Naming Seremony
Horda- no, Hec-Tor. He'd have to get used to saying that again. It was strange to reclaim his old name, he hadn't been called that in- what has it now- 40 yernz? No. 39. 9 long solar-cycles on the frontlines and 30 acursed ones on that backwater mudball planet. A world of stailmates and incompatence. He felt like he lost IQ points only by being there. Nothing good came out of that world... well...
That brought him back to the matter at hand. There was one good thing, one wonderful thing that he would endure a thousand yernz of Etheria for.
Entrapta.
Who was in the middle of swinging from the ceiling side to side. The ex-Princess bounced from pipe to pipe, decorating the briefing-chamber. The main corridor was already covered in ornaments and so were most of the rechargeing-chambers. She just seemed to have limitless energy at all times. It was astaunding.
Suddenly without warning Entrapta flung herself into Hordak's arms, cousing him to drop his warm drink. He cought her of course, luck enough he had his armour on, if not his arms might've just snapped off from their sockets. He gave her the same look he always have her back in their Sanctum on Etheria, a look Entrapta was all too familar with. The 'You could've hurt yourself, please be more careful' look. The frown was met with the scientist's smile and the worry melted away quickly.
"Not bad." They heard from the war-table. Despara looked over the decorations on the walls, "A little more lights than necessary, bbbbbut not bad. For a native." She stated hands on her hips.
"Despie." Hec-Tor narrowed his blood red eyes at her. Entrapta didn't seem to have cought the meaning between the lines, so she just thanked her for the complement. Hec-Tor knew that things were going to be tence when he announced that Entrapta was staying with the team onboard the Annihilation. Clones hated natives. Any natives. Manufactured clones not belonging anywhere was a hard sense of reality to tackle, especially when you visit so many worlds, with some many 'normal' species. Everybody considers themselves normal and the constant, and many 'proud' races wished to mention that to the clones' faces. A lot. Normal became a negative concept. And native became an insult.
Hec-Tor wouldn't have that, not to Entrapta.
"What? I didn't mean anything by it." Despara spread her arms out and up and shrugged off the stare. Her gaze returned to a holographic list displayed on the war-table, breaking eye contact and exiting the converstaion.
Entrapta planted a small kiss on the ex-General's forehead with a giggle, "I tried my best to make it look as proper as possible. I got a few pointers from Moe. I know how important this tradition thing is to you." She said as she booped the tip of Hec-Tor's nasal cavity.
Hec-Tor felt like he could melt.
"Thank you. I hope... I hope you don't feel obligated to do it. No one is forcing you to do this. I wish for this to be a comfortable space for you."
"Oh it is. I have company in the rafters with Imp and Vultak. I get to bake cupcakes with alien ingredients, I can explore the ever-expanding universe with my lab-partner and the TECH! Oh the tech! It's all such a gift. I just wanted to thank you for what you've given me."
Hec-Tor was speechless, no words would've ever done justice to this woman. He met her forehead with his, ears low, and began to chirp to her ear as he pulled her in tighter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and Hec-Tor felt her hair coil around his torso, even a small sneaky tenticle crept under his skirt.
Luckily for Despara, who tried her best to ignore the two, they heard the hanger doors open and the rest of the squad walked in. Almost as if an invisible wall formed between them, the two parted, rose red eminating from their cheeks. Hec-Tor was the first to clear his throat and speak up.
"Mission went well, I hope." He stated nerviously.
Modulok turned his two heads to him his right head spoke, "Yeah, yeah, got two guys tied up in the undercarriage. Oh hey! You got the ornaments ready."
"Ya hah! And I also made cake." Entrapta stepped forth and exclaimed.
"We know that's why we threw it out and I baked a new one. To void mass food poisoning, you understand." Mosquitor mentioned matter-of-factly with a finger swirling around.
"Correction. We threw out most of the old cake, there's a slice left. Cakes all cut up so no one knows who'll get it. Like a birthday Russian roulette." Modulok gestured jazz hands as he sat at the war-table.
Dragstor sat down beside him, "I don't know what any of those two things you just said were. But I'll risk it. I'm starving... seriously I just got out of a three month recharging coma." He said taking off his breathing apparatus, straight away taking a spoonfull of cake into his left port in his cheek.
"Just don't clog yourself like you did back in the bar. We know you can only consume liquids." Vultak stated as he perched on a metal beam above with young Imp in his lap.
Mantenna, Leech and Zed sat down in silence, eyes rolling at the nusence coming out of the others' mouths. Dylamug turned on the jukebox they stole a few raids ago, filling the room with calming atmosphereic classical music. Hec-Tor and Entrapta joined the rest at the table. The mad-scientist turned to her lab-partner with stars in her eyes, "Happy Naming Seremony, Hordikins."
"Thank you... for everything."
"Prrrrrtttt! Oh-ho lord! A'right, I got the bad slice." Modulok scrubbed his tongue in haste.
