damia ravin speaks fluent sarcasm (contrabandist) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-05-02 00:26:00 |
|
|||
The ship was a wreck; it didn't need a mechanic to tell that much. There were gauges up the side, ruining the red metal— there were scraps sticking out in places she didn't know metal could go, and overall, it looked like it'd seen better days. No doubt it had, before the attack on the city. It wasn't a pyre, not even close. Still, the bonfire burned bright and hot, a signal of the fight Damia sensed in all of their eyes. This wasn't over. They were still dedicated, still fighting members of the crew, even in mourning. They'd appreciated their captain and their crewmates, which was more than she could say for the dead parasite she'd been looking to bury, and that had her heart twisting. "Figure it'll take about a week for repairs," the mechanic informed her, accent thick and Ordalian. Fortunately, they'd worked together before— she knew he'd get the job done, and well, especially if she slipped him extra bills. Two sets of eyes admired the damage to the side of the ship, and Damia sighed, crossing her arms. Around the table, there were varying expressions of disgust, of anger, of relief. Most of all, she could sense the absence of conflict. None of these men had come to respect Rossul before she'd spread those papers across the table to show what he'd supposedly been up to behind the scenes. Remorse gnawed at her. They were still mourning the loss of their captain; who was she to come in a give them false evidence to sicken them even further? |