#slayers sentinel

[tender-esper]

cue HALLKEL! WITHIN YOUR INBOX! "LE-RA-JE ENTRUN MOR, LADY ARLA!!" holy shit.

)) @slayers-sentinel ((

The hero jumped sharply as Hallkel yelled his birthday greeting to her, promptly falling out of her chair. 

She decided to stay where she laded, face-down on the floor, until the pain ebbed away.

“....Thank you, Hallkel, but how did you know it was my birthday in the first place?”

She said, face full of floor.

[tender-esper]

❝ can you just hold me for a while? ❞ (slayers-sentinel)

)) @slayers-sentinel (( 

Arla was surprised, staring at him with flushed cheeks and a quiet stutter before forgoing any words and nervously wrapping her arms around him. 

She swallowed, resting her chin on his shoulder as she tried not to panic at their close proximity. Difficult, with how loud her heart was pounding in her ears. A part of her was self-conscious that she wasn’t hugging him properly due to how weak he made her feel whenever he was close. 

It frustrated her to no end: wanting to be there for him but her own feelings getting in the way.

Twisting her head into the crook of his neck (she hoped he couldn’t feel how warm her face had gotten) Arla tried to tighten her grip, but failed.

“Is... this alright...?”

[manxahalf]

@slayers-sentinel​

Well, it’d been one hell of a night. The Slayer had found one of his sentinels, rerouted power couplings so that what the Kahn Maykr had done that needed the Crucible to patch it was nullified, and even found a new pizza joint to hit up whenever the mood struck him -- because after that first gigantic bombshell, he’d needed to decompress for the evening with a bit of gaming and order-in. Thankfully he had a kickass rig for it.

It was now that the Slayer found himself pacing some at the bridge, fists clenched. Ah, anxiety...it was the faintest sliver, but a sensation he hadn’t known in an incalculably long period of time. After all, it’d been that long since he’d ever had to care about someone else’s input.

His men were true soldiers; they’d run on a nigh-on Spartan internal clock back on their world. Only getting exactly as much rest as needed, then back up on their feet. Given the circumstances, however, he’d figured Halkel was gonna be sleeping in a fair bit to help make up for only god knows how much sleep debt.

Still, he ought to have been up for a while now...

Taking a breath, the Slayer wanders over to the broadcast detection monitor, swiping over on the touch screen for an option he’d never had reason to use before: the intercom toggle.

“If you’re doing something -- get to the bridge when it’s done.” He spoke, his voice sounding throughout the entirety of the Fortress of Doom. “We need to talk.”

His Night Sentinels were no fans of the Maykrs, that much was plain. They’d all forsworn the Mother God to stand at his side, to refuse the hordes that saw fit to devour all of Argent D’Nur. In the end of the day, while they’d failed, not a single one turned his back to the enemy. They all died on their feet, refusing to back down, albeit present company excluded.

Still, turning against the Kahn Maykr was acting against a malevolent individual; it wasn’t having the entirety of your faith quite literally destroyed, even if you’d chosen to move on.

Before they went any further, Hallkel would need to understand the full weight of what the Slayer had done -- and judge for himself if he dared to walk this path any further.