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[onblackwings]

[ This lady's looking a little different, for anyone that's spoken with her before. Not any older, but there's a sort of crooked quality to her nose, like it'd been broken and healed some time ago. She's lounging in the Initiative apartments, looking like she's recently made friends with a superiority complex. ]

I want to speak to those of you who have seen a war before. Not the skirmishes that the Initiative sends us on here, but actual war.

And failing that, I'll take anyone that knows magic — and can teach it. That part is important. Don't waste my time if all you can do is cast it.

Comments

[onblackwings]

[ Well, now she's paying attention, when there's suddenly unaccounted-for noises and fresh smells in her territory. She picks herself up from the couch, tablet suddenly forgotten, and... blinks at the stereo effect of voices. There's no one in sight yet, but she would swear the voice that just came from the entryway was reflected in her now-forgotten tablet.

Does that mean he...? ]

...Hello?

[frombrooklyn]

I'm still here.

[ ... echo. He frowns, trying to figure out what that means, and ... huh. Could it be? Steve makes his way into the shared living room quarters, slow and curious with the tablet still held in both his hands, stopping when he sees -- ]

Uh, hi.

[onblackwings]

[ She bristles as the stranger comes into sight, wishing she had fangs to bear and scales to ruffle. What sort of impudent human — this is her lair — 

That she was talking to a voice remarkably like this one just a second ago appears to have been forgotten. ]

What are you doing here?

[frombrooklyn]

Well, I --

[ This must be one of his roommates, then. Annnd ... she seems angry. Not good. Steve holds up one hand in a placating gesture, palm forward, the tablet (still turned on) held in the other. ]

It's the room I was assigned. By the Initiative. I'm sorry, I didn't intend to intrude.

[onblackwings]

[ Well, the apology is a step in the right direction. She stops casting about in her mind for the right spell to kill him with, even if she doesn't look any happier. ]

They sent you to replace Lord Prestor? [ She snorts. ] Someone among our captors has a poor sense of humor.

[frombrooklyn]

[ Oh, phew. ]

Don't know about any Lord Prestor, but ... [ He shrugs, thinking the same thing about poor senses of humor leading him to be here, and then nods to where the rooms are. ]

... anyhow. Should I take my leave? We can always continue our conversation another time, if you're interested. [ Though his voice, quiet, resigned, indicates that he's pretty sure that's not gonna happen. ]

[onblackwings]

No, don't bother.

[ She sits herself back down on the couch, taking up most of it with her lounge, and nods to the chair across from it. ]

We were having a conversation, weren't we?

[frombrooklyn]

[ A pause, and then he takes a seat across from her, setting the tablet aside. ]

Yeah. About war.

[onblackwings]

Mm.

[ She considers for a few moments, eyes down on the tablet, and... there we go, now she remembers where they'd left it. ]

I was looking forward to killing. One man in particular, if we're being honest.

[frombrooklyn]

[ He hesitates; he might not possess the desire to kill, but that doesn't mean he can't understand it. And maybe it's not his place to ask, but if they're being honest ... ]

Why is that?

[onblackwings]

[ She frowns, and one hand lifts to brush against her nose — specifically, the crooked angle of it. ]

This looks bad, doesn't it? [ It's not a question. ] He's the one I have to thank for it.