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The New World [m]

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Offline heartstringss

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Lyra found herself almost comforted by  the assassin's casual efficiency, yet at the same time she hadn't been more terrified in years. It was a new chapter of her life, one she wasn't entirely sure how to navigate, and felt nearly as risky and life-threatening as things had seemed when she'd first started working with General Hadley. News that she was going to be taken first to an abandoned bunker to test her sincerity first came as a great relief; the doctor wasn't sure she was ready to meet the Resistance right away -- but then, would she ever be ready?

She kept close like the other had told her to, taking a moment to first zip and button up her coat before they moved out into the frozen Earth. While the assassin started towards the exit, Lyra tugged the hood of the coat up over her head and gave a curt nod, her shoulders hunching tight near her ears as she attempted to steel herself for the cold as best as she could.

Normally, any time she left the commune on her way to or from work, it was by paths which had already been carved through the night into the frame of old sidewalks and roadways, making the journey a little bit easier for the average citizen. There were still tanks that had survived the war and test of time, mechanically enhanced over the years to better suit the needs of society now in their new conditions as compared to the world of the past. Trudging straight through the snow instead of keeping to those man-made paths or the framework of the buildings above was necessary for avoiding detection considering Lyra was a million times less experienced with the stealthiness needed, but that didn't make it any easier.

She could feel her teeth chattering, the dampness of the snow around her legs sinking through her clothes and chilling her straight to the bone. Fortunately, though it was an incredibly long, miserable journey, it didn't take too long before they finally reached their destination. At last, her companion started towards one of the buildings standing tall and ominous overhead, oddly comforting in its dilapidated state. She'd tried to keep close as best as she could so that she wouldn't end up getting lost or left behind, but still maintained a few feet of distance for the sake of -- what, privacy? Self-preservation? No matter what she told herself, in reality it was just because she was a bit too slow.

Down here. Hurry up!

The other's words cut through the air over a sharp howl of wind, a single kick to the door standing at the gaping maw of the building's entrance all that was needed before the figure slipped inside and disappeared into the dark. Hyles felt an intense tremor rumble through her bones and she snapped immediately to action, pushing through the remaining snowdrift into the building just behind the other woman.

Her breath came out as a startled gasp, as the door snapped shut behind her and they entered into a room cloaked in full shadow, not a single window dotting any of the walls, necessary considering the fact it was an old bunker they were hiding out in. If she looked close, she could see a few shimmering cracks in the dark walls of the building far overhead, where the bombs dropped in the last war had fractured the exterior of the structure just a bit, despite being unable to bring the building all the way down.

"What--" she reached her hands out for something, anything to grasp onto in the dark, and was met with the slick back of the other woman's shirt. She clenched on, and only let go a few seconds later whenever a beam of light flashed over the room, coming from a flashlight that appeared as if from thin air into the other woman's hand. "Oh, good," was all Lyra could say as she let loose a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and moved back a few steps to give the hooded figure a little more space.
« Last Edit: July 09, 2019, 04:50:23 AM by heartstringss »


Offline yautjan

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The assassin was glad to be inside, despite the pitch black, and chose to ignore the hand grasping the back of her jumpsuit. Part of her wanted to slap the doctor's hand off, to get those murdering hands away from her, but a larger part of her knew better than to. Instead she drew her flashlight from her pouch, small and handheld, and illuminated the abandoned basement.

Inside it looked as if it had been abandoned in a moment's notice, blankets and supplies strewn around the floor, surrounding a makeshift stove heater that had been extinguished for at least ten years. While she had not been here the day this base was abandoned, she remembered the stories clearly--the fear and panic as the sounds of the patrols approached. It turned out they had not found the base after all, but no one was willing to risk lighting a fire in it since then. It was simply too close to the enemy.

For their purposes however, it would work splendidly. She did not intend to stay here long, only until Hyles was recovered and ready to take a much longer trek into the wastes. The assassin approached the fireplace, senses in tune with Hyles's movements, in case she made an attempt to escape or attack.

"Shut the door," she ordered her. "Quickly, so the snow drift can build back up."

She crouched down, examining the stove with practiced efficiency, and had it lit in under a minute thanks to the flint and steel on her person. It burned brightly, pushing back the cold of the blizzard outside, and the assassin finally sighed in relief. For now, they were safe.

"There are more clothes on the far wall, I suspect," she said, pointing to a wardrobe against the back wall of the base. "You should dress warmly."
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Hyles shut the door, pushing on the cold metal to make sure it was closed tight against the cold wind outside, and shuffled across the room uncertainly. With the help of the other woman's flashlight, she could see more of the room now, which was a good thing considering the haphazard state of the bunker. Supplies were strewn about all over the floor, as if whoever had lived here before had left in a great hurry.

Like her captor, Lyra found herself reflecting back on the stories she'd grown up hearing as a kid. She could only imagine how terrified for their futures these people must have been... Probably close to the same way that the still-fertile must have felt when their lives had ended up taking a turn for the absolute worst. Well, it seemed now she would get to experience that same terror herself.

Lyra found herself gravitating across the room towards her captor, pausing to see what the woman was crouched over, then relieved to see her working over a small stove heater with a bit of flint and steel. In less than a minute, the woman had the contraption lit and burning brightly. If it weren't for the intensity of her own stubbornness, she might have dropped to the ground right then and there and gathered in a little closer. She was so cold, and it didn't help that her pants legs had grown damp from trudging through the sludge, a bit of snow likely having found its way into her boots as well, considering how frozen her feet were.

She gave a small nod, shuffling across the room in the direction of the woman's finger to a small wardrobe against the back wall. Pulling open the drawers to pick through what lay inside was reminiscent of when she had done the same thing back in her room at the commune. Without thinking, she unzipped her coat and stuck her hands inside, feeling along the inside fleece for the hidden pocket, bulky from the shape of the letter tucked safely inside. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, relieved that she hadn't lost the item in their journey through the outside, and then turned her attention back to the wardrobe and task at hand.

She kept her coat and long-sleeved thermal on as both were still relatively dry and warm, but quickly shook off her boots, socks, and the damp second layer of pants. Fortunately, the first thermal layer was still mostly dry too, but the outer layer was all but completely useless for the time being. She discarded the whole wet mess off to the side of the wardrobe and tugged a pair of jeans over her hips first, then a pair of baggy dark sweats. It was a lot of layers, but until the stove had been burning long enough to thoroughly heat the room, it was necessary. She padded back across the room in a pair of fluffy socks she'd found at the rear of another one of the drawers, back towards the other woman and the warm stove flickering invitingly before her.

Her body felt weary, eyelids heavy from the lack of restful sleep, and could feel an empty dull ache growing in the pit of her stomach from regretfully skipping dinner earlier that night. It was weird to be alone in an unfamiliar place with a complete stranger, completely reliant on someone she knew literally nothing about for her own safety. The strength of her wariness showed clear as day in the hollowed lines of her face, the avoidant gaze, the hesitant pause before finally sitting down. She settled cross-legged onto the bare floor closest to the fire but farthest away from the other woman. Her arms moved protectively around her middle, tucked into the safety and warmth of her thick winter coat.

"Well, I guess I owe you thanks, for... sparing my life," the words felt foreign coming out of her mouth; she hardly knew how to feel grateful for survival in the first place. The doctor would never admit it out loud, but the prospect of having a chance to try to redeem herself, or at least try to explain, was deeply appreciated -- something that terrified her, but also left her hopeful for the future. Maybe, just maybe, she could regain her humanity... with time.


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The assassin's clothes were well suited for the terrible weather--all seams tucked in, boots heavy and well-lined, not an inch of skin in sight. She did not change out of them as she tended to the fire, occasionally stopping to brush some snow off her arms or legs. It was a while after Hyles sat that she looked over, drawn by her words, expression and emotions hidden behind her mask. The doctor's wariness was clear and open, her guard down with exhaustion, and the assassin knew that she was afraid of her.

"Well," she said, at last pulling away from the fire and standing up straight. "So long as you don't turn traitor on me, I will be satisfied with the way things have turned out." She sighed deeply, the first hint of emotion besides irritation that she'd shown to the doctor outwardly. "What a wasted opportunity though, to kill more of them. Oh well. We'll have another chance."

She left the circle of warmth, moving to a cupboard that sat low to the ground against the wall, pulling it open with her foot and rummaging around for any supplies that had kept for the last few years. She found a jar of dried meats, which looked worse for wear but still edible. Between that and the few nutrition bars she had, it would have to suffice.

She returned to the fire, tossing the jar to the doctor casually. "There, keep that with you so you have something to eat the next few days. We'll make more pit stops on our way back to HQ."

The assassin moved to sit properly, but hesitated, before straightening back out again. "I suppose I should introduce myself, shouldn't I? As long as we're allies."

She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself, before she pushed the hood off. The assassin shook out her head, and a black french braid cascaded out of the confines of her collar, hanging below her hip and held together with a large metal clasp. All that remained was the mask, and she took that off as well, tucking it under her arm and facing Hyles with her bared face.

The woman was middle eastern, medium skin heavily flecked with dark freckles, sharp cheekbones and narrow chin cast into shadows by the low firelight. A few strands of black hair framed her face, and she had makeup on, dark shadow staining her eyes and lips. Her irises stood out the most, in the firelight a burnt orange, borderline unnatural.

"I am Namir bint Ibrahim ibn Waahid al'Muhktaar," she said. "And I'm the leader of the eight assassins in the Revolution."
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Offline heartstringss

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Hyles wasn’t sure how to react to the dark figure’s response. She gave a small nod, showing she respected the woman’s consideration, but then ducked her head, saying nothing more. It remained that way, even as her eyes followed the other woman’s journey across the room to a low cupboard and observed her rifling through the supplies inside. She watched her pull out a small jar of some sort, which Lyra promptly fumbled before catching a split-second later when the woman returned to the fire and tossed the object through the air.

It was a container of dried meats, the brunette acknowledged silently as she turned the jar over once or twice in her hands. She looked up at the woman’s words, gave another short nod of acknowledgement, and twisted the lid of the jar off, pulling out a couple small pieces of the jerky. Since she hadn’t eaten anything for the past several hours and knew she was going to need her strength for everything that lie ahead, she didn’t feel too bad about digging in already. However, she made sure to limit herself to those few pieces—not too difficult considering she had always been a finicky eater anyway.

While Lyra chewed the first scrap of jerky and then carefully slipped the jar into her coat pocket, her eyes remained trained on the woman before her. She could tell that she was considering something, her movements uncertain and awkward, and then at last she seemed to come to a decision.

When she next spoke of the necessity to introduce herself now that the two were allies, the doctor’s face went still. She watched with a keenly observant eye as the other woman straightened out and at last pulled off the hood that had covered her head this entire time, a long black braid falling out of the back of her collar and cascading gracefully down to her hip.

She was surprised by the length of her hair and how well it had been concealed in the folds of her outfit, but even more so by the woman’s face once that was revealed. Hyles wasn’t too sure what she had expected to see once the mask came off, but the simple, natural beauty hidden in the sharp lines of the other woman’s face went above and beyond all manners of expectation.

The doctor found herself most unnerved by the woman’s irises, as seemed only natural considering their searing burnt-orange hue, but then the woman spoke of her name and a string of foreign-sounding words tumbled out of her mouth. She hardly caught the majority of it, but easily latched onto the first- Namir. An exotic name for an exotic looking woman with an exotic profession. It suited her.

Lyra had to shake her head to clear her mind of the brain fog that had spread within, awkward clearing her throat. “Well, I’d introduce myself… but you clearly already know who I am.” The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corners of her lips, a shadow of humor slipping out. “But you can call me Lyra if you’d like.” Hopefully they would be able to leave the Doctor bit behind from here on out.
« Last Edit: July 06, 2019, 11:33:48 PM by heartstringss »


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The doctor's words were few, but they brought a small smile to Namir's face all the same. Without the mask to hide her face and distort her voice, she seemed far gentler, much less of a killer than she had before. The jumpsuit and gun remained however a stark reminder of the danger she posed to any that got in her way.

"Lyra," she repeated, her voice soft and bright without the voice changer. "Very well."

Namir gathered up a few of the discarded blankets and made a nest to settle in by the fire, sitting in it and stretching her legs out. She reached her arms and grabbed her feet, stretching her body after the eventful night and hours stuck in the locker in the commune. Her body would remain sore long into the morning, but that was hardly unusual with such physically demanding work.

"You are dead tired, I imagine," she said. "I would recommend you get some sleep so we may continue on tomorrow for the next bunker. We'll talk more tomorrow about what we are to do with you once we reach the main HQ. If we get that entire way," she added. "I certainly don't want to bring you in just to have you turn on us."
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It was a bit of a shock to see her would-be assassin out of her mask. The newfound gentleness in the woman’s demeanor and softness of her voice stood out in stark contrast to the pitch-black void and distorted tone she had grown used to over the past couple hours. It was a welcomed change, but still a slightly unsettling one; especially considering the tight-fitting jumpsuit and heavy gun that remained attached to her hip, unlikely to be removed so easily anytime soon. 

She hadn’t expected Namir to accept the invitation to call her by her first name so easily, but the casualty was comforting, and she could only smile in response. When the darker skinned woman rose a moment later to gather up a few of the blankets and made a little nest before stretching out, Lyra glanced around before quickly standing to do the same.

She picked out a few musty, moth-eaten wool blankets from various piles throughout the foyer, then returned to the fire, picking out a spot on the opposite side of the old stove to lay down her own cot. Her ears perked up at the other woman’s voice, green eyes flicking in the other woman’s direction for a brief second. Up until the last bit she had set, Lyra had only nodded in silent agreement. However, at Namir’s continued reiteration of her wariness about where the doctor’s loyalties lay now, a look of vague apprehension crossed her face.
 
Lyra settled down onto the blankets and sat cross-legged, the material scratchy and rough beneath the bare skin of her hands. She picked at the edge of the fabric, hardly aware of the fact she had started chewing her lip until she bit too hard, making herself jump. At that, she finally sighed, looking back up to the other woman, and rolled her shoulders in a display of feigned indifference.

“I know this might seem hard to believe considering everything you’ve read in my file,” she paused a second, remembering the length of that list, the harsh detail of her crimes. There were just too many dead, so many countless lives destroyed. Even she had a hard time believing what she was about to say. “But I’m not as threatening as I seem. Actually, I’m hardly a threat at all.”
« Last Edit: July 07, 2019, 03:19:32 AM by heartstringss »


Offline yautjan

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Namir cast her a look at Lyra’s response, her expression withdrawn and the brief flash of friendliness retreated again under a hard exterior. Her eyes went from the doctor, to the door, the fire, then back to the doctor. There was always the chance she would escape now, but that was a risk the assassin was going to have to take now in this bunker. Unless she got mean, and tied the doctor down, but that would be against the whole ‘trust’ thing she was trying to establish.

“Listen,” Namir said. “You are a threat. To both us, and to them. You may not realize it, but you are. I will regard you as one even in alliance until I know your loyalties are truly shifted.”

She plopped back at last into her blanket nest, curling up and drawing the heaviest one over her body. “But I don’t think I need to threaten you any more tonight. You get it. And you know I’ll find you if you run. Now, get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long, cold day tomorrow.”
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Two steps forward, one step back. Lyra felt the anxiety growing in her chest, the sharp teeth of pure guilt sinking into the tender meat of her fast-beating heart. She had to remind herself to breathe, take a moment to settle down. Namir had offered her an olive branch, an opportunity for redemption. While she struggled to believe she could ever truly be forgiven for her crimes, the other woman was willing to take that chance on her.

Even still, the fact remained that whether she realized it or not, she was, had been, and likely always would represent as a threat to humanity’s progression, even if only for the things she had done in her past. No matter how badly she wanted to move on, her history memorialized her sin. The only thing that mattered now is how she chose to proceed with her future. Starting right here, right now — with Namir.

“Okay,” was all Lyra said in response to the woman’s returned hardness and the clear order to get some rest. After another pause, she settled down into the lump of her own blankets, back turned away from the fire despite the valuable warmth it could provide. She had always struggled with vulnerability, and especially now she was finding it difficult to relax knowing she was going to have someone likely watching over her, making sure she wasn’t planning to escape or attack in the dead of night.

It took a while to get comfortable and even longer to loosen up, but eventually the doctor drifted off to sleep. It was hardly restful, but fortunately there were no vivid nightmares this time. What occurred instead was more like a continued panic, an intense fear she felt deep in her subconscious. She wasn’t aware of herself violently twitching in her sleep or of the occasional murmur that slipped past her lips. In fact, the only thing that she was aware of was that it felt like her heart was about ready to burst right out of her chest.

Time was strange in a dream. Sometimes minutes stretched on for what felt like hours, while other times hours could feel like you’d only been asleep for just a few minutes. The fact that Lyra’s consciousness so often switched between the two without warning is probably the reason that sleep hardly brought her any comfort, and so often felt like a complete waste of time. She probably could have slept the entire day and still not felt any better rested than she had when she’d first drifted off to sleep.

When she eventually stirred the next morning, Lyra opened her eyes to find she’d rolled over in her sleep, now facing towards the fire rather than away from it. It was welcomingly warm, until she remembered the events of the previous night and looked past the small stove to where Namir’s body was still spread out over her own blankets on the other side. She pulled herself up onto her elbows, rubbed her eyes, and promptly yawned. Her whole body was stiff and sore, but that wasn't exactly a new development. “You didn’t even sleep, did you?”


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The night dragged on forever in Namir's tired mind, even if sunrise was only a few hours off. She couldn't bring herself to fully fall asleep despite her exhaustion catching up with her now that she was finally at rest. She ended up laying in her blanket nest for a few hours, dozing off every so often but jerking awake after a short period of time. Every time, her heart raced, and she looked over to see that Lyra, while tossing and turning, was still asleep and in her spot. She breathed out a sigh each time and sat back, resting her head on the makeshift pillow and trying to get another few minutes of rest before the next rude awakening.

When morning light finally streamed through the cracks in the ceiling, illuminating small portions of the floor, Namir decided she was not going to wake the doctor up to leave at dawn. It would have been dangerous, anyway--the dead guard was likely to be found around dawn when his relief showed up, and there would be a manhunt for the next few days to locate an assassin. Dr. Hyles would also be discovered as missing, and with Namir's calling card left at the scene of the murder, it would either be assumed Lyra had been kidnapped or was an accomplice.

Namir suspected they would think kidnapped, after she gave it some consideration. The assassins didn't need to enter the commune to kill a guard, and the death was random--she doubted the guard had done anything worthy of the assassin's sights, though she wouldn't have been surprised if she learned he'd been an abuser of the prisoners. That thought at least kept her comfortable with the decision to kill him. No ransom would come... though if they did send one, they could cheat the Council out of some hard-earned dollars...

Lyra's voice broke her at last from her thoughts, and the assassin looked up at the other woman's comment. She knew there were shadows under her eyes now--her lack of sleep apparent.

"Not really," she agreed. "I think we should wait for midday or midnight to leave. I'll scout out the area around 11 and determine if it's too dangerous to move until nighttime or not."

She sat up, stretching her arms above her head and yawning widely. "You at least slept. I hope it was decent."
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Namir's suggestion that she thought they should wait til midday or midnight instead of earlier in the morning to leave was easily accepted and met with only a small nod in return. Internally, Lyra felt herself growing guilt-heavy over the fact that the other woman likely hadn't slept much because of her, but the prospect of laying low for at least the next several hours helped to relieve some of that worry. Aside from the scouting, that meant there wouldn't be much else for them to do until possibly all the way to nightfall, and they could take it easy the rest of the day until then.

When the other woman at last sat up and stretched out her limbs, Lyra smiled a little then. She was grateful for the returned casualness, the intensity of last night's on-and-off exchange too emotionally draining to put up with this early in the morning. The doctor rose up off of her elbows then, rolling her shoulders a few times then clasping her hands and cracking her knuckles and neck.

At the comment about her own sleep, a bitter laugh escaped her lips. "It's never decent, but that's the cross I bear," the doctor shrugged again, thinking disdainfully of the near-daily night terrors that had plagued her since early childhood. They'd gone away for a number of years in her late teens all the way through to her mid twenties, but then had returned at full strength shortly after being recruited into General Hadley's research team.

Trauma could do that to a person... completely fracture their subconscious, rip away every last bit of their sanity. However, the doctor had never considered the possibility that her night terrors might in fact be a symptom of PTSD. Mostly, she'd only ever regarded them as an embarrassment... or a curse.

Now that the bunker had heated up some over the course of the night with the stove running, Lyra found herself feeling almost suffocated by the thick layers of her clothing. With a hesitant, almost calculating glance thrown in the other woman's direction, she stood slowly, wandering over to the wardrobe where she had left her other clothes from the night before. Hyles peeled off the heavy winter coat, fuzzy socks and baggy sweatpants, depositing them in a heap next to the still-soggy remains of her boots and pants.

Stripping out of the excessive outer layers left her in only her underlayer now, a thick thermal sweater and dark jeans over long underwear. The lack of so much extra padding revealed more of her figure than had been possible to see beforehand. The doctor was a bit on the taller side at 5'7" but surprisingly narrow. Her long thin frame was still solidly built, however she had always been known better for her sharp mind and quick reflexes rather than for brute strength.

The cement was cold against her bare feet. Lyra shivered a little, then padded hurriedly back across the room, tossing herself into her pile of scratchy wool blankets by the fire where it was still warm, but no longer suffocating at least.

"I keep thinking I should be getting ready to leave for work right now, then I remember what happened last night," the words slipped out from her mouth before she'd even realized she was about to say them. As soon as she did realize, a look of shock crossed her face, green eyes darted up to find the other woman's eerily burnt-orange colored irises from across the fire. "It's definitely going to take some getting used to."
« Last Edit: July 09, 2019, 04:50:51 AM by heartstringss »


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Namir watched Lyra as she moved around the room, slumped forward a ways with her elbows resting between her legs. Her plait had come somewhat undone with her tossing and turning, hair sticking wildly out of different portions of the long braid. It was times like these she wished she kept a hairbrush on her, but the assassins rarely went anywhere with such frivolous supplies. The goal was always to get in and get out, and she had not intended to hunker down here the way she was.

"Hmm," was her only response to her. She did not want to get into that today, not when they were both exhausted. Another day, she'd be angry about it, but not today.

She sat up straight again, giving Lyra a once-up when she was turned away. Assessing her physical strengths, determining her weaknesses, what she'd need help with and what she wouldn't. To her disappointment, it looked like Namir would have to do all the hard work while the doctor hung back and focused on running when told to run, like a sheep. At least she wasn't hard on the eye.

Namir shook that thought out. She was also a doctor, even if formally, and Namir was too busy to think such things these days.

Instead the assassin grabbed her braid and focused on undoing it, setting the metal clasp aside. Her hair was longer when it wasn't up, falling in thick waves down into her lap. She pulled her gloves off, revealing narrow and calloused hands, and she combed through it with her fingers, catching on knots and working them loose.

When Lyra spoke, she looked over, surprised by the casual comment. She met her eyes, firelight reflecting off Lyra's face and making her look gaunter than she actually was.

"I suppose you will," she said, working her hand through a particularly stubborn knot. "That was how I felt when I first joined. Best decision I ever made. Despite the fact I forced it, I hope you come to feel the same way about the Resistance."
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Lyra watched the other woman undo and work through the knots tangled throughout her hair. While she openly stared, dazed and almost as if in a trance, the doctor couldn't help but think how oddly comforting it was that Namir hadn't immediately put her guard back up when she'd first stood and begun moving around the room of her own free will.

Granted, she could still feel eyes boring into her back, the darker woman cautiously tracing her every single move, but when Lyra rejoined the other by the fire a moment later, she  was pleasantly surprised to find the woman's gun had remained clipped to her belt.

It was very presumptuous of her to assume, but the casual, unconcerned nature of the other woman's actions implied a small comfort: maybe she was doing something right, effectively presenting herself as the non-threat she so desperately wished to be seen as. She could only imagine how she must look to the other woman, stripped down to the two thinner layers of her clothing, decently tall but still so narrow, her bone structure almost bird-like in its delicacy. On the bright side, at least she ran fast.

The brunette shook her head to clear it, the other woman's voice drawing her out of the trance she had unknowingly allowed herself to slip into. When she caught herself staring, Lyra felt a rush of warmth shoot up the back of her neck, a pale pink tinging the tips of her ears and high peaks of her cheekbones. Dammit.
 
"Yeah," she responded airily, voice trailing off while she paused to consider Namir's advice. "I don't know if I'd say you really forced it though. I mean, of course, we can't deny the fact you had me at gunpoint, but... As you said, you were extending an olive branch, one I never would have gotten another chance to take if I hadn't taken it then," she shrugged a little at the end, a small smile tugging playfully at the corners of her lips.

She was trying so hard to be nice, casual, friendly... but it was a difficult endeavor considering the fact she'd hardly socialized with another half-way decent soul in damn near close to a decade. "I just hope it doesn't end up being too late for me, that's all."


Offline yautjan

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Namir raised an eyebrow, thick but well-tamed by tweezers that she kept on her person at all times. They had proved handy in more situations and disasters than fashion-related ones. That she maintained any desire for beauty at all was ridiculous, she knew, but it was a comfort, something she could control with no fear of retaliation or death. She liked how it made her look and that her face was yet another weapon against those that got in her way.

That Lyra seemed to be having a similar reaction to other men Namir had known, however, was a little alarming. She did not desire to become some object of fascination, nor associate so closely with a former enemy. The only woman Namir had ever considered relations with was Masozi, one of her fellow assassins, but that fling had been brief and Sozi's heart belonged to another. Which was fine, it really was. Sozi and Alise were happy, which was all that mattered on that front. Namir did not need someone else to make her happy.

"Well," she said, shaking out her hair and pulling it back to re-braid it, looser and further down on her neck. "The only person who can determine whether or not it's too late is you, Lyra. All we, the Resistance, can do is give you the opportunity to atone for what you've done."

She braided quickly, and once it was secured again, she pulled a nutrition bar wrapped in paper out of her pouch, biting into it. "When we reach somewhere safer, I'll know enough by then if you're really looking to turn over a new leaf or if you're just using this as an opportunity to spy on us. And once I feel better about this, I'll contact the Resistance and let them know what's going on." She scoffed a little. "They'll probably be furious."
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Lyra could still feel the sluggish hands of sleep deprivation grasping onto the farthest reaches of her mind. All she could think was maybe that's why she found herself struggling so much to focus directly on the here and now, and keep from zoning out every two seconds. The other woman's quirked brow - likely in reaction to the pale blush spreading across her face, based off of the timing - caught her off-guard. She looked away, attempting to ignore the ensuing embarrassment as she felt the heat steadily intensify, the color darkening slightly in turn.

At last when the other woman responded, she felt herself grateful for a distraction and latched on immediately. Even if the subject might have still been a little too tense for this early in the morning. That was her own fault, anyway. She just couldn't seem to let things go, that was for sure.

"So, you've never done something like this before, have you?" She arched her back slightly forward, leaning in closer to the fire to warm her hands. "Saving someone instead of killing them like you're supposed to, I mean? Are you going to get in trouble for sparing me, especially since your kill report makes me out to be a bit... high-value target?"

While the other woman pulled out a nutrition bar from one of her pouches, Lyra moved to grab the jar of dried meats from last night's cabinet raid and plucked a few pieces out to gnaw on. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until Namir had pulled out food. A cup of coffee wouldn't hurt either, but unfortunately, she was shit out of luck there.

Once she'd tucked the small scrap of meat into the back corner of her jaw to suck on for a little while and help preserve the flavor, Lyra settled back. She tilted her head, genuinely curious at the other woman's answer. There were so many doctors working human experiments in her building, the number truly staggering if you included the scientists and military officers involved as well. Surely, she couldn't be the only one the assassins had happened on who'd showed remorse in their profession.