Yuri post 5/10 to atone for my hetslop sins.
BONUS MODIFIER: MYSTERY CHOICE
This one is uh. Different.
--
The sound of heavy artillery is slightly louder today.
The sound is soothing, in a way. She doesn't need to look outside to know that Slate is surrounded by a swarm of Grimm so thick at parts they appear as a solid black and white mass. Every shell fired is a promise that dozens of their number are being sent directly to hell where they belong.
Del, Ignacia, and Joel sit in their room, a cold, concrete thing long stripped bare of any wood and metal.
"Artillery's faster. 12 percent." Her voice is flat and rough, more than usual from yelling so much last excursion.
"You think that's us?"
"No shit it's us." Ignacia snorts dismissively. "Ya see any other teams doing salvage work that far out? That Manta we tore into musta been one of the early relief attempts with the amount of Dust it was carrying."
"The food in there was lucky, too."
"It's nice to tell a kid the protein was from an Atlas supply drop and not be lying through my teeth."
There's a lull in the conversation and the air in the room grows heavy.
"...last call for Dragon's Breath if you want it, I guess." Joel's words are stilted, awkward. Nervous.
"Where are you even growing that shit, man?"
"The roof of the G-and-G office. The corporate stuff, not the actual factory."
"I'm not sure how much taking some mild Dragon's Breath is gonna do since I'll be taking a whole lot of the hard shit in a bit."
"Of course ya will, Del." Ignacia sighs.
"Do you want to be fighting a terraphage sober?"
"A terraphage." Joel half-giggles hysterically. "They're throwing us at a fucking terraphage. I didn't even know what a terraphage was until you explained it to me!"
"All the more combat capable teams are assigned to The Wall, you know that-"
"We were supposed t'be a fuckin' salvage team, Del! We're only nineteen for fucks sake! It's bullshit, and I don't know how ya can just accept it!"
Del gets very quiet, and her eyes go dull. Metal feathers rattle against each other in the silence.
"Because someone has to do something." She says simply. "If the adults aren't going to do anything, then I have to do something. I might die doing this, but I might die every day in this fucking hellhole. My mother would do this."
Ignacia just sighs. "So, what d'ya wanna do until our big show?"
"Well I think we could-"
"Scram, Joel."
"...okay, leaving."
Del stands up and cracks her neck, feathers fluttering briefly. She extends a hand to Ignacia.
"A dance, for the end of the world?"
"...the world ain't ending, dumbass."
"But ours might."
The hand is taken, and feathers flare.
Del fiddles with her scroll briefly, and a recording of her acoustic guitar fills the room with its tinny speakers. She gently takes Ignacia other hand, and her wings move in a half flap.
They start with a slow, somewhat awkward shuffling of feet as the guitar plays.
Del starts singing.
"Maim and cannibalize the past, to keep the crowd from looking back."
Their simple steps become a bit smoother, more sure and in sync.
"Instruments to be exhumed, shrieking guns and out of tune."
Ignacia pulls Del's gaiter down to watch her scarred lips sing the words.
"Other people's lives are failures, baby, but all of our mistakes are art."
They seperate briefly in their dance, drifting apart before they pull back together.
"Keep the record going, keep the music going, every song's a brand new start."
Ignacia sets Del into a half twirl before following her, a feathered wing curling around her momentarily.
"I'd swear that you were heaven sent, to destroy the monument."
Ignacia moves her ever-present sunglasses to her forehead, a slight smirk on her face.
"Arm me against complacency."
Silver eyes stare into steel blue. They hold for a moment.
"Weaponize my irony."
The footwork becomes faster, more complicated.
"Other people's lives are failures, baby, but all of our mistakes are art."
Ignacia's sunglasses and hat are discarded in a movement that flows into a twirl. A wing curls around her again, this one metal.
"Keep the record going, keep the music going, every song's a brand new start."
There's a lull in the lyrics, and the acoustic guitar slows. Their shuffling slows as well, and Del takes in how beautiful Ignacia's blood red hair looks, swaying with their movements.
"Some real cheery lyrics, huh?"
"I didn't write them."
"Then who did?"
"I don't remember."
Ignacia rolls her eyes at the non-answer, and then smirks slightly. She shifts one of her hands to betwee Del's wings and dips her low, that smirk just widening.
Del's cheeks flush, and she swallows roughly.
There's a sound of shattering glass, and she resumes singing.
"Other people's lives are failures, baby, but all of our mistakes are art."
She levers herself up from the dip, bringing Ignacia close.
"Keep the record goin', keep the music goin', every song's a brand new start." Ignacia finishes the verse for her. A duet.
"Other people's lives are failures, baby, but all of our mistakes are art." They sing together now. Their voices harmonize as well as their bodies on the field.
They drift apart again, before Ignacia reels Del in with a full twirl, her wings tucking in and flaring out to avoid hitting her.
"Keep the record going, keep the music going, every song's a brand new start."
The recorded guitar stops, and they stand there, nose to nose, simply breathing together.
"...Thank you. That was... nice."
"I should teach ya to dance proper one a these days."
Scarred lips twitch into a smirk.
"One day."
They stand there in silence for a few moments more, before the quietly step apart. Ignacia sighs.
"...we need ta go now, don't we."
"We do." Del says simply.
"I'm kicking ya fuckin' ass if ya die in there, asshole."
A laugh is drawn from Del's stomach.
"I think you'd have to fight my sisters for a place in line. They have dibs."
