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 Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2015 9:08 pm
Zeffer's eyes remained glued on Qinlon as he spoke, expression attentive but still troubled. The way the older troll was speaking now made it hard to believe that he had even let them in at all, with how cross he sounded. As the conversation progressed, Zeffer felt his pump biscuit sink, slowly coming to the realization that he felt for the banished blueblood. If he wasn't lying - and it didn't sound like he was - then it meant he had suffered a massive injustice at the hands of someone who could still be lingering within the ranks of the Initiative. Was the individual responsible for his framing and the death of the other adults the same person who had caused the WACKY disaster and their trip to the prison facility? Zeffer sighed in frustration as he tried to work it out in his head. Everything felt like it all lined up to point at a specific troll, if only for a few small missing pieces...
Zeffer's brows furrowed as Qinlon shifted to berate Muerte, though the greenblood had been a bit trite in his word choice. It couldn't have been easy for the ex-rebel, forced into solitude the way he was now. He was about to say something about them all needing to relax some, before Qinlon put forth his ultimatum. s**t.
His eyes darted to Aprife, knowing he'd have to think fast. They couldn't waste this, and his mind raced for a moment before settling on something he had picked up from earlier in Qinlon's explanations. "If you aren't the one that did it, is there anyone you're aware of who could have planted the bombs?" Zeffer tried to keep his voice even as he glanced at Aprife. Maybe it was a stupid question, maybe it wasn't. Surely that sort of knowledge would be somewhat specialized, enough to narrow it down? He fidgeted in place, waiting for his matesprit to add the last bit of their inquiry.
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Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2015 10:21 pm
Ah, so, a scapegoat. Though he couldn't say he'd been expecting that, per say, Aprife had to admit he'd had a funny feeling about all of the rumors they'd been coming across concerning Qinlon. The self-proclaimed king of rumormongering knew better than anyone that things could be so easily fabricated, could spiral into depths of inaccuracy so vastly unpredictable that the truth could wind up completely unknown, even to the perpetrator of original lie.
Then again, he could be the one lying just as easily. Though there was passion in his voice, one that rang without deception, that didn't mean he wasn't skilled at faking it. A tough call, but there were a few things that made Aprife believe he was being honest with them. Either way, he had no intention to bring any trouble for this blueblood, not anymore, at least. Now all he wanted was answers. This was their final chance.
He mulled over it for a short time, letting his matesprit's words sink in, wondering what he should say, wondering how Muerte would react, if he was steaming in his boots. Truth be told, Aprife thought the elder's response to the greenblood had been a little over the top. A little, maybe. Then again, he had no way of knowing Muerte the way they did, no way of knowing that this was good and civil. Aprife hadn't expected Tete to behave so well, but even that seemed to have bitten him in the a**. Poor b*****d.
Tapping a hand against the arm crossed over his chest, the yellowblood finally saw fit to add to the conversation. There was one more question he could think of, one that would hopefully be specific enough for their picky host. It would piggyback off of what Zeffer had already asked.
"You also mentioned how quick everyone was to jump up and point the finger at you. Was there anyone leading the accusers, someone who seemed to want you out even more than the others?" Maybe there wouldn't be, maybe the whole ordeal had been a blur, but it wouldn't hurt to know if someone had been leading the charge against the ex-rebel leader. Hell, it could even be a name they recognized. That would've been a bonus for their investigation.
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Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2015 11:33 pm
"Except you. You, shut the ******** up."
Muerte seethed. There was a vehement passion brewing behind his glasses, hungry like a fire, itching to burn. What little kinship he felt with the hermit was long gone now, a speck of sand lost to the grainy desert. Had he not been wearing his gloves, he was sure his nails would be digging tiny crescents into his grey skin.
Miraculously, he bit his tongue.
Or his lip, rather. The two fangs—more prominent than the rest of his teeth—pricked at his lips and threatened to draw blood. Shut the ******** up? He had put in an honest effort here, civility my a**. Game over? This a*****e was, supposedly, half of the leading power in the Initiative? Muerte wasn't impressed, but then again, when was he? Regardless of the blueblood's choice, they were still the ones taking action, still the ones trying to fix things, and he didn't care how cynical this a*****e was but—oh, there was the blood now, little dabs of vivid green on his lips. A vein was probably popped under the thick swath of hair on his forehead.
But he remained silent, for them. His eyes slid over to Zeffer and Aprife again—better to look to them rather than Qinlon or else he was sure he'd blow up and lose composure. This sort of bullshit actually mattered to them, was fundamental to their cause, and he wasn't about to ruin any sort of gain. Not when he had tried so hard helping them get here in the first place.
Had he really been much of a help, though?
It was rare for the scientist to be troubled with inadequacies. He was perfect, after all, and could do anything he set his mind to, anything he really gave a damn about. Somehow however, he felt himself falling short here. It was true that he didn't totally feel for the rebellion; so had it been a lack of passion on his part? He had resolved himself to help in the end. Was that not enough? Perhaps not. He did excel in science and medicine. Having a heart in the matter, so to speak, might have more to do with ambition than he ever initially thought.
Why did it matter?
He hated the questions that bubbled up now. He needed to be precise, sure of himself, one hundred percent. He huffed quietly, ignoring the metallic taste intruding in his mouth as he worried his lip angrily, ignoring the bitter sting. Well whatever. The b*****d was kicking them out soon anyway; patience, Perist, you're almost through. He focused on the voiced of his teammates, gave himself into a bitter resolution for whatever abrasive bullshit Qinlon was about to spit back out at them. Part of Muerte wanted to turn around and wait out the confrontation above ground, but another part of him wanted to listen to what the a*****e had to say. Whether or not he was a part of the cause like Aprife and Zeffer, he was still a part of this damnable investigation. The more ears here, the better.
So he waited, glare cast down to the barren floor that offered him no comfort. He was tired of being the fool. He was no ones fool. This was a perfect example of why he saw no reward in trying for others. There was no gain. He got nothing and it killed him. What was the goddamn point in that? It was just a waste of his time. He ground his heels into the grimy floor, words caught in his throat, burning him like irons.
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Posted: Sat Feb 21, 2015 11:31 am
 " Someone who could have planted the bombs?" Qinlon echoed, shifted his weight to one leg uneasily as his eyes flashed with some unreadable emotion. He opened his mouth to say something, then firmly snapped it shut as he internally changed his mind. He shrugged, unconvincingly. " I don't know. Someone who knows crap about bombs, I guess? Look, if I knew who was really responsible, they wouldn't be breathing, alright?" His hostile tone crept back, but his eagerness to share with the trio remained contradictory. Turning to Aprife, he gave the yellowblood an almost quizzical stare. " Now that you mention it... it was Errade. I always figured it was because she was originally left in charge on the home base, and her bein' Head of Intel and all? Just doing her job n' s**t. I mean, I still haven't seen her since before stuff went down. Very few living trolls get to see my pretty mug nowadays. But I have my sources that said she was the one connecting the dots and filling up the Initiative's head with false truths; hell, I never even blamed her. It does look ******** sketchy, I just never really had any way to prove my innocence." The exiled rebel sighed heavily, glancing up at the roof of his bunker as he reflected to himself. " But that's enough chitchat. I think our time's up," Qinlon glanced at a simple digital clock on the wall, gesturing loosely at the time with his naginata. " If you want to get back to base before sunrise, you better ******** get your asses moving. I'd say see ya later, but that would be a lie. We won't be meeting again. But tell your leader I said 'hi, Bratkko', for me, yea?" His lips curled into snarl- or was that a smile? It was hard to tell- as he pointed his weapon back in the direction of the trio, clearly communicating his desire for them to leave. There would be no more questioning tonight.
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Posted: Sat Feb 21, 2015 3:38 pm
Zeffer's brows lifted hopefully as Qinlon echoed his question, believing for a moment that they might receive another useful piece of information, maybe even a name...but that hope was dashed as the older blueblood made some sort of decision with himself, and dubiously shrugged the question off. Zeffer breathed a soft sigh, a bit exasperated, but not enough to become angry or combative over it. Qinlon was obviously holding something back, but he had every right to do so. That he had put up with their shenanigans for this long hinted at the fact that maybe he cared, if only a tiny bit.
When Aprife began to add onto the question, he grinned. As usual, the yellowblood was quick thinking and on top of things, and he was certain his matesprit's newest inquiry would get them at least a bit of dirt. As Qinlon began to spill more info, the blueblood's lip curled up in a subdued, toothy smile, exactly what Zeffer wanted to hear. What Qinlon was admitting solidified a lot of what they had discussed during the previous nights, combing through the evidence they'd gathered. It looked like the head of intel had had her eye on a much greater leadership role, and had come dangerously close to obtaining it by inciting the events of the WACKY disaster. The way Zeffer saw it now, it had been a clever ploy to get rid of Akko and claim her position as leader of the Initiative. The thought filled him with disgust.
Zeffer was caught off guard as Qinlon started to wrap things up, and laughed out loud at 'Bratkko', his voice echoing through the empty hive before he bit his tongue. Though he was delighted by his moment of sass, the older troll was right...Zeffer wished they could stay, wished they could convince him to share more of his story, but they needed to leave. That the ex-rebel leader was even letting them go so easily was pleasing enough in itself; he had other hiding places perhaps, even though Zeffer was intent on keeping his secret. "He's right, guys...let's get moving." He turned to look back at Qinlon, and offered a grin.
"Thanks for the help," He laughed again, and after fishing around in his pocket for a moment, he set the chocolate bar they'd found down on a nearby table, "And sorry to barge in. I'll let 'Bratkko' know." A childish gesture of thanks, but the old troll looked like he needed it way more than they did. As he shifted toward the ladder, he was tempted to reassure the other blueblood about the secrecy of the location of his hive, but he didn't bother, knowing it would be a waste of breath. The old man was going to do what he needed, and there was no stopping him. Zeffer held onto the naive hope that maybe, someday, Qinlon could return to the ranks of the Initiative with a cleared name.
----
When he reached the surface again, Zeffer bristled at how light it was getting, and thanked gog that Arcus was still lurking near. The massive snake slithered up, hissing his worry to his charge, more than ready to haul the three back to the safety of the cave system. As Aprife and Muerte followed him up, he cleared his throat, looking serious for a moment more as he mounted his lusus' broad neck. "I doubt this dude's gonna stick around here for long, but I don't think anyone but Akko needs to know about this, yeah?" He looked at his teammates hopefully, concerned over the exiled rebel's privacy and safety.
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Posted: Sat Feb 21, 2015 8:11 pm
Ah, Errade. It was all assumption before now, but Aprife couldn't say he was surprised to hear that name again. Having encountered her face-to-face, it was obvious she was a forceful personality, and the idea that she'd be able to lead an entire group against one troll, with or without evidence, didn't seem at all unusual.
Even though Qinlon had chosen to stay quiet about the bombs—that hesitation wasn't lost on the yellowblood—they'd gotten plenty out of him. Seems the old leader did still have feelings for the Initiative, because it sure had taken him a while to truly kick them out, even despite his earlier threats. Would they have had enough evidence to cast a vote against Errade without him? Yeah, they would have, but that didn't change the fact that Aprife felt more sure than ever they were on the right path.
"Thanks for your help," he muttered, uncrossing his arms as he turned back towards the door. He hadn't noticed Muerte glancing at him earlier, no, he'd been far too focused on the blueblood for that. Catching sight of him now, his gaze cast hard to the floor... There was something in Aprife's eyes, for a split second, and he nearly raised a hand to pat his shoulder and tell him thanks too. Something held him back, though.
The greenblood had done well, he thought, in keeping his temper in check, but he was positive the touch and praise wouldn't be given the reception he hoped it would. Instead, he opted for a quick "Ready to go?" as Zeffer left the chocolate bar they'd found all that time ago as a gift for their gracious host. The fact that damn thing had gone full circle with them made him smile in his own silly, childish way.
It was the same smile that tugged his lips when he'd heard that nickname for Akko. Bratkko, he'd have to tease her about that one.
On the surface, it was clear they really did have only a short time to make it back to base before daybreak. At least with Arcus, they'd have a quick ride. "I have a feeling he's got more than one hiding spot, that place looked barely lived in." Still, he didn't want to cause the old man trouble. "I agree, we'll keep it to ourselves and Akko."
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Posted: Sat Feb 21, 2015 8:54 pm
Muerte was quick to exit the bunker the second Aprife gave that quick Ready to go? Was he ever. Turning on his heel, his boots made muffled sounds against the floor, soon he would be free in the arid desert air; had he been a bird, winged, he'd soar. Begone.
Sorely for him, he was a scientist and otherwise painfully average. He was a realist, too, so the silly thought was quickly crushed just as his patience and resolve had. He felt completely misplaced here. Listen to the last leg of that conversation only solidified the feeling. If there was anything he'd observed from his short stay here, it was that both of his teammates seemed relatively close with their leader, and Qinlon had his own connections... they were all in this cacophony together. Muerte wasn't a fundamental element in that. He didn't even share the same goals the rest of the initiative had.
"So be it." His voice was mumbled and quiet, curt, both hostile and guarded and dead. He didn't give a damn with what happened to that blueblood, nor did he give a damn about anything else. He was only seeing this through because he had already devoted so much effort to the case, not because he particularly wanted to. Each passing hour made him long for his hive more; the tranquility of the forest, solace found in his featherbeasts, fingers meticulously working at his science and his medicine and whatever else decided to occupy his time. Even the screams—his lusus—though he shuddered when he remembered them, cold creeping up his spine... at least they were a constant, albeit a terrible one. It was something he could expect. All this bullshit in the desert was not.
But he would keep quiet. What would he gain in telling the others anyway?
Nothing.
So Muerte would stay hushed on the matter. He would accompany them back to base. He would sit through this shitty makeshift trial, and then he would go home to his run down hive and forget that the entire event even happened in the first place.
He wiped at his lips, now sore and bloody, his fervent anger having died down to coals. He was tired. The horizon was lit with the inklings of dawn, something that made his skin crawl slightly; they had lingered too long, or perhaps they simply hadn't been there earlier enough. They found what they were looking for regardless.
Muerte turned his back on the bunker, the saw heavy at his side not from indignation, but weariness. His fingers no longer yearned for it. He was sure they would again in due time, or perhaps that was just a feeling.
"So be it," He repeated again, louder this time though no less terse, "We will all remain quiet on the matter." Affirmation, even though the group already seemed to be in agreement anyway.
It was time to return to base. The whisper of wind on on the dunes called to him.
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