2018-05-03: Blood In The Water
- Log: Blood In The Water
- Cast: Loren Voss, Cassidy Cain
- Where: Somewhere outside of Vane, Lunar
- Date: May 3, 2018
- Summary: In the woods outside of Vane, a Solarian agent confronts someone who he suspects is an ancient enemy's operative. Given who it is, however, the encounter, as usual, does not go the way he expects.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Once again, it's on orders.
Loren Voss, medical officer, field agent, field medic, has received a slight alteration in his assignment. Like most of those tasked with fieldwork as of their rather sudden and unexpected landing on the moon, of all places, his main mission is to uncover more about the social and political landscape of the Lambs living here, to survey and report back on ruins and other locations of note, and retrieve materials where possible.
Due to his background, what he's been asked to do -- thanks to forays into the region near Vane and as a result of deVriese's intel -- is collect samples. Generally speaking, orders don't come with an explanation as such, but he can work out the probable logic on this one fairly easily: the magic the Lambs use here is unusual, and it appears this is a dumping ground for their related experiments. Since this magic is a relative unknown, it follows that any insight they can gather on how it works is worth the effort.
Which is thus the reason why he's roaming around a forest teaming with what he's decided to term 'things'.
It's unscientific, but he's already seen creatures and plantlife he's fairly certain aren't even native to the moon.
Luckily his particular set of skills, even if he was trained for team support, means he's fairly accomplished in supporting just himself as well. He supposes that's one of the reasons he keeps getting sent out solo. That, and the fact that -- in this case -- he actually knows how to take a sample.
Though at this precise exact moment in time, sampling is a little further down his list of immediate concerns.
"They're not getting a tissue sample from that, that's for sure," he mutters, leaning out from behind one of the trees as he eyes a giant crab a distance away, frisking off into the flooded depths of the forest. It's got claws that could probably snip someone in two... a particular he's not interested in testing for himself.
Pulling a device from his bag, he leans against the tree next to his pack and the long thin bundle alongside it as he presses a thumb against the screen. Leaning out again, he oves to... Well, yes, he's taking a photo with his tablet. It's clearly too far away to chase down for the sake of a bio sample, so imaging will have to do.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
"A veritable world of wonders, this wee star is."
This said somewhere behind him, a voice that he would find extremely familiar.
For how much Cassidy Cain likes causing a scene, she can be tremendously quiet when she wants to be, and when Loren turns around, he'd find her there leaning against the tree, a small blade digging into the flesh of a lush, ripe apple. She comes from Filgaia, a dying world teeming with deserts - produce of any kind is almost as rare as metal. It is not so in Lunar, where there is green as far as the eye can see, its Malevolence epidemic offset by the lush bounty that it provides. She has often said since her arrival that if none of them can get drunk here, they can always get fat instead.
Not that was ever a risk given her ridiculously active lifestyle. It at least enables her to enjoy the fruits of a very fertile land.
The blade is no more than two inches long and its edge digs into the crimson skin, drops of juice sliding down the smooth surface as she cuts a wedge of it before bringing it to her lips. Evergreen eyes glint with their flecks of gold, laden with that ever-present mischief. Her stare does not stray away from Loren.
"You'd think you'd have tae linger around port tae get a glimpse of those anywhere," she says, referring to the giant crab. "Believe me, lad, I'm just as surprised as you are." Amusement grows in the undercurrents of her expression. "The claw meat is the best, but that just figures, does it nae? Got tae face danger and bleeding tae get tae the sweetest prize on sommat. The sweetest, and the most fleeting. Because once you catch a crab and bind its claws, the meat in it starts tae deteriorate...would nae be any good after that."
Her teeth dig into her wedge of apple in an audible, satisfying crunch.
"A friend of mine said others made it here," she says. "S'pose I should nae be surprised. I guess everyone in the Elw ruins that day got zapped tae here. What mischief are you up tae now, I wonder?"
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Just a moment ago, he would have sworn he was alone.
That immediately becomes a statement that is no longer true.
The voice is familiar. It in fact takes all he has to not to turn around sharply, to instead slowly lower the tablet and slip it away into the depths of the bag slung over his shoulder, and to similarly slowly crane his head backwards to regard the woman leaning against the tree across from where he'd taken up position to wait out the crab.
...Yeah. It's her.
The Shevati agent from the depths of the wellspring.
His end of the proceedings is undertaken in silence, as he weighs her demeanor, her actions, attempts to gauge her intent. ...Is it too much to hope she knows nothing? ...Probably not, comes his own internal response, particularly not after what she just saw him doing, with her knowledge.
But his back had been exposed -- to one of them, a thought that makes his skin crawl in revulsion -- and she still hadn't taken the opportunity. Why?
This is the point where he faces her dead on, his back against the tree.
At least if she's going to look at him like that, he's going to meet it.
"...Are you?" he finally says, blue-eyed gaze flicking over her form. He huffs out a breath, tension nakedly riding his own frame. "...Hmph. I wouldn't know. I suppose you think yourself a connoisseur?" Stiffly, his shoulders rise and fall, as if in an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. "Best or sweetest, or whatever... it's certainly not worth dying over."
His gaze hasn't left her for a moment, as if he could read her next move by staring her down. "It doesn't matter to me."
...Yeah, she knows. He narrows his eyes. She knows.
"And?" he asks, as she muses after the arrival of others to the lands of the moon. "What of it?" A challenge of a sort layers under his words, and he takes one slow step away from the tree.
Silence again meets her words, at least at first.
Deflect, evade... no, he presses headlong this time, still watching her body language, waiting for the best possible moment. "I could ask the same thing of you. This isn't exactly on Vane's sightseeing tour route."
Which may be as good as an admission on his own front of this battle, but...
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Misunderstandings have a funny way of following her. While she is fully aware as to where Loren's allegiances lie, given who he was supporting during that reckless fight with Siegfried and Neriah Perringer, she is not aware that Marcus Rider was the pilot of the Gear that prevented her from killing Loren, and neither does she know that it was Loren who she was attempting to destroy in that mechanical battle all those months ago. But it was always her way to always appear in the know, and unfortunately, this proves to be in her detriment today.
Perhaps.
She is also unaware that Loren suspects her for being Shevati...or even a Shevat agent. Had she known he was the pilot who nearly met his end at her hands, the pieces would fall into place relatively quickly, but she doesn't.
This results in Loren's actions being construed by her as wary hostility on his part, which is nothing new. Cassidy was certainly not the best at making friends.
I suppose you think of yourself as a connoisseur?
"Every thief likes tae think she's a connoisseur of fine things," the blonde says easily. "And every person in my profession would like tae think that it only takes a few minutes of being in another person's company tae determine what really matters tae them." Her lips lift higher in a smile, liable to cut as deftly as the tiny paring knife in her hand. "Would you like tae test that? It's just a guess, luv..."
There's an emphatic glance to his gear and the piece of technology in his hands before he puts it away.
"...but methinks after all of that and your earlier words about tissue samples, you're nae above experimentation."
He has his own questions, and she laughs. The remains of her apple is tossed about in her left hand, a wedge missing - consumed and savored for its sweetness. But the knife she has been holding earlier is no longer there, gone in an instant, as if he had imagined it. If it operates as an admission of sorts on the young man's behalf, her face betrays no indication that she heard it - or considers it as one.
"Vane's got a rather disreputable reputation, I heard," she replies. "And being a stranger tae a strange land, I figured what better place for someone as disreputable as myself tae take a look?" As she watches him turn his back against a tree, her brows lift to her hairline in an inquiring fashion.
That smile only grows. The apple lands in her hand.
"Ach, you Gebler types," she says. "So jittery all the time. Oughtae learn how tae relax sometimes, lad. You're...what? All of eighteen? Nineteen? You're fixing yourself tae have a verra short life if you keep going as you are."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
SOUNDTRACKER: Keiichi Okabe - Deep Crimson Foe
He, similarly, is unaware of the fact that she is the threat designated as 'Ascalon' in that last encounter -- otherwise he would have, perhaps, opted for a slightly different approach to proceedings currently underway. As it is, he only knows her as the person using clearly Shevati swordplay deep in the bowels of the Wayside wellsprings...
...The very same person he had briefly ended up needing to assist in order to down the greatest of the threats on the field at the time.
Command would very likely-- honestly, he doesn't want to think about what Command would do if they knew, right now. Even if there were, to his thinking, extenuating circumstances.
He's able to regret that decision afresh now.
"A thief." He practically spits the word, disgust lingering on his features. "What sort of person admits to being a criminal? Though, I suppose it's hardly beneath those of your lot."
An interesting choice of words, perhaps.
"Test what? Your capacity to broadly guess based on scraps of evidence? I'll pass," he says flatly, punctuating the statement with a shake of the head. "I've already met enough charlatans to last me a lifetime."
As she remarks on his equipment and his intents all the same, he fixes her with a long stare, as if to silently dare her to voice one thing more about it all.
She's needling you on purpose, a part of his psyche speaks.
He still shrugs the thought off, as a duck might fail to mind the rain. And what does it matter, anyway?
It all comes down to the same thing in the end. Who blinks first, perhaps. Or who dares.
"Whatever you think makes you happy," he responds, noncommittal in this, of all things.
"So you came out to the dump for a walk," he says, weighing the words as if he's become a skeptic about her intentions for the first time. "I don't know about you, but even for a Drifter or however you want to dress up your criminal career, that doesn't quite add up." His gaze nearly follows the apple -- hadn't there been a knife? -- but his attention remains forward and on her, as if the rest of the world had been shuttered out.
There it is. If he had any doubts left -- ragged shreds, at best -- they're gone now.
He's gone completely still as she names him for what he is, the look in his eyes enough to quench any small doubt she might have possessed herself.
"Damn," he utters, expression growing drawn. He sees no reason or means to deny it. "I guess that's gotten out in the open."
Time to fix his past mistakes.
His shoulders tense; his gaze unfocuses. He takes a breath, exhales it...
And shunts his psyche and stress into the rock under their feet, sending the stone splintering upwards in a crackling geologic upheaval, as if intent on spearing and smashing her both.
When it comes to those of Shevat this is what counts as fair.
The conflict from five hundred years ago can't be shrugged off, forgotten... or underestimated.
GS: Loren Voss has attacked Cassidy Cain with Terra Set!
GS: Loren Voss has completed his action.
DC: MISS! Cassidy Cain completely evades Terra Set from Loren Voss!
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
What sort of person admits to being a criminal?
"A person who's good enough of a criminal tae nae care about who knows?" Cassidy wonders, nonplussed at Loren's increasing hostility, rolling the apple around her fingers. "A person who's trying tae be a badder arse than she actually is? A person who's so truthful that she dinnae mind telling you what she does for a living? I can name hundreds of sorts, luv, but if you were in any way socially inclined, you would ken all of that already. It's definitely a failing, ay, but you're young yet."
She puts on an expression of pure, convincing sympathy. "Between you and me, methinks you oughtae get out more. See the sights, go on a couple of dates. Grab a couple of drinks, have a few laughs..."
His bold claim about coming out to Vane for a walk and how that doesn't add up earns him an exasperated expression. "Ay, well, there's the first mistake, you see. You already made up your mind about me, so now you're taking everything that follows and bending it about tae fit your narrative. Nae very scientific of you, luv. Are you new with experimenting after all? Dinnae your teachers tell you that the conclusion oughta fit the evidence and nae the other way around? For example, what you said about my capacity to broadly guess based on scraps of information..."
The ground rumbles underneath her feet. Awareness and reaction go hand in hand when the woman twists away from where she is standing, leaping back several feet just before earthen spikes lance out from the ground - a move that seems tremendously familiar, but Aveh was months ago and the fact that the situation has escalated drives all thought of the past out of her head. That is dangerous.
To survive, one must always be fixed on the present.
Through the twisting mesh of stone and mineral, the apple fires off her hand and making a beeline towards Loren's face in a deft throw as knees bend upon her landing, right by the brush where she had left her things. A bow unfolds from the branches, falling into her grip. She's already knocking an arrow and sending it flying, to pin the apple right on Loren with shaft and blade.
"I dinnae guess, luv," she murmurs, straightening and slinging her quiver over her shoulder. "But I s'pose it's nae your fault if you cannae tell the difference. You're a bairn, yet."
GS: Cassidy Cain has attacked Loren Voss with You'll Get Yours!
GS: Cassidy Cain has completed her action.
GS: Loren Voss guards a hit from Cassidy Cain's You'll Get Yours for 80 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
"Or possibly, an idiot."
He's not a nice one, is he?
It might go a distance towards suggesting a thing or two about his social life, honestly.
"There's a saying after all, the simplest answer is usually the true one," Loren says, for now standing firm in the wake of her comment about his relative youth.
He is in fact about nineteen and a half at this point, but regrettably doesn't look much like someone on the cusp of hitting their 20s. Some people are just cursed with an unfortunate degree of youthfulness.
Shrugging off her remarks soon ends. If the look on his face could be put into words, it would be something akin to a 'really' as she gives him some friendly advice and recommends he get out more, get to know more people.
Go on some dates.
With who?
"I'll pass," he says instead, waving a hand through the air dismissively. "I'm not interested." Certainly not with the Lambs, anyway.
"Then disprove it," he replies, making as it to continue to hold that stare with her still. "It's basic deductive reasoning. No one can know someone else's intent at first meeting."
Or even at second meeting. Third, fourth, fifth... What other people think might as well be a closed book.
"Therefore, if you follow the basic chain of logic... or did your teacher neglect that when you attended academy?" He huffs out a breath that could be called derisive. "I hardly need to visit every ocean to conclude that water is wet, do I?"
By this point, he's in fact nakedly hostile...
And then overtly, as he brings etheric force to bear in an attempt to gore or crush her.
Normally he's more cautious than this. But caution has been flung to the wind, as it were, as she names him for what he is. Perhaps she's spoken of this to no one else. Perhaps he can earn some accolades if he manages to take down one of their foes here. Perhaps it has everything to do with his earlier failing, and her status as a citizen and probable agent of Shevat, now far from home and the network that would otherwise make this a chancier option. Perhaps it's just that barely-submerged impulse from days before: the one that wants to shatter something, anything, everything.
Some of his stress forces the earth -- stress is the nature of rock in the end, its layering and movement -- and it launches upwards.
She's... fast, a part of him registers, leaning back to brace himself against the tree. He sees a blur of red incoming--
A flash--
He lifts his left forearm as if to block it; rolls his wrist.
Apple and blade never connect with his face. Instead, the blade pins the fruit neatly to the tactical shield he's unfurled from the bracer he wears. A crack spiders up the center of it, the component part-way split by the strike.
He reaches up to snap it off; the blade remains so wedged. "I just had this fixed," he can't help but utter in frustration. Before his gaze lifts to her.
A bairn?
The indignant face he pulls in the wake of that comment probably... honestly just proves how on the mark it was in the first place. "I'm nineteen," he informs her. It's not that young.
...Why am I even arguing about this with the enemy? comes the thought in the next heartbeat.
The shield's suffered structural damage; it's not going to work the way he'd like. Still. It's good enough for now. Enough cover here as he takes a breath, steadies himself, steadies his connection and control of the ether...
And the moment he exhales, pulls the tension he's gathered upwards. The dust and dirt solidifies; the layers pack on. Geologic forces, sped up. Thus gathered and piled together, it then explodes, a small localized detonation of shards and silica carefully shaped in her direction.
"Just do me a favor and die," he remarks, rolling back a step nearer to his own discarded belongings.
GS: Loren Voss has attacked Cassidy Cain with Terra Circuit!
GS: Loren Voss has completed his action.
DC: MISS! Cassidy Cain completely evades Terra Circuit from Loren Voss!
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Or possibly an idiot.
"Possibly!" Cassidy replies with a laugh, throwing a bright, broad grin towards Loren's direction, as if unaware of his darkening expression the longer he talks to her. "And ay, the simplest answer is usually the true one, but oftentimes the simplest answer is just the simplest one and nothing more, and if you're willing tae wager your intelligence on that, would that nae mean that you're the simple one?" She inclines her head at him, and that smile grows infuriatingly wider. "Is that what it is then, lad? You keep an almanac of old addages in your back pocket? That's so adorable, I might just develop a cavity."
She lifts her brows at his challenge to disprove it and that smile, indulgent and painstakingly obliging, returns. "Ay, lad. Just give me a few minutes."
His temper bears down on her with the weight of all the Ether he can wield, and the feel of it nearly makes her reach for the innocuous-looking knife hilted by her hip; it isn't the blade she had been using to cut the apple before, hardly longer than any generic dagger, but the way she moves enables her to deny that deep-seated impulse. She soars like a bird in the air to evade, landing on the ground before letting an arrow whistle for his bracer. The boy has good instincts, she thinks.
Did your teacher neglect that when you attended academy?
"Academy?" she wonders, her voice carrying an unmistakable tone of disbelief. "Really? Where do you think I come from, lad, tae be privileged enough for the kind of schooling you're talking about?"
But he's clearly angry about something, and as confident as she is in her ability to trigger volatile reactions out of someone, she has a feeling that it has little to do with her.
I'm nineteen, he says, his expression one of pure indignance.
"Ay? Almost fooled me, lad," she replies, amused. "S'pose compared tae other bairns, you're more dangerous than most. Methinks Ether's a wee much tae use on a tantrum!"
Earth breaks, spikes shatter and the dangerous projectiles lift from the air as if on their own accord. She's already moving the moment she sees them rise from the ground, leaping sideways and whirling her back into the bole of the thickest tree she can find. The branches of the mighty oak against which she has taken refuge shudder, leaves falling as thinner limbs explode above her head, the sound of cracking wood sharp against her ears. It is a gamble - he might be strong enough to force it, to push those fragments through the trunk and leave her with holes...
...but thankfully, the sturdy tree keeps her shielded. Her heartrate is up, and adrenaline sings in her veins. White hot anticipation floods every sense and for a moment, she rolls her head back and basks in it.
Just do me a favor and die.
"Be careful what you wish for," she says, nocking another arrow, this time with a glyph etched upon the head. "Owing me a favor can get terribly expensive."
And with that, she fires.
It explodes on impact, sending a nearby tree tilting towards Loren in a crash, but she's already anticipating him to move out of the way or block it; it's too big, moving too slowly, he would have the time. She elects to give him none when she bursts out of the bushes in a swirl of evergreen leaves, not just rushing for him, but streaking towards him, a haze of gold and red, and those burning emerald eyes. She launches herself on the angled plane the falling tree trunk makes, and runs along it, firing arrow after arrow after arrow at him in what seems to be an endless barrage, each tip aglow and meant to do to him what their earlier cousin did to the tree.
Misdirection, misdirection, misdirection...
...and in the last moment, she whips out Hawthorne's Revolver once she's cut the distance between herself and Loren, and fires a particularly fat, nasty round aimed for his lung.
GS: Cassidy Cain has attacked Loren Voss with Come Dance With Me!
GS: Cassidy Cain has completed her action.
GS: Loren Voss takes a solid hit from Cassidy Cain's Come Dance With Me for 158 hit points!
GS: Shieldbreak! Statuses applied to Loren Voss!
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
His irritation at this juncture is nearly palpable. "No, I prefer to not waste my time on needless speculation," he all-but-snaps in response. "I fail to see how avoiding flights of fancy makes me the fool."
This comes before he lashes out at her with ether alone, and she evades the sudden strike. Before she retaliates with the bow and arrow.
Funny, he can't recall what, if anything, Shevat counted for their ranged martial techniques. Then again, that's the way with lectures and demonstrations. Particularly when one is attempting to think back in the heat of battle.
"So there isn't anything? That's almost disappointing." he replies, lifting his shielded arm as he assumes a defensive stance, as if expecting her to close to melee shortly. "I feel sorry for you," he adds, in a tone that makes it completely clear he feels nothing of the sort.
...It could have fooled her? Just how young does he look to her?
For a moment, doubt takes root. Had he really seen what he'd seen before? Had that been a Shevat technique? --No, it had to have been. No, the fact that she names his own abilities for what they are...
But to say 'she doesn't speak or act like an enemy agent' would be putting it mildly.
"Owing me a favor can get terribly expensive."
"I suppose it's a risk I'm willing to take--"
There's something off about that arrow-- there, it's got some sort of spell--
It impacts not him but the tree nearby. His gaze lingers on it as he ducks out of the way, tree toppling with a crash. His gaze returns to her then, and in realization -- a look crosses his face that would be best subtitled as 'oh shit' -- he falls back as she unloads her arrows upon him, navigating around the incoming volley and attempting to use the fallen tree as a sort of shield in between the bursts of white force that simply catch the detonating ammunition in mid-air. He's watching the tree, he's watching her position, watching where she's aiming as he similarly moves to close the distance between them-- He's not watching her hand when she suddenly changes tactics.
Which, naturally, is the moment he gets shot.
He drops to his knees like a sack full of lead weights, and clutching at his chest, sways for a moment where he kneels before coughing up a mouthful of red. It paints the few scattered leaves here on the forest floor.
He blinks, black specks seeming to dance before his eyes.
There's no time to do this the careful way.
Starting where his hand presses against what surely must be a collapsed lung at least -- where red starts to stain his coat -- green light begins to trace out along his body, unfolding in a fractal form.
Stitch that together. Seal that off. Redirect that. Reinforce this.
It takes a few heartbeats to complete it to satisfaction, but in the end he wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and lifts his head to stare up at her.
"...You Zephyrim dog."
She nearly killed him.
He hasn't even touched her yet.
He should run before he dies here.
"Don't be a liability," echoes his father's voice.
You're support. You're not a real soldier. Not like van Houten. Not like his brother.
His heart's pounding.
He stares at her in utter hatred and reaches for the bundle half-buried under the branches of the fallen tree.
The blade slides free from its wrappings surprisingly easily. He rises to his feet, half-melted sword clutched in his hand.
GS: Loren Voss has attacked Loren Voss with Restorative Arc!
GS: Loren Voss has completed his action.
GS: Lock and State! Statuses applied to Loren Voss!
GS: Loren Voss heals Loren Voss! He gains 200 temporary hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
No, I prefer not to waste my time on needless speculation.
There's another laugh, and to Cassidy's infinite credit, it sounds genuinely amused. "But that was what you were doing earlier when you told me my walk tae Vane dinnae add up, because that's what that was, lad. Needless speculation. What would you say if you found out that I was telling you the terrible truth at that moment? Would you nae feel like a bloody fool afterwards?"
There isn't anything, he claims, and that he feels sorry for her - right about when he gets shot and drops like a sack of potatoes on the ground. Hawthorne's Revolver is put away, and her eyes lid faintly. "Dinnae I tell you tae give me a few minutes?" she wonders. "Ach, dinnae ken what it is about the verra young ones these days. Always so impatient tae get answers. Always in such a bloody hurry tae die."
She waves a hand to the side. "Or at least, tae be injured verra badly. Listen, lad. I dinnae ken what beef you have with me, exactly, but it's-- "
You Zephyrim dog.
Brows lift slightly and there's not even so much as a pause or breath when the blonde conwoman replies, to her visible confusion: "Dog? Ay, well, you can call a bitch a bitch when you see one, lad. What the bloody hell is a Zephywhatsit?"
Asked as the young man does what he can to alleviate the injuries she has already inflicted upon him. Green, gold-flecked eyes fall on his sword. The hiss of its bladed edge rings in her ears, and lips purse in an appreciative whistle. Fingers pluck an arrow from her quiver, twirling the shaft around her fingers before nocking it on the string, her posture languid and easy. But looks can be deceiving, for one such as her.
At the very least, her amusement is quickly giving way to a frank look of utter exasperation.
"Nice sword," she tells him, as if she doesn't see the way his hatred burns in his eyes. "Even at the state it's in, it's kept some of its edge - it's a credit tae whoever made it that it can still gleam like that." She examines the length of it from tip to hilt, before fixing her stare upon Loren once again. "It was nae made for you, however." The smile returns, almost helpless in its bent. "Must be quite an interesting tale, for it tae fall in your hands. Are you the type tae loot corpses, lad?"
She casually pulls back her bowstring and fires a single arrow, as a test.
GS: Cassidy Cain has attacked Loren Voss with You'll Get Yours!
GS: Cassidy Cain has completed her action.
GS: Loren Voss takes a solid hit from Cassidy Cain's You'll Get Yours for 119 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
"I--" He stops, then shakes his head. "Just shut up! It doesn't matter what you were doing or thinking of doing," he snaps in heated retort, an attempt to deflect the logical argument back away again. "Or any of that! Stop trying to mess with my head!"
Dropped to the ground not long after, at first no further answer is forthcoming from him as she speculates on the haste of youth these days as he assesses injuries, burns ether and pulls together and reinforces what he can.
Maybe he should run. Cut his losses, file a report, let them know what happened.
Go back empty-handed. Let them know he was bested by the enemy.
No.
Does she really not know?
So bubbles up the thought as he binds his own flesh back together, as he seizes the blade close at hand and stands. At a glance, anyone would think that she was unaware of any of it -- their respective natures, the ancient grudge that locks their homelands in a sort of stasis. Did he... No. He hasn't made a mistake. Not in this.
...It's a trick. She's trying to mess with your head, he decides, his expression hardening as he grips the blade's hilt. It doesn't feel right in his hand.
"Hey, show me it again!" says the shorter of the two, leaning over the back of the seat his brother slouches in.
The older one just sighs. "What, again? Honestly, you're way too into this. Fine, fine. I'll go and get it..."
If he's parsing what she's doing with the arrows, he doesn't show it, not at first. Slowly, as if attempting to recall from memory something he's only seen for himself and never attempted, he assumes a shaky starting stance, blade held before himself in a skyward guard.
"So you still think that's pretty cool, huh, Ren... you really are still a kid."
It's the younger boy's turn to sigh as if put upon. "Sorry I'm not dead inside like you, Gil. ...It's still an officer's sword, okay?"
In the here and now, Loren takes a step forward, shed branches crunching underfoot. He has no words for her, even in light of her bantering; he just evaluates her, evaluates the space between then, evaluates the weight of the sword in his hand.
"It was nae made for you, however." Loren stops where he had advanced, staring her down. No, it wasn't.
"Hey. You'll teach me how to fight like you, too, right?"
The older boy again leans back in his seat, arms folded behind his head. "Hmmm..." He appears to appraise the younger sibling from this position for a moment. "Nah. I'll pass on that. I doubt a researcher'll need to worry about fighting anyway, right?"
"What? Oh, come on--"
Into the heart of this, she lets loose a single arrow. Realization of what she's doing snaps into place just moments after she pulls back the bowstring; he twists out of the way.
Not fast enough. The missile clips his left shoulder, leaving a smear of red against white where it passed. He rounds back towards her.
Into this heady mix she drops a single comment:
"Are you the type to loot corpses, lad?"
His expression simply blanks entirely.
This, then, is the state in which he lunges at her in a mixture of half-remembered form and whole-hearted hatred, as if he could run her through like this.
GS: Loren Voss has attacked Cassidy Cain with Meteor Break!
GS: Loren Voss has completed his action.
GS: Cassidy Cain takes a glancing hit from Loren Voss's Meteor Break for 36 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Stop trying to mess with my head!
His temper snaps and the dam breaks - fury, determination, doubt, flooding with a cornucopia of emotions that she takes into account, though her stance doesn't change; that easy posture, feet astride, the secure, but loose grip she has with her bow and the way she holds onto that testing arrow before setting it loose. Whatever she gauges from the younger man's face, Cassidy keeps to herself. But that infuriating expression remains, ever the trickster - it is as if this conversation isn't happening in the midst of a fight.
The arrow whistles sharply and opens a gash on his shoulder, letting crimson spurt free. She expects his rage to intensify even further - something that she can exploit, should things become too dangerous for her, but her last words draw a very interesting reaction. As if a solid steel wall had just slammed down between herself and him, when she asks him about his tendency to loot corpses.
Nothing cold, but utterly blank.
And that is when she knows she has him.
If there was any doubt of that, he affirms it by lunging at her with his half-melted blade. Hawthorne's Revolver is already out, her lightning-quick dexterity serving her well here, when she can switch between weapons with ease. Her aim isn't his body, not this time, but his sword - another slug, but one carved with another glyph, to freeze whatever it impacts. Should she succeed, it bounces, seemingly harmless, off his blade as he charges towards her.
She makes no move to evade - not until the last moment.
It costs her; the parts of the blade that are still sharp cut at her side, leaving flecks of crimson staining metal, but she sidesteps him at those last, precious seconds - enough to mostly evade his strike with those fast, efficient steps. Her hold on the Revolver reverses and it is as if Time slows to molasses when he engages her with that half-remembered form. Like lassoing a steer, she attempts to loop the trigger mechanism over the sword's tip with a metallic ring; if she is successful, as Loren continues to move forward, the blade pushes through it, sparks flying and metal squealing until his momentum forces the length of it to wedge tight into the gun's trigger....until it could move no further.
And if her plan works, the blonde's hand snaps forward like a viper, to snare Loren by the throat.
"Dinnae I tell you tae give me a few minutes before divining what does and dinnae matter tae you?"
Her leg lashes out in an attempt to hook him by the ankle and kick it from under him. She presses tight, while gripping her gun and wrenches it sideways, over the part that she has made frozen, and brittle.
Her intent is clear, the moment she does it - unless Loren can move away from her, she will attempt to break the already battered blade, and drive him down on the ground in the doing.
GS: Cassidy Cain has activated a Force Action!
GS: Cassidy Cain has attacked Loren Voss with Before the Music Ends!
GS: Cassidy Cain has completed her action.
GS: CRITICAL! Loren Voss guards a hit from Cassidy Cain's Before the Music Ends for 103 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Once again, there's the report of the sidearm, a dull roar to his ears at this moment. To his perspective, it's as if she missed, the bullet bouncing off the damaged blade with barely a mark to show for it.
Not that he is paying a large amount of attention to either bullet or blade. In this instant, his world has narrowed significantly. Just her, and just the blade he holds in his hand.
The only satisfaction he might get from this is the knowledge that he's drawn blood.
It won't be a very lingering satisfaction when all is said and done.
The bulk of the damage he had hoped to inflict is denied; worse, as he attempts to correct that error--
At once, it's as if time has sped up and slowed down.
He sees what she's doing. He knows suddenly what she's trying to do. It's an application of physics: increase friction, interrupt and redirect momentum.
But as tarry as the moment and realization are, it's still far, far too fast. By the time he attempts to jerk the blade back, she's already caught it, snagging the blade with a scream of metal.
Her hand closes around his throat before he's even halfway through the motion of drawing the blade back.
"Ghk," he vocalizes approximately, reaching over with his free hand to similarly attempt grab her lapels, or whatever might pass for them. She responds by kicking his legs out from under him and dropping him to the ground.
But not before she jerks the ARM in her hand sidelong, applying pressure upon a singular point.
Not before the stressed metal shatters.
One passing shard grazes his cheek, leaving a line of red.
A length of it lands amongst the leaf litter to there lie.
The hilt drops from his hand.
Far from the burning hatred from before, or from the completely blank look he'd worn moments prior, Loren looks perhaps at best glazed over. Blunted, as if he's attempting to process something and not quite making the connection between the two points.
Even that idiot didn't manage to break it, you realize.
"This... isn't..." He grits his teeth, forcing out a breath; not about to remain there prone, he quickly rises to his feet, falling back a step or two as he makes to place some distance between them.
He takes a breath.
Nice job breaking it, runs his thoughts.
And in neat parallel to it, so run the rest of them: Shut up. Shut up, shut up. Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking--
He exhales, bringing into being a shimmering crystalline angular wall of light about him briefly, a form of reinforcement against whatever she'll turn against him next.
GS: Loren Voss has attacked Loren Voss with Barrier Factor!
GS: Loren Voss has completed his action.
GS: Loren Voss takes a solid hit from Loren Voss's Barrier Factor for 0 hit points!
GS: Shield! Statuses applied to Loren Voss!
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Steel made brittle by magical ice shatters when Cassidy Cain uses Physics to her advantage. The Gebler agent drops on the ground, dazed at what had just happened. Her gun wrenches free, sending bits of sword flying in the air. Most of the length of it slams point-first somewhere behind her, the other half, with the hilt, drops from slackened fingers. From where Loren lies, her long, lithe shadow looms above him, deft fingers spinning her gun on one hand - she has used bullets sparingly, because of course she did. In Lunar, there is no technology available to make more.
Two slugs spent to make a point.
He may be down, but he isn't out. The conwoman watches as added protections fold upwards to encase him in a shimmering wall, clearly having pushed him on the defensive. Had she been living another life, she would have pressed it, to unleash what she had been groomed to be from a very young age and shatter the barrier to pieces and let the surrounding flora drink from Solarian blood. Her fingers twitch absently, where they've been hooked on her hip as old instincts clamor for her to take up the mantle yet again.
Inscrutable eyes look down at the young man, bloodied and panting on the ground. However she looks, there is no shred of mercy on that pale mien.
"This is nae....what, lad?" she murmurs, her voice low and dangerous. "What you expected? Were you about tae insist that I was wrong about what matters tae you?"
Her hand reaches back and rips the shattered blade off the ground, throwing it towards Loren once he's backed up and letting it slide and clatter against the base of his magical shield.
"You were so quick tae paint me a liar earlier. I wonder if it's just astuteness or paranoia on your part, or if it's just a liar recognizing himself in another. After all, if there's a common thing that ties all human beings together, it's our ridiculous ability tae lie tae ourselves."
She tilts her head at him. "I dinnae ken what your problem is, but even a blind man can sense that you've got sommat tae prove, bashing yourself against the bloody wall when your more rational brain's probably screaming at you that you're bloody outclassed and you oughtae cut your losses, and desperately at that. Because that's what you are, ay? A rational person, prone tae logical thought and easily dismissive of needless speculation....and one that decided nae tae be all of a sudden, throwing everything you've got with a weapon you dinnae have enough expertise tae use. I really must've pinched a bloody nerve, when you'd go all out for a corpse."
After watching him for a moment, she speaks again, voice pitched low. "And it must've been some corpse, for such a rational creature like you tae behave so irrationally."
With that, she sighs. "Well, from where I'm standing, you've got two choices. You press this, which would leave me nae fookin choice but tae hurt you some more, or you sit and behave yourself, and I can go on my way. Whatever you decide, I'd like you tae at least take tae heart one thing after all of this mess."
She finally lowers herself on one knee to the ground, to look at him at eye level.
"I'm nae what you bloody think I am."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
This, at least, is easier; he barely has to think about what he's doing, let alone focus upon it. Just a breath, a summoning of his intent, and then there is the flickering shell, an echo of the illusion of solidity the earth presents.
Now he needs to get to his feet and, and--
His gaze lifts towards hers as she looms over him. He's the very picture of tension once again, as if attempting to work out her next move and react accordingly. She's fast, he's learned that much the hard way -- how fast will she be to strike him now?
How well will this wall hold?
"...What?"
No attack, it seems, is forthcoming. She instead has words for him.
Yes. And yes.
But neither of those are things he's about to allow her to be right about, at least out loud.
The answer he gives her instead is: "...No. This isn't over."
He says that mere seconds before she tosses the larger remnant of the blade right at him and then recoils as it bounces off the base of the magical shield he's conjured. His attention lingers upon the broken blade a moment or two more. "..." He clutches his right hand reflexively and finds only dirt.
"...or if it's just a liar recognizing himself in another."
Immediately, to that, he shakes his head. "You're wrong! I'm not a-- stop twisting what I'm saying around! It's-- why should I listen to you? You're one of them!"
Even a fool would be able to tell that he's being defensive.
Because one look at the fragments of the blade -- his brother's, the only thing that was left -- is enough to make that awful unwanted feeling twist inside him again.
He's got something to prove. Yeah, she's got that one right, maybe. He's had something to prove out of necessity's sake since his death. But-- even so-- Even so, he shakes his head as she goes on, tensing as if weighing the option of lunging at her right there and then.
I'm not outclassed! the thought, defiant in spite of the evidence, runs. I'm not a liability in a fight! I'm a first class--
He straightens, reaches out to the side with his right as if to make to prop himself up in the next heartbeat. Instead his fingers brush against the hilt he'd dropped. "..." he breathes. "...Just shut up. You don't know what you're talking about." Nevertheless, he slouches. "You don't know anything."
"And it must've been some corpse..."
That, paradoxically, appears to light some vehement fire in his veins; he nearly rises. "I said, shut up! He was--"
He clamps down hard on the words in the next instant, in precisely the mode of a lockbox, sealing shut. Balefully, he regards her in the seconds following, as if daring her to try and pry.
He's staring at her in silence still when she finally gives him that offer.
"What... are you..."
She's giving him the chance to end this now, one way or another. His silence maintains, a visible struggle ensuing within for the young medic between two opposite poles.
Cut your losses.
I don't want to-- I'll kill her for this!
Cut your losses. Do you want to die here? Is this where you want it to end? You've accomplished nothing!
In the end the most persuasive argument is the broken blade scattered before him, the thing that draws his stare.
As if his strings have been cut, here does Loren sag where he sits upon the ground. "...Fine," he says, exhaling a breath and closing his eyes as if he could blind himself to the shame of this. "I yield."
The barrier yet maintains. There's a difference in the end between listening to some reason and trusting one's opponent, and herein it lies.
He opens his eyes again and slowly readjusts his glasses, staring over at her where she kneels before him.
"Then what are you? Just a liar and a thief?"
He holds no fondness for her in his gaze. He might have opted for prudence at last in this encounter, but the flames are only banked, not extinguished.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
No, this isn't over.
"I s'pose nae," Cassidy replies easily, finding her carton of smokes now that the young man appears perturbed that she isn't pulling out all the stops to kill him. "Well, we could very well end it, lad, but at the rate this is going, it will nae turn out the way you're hoping." Her teeth snag on the end of one of her hand-rolled cigarettes, lighting it up on the end with the well-loved silver lighter that is never away from her person. Under the growing darkness of the twilight skies overhead, the cherry-red ember burns like a beacon in the dark, illuminating the finer nuances of her face and the golden shards hidden within the predominant evergreen color of her irises.
Everything about her appears rough around the edges, but surrounded by the growing dark with only that single point of illumination, her face and figure appear delicate to the point of aristocratic. Contrasting that with the merciless trouncing she had just given him, it's as if everything about her has been designed to deceive....or at the very least give a thinking person a good runaround as to what the truth truly is. As Morgan Newkirk has observed before about his pale-tressed friend, nothing about Cassidy Cain is static, and the only consistent thing about her is the fact that she is full of surprises.
Why should I listen to you? You're one of them!
"Who's them? Drifters? Criminals? Oughtae be more specific there before our conversation veers off intae two different directions with neither of us the wiser," the thief advises. "Either way, dinnae change the fact that I make a credible case for myself, did I nae, of what I told you before."
But those eyes remain on his, as keen and luminous as a cat's in the shadows, watching the way his fingers bunch into soft earth underneath him once reminded of the broken blade.
You don't know what you're talking about.
"How's that working out for you?" she wonders. "I mean, as far as lying tae yourself goes, did that sound convincing?"
She doesn't know anything. His claim is bold, defiant in the way she expects - not just from the first class citizens of Solaris, but from the young ones who have yet to be fully indoctrinated with how terrible and beautiful living truly is. But his reaction about her words regarding some important corpse in the medic's past has her canting her head sideways, brows lifting in a visible and prompting perk.
"Dinnae ken what about said corpse drove you tae nearly killing yourself," she continues. "And I dinnae give a shite, for that matter, but I tend tae only see that kind of thing rooted from two reasons. You either loved him, or you despised him. Maybe even both. The human heart's a complicated piece of machinery, after all." Her lips twist in a wry smirk. "I'll leave that there, before we get tae talking about needless speculation again."
With that, she rises from her crouching position, smoke curling from the corners of her mouth. "Y'ken, some would say the prudent thing would be tae just kill you. And it would nae exactly be unjustified - you did try tae kill me after all. But that's the beauty of living your life by your own terms. You dinnae have tae sweat over what's pragmatic. As for what I am..."
Her lips lift back up in a cutting, brilliant smile. "Nae just," she replies. "I'm many things, but nae whatever it is that makes you want tae kill me so badly. I've got nae quarrel with you, lad, unless we've met before. I s'pose that's possible, I do like tae drink."
Taking several steps back, she starts to make her way back to the forest.
"Try nae tae bleed too much going back home. The animals here can smell blood for miles, and nae all of them are normal."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
There isn't any one tell of someone from Shevat. That's one of the things that makes them so dangerous -- it's not always possible to tell at a glance which hand might actually hold a knife; there are Lambs who might resemble at a glance a Solarian, but the difference is still as night and day, in contrast to their eternal nemeses. The only consolation is that Shevat is rarely overt in its movements, so as much as he might worry after the presence of secret agents meddling in the proper operation of the world, the chances of actually meeting one and knowing about it are both slight.
...In retrospect, this is not actually a comforting thought at all.
At least on the moon, it's unlikely they're encountering any sort of ancient Shevati plot to undermine Solaris' goals. Just one stranded agent, if his guess is right.
If, that is.
"Oughtae be more specific there..."
He scowls, mouth twisting as if he's just bitten into an unripe fruit. "You know exactly what I mean."
...Doesn't he?
No, he knows what he saw, but...
Damn. There's other explanations for that, too, isn't there. Damn, damn, damn. He's gone and tipped his hand too much because he'd assumed--
It's an unwelcome realization when it dawns, but the light comes whether he wants it to or not. Still seated there on the ground before her, he slouches, head slightly bent.
Good job, runs the ever critical part of his psyche.
"Shut up," he says again, and the words aren't entirely meant for her alone.
Though the comment that follows -- his eyes narrowing behind his glasses -- perhaps only one recipient in mind. "I don't recall asking for your opinion," he says, managing to draw himself at least a little more upright.
Which is the point where she, yes, speculates once again.
This time, on the nature of the owner of the sword now in a dozen pieces and scattered on the sod about him.
He goes still, as if not even daring to take another breath. His face might as well be an expressionless mask. If it weren't for the absolutely vehement cast to his eyes alone, someone looking in might have mistaken him for a statue.
As it is, he stares at Cassidy as if he could kill her with just his gaze.
"I thought. I told you. To shut up!" he snaps in response, the last word punctuated with him rising to his feet.
And it's the postscript of the wound on his left shoulder reopening as he stands that prompts him to both wince and clap a hand against that earlier injury. It's bad timing for him, considering this is about the moment she points out that by rights she should just kill him.
As if she's the one who has the upper hand in this encounter and... as much as he hates to admit it, as much as it makes his already shredded pride squirm, she probably in fact does.
He, for his part, remains perhaps prudently silent on this. This isn't how he wants it to go.
He must have... made a mistake.
How did she know? Easy, someone else told her -- about ether, Gebler, and the rest.
What of that technique? She learned it from someone else, possibly one of the Shevati agents he's certain he's crossed paths with here and there.
"We haven't," he finally says, with time enough to at least minutely placate his badly bruised ego. This, technically, is not entirely true, given the events in the depths of the wellspring. But they didn't exactly meet there. "Met, that is. ...I don't suppose you have a name? Or should I just refer to you as 'trouble'?"
He has his own ways of attempting to reassert a means of control. Sass, even in the wake of getting quite roundly defeated in pitched combat by an apparent Lamb and possibly embarrassing his entire nation if anyone ever learns of this, appears to be his go-to.
Whatever her answer, if she gives him one or not, he doesn't charge after her when she makes her retreat. He in fact stays standing where he is, strands of green light suggesting he's seeing to his shoulder wound rather than press any minor advantage.
"The animals here can smell blood for miles..."
He's silent for a moment.
Then: "Oh, of course they would..."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
He once again tells her to shut up and her amusement returns, though it's equal parts exasperated also. "I'd be boring company if I just glared back at you in silence," Cassidy replies, smoke curling upwards to frame her face, like twin ephemeral serpents twisting for the heavens. "Though I dinnae ken, does that count as conversation from where you come from? I'm always up for learning about new cultures. Besides, you oughtae save your breath on that regardless. I'm the type that does what she wants, regardless of anyone else's say so."
If she senses the way his thoughts tumble about, anger and confusion warring within those glaring eyes, that brilliant smile returns when he confirms that no, they haven't met before. "Good. So I dinnae have tae worry about any avenging on your part, seems tae me I dinnae do you any wrong." She waves her hand to the side. "We'll chalk this up as your paranoia then for...whatever it is you think I am. I'd ask, but sommat tells me I dinnae want tae ken. Methinks you're the one coming away lucky here, lad. It's rare that I take any attempts on my life personally."
The implication there is clear: he wouldn't like it if she took it personally.
I don't suppose you have a name?
The blonde laughs; it is a sound as unfettered as the rest of her. "Ay, many people call me that, too," she tells him gamely. "The name's Cassidy Cain. And who might you be?"
She waits long enough for a response, but if there's none forthcoming, she'll continue on her way, with that warning dispensed. She hears his quiet exclamation behind her, but she doesn't look back, leaving nothing behind but a trail of thin smoke, and the scent of tobacco and apples.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
This is the part where Loren takes a bent for the outright rude:
"Maybe I don't want your company," comes his response, in the way that only an adolescent -- never mind where he was born or where his allegiances lie -- can manage. This is chased by an outright scowl as she not only asks if his attitude is normal for his culture, but tells him he might as well save it when it comes to telling her to stop talking to him. "Oh, of course. Because you're a free spirit," he says, every part of that comment doused heavily in sarcasm. "Spare me."
He must be a delight at parties.
Where she might grin back at him brightly, he just seems to grow ever more the sour one, silence perhaps certainly speaking louder than words in this moment of all moments.
"That's good," he says at some length, "Because I don't feel like performing charity, myself."
Lambs can be dangerous. He knows this, if only intellectually.
But there's no glory in this stripe of danger, particularly when it came about all because of a mistake.
He thinks, at least; he has no solid evidence now that he looks again that he was ever in the right.
"Cassidy Cain." Of all things, the Emperor's own name. Lambs are far too good at blasphemy.
He pauses for a moment when she asks him his name. That alone might be a tell.
"Thomas Blackwell."
Though the bigger tell will come the moment -- if she so chooses -- that she asks around about /that/ name in particular.
Then again, it isn't as if he has any other names he's willing to hand out for free, as it were. Even if his actual identity and name are becoming rapidly a known commodity.
In spite of the warning, he both doesn't follow her or leave the area immediately, even after he's completed checking his injuries and patching what's worth patching.
There's the matter of rescuing his pack, now buried under a fallen tree.
And there's the matter of what remains of that blade.
"You either loved him, or you despised him. Maybe even both."
The heart's complicated... even he has to admit that's completely right.
I'll still never forgive you, runs the thought as he kneels in the forest litter to gather up the pieces.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Spare me, he says.
A hand lifts in a final wave from Cassidy over her shoulder as she walks away.
"Ay," she says, her laughter echoing in the woods. "I'm pretty sure that's exactly what I just did. See you around, Thomas Blackwell."
And with that, she's gone.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
The expression he makes when she says that one final remark is probably worth a thousand words.
Needless to say, this has not been a great day for him.