too much and most certainly had an inside connection. You must be ready for a fight — all 4 will attack you with fists and small pocket knives.

JOB #4 — VILE LITTLE THINGS

You were contracted directly from Aranea Highwind for a monster hunt. A Vileling that was once kept as a pet grew hostile in the past few weeks before finally escaping its owner in Old City and reeking havoc on pet-owners. Your job is to track it down before more pets are killed. Aranea instructed you to 'take care of it', but upon your journey, the Vileling owner (Bekins) has insisted you save it and bring it back to Murkhollow alive. Of course, they offer a good price.

OUTCOMES:
- Aranea is offering a flat 400 silver to wipe it out.
- You can lie or oppose Aranea's order, you which will gain negative CR from the mercenary leader. Bekins will reward you with 140 silver and you must find a way to return it to Murkhollow.

JOB #5 — RED NIGHT LIGHT

Bodyguard duty seems a bit more... mature tonight. With the week waning on and people acting on lust and emotions, there has been a bit more call for those looking to patrol the more savory areas of Wyver. You'll be paid a flat fee of 450 Silver for a night's worth of work.

There are three areas to watch over: a bordello, a herb shop, and a gang's rumored hide-out.

OUTCOMES:
- If you choose the bordello, you will find yourself playing body guard for one of the establishment's ... best worker and favorite client. You can peek in on the woman and her partner at the risk of being caught or you can escort them out afterwards. The woman offers a tip of 100 Silver and also the chance to have drinks with her...
- If you choose the herb shop, you will find yourself sensitive to the mix of aromas. A contact high ensures your inhibitions are loosened and with the lust in the air? Who knows what that means...
- If you choose the gang's rumored hideout, you will find illegal tusk and scale trading. You'll have to contend with 4 possible gang members all armed with weapons. Fight them or flee to report, you'll earn an additional 150 Silver.

Have fun! If you have any questions, feel free to PM me! These are all loosely based on your choices, so feel free to go wild with them. The outcomes only are indication of what the jobs would offer. If you're interested in having your character offer a job in the future, please let me know!

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[ It’s most of the way into the next day before he wakes up.

In the bright medical bay of Thesa station, smelling of nothing but metal and the faintly sterile. Which is the main thing he notices as he takes a breath a little suddenly at realizing he’s awake and it smells nothing of swamp. That it’s quiet and the air seems thin.

(The station. It’s impossible to mistake, it gives him a certain sense of discomfort.)

It’s enough that he sits up after a moment, slowly and with a mindful sort of caution. Like he isn’t sure what to expect or does and it’s something terrible, the thin mattress squeaking a little as he holds his breath for a moment. Nothing.

Actually nothing. Especially when he reaches up and touches his face lightly, feeling no pain or burns any longer, just gauze wrapped there.

Were they just letting him sleep it off in the dark then…? ]

[ It's enough time for her to think, to turn the events that transpired over in her head countless times. The endless possibilities of what could have happened, what should have happened, and inevitably what did and what didn't. Yet they still brought her to the same stomach-turning conclusion that had dawned on her as she carefully guided the both of them back to civilization.

A Demacian is always prepared, and a lack of knowledge could mean certain death. It's true that she had no way of knowing what they would be up against, but that did not change anything. She should have known what that monster was.

And it was her own negligence and ignorance that got him hurt. It was her fault...

She should probably get some rest, but there was something that kept her here. A light waiting for when he would eventually wake up (he would, she was told, but...), because much like her he didn't have anyone else. No one from that place he called home, where they would celebrate and welcome each other back with bright smiles and warm words. Something that seemed so fond but at the same time oddly dim when he spoke of it, like recalling something precious but long lost.

There was no one from that place he called home to watch over him now, but would it be all right if she stayed by his side here, at least until he woke up?

(Was she allowed to, even after putting him through this?)

She doesn't have to dwell on that thought long however, because as he pushes himself up to sit, she throws off what negative thoughts she can, leaning forward to put a hand on his arm. ]

Be careful, they said it might still be a bit tender. It's all right.

[ There's a note of hesitant relief in her voice as Lux lets go of his arm, sitting back in her chair. A note that grows heavy as she speaks slowly.

("He will recover, but his sight—") ]

...You know where we are, don't you?

[ He can see where they are, can't he? ]

—! [ Wah.

He doesn't mean to startle when she touches his arm, but he jolts a bit at that and looks wildly in her direction, and while he calms the moment he realizes it's her and she sounds calmer now too... it isn't quite right, either. Not relaxed—

—and tipping his head back slightly as if straining to see her. ]

Lux..? [ It's a bit bewildered for so many reasons. She had been waiting for him to wake up?? He really had inconvenienced her... and yet it isn't the guilt that's bothering him or has his blood racing suddenly. She'd startled him, speaking so suddenly and reaching for him in pitch black. And he doubts her night vision is better than his. And the realization of why that is..

Maybe it's a good thing his eyes are still lightly wrapped in gauze. It masks how drawn and horrified he looks somewhat. How shaky. How he wants to bolt.

So he bites down on his lip for a moment, pressing them together tight as he continues to look somewhat in her direction, but just a bit off to one side. Swallows. Don't make her worry anymore. ]

...it's the station, isn't it?

[ So why does he sound like he's guessing then? ]

[ "...it's the station, isn't it?"

She could chalk it up to the bandages, or the fact that he might still be groggy from sleeping for so long. Healing takes a toll on the body, after all. But the way that he jumps at her touch, and she does jerk her hand away at that, and how he cranes his head as if... ]

...

[ As if he can't tell quite where she is right now. That she's somewhere nearby, beside him in fact, but he isn't sure where he should be looking. After all, the healer who treated him had warned her—

"He will recover, but his sight might never come back."

Seeing him not look at her but look past her, she suddenly feels sick. Dizzy and cold washing over her and the world feeling not quite right, like it's been suddenly knocked off its axis. Like there's something so overwhelmingly wrong with what she's seeing that she wants nothing more than to reject it entirely. No. This is a dream. She fell asleep next to him, waiting for him to come to.

It's. A dream. Please tell her... This can't be real. She does not want this, and gripping the edge of his sheet with a partially bandaged hand, she bows her head for a moment, presses her lips together— ]

That's right.

[ And forces on a smile, looking up and trying to sound as radiant as ever. Like it's something so natural, even as the corners of her smile wants to twitch and collapse. But she can't let it. Not right now. Sitting up, back straight, her hands balled into fists as she grips the blanket in between them.

Because if she can smile, then there was nothing wrong. There would be nothing wrong. Even as light and color begins to prickle through her already white knuckles, and what does that say of her that she doesn't even care at this point.

She feels like she might just fall apart and she doesn't care; but she can't let him see that there is anything wrong. ]

Everything has been taken care of, so you don't have to worry. Okay?

[ Just keep smiling, Lux. Even if it feels like you might shatter into pieces. It's all she can do—she can't help him. She couldn't then, and she can't now. ]

[ She sounds so tense.

She sounds tense despite telling him he doesn't have to worry, and that makes his stomach sink worst of all. ]

... [ His expression.. flickers a little at that actually, becoming heady. Conflicted. And he rests a hand against the side of his head as if it's begun to hurt. The left side. ]

'Everything has been taken care of..' [ He repeats it back a bit softly, even if something about the way she's said that has suddenly made his heart start to race. What has been taken care of. Why does she sound so tense.

Why can't he even see any light.

His fingers curl and dig into the bandaging at his temple. ]

I need to— [ tugging, sharply ] —I can't..

[ He's speaking less and less calmly, voice starting to pitch as something seems to come loose and then can't stop coming loose, and he starts pulling on the bandaging around his eyes. Yanking on it in growing panic. Off, get it off.

He can't breath, get it off. ]

Like this I can't—

[ Everything she feasibly could, because that's the way that she copes with disaster. She takes care of things. Settling the bounty with Aranea (remotely, because she could not bring herself to leave even for that long), getting him taken care of here... everything she could think of that might slip through the cracks that needed to be addressed to keep her mind and hands at work.

It's all she can do. This is all she can do and it kills her more than words could ever say, but she can push through. She could push past that and keep a smile on her face even if she wants to tear everything apart to find a way to fix this. She doesn't do well with sitting idly by, or with being unable to act or make things better.

Maybe that's why something seems to snap the moment his expression flickers, and he repeats her words back to him. Like realizing that she might have made this worse and not quite understanding how. Watching him hold his hand to his temple, Lux begins to reach out to him but stops short, not sure what to do.

Watching him pull and yank at his bandages, all she can do is watch, frozen with a look of dread and anguish clear on her face. Her mind so far gone from the things she might normally concern herself with in a situation like this (staying calm and keeping in control of her own emotions), she takes a deep, ragged breath.

Why? Why can't she do anything but watch him struggle? She wants to do something but feels so helpless that it physically hurts. It makes every inch of her crawl, and all she wants to do is look away— ]

Allen—

[ She can't in good conscience look away, even as he's managed to loosen them enough that she can finally see that part of his face. She can't look away, especially with him suffering alone like that. Even if she can feel that light of hers breaking through, wild and uncontrollable as it courses through her, she does not care. This is more important than staying calm.

She doesn't give him a chance to respond (or for herself to second-guess), leaning forward and slipping her partially-bandaged hand over his, her forehead pressing against his in an effort to calm him down. ]

Please...

[ Her voice thin and surprisingly raw, and it's hard to say if she's pleading to him to stop, or begging for a way to help. She's so sorry, but she doesn't know what to do... ]

[Someone thinking Dio's cool? Sounds fake. Sounds super fake, but okay.]

Fuck, maybe I'll hit up the temple. They're clearly lacking for workers and willing to pay out the ass for help.

[Dio finding a job at the temple: the origin story.]

! [ If she wanted to get him to stop… that works. Maybe out of shock as much as anything. Feeling her hands slip over his and forehead press against his, it’s not really anything he would have expected her to do before, he stills and takes a breath finally. Eyes snapping up towards where she would be even if he can’t focus them, the bandages hanging loosely now from how inelegantly he’d ripped at them.

It’s still dark. ]

Lux… [ It’s quieter now, and he sounds surprised. Stunned, really, and he's dumbfounded for a moment how to respond when she's caught him up and he's not entirely sure how. He'd upset her? Or..

..she was sad?

He swallows for a moment, blinking quite rapidly for nothing to do with his sight, and tries to focus beyond how turned his stomach still feels. Almost like he's afraid to move. ]

[ It's not something she would do under normal circumstances, being someone who is constantly worrying about things like social expectations, politeness and keeping others at arm's reach. But seeing him struggle like that, seeing the fear and anguish so clear on his face and not knowing what to do to make it better, it's all she can do to make him stop.

To try to grant him some sort of peace, even if she knows that it's a futile effort. And that's perhaps what hurts the most, knowing that even as he sits there in stunned silence, she can't do the one thing she would want to right now. She isn't a healer, this is far beyond her ken. What good is this light within her if she can't use it to help someone who is clearly scared and suffering? That light that she was told to keep safe, that was supposedly different from any other magic in her world.

What good is that light if she can't use it to help someone who is suffering? ]

I'm sorry...

[ Her hands still over his, fingers curling up slightly, he might begin to feel it then. A gentle warmth like a glimpse of the sun through a dense and oppressive fog; subtle and barely-there at first, but quickly spreading from their hands and touched foreheads, filling in what gaps of darkness it can. Like it meant to push away any haze left behind with color and light. Like a rainbow after a summer storm.

One she isn't quite aware of yet.

Her eyes closed tightly and taking a deep breath, she bows her head slightly. No longer making an attempt to try to quell that light of hers, all she feels like she can do is apologize. For somehow not protecting him. For not knowing what to expect and inadvertently putting him in danger.

And for being unable to reassure him (or believe) that everything will be all right. ]

I'm so sorry...

I wouldn't go that far. I'm not fucking omniscient.

[ of course she's still intrigued by what makes him tick. Bigby shouldn't give her curiosity more ammo, but he supposes it's too late now. he lets out a low sigh, rolling his head back to look up at the ceiling as if he is accepting defeat. ]

It's all chemistry. You of all people should be able to appreciate that, little miss scientist. I've just lived long enough to figure out which scent means what.

[ most of the time, anyway. his powers aren't foolproof, and it's more successful picking up on someone's lies than simple discomfort. it just so happens to be that he has gotten to know Rosalind somewhat since they've met, and it isn't all too difficult to pair body language with her scent. ]

There's plenty of things you didn't know a werewolf could do. I think I showed you a few of them already.

[ yes, you can assume he seems quite satisfied with that comment. the half-smile on his face as he continues staring up at her roof indicates that. ]

[He's right, at least, in that she does appreciate the scientific method used here. And it's really quite fascinating (though he needn't act as though she's putting him on the rack; answering a few questions is hardly the worst thing he's faced).

As for that last remark . . . she rolls her eyes, but there's nothing but good humor in the way she shoves his leg with her foot (careful not to jab the place she'd just stitched up).]

You know, I just had a conversation about how every man I know over two thousand thinks he's cleverest when he's patronizing me or trying to fluster me, and here you are, proving me right.

[But hey, give him this: she's not thinking about Robert anymore.]

I'm not worried.

[ he's the last person to underestimate a woman and what she is capable of doing with her arms and legs. Bigby may be a pseudo-immortal Fable, one who has taken shotgun blasts to the chest and bones broken so bad that it's torn through flesh to protrude from skin, but he doesn't brush away the fact that this woman only had a cut on her arm for a very particular reason.

it probably helps that it was a woman who broke said limb. ]

God dammit.

[ Bigby doesn't try very hard to hide the fact that he's growling underneath his breath, frustrated in himself for even allowing a complete stranger to touch him so casually. he doesn't make an attempt to step away, instead leaning in and towards her with a narrowed gaze. the lingering aroma of the herbs and her current physical state has him feeling tense already. a cigarette would be really nice right about now... ]

I'd be throwing away quite a bit of money, you know. Unless you have any better ideas.

[ he can't believe he's humoring this, but his eyes survey the area for somewhere private. an alley seems too stereotypical of Wyver. there may be an inn around the corner, though. here's to hoping the fighter is more familiar with the city than he is. ]

No. I'm thinking a BB gun would have been enough now that I've seen you. Or maybe a slingshot.

[ Bigby wouldn't find much validation in making a talking raccoon shake and tremble at the sight of him. he's long since lost the entertainment in animals fearing for their lives because of the former sheriff. even with his heart still pounding and a knife in his leg, there's nothing for him at the end of that road. ]

Are you done pretending you're a scavenger? I didn't knock them out for you to steal their shit, buddy.

[ he grunts when she pushes at his bad leg, giving her a good glare for deciding that assaulting the limb holding a fresh wound would be a good idea. big tough guy or not, so long as the damn thing hasn't healed, it hurts. so much as tensing up his leg shoots discomfort through his nerves, and he wants to describe her with some colorful words for a second or three there. ]

Oh, shut the hell up. Don't even pretend I didn't give you a night worth remembering.

[ not implying it wasn't one for him to remember as well, of course, but he isn't talking about himself right now. he just figures it's nice to... remind her every now and again. yeah. ]

Besides, what's wrong with flustering? Who would have thought a redhead blushing would look cute.

[ he called you cute, Ros. sort of. take it or leave it. ]

[Know how much guilt she feels about kicking him? None. Absolutely none. She's rude like that.

But he does manage to, if not fluster her, at least throw her off a little. Sarcasm she can take and spit right back at him; even lewdness is easily dealt with. But she isn't entirely certain how to respond to a compliment like that, because she certainly doesn't want to do something so stupid as smile or laugh, but nor does she want to disparage the compliment entirely (because it was sweet, kind of, in that special Bigby way).

So yes, her cheeks are a bit red now, and she wrinkles her nose again.]

You're ridiculous. No one's called me that since I was sixteen, and for good reason.

Don't underestimate me, dude. I've fought nastier things than you.

[He pockets some of their silver, looking wholly innocent about it. There is a knife in this guy's leg. If Rocket wanted to run, he trusts he can.] I ain't pretending to be anything. These dudes are bad news. They deserve a lot worse than bein' knocked out and robbed. [He looks down at them.] ...Maybe. Wait. What were these ones on the list for again?

[ It's getting lighter...

Not that it means he can suddenly see. Just, instead of such an empty sense of nothingness... like there's something. Slowly, like the warmth radiating from her palms, the sensation of light and color more than anything. Maybe he's imagining it. Surely he must be imagining it, because it wouldn't make any sense. How from her hands and her skin pressed to his there is such a warmth like the sun he can sense it right through to his soul, not unlike the first time he'd touched his own evolved Innocence and realized the intensity of it, searing and blinding as moonfire.

His head jerks up a little at that, that she apologizes like that, and for a moment he's breathless. Lux..

Was that.. her?

Feeling her bow her head and curl in on herself—did she realize that was her? ]

...

[ Slowly... he's going to pull his hand free. The left one, gently. Not away... but just so he can cover her hand with his instead. In such a delicate yet steadied sort of way then. A commanding sort of certainty.

It tickles his nose a little when he lifts his chin and almost brushes her nose in the process, but he doesn't seem to mind. ]

...why are you sorry? [ It's light, almost airy. Something so impossibly gentle said with a quiet breath, with his eyes wide open and calm—if still sightlessly so.

Bathed in a dazzling sort of light no more helpful to seeing than the nothingness before, but somehow... it's a bit easier to stomach now. ]

If it hadn't been for you.. I don't know what would have happened. But because you were there, we were able to defeat it. [ He doesn't squeeze her hand, but his hardened fingertips do thread so delicately between hers. Something more solid and yet gentler still than if he had. ]

I'm grateful.

[ Feeling him pull his hand away and begin to raise his head suddenly, Lux nearly jerks back, very keenly aware that she's overstepped somewhere. This isn't something she's used to, being the sort of person that has to be in control of herself and her own emotions, and for a moment she mentally panics. This is something so far away from the norm for her, but she had to do something to try to bring him peace. So to think that she might have done the opposite—she nearly pulls back then.

It isn't until he covers her hand with his own that she stops herself, frozen in place, suddenly feeling caught in what could have easily been some kind of mental free fall. Her eyes snapping open, she keeps her head bowed, holding her breath and not quite knowing why, or what to expect. There are a a few things— ]

...

[ But it's nothing like that. To not only question why she would be apologizing to him, but to say that he was grateful; to catch her hand and say that with such quiet certainty after everything, Allen that's... ]

...Why?

[ It's too much, and she should probably let those words settle and land before trying to say something, but she can't. Her own voice feathery and thin, her gazes lowers and focuses on nothing at all. There is some hesitance there, like perhaps she should leave it like that... but she can't. To say something wholly undeserved, let alone to believe his own words, she can't stay quiet.

And it begins to spill out then, more of that light that remains unfettered along with her words. Her fingers clenching around his as she wills them not to shake, she takes a somewhat ragged breath. ]

If I had known what that was... if I had been better prepared, then you...

[ Her voice shaky, it's clear from her cadence that she isn't at all certain, but that this has to be said. She should have known. She should have been better prepared. That this would not have happened otherwise. That's why she's apologizing. But what's more— ]

...I can't do anything. I can't do anything for you, I can't help you even if I want to so badly. I want to make this better, but I don't know how... and I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...

[ He's -- actually a little stunned, no lie. She was that upset because of what had happened to him...? ]

Lux... [ He sounds a bit at a loss. It's not that he's saying it's okay. This is anything but okay, if she wasn't in front of him so upset right now he'd be a lot more upset than he is. But seeing her so worked up for his sake..

It doesn't make it okay but he forces it down (crushes it down) and takes a breath for a moment, feeling what seems like another sun-warmed burst when her voice pitches and tumbles, a sense of opalescence and light from the corners of his eyes. That.. it was her then. Because of how upset she was.

Biting his lip for a moment, he hesitates before he flexes his fingers against hers, pulling his other hand back slightly as well... so that he can cover both of hers with his firmly but gently, cupping her face like that. Please listen. ]

'...Even if the scars remain our wounds will heal.'

That's what I believe. It's okay. [ He doesn't really, not about something like this. But he can't think about his own panic right now while she's so upset, so he's going to say it anyway. ]

Being who I am... being an Exorcist -- that's what that means. We can never know what's about to happen next, or when we might die. But it's pointless to be upset about that, because if we regret everything we could have done better and let ourselves despair... we'd never be able to move forward. [ He's speaking quite gently. Quite calmly even, his forehead still gently resting against hers. Mostly because like that at least, since she's the one who first leaned in like that...

If he can't see her, he at least feels somewhat connected this way. ]

Despair... that's how true evil happens.

So no matter what happens, even when it's something terrible, I promise it'll be okay.

[ He'll let out how not okay it is later. When he's by himself. ]

[ Her eyes open suddenly when he rests his other hand on top of hers, her gaze finally raising to try to meet his. Even as his eyes are unfocused, she remains transfixed, flickering slightly from right to left as if she could find some kind of answer in his gaze. Some reason why he would do something that... honestly it's just as stunning as her words had been to him.

Perhaps because no one has ever done anything like that before. Held her there and spoke gently but firmly; like sharing some kind of secret that was so very important. She doesn't dare move, because she's afraid that she might break that spell shared between them.

But telling her that it's okay, and what's more, telling her that it's pointless to be upset for him because of who he is—that somehow it's all right because of who he is—sits heavy in her chest. Not that he could live without regret, and act without hesitation as he did while fighting the vileling. She can understand that and would only agree to that point. But to say that it was pointless to be upset about the thought of losing someone...

No. No, she can't do that. She can't simply push that thought aside. She can't act as if everything will be all right, or refuse to get upset at the idea that he's in this state now due to her own self-perceived negligence. And perhaps that's something that he can't understand, having others who he thinks of fondly—having a home made up of those smiling faces, who would welcome him back no matter how long they were apart. People who accepted the kind of person who he was, who were like him. Exorcists.

And because she may never have something like that, if something happened to him...

...No, she's not going to think about that. She's not going to think of any of that. That loneliness that comes from hiding in plain sight, and the fear of losing someone who might be able to see past that. She's thinking too much.

(Please don't talk like that, Allen. She isn't sure how to deal with it. It's too sad.)

Instead, her shoulders slump gently, and exhaling gently, she begins to get a grip over herself. Her light still extending outward, it isn't as violently bright as before, but still present as a gentle glimmer and warmth. Even as she starts to calm herself, she doesn't yet move, still leaning in with foreheads gently pressed together.

It's strangely grounding, even if she isn't quite sure why. ]

How can you be so certain? Even like this... how can you make a promise like that?

[ She wants to believe it as well. More than anything. ]

[ Because he has to.

—but that isn't the answer that's going to help her. And if anything... he smiles at that actually. The first time he's smiled since he woke up, actually. Even if there's something so heavy and bittersweet about it. And if only.. if only she knew even a fraction of the irony at believing he had anyone he could return to, no matter how precious they were to him. The fugitive.

Because it's the only way I know. ]

Because I believe in it. [ "Even like this," she said. His expression is certainly weighted by that—panic, held at bay—but still such a calm, gentle kind of smile. Holding her face gently captured there still, even if he's not entirely sure her reaction if he can't see her face—but somehow he feels like she's calmed a bit and is glad for it.

Is it funny? In this moment, that bittersweet kind of fondness...

It's the sense of belonging and home he hadn't expected to find again after he left the Order. The kind of people you speak like that to. Care for like that. "Aren't you stronger than this? My family." ]

Even if it means struggling and struggling, I won't give up until it is. That I can move forward and still protect the things important to me—and so can you. [ Because that's what she had skirted around so much during the festival about, right?

And why seeing her own comrades and family and reconciling them on the station had been such a struggle. ]

So I promise, we'll be okay.

[ It might not help her, but it's the answer that she expects from him. As someone who would continue to fight through blinding pain because he could not allow even the monster that tried to kill him to suffer—and who refused help when he believed that it would endanger her as well. Of course that would be his answer. Because that is the sort of person (human or not) he is.

So even if the the answer that he gives her is a bit different, that isn't what surprises her. It's the way he smiles in a way that's bittersweet and almost difficult to look at that throws her off-guard, even as he continues to speak. That he could even smile at all considering what has happened, the weight and enormity of it, to say with conviction that he believes that everything will be okay—

"—we'll be okay."

Not just for him, but for the both of them. ]

...

[ If her gaze had begun to drift, she pulls it right back up again, eyes shot open wide as she looks at him somewhat cross-eyed. Like she can't believe what he's just said, because surely she must have misheard or perhaps misinterpreted. She should question it. She should ask for clarification. She should tell him it's fine and to not worry about her or do any number of things to try to justify how he could not have possibly known what something like that meant... ]

Edited 2017-12-21 02:39 (UTC)

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Page 7 of 10

mercenary jobs #3 — open to all

Aftermath - next day

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