Asteria @AsteriaVI: This is your Havoc armor, @CyraCoronis, you’re not getting into me until my abdomen plating is repaired.
Cyra Coronis @CyraCoronis: @AsteriaVI I... *blinks* what?? I don’t see a dent on it...
Asteria @AsteriaVI: @CyraCoronis The damage is microscopic, it increases the chance of a cascading armor failure by 27.5%. I do not want your guts on me, Cyra.
Cyra Coronis @CyraCoronis: @AsteriaVI *siiiiighs* Fine... I really appreciate your concern, Asteria.
Asteria @AsteriaVI: @CyraCoronis Of course, your safety is my top priority. Also, in the event of you displeasing me, I will cease to protect you from death.
Moriko (@fickleKitsune)
Posted Thursday 3rd January 2013 from Twitlonger
@CyraCoronis @KyleCollinsME
Wisps of steam curled from the coffee cup, dissipating into the darkness. Disposable datapads littered the table besides it, monoliths of text continuously scrolling across the screen as an open personal terminal nearby synchronized data. Fingers moved swiftly across a holopad, rearranging information, writing notes down, and extracting data from the extranet with relative ease.
The fingers paused mid-sentence and pulled away as Moriko leaned back, eyes looking upward, resting briefly. She grabbed one of the datapads, sliding a finger idly. “Tallok Zelus,” the entry began, showing the angular face of a drell in his mid-thirties, a patchwork of viridian and pine green hues along smooth, granular skin. The leader of several gambling dens and one of the three members of the Wraith triad, his was a business of exchange in credits, /and/ in steel.
She closed the file, ignoring the bubble of anger that boiled within her as her finger hovered over the last file. “Nereza Gotti,” she imagined the name underneath a hooded asari, thick facial markings against charoite-coloured skin. An expert in the medical field, she had left the asari military shortly after her bondmate had died. Now, she ran several drug operations, extensively expanding her medical knowledge for a greedier cause.
Grimacing, she left the datapad on top of the coffee table and pressed an elbow against an armrest, forehead leaning against her palm. Eyes inevitably fluttering shut, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Cyra Coronis (@CyraCoronis)
Posted Thursday 3rd January 2013 from Twitlonger
(In reply to fickleKitsune)
@fickleKitsune @KyleCollinsME
There was a loud buzz on the front door of their Talon hideout.
Cyra dashed from her room, bounded off the wall and flew down the corridor to answer it.
“What is it now, Cyra?!” Aeton tensed as soon as Cyra darted past him and picked up his Phaeston. “You better not be bringing another stra—WHOA WHOA WHOAAA!”
The door slid open, and a convoy of trucks rolled into the cavernous warehouse. Cyra was at the head of everything, directing the trucks to stop at an empty space. Workers hopped out the vehicles and began unloading the cargo like a swarm of busy bees.
“WHA… WHAT IS THIS?!” Aeton sputtered incoherently, spinning around amidst the crates being moved out from the trucks like a headless chicken. The heavy-duty, metal containers were of all kinds of sizes, and sharp, bleak logos emblazoned the side panels. “Rosenkov, Serrice, Armax, and B-State?! Are you waging a war, Cyra?!”
“Exactly,” Cyra grinned happily like a little girl on her birthday and pried open a crate, ripping out the packaging to reveal a cluster of anti-ship missiles. “It’ll just be like old times, hmm?”
Moriko (@fickleKitsune)
Posted Wednesday 19th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to CyraCoronis)
@CyraCoronis
She leans against Cyra, head resting against the curve of her neck, thumb brushing along the back of Cyra’s hand.
Strange how her words could put Moriko at ease—could make her believe again.
“I’d like to think that Fate did one thing right, at least,” she murmurs finally, leaving the knife by the table to pull herself closer to Cyra. “I’d like to think that it was Fate that brought us together.” She breathes in her scent, feeling not for the first time very small and very fragile.
“For the longest time, I followed orders. I did what I was told because I had nothing else.” She flinches and buries her face against Cyra’s neck. “I don’t remember much, pet,” her voice breaks as she finally admits. “Who am I? What am I?”
She pulls away to look at Cyra, her expression soft, loving, but pained. “If I leave everything else behind—the organization… My identity… /Everything/…”
She trails off uncertainly, gaze wavering.
“What’ll be left of me?”
Cyra Coronis (@CyraCoronis)
Posted Wednesday 19th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to fickleKitsune)
@fickleKitsune
Cyra’s arms wrapped around Moriko and pulled her closer, plated cheek lovingly nuzzling her raven hair, possessively to let her know that she would always be there for her, yet tenderly as if the human was the most precious and fragile jewel.
“You’re more than just a heartless killer engineered to follow orders, love,” Cyra whispered softly, quietly admiring Moriko’s unique brand of regal elegance, even in her fragile state. “You’re beautiful, kind if you let yourself be, and deadly if someone steps on you. You may have nothing when you were resurrected, but now you have me… it’s a start.”
Her hand delicately cupped Moriko’s cheek, razor-sharp talons were as soft as silk when they lightly glided over her smooth skin. “You’re a /tabula rasa/. Not many have this chance to start clean.”
She gently turned her lover’s head with a finger, capturing her wavering eyes with her reassuring gaze. “I can’t give you back your past, love. But together we will forge a new future.”
Moriko (@fickleKitsune)
Posted Tuesday 18th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to CyraCoronis)
@CyraCoronis
Her expression tightens into a snarl. “If this employer of yours tries to come near you again…” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, willing away the sudden heat of anger washing over her. “Suffice to say, hell will seem like paradise.”
Caressing Cyra’s shoulder, she pauses for a moment, admiring this body she had come to love so well. “Your past seems far more colourful than mine, pet.” She pulls away and reaches for the suitcase Kohen had left behind. “I wish I could have met you sooner. Perhaps then I could have avoided these…complications.”
She laughs bitterly, fingers working to remove the complex lock on the suitcase. “You make me want to…be better than myself.” She shakes her head and opens the case, revealing a picture and a serrated knife. “I just wish I could actually /be/ better.”
Her gaze falls on the picture of a tight-lipped asari matriarch staring dully back at her. “But Fate seems adamant that I become a cold, heartless killer.”
A cruel face is reflected from the serrated knife’s flat side. “And who can resist Fate? Certainly not I…”
Cyra Coronis (@CyraCoronis)
Posted Wednesday 19th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to fickleKitsune)
@fickleKitsune
“Maybe you had a colorful life before your… demise,” Cyra said, gently petting Moriko’s back as the human laid in her arms, amazed at how anchoring and reassuring her outwardly cold presence could be.
“Maybe you weren’t a cold, heartless killer,” she whispered softly, examining the photo of Moriko’s assassination target, and the realization of who this asari matriarch was sent an ominous chill down her spine. “The organization resurrected you and made you into their killer. This is not Fate… this is a cold and calculating move on Wraith’s part.”
Her fingers curled around Moriko’s hand, pushing the knife down as she gazed at her lover, wariness showing on her face. “Wraith is the one dictating your moves. Following their direction only pulls you in deeper…”
She trailed off, fiery gleam flashed in her icy sapphire eyes. She was ready to do anything but letting Moriko fall further into the grasp of Wraith. “Not to mention… I don’t believe in Fate.”
Moriko (@fickleKitsune)
Posted Saturday 15th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to CyraCoronis)
@CyraCoronis
She stays in the embrace a little longer, heart fluttering, heat spreading nicely along her body. “And you?” She flinches and looks down, playing with Cyra’s scarf. “May I know something of your past?”
She tries not to show that she is afraid, tries not to fidget as she waits for Cyra’s response.
/It seems that the more I fall in love with you, the more I wish to know./ She thinks as she begins to press brief, chaste kisses along Cyra’s neck to distract herself. /And the more scared I become that you will change your mind somehow./
/I have been betrayed once before…/
A kind and genuine smile comes, unbidden, in her mind’s eye. She freezes and wills the image away, despising herself for clinging to a past that will never return to her.
Cyra is all that matters now.
Cyra Coronis (@CyraCoronis)
Posted Sunday 16th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to fickleKitsune)
@fickleKitsune
Moriko’s kisses were light and soothing, like a caressing whisper in the dark, stirring Cyra with a quiet affection. An affection that she seemed to have grown a need for. She smiled, head tilted slightly, yielding to Moriko’s lips.
“Something about me…” she repeated. “I joined the Hierarchy military at 15… but it was never going to last. My actions were too ‘reckless’ and ‘insubordinate’, and if you saw the so-called ‘pilots’ (she does a turian quotation gesture again) that I was paired up with in my squadron, you’d understand why I’d want anything but fly with those dimwits.
“Eventually I stepped on /everyone’s/ toes, and /everything/ blew up in my face. I was reassigned from Palaven to a border colony. And I said, ‘With all due respect, sir, fuck you’ and quit. I was 17.”
A satisfied and juvenile smirk grew on her face as she reminisced the look on her superior.
“After that I left for the Terminus Systems and worked as a mercenary pilot. The Terminus knows how to use an adrenaline junkie of a pilot. You name it: Talon, Eclipse, Blue Suns, and that offshoot group of mercs splintered from the Suns,“ she smiled faintly. “I had the most fun in that one.”
She paused, mind sorting out events that were too fast to recount. “When you saw me on Illium, I had just left my last employer,“ she shrugged, making a face at the bitter memory. “Let’s just say everything I had with them went up in flames.”
Moriko (@fickleKitsune)
Posted Saturday 15th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to CyraCoronis)
@CyraCoronis
Shakily she turns away, a feeling of helplessness washing over her. “I owe them though. I wouldn’t be alive now if not for them.”
She shudders as fragmented memories resurface. A flash of blue hair. Anger. Possessiveness. Pain. Despair.
…Turians.
A turian had almost killed her.
Cyra is a turian.
She forces herself to take deep breaths, squeezing Cyra’s hand before twisting her torso, shifting her body so that she is nestled in Cyra’s arms. “I don’t remember much of my past. But the few things that I /do/ remember…”
She flinches and presses her cheek against the curve of Cyra’s neck, breathing in her familiar scent.
Breath. Life.
Cyra is her life, her new beginning.
Her sanctuary.
Her temple.
“But I wouldn’t be /living/ if not for you.”
Cyra Coronis (@CyraCoronis)
Posted Saturday 15th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to fickleKitsune)
@fickleKitsune
Cyra closed her eyes briefly as she held Moriko close, body formed to embrace her tightly, spreading her warmth to her. The woman that mesmerized Cyra was the one she met on Illium. Deadly, fierce, alluring like a spell. But the woman that she fell for was the one inside the frosty and ruthless shell, who longed to be truly alive, and would do anything to protect what she had found life in.
A beautiful combination…
“The least I can do for you, love,” she whispered, nuzzling Moriko tenderly, and it was true. Cyra wanted to find out what happened to her life before this one, and who was responsible for snatching it away, but she didn’t want to press.
“We’ll get your life back from Wraith…” she said, eying the package that Kohen had given Moriko. “Very soon.”
Moriko (@fickleKitsune)
Posted Friday 14th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to CyraCoronis)
@CyraCoronis
Where does one begin?
She wavers slightly before pulling Cyra to bed, sitting beside her, forearm pressed against forearm as their fingers intertwine. (She still finds it a bit odd, holding on to a turian hand, but their hands fit well, and that’s all that matters.)
“Inari—no, Kohen and I are part of an umbrella organization called the Wraith. We’re no more than mere underlings, really,” she begins, the words tumbling one after the other, gaining momentum, “but we still hold a lot more power because we work directly under them.
“You could say that I’m a messenger for the organization.” She flinches and sighs. “A messenger of death, anyway. I deliver other packages too, as you’ve noticed back on Nimines, but it’s becoming increasingly rare. They seem intent on putting more blood on my hands.
“Not that I’m unwilling to shed blood,” she adds hastily, “but it puts me in a lot more danger, and I don’t want to involve you if I have to.
“Kohen’s nice enough, and he did save my life, but others are not so kind. If they learn of your involvement, they /will/ try to recruit you. And they /will/ try to take you away from me.” She growls, and quickly smothers the paroxysm of rage that threatens to burst, keeping her biotics at bay. “They disapprove of long-term relationships. Even my friendship with Kohen has been put under scrutiny more than once.”
She squeezes Cyra’s hand, looking briefly at her.
Suddenly, she finds herself at a loss for words, unsure of what else to say. She’s already given so much of herself to this turian. Could she give more?
What else was there left to give?
Cyra Coronis (@CyraCoronis)
Posted Saturday 15th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to fickleKitsune)
@fickleKitsune
Cyra kept a neutral expression as she listened, mandibles twitching only very slightly at the draconian nature of this organization, but her sapphire eyes traced Moriko’s chillingly beautiful face, and her lover’s inner turmoil was as plain as day.
Bittersweetness swelled in her heart as she realized that their little hook-up had thrown a wrench in both of their lives. Moriko, who was acting directly against her masters’ wishes by getting involved with Cyra, and Cyra…
“Cyra, looking to get yourself killed?” A contract broker once said to a turian pilot who had recently left the Hierarchy.
“AND get rich along the way, don’t forget that!” The pilot replied gleefully from across the desk in the broker’s office, grinning from ear to ear.
/When you would give up throwing your life around for creds because of one person…/ Cyra thought, her eyes suddenly locked on Moriko’s as if seeing into her heart, and she understood.
“I know,” she said softly, fingers curled tightly around hers, letting the unspoken words speak for themselves. “And I’d take you from all of these if I could.”
Moriko (@fickleKitsune)
Posted Friday 14th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to CyraCoronis)
@CyraCoronis
“For now,” she echoes, arms going around Cyra’s neck, pack forgotten at her feet.
She has many questions.
She has many questions and she doesn’t know where to start. Does she ask, or does she offer?
Curiosity was as alien to her as affection. With her previous conquests, she had made certain not to ask, not to learn more. You grew attached, when you grew curious.
/And I am./ She thinks, eyes drinking in every detail, drowning in the blue of Cyra’s eyes. Odd, that it was the only kind of blue she seemed to tolerate…
/I mean every word when I said I would not leave her side,/ she realizes apprehensively. She loves the turian more than she would ever like to admit out loud, but with that affection comes…consequences. Consequences she isn’t sure she is ready to face.
/You don’t need to be alone when you face them./
The thought gives her some comfort, enough to whisper, “Where would you like me to start, pet?”
Cyra Coronis (@CyraCoronis)
Posted Friday 14th December 2012 from Twitlonger
(In reply to fickleKitsune)
@fickleKitsune
Cyra felt like she was standing at the precipice of something unknown, but that only taunted her to follow Moriko. She wanted to be with her, and she wasn’t about to let any shadowy organization stop that.
She gazed at Moriko, searchingly, softly, but unwaveringly. “To start with… who do you work for?”
