~The 'Other' Slayer~

♔Faith & Luke Lehane♔ Living Dead Girl Slayer Warrior Still Breathing Mun is: Online {} Lurking {X} ~This RPer took the Roleplay Anti-Hate Pledge~ {Independent BtVS/Angel Roleplay} Tracking: fivebyfivelove B r a v e (brāv):ready to face and endure...

[sugarbabywenkexing]

and the sky was all violet

[crewoftheanaleigha]

Salvage

[crewoftheanaleigha]

Reaper took only a single step closer, though it was more angled in the direction of the doctor than the patient and it had the lazy pace of a curious observer than a fighting lunge. Madeline lacked even normal human perception when it came to things like danger and emotion. And though the captain requested that the girl be treated as a guest, Reaper would of course treat any threat to those aboard Analeigha as he would a threat to his person.

Thankfully, either the doctor had a moment of lucidity and remained where she was, or the girl came to some internal conclusion. Possibly both, though Reaper leaned toward the latter when their guest retreated to her bed and sat again.

He chuckled at her question when others of his kind might’ve lashed out for the disrespect. Curiosity had always fascinated him. He had a healthy sense of it, himself. And though he enjoyed the wary looks people sent him due to their ignorance, sometimes it could be purely entertaining.

“It’s more title than name,” he admitted, still calm as ever, still smiling a little. “Though when the title overshadows the person, names become irrelevant.”

Taking the stranger’s stillness as a cue that she could go fix her again, the doctor rolled her eyes like a child and crossed the distance, withdrawing emergency bandages this time since the nanite synthesizer was on cooldown after such an extensive rebuild. Plus, patching two relatively small holes in her arm wasn’t a life-or-death issue unless left untended.

Reaper followed closely without becoming overbearing. He was conscious of his size and appearance and never really seemed to fully lurk over anyone. Unless, of course, the situation called for it. His gaze followed Madeline’s hands as they worked, though soon straying to the scalpel gripped like a weapon in the girl’s hand. He understood she’d been found on a prison transport, but the positioning of her fingers was not criminal. In fact, it was something else entirely.

“Do you have a name?” the priest asked.

[fivebyfivelove]

She said nothing in reply to his answer though she did offer a short nod, mind now working to puzzle out where such a title came from. She didn’t doubt it was linked to the blood the man was covered in if it wasn’t the sole reason. She felt something deep beneath her skin twitch, a reaction to not being able to move when she wanted to be anywhere but here. Stuck between two strangers, one that wore the smell of blood thick enough that she’d think she’d just walked onto a battlefield, both familiar and unnerving. The other of chemicals that stung her nose as she drew closer, and it still wasn’t quite enough to cover the faint scent of death she had about her.

“And the blood?” she prompted, turning her gaze back towards the doctor as she began to work on her arm, not quite ready to take her eyes off her just yet. “Kinda extreme for a fashion statement?” She said, not unkindly, the barest edge of a question there as she watched the doctor work.  She felt rather than saw when he moved closer, her fingers again ever so slightly tightening around the blade she held in hand.

In truth she didn’t think the man meant to attack. He certainly didn’t feel like it, body language suggesting nothing but the smooth waves of calm that were coming off him. Her hold on the scalpel was subconscious more than anything, though she wasn’t exactly comfortable with either’s proximity. She figured it necessary for the moment. Same as her questions. Curiosity driven yes, but more a  shitty attempt at finding more for herself to focus on, something to keep her still and from bolting as her skin itched to do.

She did blink at his question, turned dark eyes from the woman at her side to focus on him again. She wondered if they’d actually yet to find out who she was. If this was some sort of test to gage her honesty.  It wasn’t as if the info would have been hard to find if any of the data from the ship had survived. Still though…, it’d never been in her nature to lie, even if it was safer. “Nothing as fancy as your ‘title’ but yeah. Its Faith, Faith Lehane.”

[redroomsbest]

Bathhouse II Closed

[redroomsbest]

Yasha was glad that he wasn’t facing her or else she’d probably see that cheshire grin on his face. After all, why would he ever be that happy? It wasn’t like he heard something more in her ‘annoyed’ tone of voice. He hummed, unbuttoning his pants and stepping out of them. He was solely in boxers now, weaponless, but he could easily defend himself with hand to hand, plus she was there. 

Completely shameless, he finished off by stepping out of his boxers.

"It’s late. No one will be by to check on our friend or us for hours. We’ll be fine.” he assured her, stepping into the warm water and hissing. “Plus, this feels nice. You should join me.” he declared, sliding completely in the water and swimming backwards. It wasn’t deep, not really, but deep enough that he could submerge completely if he chose to. “Come on Faith. You know you want to.” he purred, looking to her.

[fivebyfivelove]

She bit the inside of her cheek the slight sting barely a distraction as she watched the last of Yasha's layers fall away. The shadow of a smile appeared on hr lips despite herself as she watched the swell of the man's ass distort slightly below water. Cute butt, she thought mind turning briefly naughty as she wondered what the man's reaction to having it pinched would be.

She shook her head softly, clearing her thoughts and in answer to his declaration as she folded her arms and let her gaze rise t the ceiling to watch the shadow of the water dance. His gaze was something nearly tangible in the steamy room. Not something physical but still warmer than the air around her. Expectant. 

She considered the facts, how despite his words them being discovered was still a possibility as he seemed to be judging on assumptions. She didn't want to have to kill more people than necessary tonight, something Yasha would force if they were caught. She briefly considered simply knocking his ass out and dragging him from the place only to dismiss it just as quickly. There was no way that would end in anything but disaster.

Not seeing another option she sighed, as falling shut as she began to pick and pull open her belt. If you can't beat em, join em

"Gonna be so pissed at you if someone walks in here."

[aperfectsoldier]

Yoga Together II Closed

[aperfectsoldier]

It was…peaceful. Relaxing. He’s shocked. Well, after thinking about it for a few moments, not really. Faith has an easy aura about her. A relaxing aura about her. She balanced Bucky and his nervous tendencies out well. 

Winter’s lips twitched slightly. “Believe it or not, I didn’t actually cook anything. I just ate some cold leftovers. Anything I cooked would have smelled and drawn Bucky instantly out of sleep, regardless of how early it was.” He’d cook her and Bucky up something now. It was the least he could do for interrupting what would be their private time, if he was out on a mission. 

"And, if he woke up, then my peaceful morning yoga would be interrupted by snickers and chomping on food." he pointed out dryly, pulling a pan out of the cabinet. "What do you want? Bacon? Sausage? Waffles? Pancakes? I’m already making pancakes for Bucky." he offered, figuring that since she was here, he might as well. 

[fivebyfivelove]

She blinks before nodding, knowing exactly what he means. She recalls a time when she'd only just met Yasha at red room, how he'd made it impossible to do yoga with hi commentary. Mot of it had been lewd and flirtatious nonsense. Since then she'd yet to even do any yoga in front of Bucky. She hadn't minded Winter though, mostly cause she hadn't been able to imagine the man making any sort of comment, especially not anything snide or silly. She hadn't just been right, but pleasantly surprised to see he shared her daily ritual.

"Will ya hate me if I say all the above and some coffee?" she grinned, wondering if either Yasha or Bucky had mentioned her truly monstrous appetite yet. Of course the man probably knew having shared head space with the two before.

"That offer is nice, really, but I have to at least ask that you let me help. I did kinda interrupt your morning after all. Didn't I?" She asked, guessing on assumption that the man kept a tight schedule. He'd just always seemed the type to her. She couldn't really see him fully taking the time to enjoy a Saturday morning like Bucky and Yasha usually did.

[askthewintersoldier-blog]

Saddest Goodbyes, Sweetest Hellos II Closed

[askthewintersoldier-blog]

Yasha usually would have instantly gone for the lips, but he knew that Fabian needed some more than that, so he just let the smothering begin. Wrapping his arms around Fabian’s neck, he pressed his face into Fabian’s neck, inhaling deeply. While his sense of smell was weaker, he could still smell the leather and manly musk and Faith on Fabian. 

"Hey любовник.” he murmured into his skin, fingers tightening in his hair and the back of his neck. He didn’t want to let go again. The only way he ever would let go would be if Faith was presented to him for love. Though he assumed she’d be distracted by Bucky and Winter for at least a while longer.

His patience ran out quick though. Fabian was right there finally. And he had missed him so, so much. Leaning back, he tilted Fabian’s face down and pressed their lips together, not pressing too hard, not wanting to overwhelm him. 

While Bucky really did love Butch, the dog was kind of in the way now. He would really love to go take Faith into his arms. Or hell, he’d like someone to take her into his arms, because she looked a little lost and someone needed to hug her. He stepped forward as soon as Butch released him, but the dog was quick to return to him. He heaved a sigh that wasn’t nearly as irritated as it could have been, crouching down to get closer and accept the kisses and weight of the dog. Patting Winter on the back of the calf (the only place he could reach,) he let the other man greet her first, focusing on giving the overexcited Butch some love. Jeez, if this is how Butch was reacting, he couldn’t wait to see Scout and all the others back at his apartment. 

Winter skimmed a hand over Bucky’s hair, a silent assurance that he’d get his chance with Faith. Perhaps if it hadn’t been four months he’d be more sympathetic and careful, knowing Bucky was still insecure about his place in this relationship. But, it had been four months, and his heart ached, being so close to them, but not yet touching. 

"Hey." he repeated back to Faith, lips twitching into a soft smile. "Good to be back." he murmured, dropping his hands to her hips and pulling her close. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he tilted his head to nuzzle into her hair, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. Just having her in his arms was soothing the ache he’d felt for four long months.

[fivebyfivelove]

Luke didn't mind the kiss at all. Loved it in fact as he'd been about to initiate on himself when Yasha had done it for him. He followed Yasha's lead, keeping the kiss gentle, simple pressure between lips as he enjoyed the long missed feeling of those clever fingers threading through his hair. As it turned out the Russian needn't have worried about rushing the younger Lehane.

Luke drew away after a moment, eyes still shut as he slipped one hand from the other's waist to trail it up hi back to find the small there and push, curving the shorter man into his frame even as he peppered his face with gentle kisses. Brow, Eyelids, Nose, Cheeks, Jaw. He mapped his face, relearned it by touch, by lips. They were chaste kisses, sweet, affectionate things up until Luke refound Yasha's mouth with his own. From there he nipped gently before flicking his tongue against the lushness, soothing the sting as much as he was teasing. 

He delved further after, licked his way inside to chase the sweetness the man's lips hinted at. He growled when he found it, hold tightening on his slight lover as he moved the hand from his waist up to cup the man's face, caressing as much as holding him hostage as the kiss turned to more, harder, searching, the edge of anger as the one question that had haunted Lucas for months reemerged in his mind.

Why didn't you say you were leaving, why'd ya never even try and reach out to even let us know you were alright?

He pulled back abruptly, breath coming in heavy pants now as he rested his forehead against Yasha's, softened his hold but not quite releasing. He wasn't quite ready for that yet. Wasn't ready for him to be from his arms after having been dreaming of him in them for months and waking up to them empty. The only way he'd be giving up Yasha any tie tonight would b for the exchange of either Winter, or Bucky, something he looked forward to even as he breathed in Yasha's scent before turning his head just enough to see his other self be brought into a hug and smile at the happy look he could see on their faces. His family was whole once more.

It was a happy thought. One shared by Faith as she smiled at the soft pressure of lips, even as she pushed closer, her own brushing his collar bone as he breathed in and found the same smell of dry earth on Winter's skin as Luke had found on Yasha. 

"I missed you." she murmured as she moved hands up the hard line of his front to grip his jacket, tug hi down further just to she could press her cheek to his, wanting closeness. She smiled at the familiar scratch of stubble along his jaw, pointedly rubbed her cheek against his jaw for more of the same effect even as she returned the embrace, wrapped arms round his middle to have him closer. 

She pressed her head to his chest, closed her eyes at the rythmic thumpity thump of his heart beat, her own slowing to match, syncing, remembering. God she'd missed him, this. She stayed that way a few moments, happily wrapped in his arms, almost fully content save for one thing.

She smiled at the sight of Butch and Bucky over Winter's shoulder, so happy for Bucky's patience with her pets, with her. She turned her head then, just enough to brush her lip against hi haw, murmur a soft 'Love you." before releasing her hold on him to pull away and move to Bucky. She didn't wait for him to stand, simply plopped down in front of him, hands out reached to catch Butch around the middle to forcibly move him aside before slipping forward on hands in knees only to reach out and catch the front of the ex soldier's shirt to pull him in for a kiss.

The kiss itself was soft, a simple sealing of lips as she continued forward till she was in his lap, close enough to loop arms around his neck, push fingers through the soft thickness of his hair. She didn't notice her own tears till she pulled back to tell him welcome home, noticed the bit of wet warmth on her face and couldnt do anything but smile apologetically.

"Shit, sorry, sorry. M' not crying cause of--- I'm just so happy you're home Buck." the words were quiet, almost muffled as she moved forward again, her face pressed into his shoulder as her grip tightened. Four months. It had been four months since she'd felt this. This calm, this whole, the familiar feeling of these arms around her. One warm and giving human flesh, the other constructed cold metal, both beautiful and more safe feeling than anything she'd ever known.

"Welcome home babe." she said, smiling now as she leaned back just enough to cup his face in her hands, trace her thumb lovingly over his jaw line a she simply took him in. The baby blue's, mess of hair, start of smile lines, the smell of crisp apples. You're home, I love you, love you so much. Missed you. 

A mantra in her mind. One apparently shared by Luke as it was only a second later that she was grinning as her other self moved to sit behind Bucky after giving Winter a reassuring grip to his shoulder on his way by, just before wrapping strong arms around the main's waist to pull both him and her atop into his lap with a chuckle even as he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

"Hiya darlin'." the words were a warm breath on his skin and from his closeness Faith had no doubt Bucky could probably feel the silly smile she could clearly see stretched across Luke's lips.

[crewoftheanaleigha]

Salvage

[crewoftheanaleigha]

Despite asserting that he’d stay and make sure the girl saw a friendly face when she awoke, after several hours, Cross had gotten bored. Also, he had to deal with picking up Dekker and Indira. And then quelling a shouting match before it became a fistfight. And then answering questions. And then flying them out of orbit and away from the crash. When he’d told the mystery woman it wasn’t a good idea to linger long at an SMC crash site, it hadn’t been him being pushy. He wasn’t a smeckhead so he couldn’t have said if it was sensors or fleet awareness or A.I.s or something even worse than all three, but crashes were always investigated promptly.

So it was only the priest and the doctor in the infirmary when their guest awoke. The former remained standing. The latter shifted between bedside and desk and instrument panels. Reaper could tell the exact moment the patient regained consciousness, and he caught Madeline’s eye as soon as he could. The doctor hurried back to the gurney, monitoring various biosignatures displayed on the screens. Reaper stepped a little closer, though still out of arm’s reach, waiting much more patiently than his compatriot for…ah, there.

Dark eyes slid open and the way her adrenaline ratcheted up was almost palpable. He didn’t move an inch in her mad scramble, though the doctor let out a screech and scampered to the side before shouting angrily something about making a mess.

Reaper still did not move. He could force the wild girl to pass out, or break every bone, pop a single vessel in her brain and make her drop dead. Part of him wanted to. That Thanatos instinct begging for a death he hadn’t been able to give it for…weeks now. His thumb brushed against the smeared designs on his opposite arm. They felt wrong. He could tell without looking. He’d have to cleanse soon.

The doctor had gone suddenly silent and wide-eyed, clutching a datapad and regarding the feral girl like she might explode quite literally. Reaper’s gaze slid to the blood pulsing rhythmically from the holes in her arm, dripping steady onto the shiny metal plating of the floor. A strong heartbeat. Stronger than most. He wondered how long it would take for it all to leave her. When he spoke, it was soft and he did not look up from the drip-drip-drip.

“You are aboard the vessel known as Analeigha, somewhere between Ganesh drift and Mars orbit. This is Dr. Madeline Stirling. You may call me Reaper.”

“You’re bleeding again,” the doctor said, by way of greeting, pointing first and then risking a step forward, still pointing rigidly. “You should stop.”

[fivebyfivelove]

The room is quiet, enough for her to actually hear the occurring splash when her blood makes impact with the floor. The majority of it drips straight down. Some of it oozes though, travels down the length of her arm leaving wet, hot, trails of crimson. Doesn't matter. not right now. Besides, its not like she hasn't had much worse before. She'll heal, she always does...

Not if this guy murders you, you wont, her mind whispers. The thought is enough to have her grip on the slim scalpel tightening, knuckles going pale with the force she's putting there as she continues to glare at him, body rigid. Its not until she catches movement out of the corner of her eye that she turns. Not much, but enough to see that the doctor has moved closer. She growls, the sound a low heavy thrum from somewhere in her chest. Not so much threat this time so much as a warning. She doesn't want her closer than she is. Hell she doesn't even like how near the doctor is now, not with how she reeks of agitation.

She doesn't stay focused on her for long, too many instincts inside raging at her for looking away from the spook across the room. Its a long while before she moves or says anything, senses working overtime to sort out the almost tangible calm he has about him, and the horror scene he wears on his skin. Its jarring to say the least, when what she can see and smell so clearly clashes so hard with what she feels. Its almost unnerving in its own way. Even so, there is one final bit that eventually tips the scales. 

They didn't kill me when it would'v been easy.

"The fuck sort of name is Reaper?" She huffs as she moves to sit herself down the edge of the gurney. She doesn't relinquish the slim blade, keeps it gripped firmly in hand, nor is there any visible relaxation in her frame. It's not much, but for now its all they're getting, its the most she can do.  

[iceafterdeath]

[dailysebastianstan]

@margosha777: These two… #2k14

[fyeahcanines-blog]

[bbuchanann]

From high school, to summer school and until college in New York, I had one motto: “If this went well, then I’ll take the next step and see where it leads me”.

[kahristen]

[fivebyfivelove]

Rip Your Clothes On~

[crewoftheanaleigha]

Salvage

[crewoftheanaleigha]

She didn’t quite hit the floor. Cross was close enough at that point—even after hesitating when she jerked away again—to mostly catch her. Enough that only her hand brushed the decking before he’d scooped her up completely, turning and already speaking. As calm as if he did this every day.

“Ian, call the ship, would you?”

The reply came from behind him, distorted by the mech’s speakers. “You better be fucking joking.”

The captain barely glanced back at the mech over his shoulder as he hiked through the wreck toward where they’d touched down. “Keep looking if you’d like. There’s a lot of ship to cover. Though I don’t know what a prison transport would have of value other than prisoners.”

Indira swore and Cross mimicked it mentally as a painful sort of burning took root in his chest. He coughed a little, just a troubled exhale, and made it clear of the wreck just fine. Dekker was already climbing down off Cross’s fighter and landed on the ground just in time to catch the doctor before she charged to see what present the captain had found.

“Is that it?” Dekker asked, judgment heavy in his tone.

“For now,” Cross replied. Then he coughed, harder this time. “Indira’s staying to look. I’m taking the girl back up. She needs medical, fast.”

Maddy strained to see the face of the creature that lolled limply over Cross’s arm, actually reaching her fingers out for the head wound with childish little huffs and whines. Dekker frowned at Cross for a solid five seconds, but finally sighed.

“So do you. Can you fly?”

“I can always fly.”

Without further ado, Dekker hefted the doctor bodily from the ground and inserted her into the backseat of the fighter, strapping her in like a child and uttering a singular command of “Wait.”

With the cyborg’s help, Cross managed to get situated with the nameless prisoner fit snugly in his lap, her bloodstained forehead resting in the crook of his neck. Another hacking cough felt like his lungs were melting into his ribcage and he groaned, head falling back against the seat as the cockpit sealed and Dekker hopped off the wing.

“Oh, this’d be so much sexier if it wasn’t painful and gross.”

But he made it back to the orbiting Analeigha without faltering, though the landing might’ve skinned a little paint from wingtips. Reaper was already there to take the girl out of Cross’s lap, though the blood priest hesitated for longer than was comfortable for the rapidly-deteriorating captain. Still, Reaper gave no complaints when he lifted her like a doll, even when her blood smeared and mixed with that on his arms.

Cross started out walking fine, but by the time he got to the infirmary, he needed Alix and the doctor both supporting him. He was treated first simply because it was a simple fix. A shot of nanites directly into his lungs, and a shot of stims into the carotid. Just as painful as he deserved for breathing in fuel and tiny microscopic shavings of pulverized prison transport.

Thankfully, the girl took too much of Maddy’s attention for the doctor to start scolding. Reaper even lingered in the too-clean space, watching in curiosity. Through the pain and breathlessness of his healing, Cross watched the blood priest watch the patient and methodically begin wiping down the places her blood had touched him.

Alix stayed awhile as well, mostly to ask questions Cross couldn’t immediately answer. But after a while—and a lot of yelling about putting the con in restraints for when she woke up that was only assuaged by Reaper’s quiet promise that he would watch her—the mechaneer ventured back to his den and the infirmary achieved relative peace.

[fivebyfivelove]

 She doesn’t open her eyes when she finally wakes, and when she does it’s with the memory of hot fire and shrieking metal dancing behind her eyelids. Her first breath coupled with a now coherent mind is more than enough for her to guess where she is.  The air is cool and mixed with the smell of disinfectants strong enough to make her nose twitch slightly. Too clean, sterile, some sort of hospital maybe? She vaguely recalls the word doctor being thrown out recently.

The next breath is deeper, searching and her chest moves with the motion as she inhales to her lungs full capacity before releasing slowly. She learns more this time, a fact that makes her shift slightly though her eyes remain shut. She’s not alone. She can smell cotton, and cleaner, and past that something else, the something that had her fighting to keep still. It’s a scent she’s all too familiar with, salt mixed with metals, rust… There’s blood in the air, some of it old, some of it too sharp smelling to be anything but fresh and it’s not hers, can’t be hers.

She can feel her pulse start to race as she turns her head to the side, tries to decipher where exactly the two are in the room. When the scent of blood becomes stronger she swallows hard. She’s about to turn the other way when something else registers. Fainter than the others is the smell of something musky, spiced, like aftershave of some sort. Whatever it was seems to have been long gone so she doesn’t focus on it. Turning to her left the smell of cotton and other indistinct smells grows stronger and its with a mental swear that she concludes that the two are on either side of her. Not a good start.

She makes note of what changes she can feel by touch alone. One of her pant legs is sliced open, probably in an effort to pull out the shrapnel. She can also tell that she’s been stripped out of the top of her prison suit, and a small rotation of her wrist lets her know the bones there were mended. She doesn’t touch her had, knows from the lack of sticky warm the gash has been sealed up.  Altogether, she actually feels better then she remembers feeling in a long while. Physically anyway. Mentally is a different story entirely.

Her eyes crack open just enough to see, barely a sliver as she turns her head towards the smell of blood. What she finds is enough to have her eyes widening to full as she pulls herself to a sitting position, one hand pushing her up while the second, adorned in a bandage reaches for the tools in the cart at her side as her eyes narrow on the man across the room.

Head to toe all she sees is ruddy smears of red and brown. From her vantage point she can’t see one patch of skin that’s not covered in blood, it’s even dried into his hair giving it a sort of crusted look. She’s off the gurney before either can blink. She looks to the opposite side, sees a woman in a lab coat, guesses doctor, sees facial lines, assumes older, and not currently the biggest threat. Her gaze shifts back to the man as her fingers tighten on the blade she took from the tray as she feels her heart begin to beat harder, faster as she locks eyes with him, lips already pulled back in the start of a snarl.

“Where am I, who are you people?!” The words come out gravely, like it’s been years since she last spoke, more growl than actual voice. She registers a sting at her arm, doesn’t even look as she pulls the tubes from her skin, not willing to take her eyes off of him. “WHERE AM I!?” She repeats, louder this time when neither answer her fast enough, body shifting back into the flight or fight mode it'd left off on before her lights had gone out.

[crewoftheanaleigha]

Salvage

[crewoftheanaleigha]

She seemed able to understand him, at least. When Indira had said ‘skittish’ she’d been underselling the point. Though it was hard to tell if the mistrust glowing in the girl’s eyes was from the prison jumpsuit, the head trauma, or a simple dislike of strangers. Or possibly all three. Cross didn’t advance again, but he kept his hands up, even as she darted back into shadow. He half-glanced over his shoulder.

“Indy, back off a bit, hm?”

“Your funeral,” came the heavy-synthesized audio. The mech took two strides backward and planted again. In the cockpit, Indira took her hands off the controls and leaned comfortably in her harness, ready to watch the show.

“See?” Cross smiled again. “Friendly.”

He knew firsthand what adrenaline could push you to do when your body should’ve given up. As glorious as it was that she was standing there in the burning wreckage, squinting suspiciously at him, he was fully prepared to lunge forward and catch a faint at any point. His next step was lateral, head canting in concern.

“We’ve a doctor with us, just over there. She swears you shouldn’t have survived this, actually. I’m sure she’d love to meet you. Regardless, it’s probably not the best idea to stay out here much long—whoa…” His voice softened and he moved in closer when she stumbled her next backstep.

[fivebyfivelove]

She didn’t stop glaring, even when Cross who apparently had some sort of authority here, ordered back the mech.  She did look away from the man to follow its retreat with narrowed eyes only to watch it park only two steps back. Not nearly enough for her to take any sort of reassurance from it, not when she could still easily see the customized artillery bits it’d been tricked out with. In any other case she might’ve found it funny how this guy was acting so nice even though he had canons pointed at her, ready to release at the press of a button or pull of a lever and blow her to pieces.

Her lips twitched at his words, frown deepening as she refocused on the blonde. Friendly my ass, she thought bitterly as she continued to switch her gaze from the suit and the man with the yet to waver smile. She did blink at the mention of a doctor, dark eyes widening a fraction as her mind went through the handful of crew types that tended to keep a doctor aboard, nearly all of them fell into SMC or obligation to them. Fuck…

She was still recovering when he moved forward again, vision half red from the steady drip drops of blood, her head dizzy from it. She only just caught the motion where her body moved to mirror it, instinct taking over to compensate for the now too short distance between herself and him, pulse quickening, ready to release the already depleted storage of adranaline .

“Don’t you fuckin-!” She didn’t have a chance to finish before her vision went dark, body going lax as it gave under the loss of blood.  The woman didn’t fall so much as she collapsed, legs buckling at the knees. She was unconscious before she hit the floor.

[crewoftheanaleigha]

Salvage

[crewoftheanaleigha]

Inside Blue’s cockpit, Indira Miles tracked the sluggishly-moving female with the HUD and plain old eyesight. The good captain’s comm signal barged in—as usual—and relegated itself to a frequency bouncer in the upper right corner.

"Maddy wants to know ‘How alive?’."

The mecha’s AI holographic interface sprang up in Indira’s peripheral. A little ten centimeter display of a good-looking dude, beefy enough to match the masculine synthesized voice that came out when the holographic mouth opened.

"Surprisingly stable. I’m reading a strong heartbeat. Though blood loss is approaching dangerous levels."

Indira made a clicking sound with the back of her tongue, banishing the medical data out of her field of view with a simple jerk of her chin. “Since when did you become a medibot?”

The hologram managed to look miffed, even changing his posture, tiny arms crossing. “I’m allowed to have hobbies.”

That earned a laugh at least. 

"Indy?"

The smile was gone with a snap. “Fuck. What, bitch?”

"Do we have viable collateral," Ian cut in before the captain could pout, his own comm channel popping in the opposite corner. As usual, the cyborg didn’t bother putting the lilt at the end of typical questions.

"Looks like a skittish one," Indira replied, urging Blue closer to the swaying lady with heavy but careful steps. Thud. Whiiiiiiir—thud. ”Blue says she’s surprisingly intact.”

On the outskirts of the wreckage, Maddy bounced again, did a little spin, and clutched Cross’s arm. “Oh, can I see, pleaaaaase.”

Cross laughed and winked. “Depends how pretty she is, darling. I’ll go and check.”

One look at the prison jumpsuit and the wild look in this chica’s eyes, and Indira halted Blue, planting where she was a solid dozen yards away. The mecha was practically indestructible but the last time they’d run across psychos, the bastards had made a damn good go of trying to rip their way into the cockpit. And picking bloody fingernail chips out of her baby’s seals was not how Indira wanted to spend another afternoon. Even if the bitchy mechaneer had helped.

"Might wanna send Ian instead," she suggested casually, mostly hoping—and knowing—that Cross would ignore her.

"Nonsense!" Cross was barely out of breath, even speaking through his mask and clambering a safe route through the wreckage, following the trench made by Blue’s forward wading. "You said she’s nervous. Nervous is my specialty.”

The way he purred the word, Indira could hear his smile and she snorted. Blue supplied what she was thinking, as per usual: "Fuckin letch." 

Cross reached the deck soon enough, circled around Blue’s legs fearlessly, and climbed up onto the intact piece of decking the girl stood on. He found stable footing with surprising grace for how lazily he seemed to stroll everywhere. And, ignoring several bleeping alarms that Indira could hear even through Blue’s soundproofing, the captain pulled off his mask. Indira rolled her eyes. He’d bleed from his throat and take the pain of the medi-nanite injection if it meant getting to smile at a pretty girl and hear his own voice outside of a filter.

"Hey."

It was a soft start, with a small, surprisingly kind smile that never failed to arrest attention. Indira still hadn’t been able to figure if he was genuine about it or not. Bastard. 

Cross dropped his mask to the ground—idiot—and held both gloved hands up away from his hips where his pistols hugged tightly in their sheaths. He took another step.

"We’re here to help, okay? Just stay calm. My name’s Cross. What’s yours?"

[fivebyfivelove]

Faith didn't answer him, too busy focusing on the labor mech she could clearly see behind him. Even at full strength she didn't have a chance at taking down something that big without weaponry.. That knowledge coupled with how she was still dripping red from her brow made for some defensive skepticism on her part. It didn't much help that she knew even with his hands up it didn't mean he couldn't just as easily draw on her before she could get to him. That being said that soft tone and reassuring posturing meant next to nothing to her.

She mirrored the step he took, profile going partially dark as she moved back into the shadows of what was left of the carrier, eyes going narrowed and still visible as they glared and glowed back out at the pair. She made to move back further, blood slick fingers slipping along the wall causing her to stumble before catching herself by leaning into the wall, breathe now coming out faster, harder and with a soft swear as she tried to fight of the sudden spell of dizziness. She pushed one hand through her damp hair, brushed it from her face to watch him out of the corner of her eye, more than ready to tear his throat out if he moved to fast.

[iyoskys]

Five by five.

[jennsens]

[larmoyante]

It was a question I had worn on my lips for days - like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling - despite knowing it could all unravel around me. "Do you love me?" I ask. In your hesitation I found my answer.

Lang Leav, Love & Misadventure (via imnotafanofbeingpoked)