From his seat in the canopy, Gerik noticed the moonrays shining through the topmost leaves above. As the breeze dragged through the trees, shadows danced over his body, and he was grateful for the camouflaging effect.
Pwitt was asleep. Or at least, he hoped he was. The upturned pod the progeny sheltered in leaned against a most unfortunate tree, its long roots kicked up by the original impact. With the pod's seating now on its ceiling, Gerik had detached the cushioning and fashioned a bed for them. It was cramped and less than comfortable, but he knew how exhausted the progeny was. It was his hope that that exhaustion would be enough to overcome the traumatic thoughts that no doubt occupied Pwitt's mind.
The progeny was still so young. Too young for the traumas he had endured, and so swiftly. He had lost his parents, his friends, and his city cube in a single horrific day.
If he couldn't sleep, Gerik couldn't blame him.
But he could protect him.
So Gerik sat in the branches of the Maguuma jungle, keeping an eye on all that moved around their little clearing. More than once he had fought off hungry skelk and other curious fauna, but was so far relieved that no Pact patrols had discovered their location.
It was quiet-- Painfully so.
Staring up at the moon from between the leaves, Gerik wished desperately that his own troubled thoughts could be silenced. Ever since that horrible, accursed day, his mind tortured him with visions of what had happened after his unwilling depature. She had been injured, and the Pact outnumbered her..
Did she find some method of escape? Or had the Pact overpowered her in her weakened state, and captured her to do Alchemy knows what to her? Or had they killed her outright the moment they had the opportunity?
Gerik swallowed against further speculation, his eyes and nose already burning. There was no use in speculative despair. It only served to distract him, and he couldn't afford distraction now. Not with Pwitt to look out for. And not with the possibility--the necessity--that Kezza was still out there, waiting for him to reunite her with her progeny. And himself.
Pwitt goes up to Teo and hugs him around the legs, now what
Engrossed in his dataslate so, Teokkin didn’t notice the much smaller asura at his knees until a few moments later. He squinted at the progeny encircling his legs, exhaling with annoyance. “Whose-” he paused, as he was struck with a sense of familiarity. “..Look up,” he ordered, and as the progeny stared inquiringly, Teokkin returned the look. Teokkin’s lips parted in realization.
Tilting his head upwards, his gaze was centered on the dataslate, yet his focus was not of it nor his surroundings. As the small asura once again nestled his head against him, Teokkin shifted uncomfortably. “Kezza’s,” he muttered, finally answering himself as he gulped back his emotions. “Lucky you,” he commented quietly to the progeny.
cw: city siege, abandonment, death, blood, violence, electrocution
Alt Prompt #5
"I'll meet you there, I swear it."
Those words carried every step Gerik took, darting from cover to cover across the upper level of Rata Sum. His power armor was already heavily damaged by Pact fire, but he could not have been more thankful for it. What kind of body guard would he be if his body didn't guard his charge?
Pwitt whimpered as Gerik slid behind a line of friendly golems, nanoseconds before a rain of artillery fire found their previous cover.
"Uncle Gerik, why?"
"Hm?"
"Why are they attacking us? I don't understand," Pwitt sobbed. "Where're my progenitors?"
Gerik placed him down and knelt, glad to find his own body ached more than Pwitt's seemed to. "They're waiting up ahead," he spoke with a gentle tone, one he wasn't used to hearing himself with.
Pwitt wiped at his cheek. "Where did my mother go?"
The older asura sighed to himself as he calculated the best way to put it, and placed a hand on Pwitt's shoulder. It felt so small and frail under his palm. "She had to gather your father, yes? That's why we'll be meeting them both at the extraction point. Now," he mustered a smile he hoped was reassuring, "It's merely a few meters ahead. Are you ready?"
"I.. I guess so. I have to be."
Gerik's smile faded into an easy smirk, "I knew I could count on you, Pwitt." He opened his arms to take the progeny into them again, and concealed him behind the dented gauntlets.
The golems ahead were in poor and sparking condition, and Gerik hoped they would stay standing long enough for him to reach the landing pad that had once been a portal hub. Pwitt shut his eyes and balled himself as tightly as he could against the uncomfortable armor. His exposed ears clearly caught the sound of several simutaneous explosions alongside them, and he definitely heard Gerik use a word he wasn't supposed to say.
It was Gerik's turn to roll into a defensive posture, clutching Pwitt close and shielding him from the golem debris. He bit his tongue against a yelp as something breached the armor on his back, thanking the Alchemy that whatever it was didn't exit. They were so close, close enough that he could make out the last pod waiting just ahead.
But no Kezza.
Several ropes dropped from above and that many Pact soldiers followed.
"Stand down or we'll shoot, Inquest!"
Gerik glowered over his shoulder, "Rather ahead of yourselves, hm?"
Blades, magic, and gun barrels took aim. Gerik held his position, carefully crouched over Pwitt so his center mass formed cover.
The apparent captain held up a hand to stay the soldiers. "What have you got, Inquest?"
The Disaggregator bared his teeth. "Nothing that concerns you."
But one of soldiers had already spotted the set of little ears. "It's a child!"
"Release the kid, Inquest."
"I do have a name and designation."
"Don't make this difficult. Just let go of that progen--"
The captain's words were silenced by the sparking blade sticking though her neck. The body convulsed with the stray electrical current, and the blade was gone as soon as it arrived.
What followed was a flurry of magic and gunfire, and dancing through it all were several images of Magistrix Kezza. They glimmered and disipated almost as quickly as they appeared, and Gerik felt his heart soar along with the blood flying through the air.
The deed was done in seconds. Kezza set her blade on its magnetic holster behind her back, and hurried through a limp to reach her family. Her breathing was heavy, heavier than it should have been if someone was at all familiar with her battle prowess. And he was.
"Kez, what's--"
"Pwitt!"
There was no keeping the young asura from crying out and pushing past Gerik to embrace his mother as she arrived. Gerik stood and watched the reunion with a sigh of relief, though it was disconcerting that Kezza's clothes were still smoking.
Then Pwitt stepped back. His ears pinned themselves to his head as his gaze was held to the blood wetting his arm.
Gerik's own ears perked, and that's when he realized the red of her uniform was too dark down one side. "Kez--"
Kezza bent to gently but insistantly hush her progeny as his eyes welled. All three sets of ears twitched at the sound of approaching foot soldiers. "I'm alright, databit. You need to get to the pod with Uncle Gerik. Can you do that for me?"
"Kez."
Kezza brought herself to meet the stern concern in his eyes. "Ger.. Please. Do this for me." She saw a flash of outrage cross his features and sought to quell it, "I'll be right behind you."
"Kezza. I don't--"
"Just go, Gerik." She demanded, inviting a defiant stare. The Magistrix relented, "I promise, just let me buy us some time!"
A stand off of wills ensued, each asura silently pleading with the other. The footsteps were just around the corner.
The Disaggregator gave in. "Pwitt. We need to listen to your mother."
"But--"
"No buts, databit. I love you." Kezza spared time to kiss her son on the forehead before pushing him back into Gerik's arms. Then she was gone, in a wisp of purple and pink.
Gerik swallowed every word, every feeling he had to dart from the ensuing battle with a sobbing Pwitt. Perhaps, he wondered, they felt the same dread.
Gerik rushed to the pod, throwing himself inside. He sat Pwitt in a seat and strapped the safety belts as quickly as possible so he could turn and ensure Kezza's approach.
Instead, he found his heart in his stomach. They had her on the back foot, and outnumbered seven to one. But she was close, so close..
"Kezza!"
Slicing the air with her blade, a gust of mesmeric energy pushed the Pact back only as far as their significant shielding permitted. Gerik knew her well enough to recognize when she needed help, and moved to step a foot over the threshold, to fight by her side and get them both into safely..
Before he could act, the mesmer had teleported herself backwards, just steps from the pod. Gunfire struck the hull. But she didn't turn around.
At least, not to join them. She waved a hand behind her, sending a firm shove of energy into Gerik. Wounded and caught off guard, Gerik fell backwards. Then the hatch began to close.
Kezza had initiated the launch from the exterior access panel.
"KEZZA!" His voice cracked over Pwitt's intensifying cries, and by the time he stood, the hatch had sealed. His gauntlets smashed against it, then a frantic hunt for a passkey began on the internal access. To his horror, he was locked out by name. He damned her intellect, resorting to pounding against the port hole of the hatch with everything he had. Of course, it too had been prepared with a ward.
He hoped she could at least hear him scream her name, hear his pleas, that she might yet change her mind..
And for a moment, just as the thrusters burst to life, she turned to meet his distress with empathetic apology, all with a love he couldn't possibly deserve now.
