. (euphie) wrote in warrantlogs, @ 2016-01-27 07:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | euphemia corte-real, npc: kajal |
Who: Euphemia & Kajal
What: Explosions are confusing.
Where: HQs, Kajal's office.
When: Today
Warnings: Violence. Explosions. Injuries. Terrorism.
Euphemia gasps; time spilt, tripping; stuttering; fades. R (E) D R (E) D Among the plethora of glass - the blinking emergency lights - flesh peeling and white noise. The floor is hot and sticky, it should be cool and dry —— Her fingers are reaching for anything. Only glass. R (E) D There is a spot of black in the sea of red. It extends, reaching out its tendrils(her mouth opens, but the vocal strings are cut, a wasted marionette on the floor). Slow and purposeful they descend to where her lifeforce leaks out, first with curious claws that smear blood (red red red), and then with something softer, more porous, more forgiving. I.Was waiting for you. In the battlefield that is lost, the flutter of her heartbeat because she knows the feel of that touch. I. Am still waiting. Whatever had been inhabiting her was abandoning its shell, drawn out by the black, bleeding it out of her. She mouths something, she wants to follow(it is just like falling asleep). But there's no place for rest, not while there is time for it to lean in and invade the space the remains. Tendrils falling, dipping in close, brushing— and there is the promise of a ghostly kiss mere centimeters above. The farewell kiss; the last kiss when eyes draw shut forever. Words are whispered, unheard, but their goal is met. She can breathe again. It retreats, all contact slipping away and the shadow withdrawing to reveal the slowly writhing body not six feet away. Encased in smoke and debris and covered in soot: one thigh tourniqueted. The floor is hot and sticky. Her consciousness fades, the swirling letters of a name from red to black, and W H I T E "I don't think Killian would feel very pleased with Hiddleston if he heard about the Sling's perchance in Pluto." The bird-like tilt of her head, the tapping of her nails(all in pieces: frail, frail, frail). "That is the start of the problems. Well." A gesture towards Kajal's network tablet, "You saw what my crew did." And she had. After the fact, unfortunate as that was, when much had already calmed down. Holding her tongue had been problematic for her, but the damage had been done, and there was little to do but deal with the aftermath of that. Kajal bullied her lower lip, thinking on that. Her eyes drew back. "What do you want to do?" The question made her feel exhausted, Euphemia allowed herself to press one hand against her temple, careful to avoid the purple blotch. "They are trying to put me in an early grave." She couldn't even muster the enough energy to feign a smile. "I've already spoken with the director about the more urgent problems." There was a look on Kajal's face like she wanted to ask, but wouldn't. Anything discussed between captains and the director was meant for those ears only, and if it were worth bringing up to her, it might have been already. "If you want to put in a report…" She took in a deep breath. Tapped the pen on the desk. "It's your decision. They are your crew, and it is rough." "It feels like a betrayal if I do." Leaning back on the chair, she wanted to slam her hands up in despair; she imagined Elysian would be amused with that sort of display. She doesn't. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, "An insubordinate engineer, another who seems to be unable to follow an important order-" there was a knot in her throat. "Just the tip. I'm surprised the director was so—" Euphie paused to search for the word, "—understanding." It wasn't an unfair description. For the years that Jadzia Phan had been director, following in the footsteps of her kinder father (and it was ironic, that, that she was the more militant of a daughter and her ex-army father), she had been understanding. She had acted toward the best interests of not only the agency, but those affected by it. Poised and sharp as she was, Jadzia was no monster. Certainly not like the ones that had been released from Pluto. She was doing her best; they were all doing their best. Kajal leaned forward, attempting a smile. Doing so was easier with Mara's continued guidance in the well of her heart. "We'll make it right, Euphie. Nothing can ever be as bad as we're imagining, can it?" Time is linear. You trace its start and follow, a steady heartbeat that does not stumble. It stops, it speeds up. It shudders before resuming. But it doesn't go back, no matter how many times it's wished. It isn't kind, nor permissive. Like death, it takes everything without judgement. Five minutes might have been everything to save them: a step out earlier, missing Kajal entirely. In another time, they might not be elbow-to-elbow in the corridor when it begins in half a tick of the clock. They might not have to witness the air thinning and world shifting into sound and heat and red lights flickering. She feels it slow before it hits; time suspended on a string; a flash of white(maybe black, maybe red). and then it crashes all together time stumbling onto itself she can't breathe and the crash becomes real: splintering furniture and groaning metal and shattering glass shot in every direction it can reach — to connect with flesh. They hear nothing but the initial scream of air, then it comes: the high-pitched assault on eardrums, ringing and ringing and ringing. fades into a voice he is here? "Yes." There was something so brittle beating inside her chest, (why does she know? She always, always does). "You sent me to Pluto because it was something I wanted. Whatever happened there is my responsibility." It was not that she felt like a bad captain, the frustration that was there had little to do with Pluto, the crew or the ship. "And I need Hiddleston to look at the Sling, that weird mechanical failure." Noah's mocking words: your ghosts. Dark eyes watched her, pensive. "I can ask him and a team to go over it with a fine-tooth comb," she assured, knowing, somehow, that whatever the results were wouldn't satisfy. "As for… being responsible for what happened, there were other forces at work, Euphie." She would've reached out, touched Kajal's hand softly, smile while nodding in agreement. Instead she remained stoic, "Like a medic that failed his physical." And came back on ship covered in blood. That was another secret she had to pry out, eventually. Though Winston would be much harder to crack than Jude. She honestly hoped that there was no need for her to find pardons for two crew members. She rose, stepping towards the window(all glass, transparent, ready to crack). "A kill by someone who is not a killjoy." And she couldn't even look at Kajal in the eye when admitting that. "What comes after?" Her office was at the end of the hall, beyond the K. STRACKE, the L. WALLACE and R. HSIAO, almost as if it were an afterthought. The door certainly stood out from the ones leading up to it, the thick, opaque glass around her nameplate littered in stars that were no doubt meant for the inside of car windows. (Periodically, they showed up on Killian's door as a joke; they didn't last longer than an hour.) She had hesitated by Killian's door, a fractured second in which she considered pushing past the stiff nameplate and vomiting all the anxiety swimming inside. They twisted and coiled and bit. Soft insides were easy to worm through, and she continued going. She doesn't want to have this conversation but there are too many pending issues: Jude, Winston, Amanda, Mathias, Whistle, Noah. Each had to be handled, her crew had to be protected(they were loyal to her, they were counting on her - it was a weight, not unpleasant(rolling around through the fog, it was something she had to do). It was London's door that swung open, not Kajal's, bringing the Sling's reporting officer into full view. She paused in her step, expression shifting from neutral to surprised to a half-smile. Times were tough, but a smile could be weapon against them when necessary. "You have a look on your face like we have something hard to talk about," she opened with, waiting for Euphie to approach, and it was not a long wait as Euphie closed the gap. No hug, just stiff formality in the line of her shoulders and tilt of her head. "I'm afraid so, but if this is a bad time I can come back later?" She gestured towards the opposite end of the hall, where freedom lingered. No captain wanted to spill the secrets of their crew, but sometimes it was necessary. "Mara's coming up in twenty minutes," Kajal admitted with a softening of her smile, reaching out for her friend to settle a light touch on her hip, mirroring that tilt of the head toward her office door. "But my schedule is clear until then." Euphie smiled; time concealed, stopped; swallowed; faded. |