"I was uptight, wanna let loose."

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[ycvng-gcns-a]

puer-glaciem‌:

“Neigh.” Annya made a soft raspberry as the chair spun around and began to expertly move back to the door. 

Their trip back was just as easy as their trip to their retreat. As they reentered the floor, a nurse spotted them but made no remark. Clearly with their slumped posture, and the cup in their hand, their shift had to be ending soon. Watching a bunch of half-alive super-soldiers sleep was more of a chore than one would think.

“Wanna hit the cafe first” Annya whispered. “We can get something for Douglas.”

“What, like a peace offering?”

Just a bit of snark, to further lighten the mood. And maybe Jerome was feeling somewhat better than he had in awhile, and he was returning to his clownish antics. Certainly better than being sullen or outright depressed, that was for sure. Plus, sometimes it helped cheer up the other washouts. So, bonus nice feeling.

He uttered a low, humming chuckle of amusement, a smirk still twisting at her mouth. In all seriousness, he said, “Sure. I could use a bite to eat.”

And sneaking food was always fun. There was nothing like trying to avoid as many nurses and orderlies as possible in a quick dash to the cafe. And then, silently, sneaking as much food as could be found in one go, before fleeing to their quarters like a mouse to its hole.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

puer-glaciem‌:

“I have seen you be persuasive.” The scrappier of the IIs had always sort of butted heads. It was funny watching her own team leader get socked in the face for trying to steal another’s food right off their tray, though. Even if that laughter caused her more pain later that night.

For now, the pain in Annya’s chest had subsided. The pain, the abject sadness, and anger seemed to make a retreat. Her tears ceased, leaving pale freckled cheeks red. She hesitated to let go of Jerome. Something inside of her feared letting go. That if she let go, he would be gone forever.

It’s happened before.

Finally she let go of him. Motioning for him to sit in her lap once more, her eyes looked to his face. 

Jerome gave Annya a lopsided smirk. He could see that she was still somewhat upset, but recovering, which was could. He could also feel that she didn’t want to let go of him. Maybe she was afraid that he would disappear like the others did. She must’ve had friends who didn’t wash out of the Program. Once again, he felt another stab of sympathy for her. She really was alone. Their able-bodied kin weren’t coming back - they had their duty.

He could only hope that the two of them got better; he could take her to see her friends; or at least, find out where they’d gotten to. He couldn’t do that here. Too many nurses and such watching over them. And his primary goal was to get better.

He blinked himself out of his thought train, and turned, ever-so-carefully sitting down in Annya’s lap. He still felt kinda awkward about it, but at least he knew that he wasn’t hurting her.

“Lead on, swift and noble steed,” he joked. He hoped that it wouldn’t offend her; his light, teasing tone suggested that he didn’t really mean what he’d said.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

puer-glaciem‌:

The idea of sleeping felt out of the question. It was hard to sleep, and even then, no longer was a whole night of rest possible. After a few hours she would awake in either pain or ready to go about the day. 

Maybe being away from Musa and Serin would finally do her some good. Away from the more bitter of their kin. Fhajad always said it wasn’t good for anyone, all the negativity.

Was there enough space for three in a room? Would Douglas even be okay with it? They were passing friends at best. 

Annya’s fingers continued their pattern as her breathing calmed.

“If…Douglas is okay with it. Don’t know how much longer b-before…I choke Musa with his own catheter.” Whoever had thought putting the two together surely hadn’t seen their mistake. Musa and Annya had arguments constantly. If Serin joined in there was surely going to be some kind of altercation. Maybe it was for the nurses’ and orderlies’ entertainment? Sick two washouts on one another, get some enjoyment from the pitiful scrap.

Rain was beginning to stop along with the breeze. In the distance, the faintest shifting of the night sky was beginning.

“I don’t think Douglas would mind. And if he does, well... I can be persuasive when I don’t get my own way.”

Even if it was actually being selfless for once. Even if “his own way” was to allow another one of his friends to bunk in the same room as him. It felt so different; so strange. And yet somehow, he was finding himself to be willingly accepting of the change. He wanted to be better, no matter what the survivalist within him said. He wanted to be a good friend, and a good leader.

And he would do his damnedest to make sure he achieved those goals.

“Well, see, there you go - there’s a point that you’ll be better off in our quarters.” Maybe Douglas would be somewhat sympathetic to Annya’s case. There was no telling with 042 - sometimes he was ornery and fiery, and the next minute, he was a concerned pal.

He certainly hoped that his friend would agree to all of this. Because if he didn’t, well... he didn’t want to wind up in a brawl. Normally he wouldn’t say no to one, or back down if a fight were offered, but not in the state he currently was. Not with the way his body constantly ached. It wasn’t any fun.

Jerome looked up towards the sky, finding it to be so strangely peaceful out here. Certainly a lot calmer than the turmoil that came from being cooped up with the half dozen or so ( he always lost count ) other washouts that lived there, all in one place.

“...We should probably get back, before anyone sees us. Don’t want to get in trouble.”

[ycvng-gcns-a]

puer-glaciem‌:

Jerome’s embrace silence the voices screaming in her mind. She could hear his heartbeat and breathing, and focused her mind on it. Ignoring any sort of pain, or the discomfort of a hand on her back, the washout bit back sobs.

What her fellow would have felt touching her back would be layers upon layers of bandages. Surgeons, doctors, and therapists were all doing their best trying to get the young washout on her feet without the need of machines. The last surgery only a month prior had proven to do little than simply add more scars to her pale, freckled flesh. And additional pain.

Annya wrapped her arms around Jerome’s torso. Fingers weaved into his shirt and gently massaged the skin below with every breath she took.

“Thank…you.” To Annya, her words didn’t sound like her own. They sounded more muffled, more distant. Slowly, it felt like she was returning to this mound of flesh she called her body, that gravity was returning. It hurt.

Jerome certainly felt the bandages beneath Annya’s shirt, and for a moment, he felt sympathy seeping into his chest. How much pain was his fellow washout in? Stuck in a wheelchair, with scars and bruises marring her flesh, covered in bandages... And a good portion of those at the facility had just gained the ability to walk, even if it pained them, and they couldn’t do it for a long time.

He felt sorry for those still stuck in their wheelchairs. Those like Musa, and Fhajad, and Annya before him. Unfortunately, such matters were in the hands of those in the UNSC and in ONI, and there wasn’t anything he could to do help.

Maybe he could run away. He and Douglas had tried it once, but they’d been caught and taken back in. But Annya could not even stand, and there was no way he would be getting very far on his own legs. There was nothing for him to do except grit his teeth, set his jaw, and push through it. There was nothing he could do except remain here with the other washouts - especially Annya.

...Speaking of.

The moment he felt her fingers winding against the material of his shirt, rubbing his back, his broad shoulders sagged, and the rest of his body almost followed suit. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed physical contact until 015 had began to gently massage him, and it was... nice.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, and gently patted the top of her head. “...You’re welcome to just... hang around and stick close to me any time you need.” And then an offer burst forth just a moment later, “Hell, you could even sleep with me and Douglas if you wanted.” It might be nice to bunk with both of his friends, instead of just one. And Annya might feel a hell of a lot less lonely.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

dark-stray-dog-of-war‌:

This was it. This was the moment of truth for Jeanette.

She’d been intensely guarded in regards to her body ever since she’d escaped the facility on Erebus VII. Years of having no privacy or bodily autonomy whatsoever had left her scarred both physically and psychologically, and unwilling to bare herself - in the most literal sense - to anyone she didn’t know and explicitly trust.

And she trusted Hunter with her life - of course she could… would trust him with her body.

“I think so, yes,” she breathed softly, smiling as she let her own fingertips trace along the waistband of his shorts, grazing the skin there ever so lightly.

“Shall I, or did you want the honor?”

Hunter searched her face carefully, seeking out any signs that she was worried, or anxious, or in any way wanting to back out. But there were none. Yes, she wanted this as badly as he did - perhaps even more. However, as he looked her over, he noticed a glint come into her eyes, and there was perhaps something hidden underlying her question.

That was... curious.

Perhaps he would test the waters, and allow her the honour of doing such a thing. After all, it was a rather special moment between the two of them. And he thought that letting her do it might make her feel... well... He wasn’t sure exactly; all he could say for certain was that it would be a pleasant feeling for her.

And that was all he wanted. He wanted her to be happy. And if he made her happy, well that was all the better.

“I shall give the honours to you, my love. I think that you have earned it, after all.” This was stated with a wry smirk, and a low huff of amusement.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

hell-and-starlight‌:

At least the coast was… relatively clear when they left the building.

But Grace found no relief in that. Who knew how many aliens were still on the other side of the sprawling building? Or in it? And…

…She stopped short at the bottom of the steps, trying hard to catch her breath but feeling a lump forming in her throat, almost choking her. She saw the reason the school still mostly stood - she couldn’t have missed it if she’d tried.

Several miles distant, the heart of the city that their town was incorporated into  - part of a loose collection of scattered, spacious suburbs that surrounded the metro area like planets orbiting a sun - was burning. The menacing silhouettes of alien ships hung in the sky over it, raining tiny black specks that had to have been the same kind of fighters that had passed over the school earlier. They swarmed the tall buildings, spitting flecks of fire at the structures and streets below.

The sight froze her in place, eyes wide with terror; even the soldier’s voice didn’t snap her out of her trance.

Their parents were somewhere in that city… and it suddenly hit her that she might never see them again.

Killian’s hand closed around hers, finally snapping Grace back to reality as he tugged her towards the waiting Warthog. “C’mon, we can’t stop now…!”

Jerome glanced over his shoulder as he halted at the ’Hog, and he saw that the girl had paused, her eyes wide and fixated on the skies. Of course, he knew what she was looking at, and he felt a stab of sympathy rush through him out of the blue. Their whole damn planet was burning and becoming choked with debris and corpses, and there was nothing they could do. There was nothing the UNSC could do, either; they were on the back foot, here.

The only thing left was for them to evacuate any civilians still remaining. They had to make sure they got off the planet alive. None would be dying on his watch, damn it.

Something else garnered his attention just as he was about to jump into the Warthog, and he was silently cheered by the sight of one of his Spartans jogging up to him. Even from this distance, he recognized Alice-130, an SMG in each hand and power and grace in her strides. That was good; he had someone to man the chaingun to make sure that any Covies that attempted to throw themselves at the vehicle would not live to see another day.

“Al, jump on; I could use you on the Vulcan. I’ve gotta get these civs to a Pelican, stat.” He nodded towards the figures sprinting closer, and he smiled grimly when the other Spartan leaped up onto the chaingun and swung it around with ease.

“Glad to assist, Jay.”

That was much more like it.

Jerome looked towards the teens, standing ready to assist them into the vehicle if they needed it - it was high off the ground - but he thought that the adrenaline would get them in just the same.

“You guys alright?” he asked gently. “I know it’s kind of a stupid question to ask at a time like this, but...” He spread his arms wide in a shrug; the kind of motion that they would be able to see in his armour.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

brother‌:

He couldn’t hold back. Whatever unknown emotions he had and couldn’t quite pinpoint - they were overwhelming him.

So when she wrapped her arms around his body, he found that his own arms almost immediately wrapped around hers, firm yet gentle, pulling her close. There was a choked sob escaping him, tears pooling in those icy blue eyes of his and starting to run down his pale cheeks.

“I missed you so much.” He croaked out. All the emotions that he had been kept bottled up over the years were crashing forth like a tidal wave - his composure cracked, unable to hold any of it back. All he could do was bury his face in her shoulder and sob.

❝Oh, John....❞   

Cortana could not take it anymore. Not while feeling as well as hearing John break down. Not while the two of them held onto one another, reunited once more. Not even after so many years of being there for one another, and hardly getting a minute to themselves.

It was so strange, being human, and finally being able to feel. She’d wanted it for so long; wondered about it; questioned it; and now that it was true, there was so much. In fact, it was almost too much.

And so, she, too, began to cry. Quietly, at first, until the sobs shook her tiny frame, as she struggled to keep them back. She didn’t want to embarrass herself. Given that they weren’t exactly in a quieter area like a lounge, or John’s quarters, or someplace like that... there were other people still here.

❝I’m so glad you’re still here.❞   

She had been worried that she would never be able to find him, and not just because she feared that he had been stationed elsewhere. There had been darker thoughts there, too.

And she held unto him all the tighter, despite the thick armour plating between them.

❝We should... probably move to somewhere quieter,❞ she suggested in a murmur, about fifteen minutes later, ❝Although to be honest, I can’t bring myself to move.❞   

[ycvng-gcns-a]

I don’t mean to offend you, ma’am‌:

Coral nearly dead stopped when he said his friends ended up dying. She felt her heartbreak and she had the overwhelming urge to give him a hug. But from helping Yang, she knew a hug might not help. It certainly couldn’t bring the dead back. And neither would apologies.

Gods knew she was sick of people saying ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ when they heard her mother was dead. So she didn’t apologize for that instead she replied quietly, “I get it.I… I haven’t lost friends but my mom died.“

She dropped her hold on his hand, she wouldn’t continue unless he asked about it.

“I’ll shut up now.” She was probably bugging him with her constant chatter anyway.

Something didn’t quite sit right with John.

Had he said the wrong thing? It certainly felt like he had. Unease settled into his gut, and yeah, okay, maybe there was a pang in his chest, too. Was this what being human felt like? He wondered if this was how his sister felt. He wondered if this is what the Spartan-IVs felt.

It was so unusual.

“I don’t remember my own mom.” he admitted. Was that really the first thing out of his mouth? “That... sucks that you lost yours.” He was really shitty at what most people deemed ‘small talk’. No wonder Lasky had remarked that he did not talk much.

A strange feeling occurred to him, and he had the sudden urge to take his helmet off. And he did not resist the urge; one hand went up, and he lifted the object off his head, tucking it under his arm. Rugged, ghostly features were what would have greeted the young girl, accompanied by a pair of bright blue eyes, with perhaps a couple of flecks of green, if she had looked hard enough.

His hair was brown, close-shaven, and going grey; there was the faintest of stubble around his mouth and along his chin and jawline. He probably needed to shave, and he was more than certain that his hair was beyond regulation length. But for the time being, he could not bring himself to care.

“It’s.... okay if you want to keep talking. I’m just not used to it. My siblings and I; we don’t usually converse a lot.”

[ycvng-gcns-a]

mythosborne‌:

Yang gave him a smile as she shook his hand briefly. She knew there were subtle changes in the way she held herself right now. After all, she’d learned that people ( civilians mostly ) were more comfortable with her when she was casual.

But if Coral had told him half the things Yang thought she did, then he likely knew of her service, so there was no point in trying to be overly casual with him. “I figured she would when I came back told everyone she met about my service.” Her smile turned wistful for a moment before she added, “Coral just gets really enthusiastic when people try to help others.”

After the handshake, Yang motioned for him to follow before she started walking. Coral was gonna be so excited. As odd as it was to take a leisurely walk with Chief, she was glad she had this opportunity. Yang usually liked to give her sisters’ friends the one over to make sure her family would be safe, but Chief was good people.

“In case no one says it, thanks for being Coral’s friend. She’s changed a lot since she met you and it’s for the better.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

It was almost amusing, if it weren’t for the fact that Coral often wound up getting herself into trouble, and John had to be the one to pull her out of it. It wasn’t that she didn’t seem to learn, so much as she was just so enthusiastic about helping others in need ( what an odd concept ) that she simply did not heed the danger.

The Spartan strode after Yang, keeping up with her easily. He grasped onto the statement “my service”, and his keen gaze noticed the ram-rod straightness of her back, and the way she walked. Yes, there was no doubt there that she had served with the UNSC - she was not lying. That was... good. It made it a lot easier for him to trust her right off the bat.

“It’s...” Here, the old warrior paused for a moment, as he ruminated on how to word his reply. It was something a little bit more civilian than he was used to, and it was honestly a struggle. But he had learned some, in his time after the Human-Covenant War and his de-frosting, and he knew the right thing to say. Even if it sometimes took him awhile to get it out of his mouth, simply due to the fact that he was not used to it.

“It’s alright. She’s a good kid.” There was some warmth to his tone of voice; he admired little Coral. She had a lot of spirit in her; in some ways, he reminded her of himself, when he was younger.

— When he was younger. When he was a cadet, or before that, when he himself was merely a civilian? His memories of being a Spartan-in-training were faded enough as it was; his memories of his life before that were almost gone entirely.

What was normal, in this harsh, unyielding galaxy?

What was a civilian child’s life like?

Had he always been as fierce and indomitable as he was now?

He did not know. He could not—

John blinked, and glanced down at Yang beside him, to give him something else to focus on instead. He gritted his teeth, and his hands momentarily clenched into fists, before he forced himself to relax. He did not need anyone knowing he was on edge.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

puer-glaciem‌:

The voices within her mind continued to yell, to berate the young washout. The physical contact almost felt like it was too much. That any little touch would cause her to crumble away and turn to dust.

There was so much wrong. Ever since that day- that awful, dreaded day, nothing had been right. If there was one problem, more were bound to crop up. What little support she once had was nowhere to be seen. For all Annya knew, Kurt and Jorge could be dead. Her closest friends, gone with the others.

Would anything ever be alright again? 

At the moment, all she wanted was to be held. Hide her face away and cry without repercussions. Let at least a little stress go. But how to say that to someone- even if Jerome was her kin…how could she tell him that?

Her hands moved from her face. Annya reached out to Jerome but kept her eyes to the ground. Attempts at words failed in a mixture of multiple tongues.

At first, Jerome couldn’t work out what was going on, especially since Annya had not been able to give him a vocal response. Had whatever was going on robbed her of her voice, too? It certainly seemed that way to him. That was concerning; this was worse than he had originally thought.

However, she then reached out to him without words, and that message was clear enough to him:

Please, hold me tight and don’t let me go. Help me to not feel so alone, and so afraid. Don’t leave me like everyone else has.

Right. Well. There was only one thing to do in this situation, and even if 092 wasn’t very good at physical contact, there was no harm in trying, was there? Besides, he was rather certain that Annya would appreciate it nonetheless.

Tentatively, gently, he reached out his arms, and brought the other washout closer to him, pulling her upper half against his chest in a bear hug, and leaving her lower half seated in her chair. He gingerly patted her back, and took a step closer to her wheelchair so that it was easier for him to continue to hold her.

He was not sure what to say, so for the time being, he kept quiet. He was sure that the gesture would be more meaningful than whatever would come out of his mouth, anyway. Actions speak louder than words, and all that.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

puer-glaciem‌:

“I-I-I’m fine.” A lie. A lie practiced over the years, honed as well as her hand-to-hand capabilities. Even with her breath catching in her throat, Annya did her best to appear calm.

There was a pain in her eyes. Well, not in her eyes. There couldn’t be any sort of pain in the artificial implants that had replaced those organic, broken organs. No. The pain was somewhere in that region. 

Mendez would hit you if he saw you right now.

Wait until Serin hears you were crying again. Musa won’t let you forget.

This is why Kurt won’t visit. You’re weak.

The first tear fell, then another. Soon enough, the washout doubled over. Her hands covered her face as a shiver ran through the upper half of her body.

Even that statement did not sit right with Jerome, particularly not in the way that Annya stuttered in her speech. He could see well enough that it was a lie; that she was doing her damnedest to cover something up. She was ashamed of something, and he could read through that ruse easily enough.

A painful sensation jabbed at his chest, and all but stole his breath, when 092 saw that 015 was crying. What was going on? Was it triggered by something that he’d said? Or was it another matter entirely? He couldn’t tell, and frankly, at this point, he didn’t really think it mattered. He could find out the why later - if she was willing to tell him. In the meantime...

Jerome reached out, one hand gently curling around Annya’s shoulder. He was not sure what else to do. He was not the best at comforting other people, particularly not if they were upset or angry. But he would try his best.

“What’s wrong, Annya? Why are you crying?” He sounded concerned; he was not mocking, or teasing. He genuinely wanted to know why she was upset - he wanted to do his best to help her.

It was what friends did. Right?

[ghostwithabodycount]

ycvng-gcns‌:

“I don’t mind the cold that much.” Jerome lifted one shoulder in a shrug. He was fairly used to weather like this - it was a lot like the weather back on his home planet of Minister.

“If you’re feeling cold, you can feel free to hug me, if you want.” If he’d noticed her leaning into him before, he never said anything about it. He didn’t mind; it was a small price to pay in the name of friendship. “Free of charge,” he joked quietly.

It was rather nice out here. He was rather glad that it was just the two of them to enjoy it. If anyone else had been out here, it would not have been quite so pleasant. Particularly if it had been one of the other washouts.

His gaze blanked as he stared at the rain-blurred horizon, and his shoulders sagged as he relaxed. Yes, it was definitely nice out here. And he was very glad to have Annya to enjoy it with. His hunch about her being rather amicable had been correct.

Screw the mean things that the others had said about her. They just weren’t true.

How long had it been since Annya slept in the cold? There were still dreams, of foggy visions of life before Reach. When hunger pains were constant, and fear as constant as hunger. That was a lifetime ago. 

But she took his remark differently than Jerome may have intended. Shirking further against the back of the chair, her eyes began to scan the dark forests surrounding them. Head tipped down, shoulders slumped as if Mendez had just given her an earful.

Too much time had been spent with terrible people. Too little time spent with actual friends, actual family. It made her miss Kurt and Jorge and a few others even more. The pain swelled in her chest, pressing the air from her lungs. Fighting back tears, Mendez’s voice bellowed in her mind about how weak crying made her. How instead of crying, she had to put those emotions into action.

But I can’t even walk…

[ycvng-gcns-a]

Something didn't sit right.

The silence that lingered following his offer felt wrong, to Jerome. Now, he was no Kurt in making friends. And he certainly couldn't read people like Kelly had been able to. But something was off, and it was so blatantly obvious, that it didn't take long for 092 to work that out.

"Annya?" His voice was as soft as he could make it, questioning.

Ever-so-carefully, he eased himself off her lap, and when his feet hit the ground, he spun to face her. He studied her carefully, forehead crinkling in concern. Were those tears shining in her eyes? He couldn't quite tell; it was too dark to see properly.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, as gently as he could. "Do you...uh, do you want to talk about it?"

He was not sure what else to do...

[ghostwithabodycount]

ycvng-gcns‌:

Okay, so, maybe it was more fun than he was expecting. Wasn’t like Annya was going to call Jerome out for saying “whee” very, very quietly, though. The washouts couldn’t exactly have much fun, given the state of living that they were all in. Thus, the meager fun they could have, they made sure to enjoy it to the best of their abilities. So if they were childish? So what.

092 nodded silently, when 015 wordlessly implored him to keep an eye out. At the least, his gaze was sharp, so if anyone came along, he would notice. And he could hear fairly well, so there was that sense he could rely on, too.

It felt almost thrilling, to do something that the orderlies did not want them to do. It was just like stealing, only somehow, everything felt more exciting than that. Stealing was something that he’d had to do to survive. But this? This was just for enjoyment. This was purely to give the nurses and orderlies the middle finger, for such harsh treatment.

And to do it with another washout? Well, that was all the more fun. Especially given that Annya was now his friend.

There was a small, quick beep, a green light flashing above the keypad. As quickly as the chair could, they slipped outside, and closed the door behind them.

At once, a gentle breeze filled with a light rain hit them. It felt like it arrived in wet blankets, enveloping them in a cold embrace. In the forest surrounding, insects sung their songs. Above them, climate control units hummed away.

Annya’s upper body shivered while her lower body remained still. It was colder than she thought. Without realizing it, she leaned towards Jerome in an effort to keep warm. As they moved to the far end of the porch she realized her action and quickly leaned back. Another shiver hit her. They stopped at a small setup of chairs around a table.

“It’s colder than I thought” she whispered. “No wonder no one’s out here. Least we get it to ourselves for a little.”

[ycvng-gcns-a]

"I don't mind the cold that much." Jerome lifted one shoulder in a shrug. He was fairly used to weather like this - it was a lot like the weather back on his home planet of Minister.

"If you're feeling cold, you can feel free to hug me, if you want." If he'd noticed her leaning into him before, he never said anything about it. He didn't mind; it was a small price to pay in the name of friendship. "Free of charge," he joked quietly.

It was rather nice out here. He was rather glad that it was just the two of them to enjoy it. If anyone else had been out here, it would not have been quite so pleasant. Particularly if it had been one of the other washouts.

His gaze blanked as he stared at the rain-blurred horizon, and his shoulders sagged as he relaxed. Yes, it was definitely nice out here. And he was very glad to have Annya to enjoy it with. His hunch about her being rather amicable had been correct.

Screw the mean things that the others had said about her. They just weren't true.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

kedvesorias‌:

Jorge untangled his arms from Jerome’s, giving the man  a little pat on the shoulder. A big ol’ sloppy grin was plastered on his features. He hadn’t been so excited about something in ages. He hadn’t been so excited about something since he’d heard  Jun and Blue Team hadn’t burned in Reach’s fires.

And if that wasn’t enough, Jorge swiped a pair of fingers across his face. If an ordinary smile wasn’t enough to convey his sheer excitement, a Spartan smile might be.

Jerome still remembered that little gesture, right?

“It’s been to long.” Said Jorge

Curiosity brimmed within him. He had so many questions. He wanted to know where Jerome had been all those years, if he had permission to discuss that openly. But there was something else itching the folds of the old bear’s brain; he wanted to know if there were others. 

Was Jerome alone in his resurrection, or had others been pulled from the hands of death to serve again?

If so, who were they? 

How many like him were there? 

Now that was a familiar sight. A warm, familiar gesture among their kind. Jerome was more than happy to swipe two fingers over his mouth in response. Yes, that was much better.

“You’re damn right,” he agreed, with a firm nod.

Silence drifted between them, and blue eyes flecked with green studied the man in front of him keenly. Something was nagging at Jorge, Jerome was sure. No doubt his old comrade had many different questions that he wanted to ask. He could see the thoughts and gears churning in his mind. He could feel the curiosity that Jorge was radiating.

Perhaps now, while they were both off-duty, it would be the best time for them to catch up, on the thirty-odd years that had passed since they had last seen one another.

“Something on your mind, Jorge?”

[ycvng-gcns-a]

puer-glaciem‌:

And follow Annya did. She had the time to study the layout of the ship in the past, but never elected to do so. But why? Why, when all she went to was the med bay, mess hall, and her own room? There were a couple thousand souls on board including her own Spartan siblings.

But the shame kept her from being social. Shame of her own body’s rejections of augmentations, of running away, of planning to invade a system to ‘save’ one of their own.

Why would any of her former kin even want to look at her?

Shaking her head to keep darker thoughts at bay, the washout followed close by, leaving enough room in case there was a sudden departure from their path. As they passed by a window, blue light from the system’s star filled the hall. 

A planet was just in view of the windows, blue with white, rolling puffs of clouds. There was only one space station for the planet, and it was far too small for the Infinity to dock at. They would hold back, send transport down, then hop out of system. Leave enough room for the smaller ships buzzing about. 

Annya stopped for a moment to examine the planet before them. Home was so close. She could feel the cold, nippy air on her face already. But the planet’s surface was more of a dark grey than white or blue.

“Hope they have a good pilot. We will be riding in to a snow storm.”

❝I don’t know.❞  

Nadya would have piloted the dropship herself, but she doubted that she would be allowed to do such a thing. It was a nice thought though, considering that she hadn’t been able to pilot any bird for over a month now. Something within her yearned to sit in the pilot’s seat, hands at the controls, feeling so... free. Unlike most Spartans, she preferred being in space. With space stretching endlessly around the vessel, and doing flips and turns in zero gravity...

She sighed wistfully at the thought, giving a little shake of her head.

Her gaze looked out the window, and a furrow appeared between her eyebrows in the slightest of frowns. She wasn’t sure about the cold - she hadn’t experienced a planet that was almost never warm. She could handle it, yes, but she didn’t know if she would like it or not. Snow was relatively new to her - and things like fresh snow, and snowstorms, were complete unknowns. She supposed that there was always a time for something new.

First time for everything, after all.

She gave the washout’s hand a gentle tug, and lead them on into the hangar bay that they needed to get to, stopping once they’d entered the cavernous space. Her eyes wandered at the hustle and bustle, and she enviously admired those who were clearly pilots walking among the crowd.

Hoisting her bag higher onto one shoulder, she turned back to the older Spartan. ❝Which transport is the one we’ll be taking?❞

[ycvng-gcns-a]

hell-and-starlight‌:

Just as quickly as it had bloomed, Grace’s hope withered and died even before the soldier had finished speaking. So Kholo was as good as lost, it seemed. If the planet’s UNSC forces were losing, well…

She didn’t have time for grief, though, because almost as soon as a moment of quiet descended, she felt a sound that very nearly made her hair stand on end. And while she couldn’t remember if she knew what a “Hunter” was or not, she absolutely knew that she didn’t want to be anywhere near the source of that sound even without prompting.

A quick glance to the side showed that Killian clearly felt the same, and she was sure that she was just as pale as he was at that moment.

Her mind raced, and she found herself looking around frantically even as she tried to pin down her train of thought. She couldn’t panic, she had to keep her head on straight; if she panicked they might alldie but if she could just think clearly for a moment - just a moment…

“…! This - this way!” Grace tapped the soldier’s armored shoulder before motioning towards the corridor behind them. “The - the - dammit-! Through the auditorium at the end of the A-Arts wing. It has its own exit-!”

Killian didn’t need any further prompting, and Grace gave the soldier’s arm a brief tug before rushing after her brother.

She just hoped that the auditorium was still standing, and not a pile of rubble that would end up trapping them…

Jerome could all but feel the anxiety radiating for the teenagers, and he felt bad for them. Here the were, all but trapped in their school, the Covenant invading their home planet, the UNSC being pushed back so badly they were being obliterated... He could not imagine what they were going through. His own home planet was an Inner Colony, and it was relatively safe from the alien hegemony - for now, at any rate. But this? This was a nightmare in and of itself.

He stood and watched for a moment at the civilians rushed down the corridor, and he tipped his head as he listened for any sounds of the behemoths that pursued them. Yes, he could hear that the hulking beasts were getting closer... It was time to move.

He pivoted and rushed after the civilians, catching up to them in no time, and all but herding them ahead of him, into the... auditorium. He could see that so far, everything was mostly intact, although perhaps that was because the aliens had yet to raze this part of the building...

He followed the teenagers into the auditorium, through the building, and out into the fresh air on the other side. His speculations about the Covenant not being at this part of the complex was correct, because there were no aliens to “greet” them, once they set foot on the dirt once more.

What did catch the Spartan’s eye, however, was the Warthog sitting abandoned about twenty yards away, a couple of bodies suggesting that those who had once been in the vehicle had been eliminated in a brief air attack. “I’m going to commandeer that Warthog; come with me.”

He inclined his head in the direction of the four-wheeled beast of a vehicle, and began to jog towards it, keeping his eyes and ears open for the presence of any hidden aliens.

[ycvng-gcns-a]

dark-stray-dog-of-war‌:

He’d kissed her before she could call him a flattering liar, and all she could do was smile into it like a lovestruck fool.

Because she was a lovestruck fool, of course. There was no hiding that now.

At least, not from him, at any rate.

Jeanette’s smile broadened when he drew back again, her icy blue eyes glittering with mischief as she playfully nipped at his thumb. The kiss had left her flushed with warmth and panting pleasantly; she felt no reason to complain. If she was feeling a bit overwhelmed, well… it wasn’t in a bad way.

“If I was too overwhelmed,” she purred, reaching up to drape her arms around his neck as she grinned, “I would ask you to stop…” 

Still smiling, she pulled herself up a bit to kiss him again, lightly biting at his lower lip for good measure.

“…I did not ask you to stop, though…”

Hunter’s eyes glittered, and he hummed, low in his throat.

“Well, I’m very glad to hear that, then.” It eased a lot of his concerns. And it helped him feel more relaxed, knowing that they were both on the same page. Knowing that she trusted him enough to let him know when things weren’t okay. It made him love her all the more - if that were even possible.

He had not felt this much in years. In fact, he was so much a lovestruck fool that he thought his heart would burst with it all. It was so much, so fast... and yet, it was absolutely perfect. He could not ask for anything more - he certainly had not expected anything more.

He could not help the growl that escaped him, when he felt Jeanette’s teeth gently nip at his lower lip. She was so feisty, and it drove him rather mad.

The warmth that had spread through his veins caused blood to pool somewhere a little more... southward... than usual, and he wriggled his hips. Not out of discomfort... more of an eager anticipation.

“I do not think that I could ever get enough of you...” he breathed lowly, as his hands smoothed over her curves, and his fingers tugged at the hem of her sports bra. “...Though I think that it would help if we got rid of the rest of these clothes, correct?”