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Corrupt Super Sailor Noctua

One moment Noctua was weeping into General Benitoite's limp wrist, and the next she was floating. Still she clung to him, like a lifeline, afraid that if she lost her grip on him she'd be lost herself. Or worse... he'd be lost. Still, for all her worry, the sensation itself, she knew was not a cause for panic. It felt familiar. Like something she knew... or should have known. It at least felt calming and warm. Like a bath after a long day.

When her feet touched down again, the sensation was replaced by something else. Though no one told her what it was, she knew it.

Metallia

She dropped to her knees, clasping her hands as though in prayer, and muttered her thanks to their queen. Around her, she felt the warm, welcoming, proud embrace of their invisible ruler, and Noctua leaned into it. They had failed, and Noctua knew it. They hadn’t protected the generators like she knew they were supposed to. And yet… not only did Metallia save them, she felt proud of them. She let her loving embrace calm her shuddering and soothe the aching in her face brought on from the attacks leveled against her.

Behind her, General Benitoite stirred, and roused Noctua from her impassioned prayer. She rose, wrapping her bone-fine fingers around her wrist once more. Carefully, she wiped the tears and coagulated blood from her face and whispered, "General? General, we're safe now." She glanced up at the man holding him, not daring to let hope enter her eyes.

“He’s waking up, right,” she whispered against her own will. “You… you see it too?”

God, she hated how weak she sounded. How frail she felt.


---

Youma Angora

So many new sensations. So many new sounds and feelings. One moment battle raged around them, and the next everything fell silent. Still, Angora dared not look up from the safe arms circled around her. She kept her nose buried in the crook of the officer's neck, relying on her promise that no harm would befall her.

And, after a moment, it seemed like the officer had kept that promise. She remained curled up in the officer's arms before she mustered up the courage the emerge, slowly, with her ears pinned to her head. She lifted her nose, wiggling it as she sniffed the air and smelled... nothing. She pushed carefully away from the officer, though never wandering farther than her arm's length away, and inspected her surroundings.

It felt... like home...

It was a strange sensation, to feel like you belonged so perfectly in a place you had never known, and yet here Angora was. With the distinct feeling that this was the place that she would call home... forever. Her ears perked up slowly, first one, and then the other. Her sniffing became more pronounced, more confident, and she even sniffed at the boots and heels of officers close enough to be inspected. They smelled similar enough to Angora that she didn't determine them as a direct threat... right them.

She looked back over her shoulder, as though looking to Bellite for confirmation that it was alright for her to venture this far away from her arms. Not that Bellite couldn't simply reach forward and regather her if she needed or wanted.

A-little-bit-conscious-Albite: Artist formerly known as Retribution
Actions: Oxygen is a brains friend. Energy tastes weird. Sylvite's a good - a best even.

Dark-dark-dark-that fed into a buzz like swallowing pop-rocks whole and letting them sit and it warmed him from the inside out until he was gasping but he couldn't remember why until his eyes opened and ---

'Where the ********> skittered thought like water through silt and Albite had questions aplenty. Slow molasses of thought that felt heavier every second as his eyelids fought to --- oh -- and he could keep them open. That was a thing. Cool. He could blink even! Because the darkness wasn't eternal - it was just regular.

Regular darkness and he in his regular body lying -- lying down and looking up at..

Sylvite?

Except upside down and lookeing far more Mrs. Serious stressed and focused than he'd ever seen her before. That had Albite worried, because what if her face stayed like that -- it shouldn't stay like that.

Because what if it stuck? What if it stuck like --- *F a u s t i t e s blood in his d r e a d s* Shunted spiral of *<********>* that sparked over his mind. Fragments of thought clouded over that Albite wanted to shake free.

He reached up instead. Felt like he was crawling up out of deep ruffled bedding piled miles high -- was sure it was just Sylvites lap. Gossamer and glittery bed for his half-empty head -- Reached for her face -- because pretty girls with pink curls shouldn't have looked so -- distraught -- consternated?

"Hi, Liv's--m'here ---" and the waking world wasn't kind, exposed every little hurt and ache that he'd so firmly ignored while playing Youma on Parade. How the hurts on his body felt infinitely less to the hurts on his soul. So he focused on Sylvites cheek, how it was soft and warm, just like her curls. So it was fine if he poked at them gently. Offered her some winced thing that could've once been a smile. "S'okay. M'here.." didn't want her to worry - not over him - not over anyone. Bit back all the things that wanted to spill out of his mouth and body and brain all at once...

Albite settled on the fact that he would, at some point before leaving the planet as a person, learn how to speak and breath at the same time. That moment however, would not be this one.

stari_magaxx

Livi?!

General Ashanite

Well. It wasn't the clean victory Ashanite would have liked--but as far as he was aware, none of their soldiers were dead, and they'd only lost three to purification. He was fairly certain he'd seen at least that many lights go dark just near the generator he, Aquamarine, and Jet had protected at the end.

"I'm--" Ashanite started to say fine,, in response to Jet's query, but he huffed, because that wasn't entirely true--"going to make sure I get checked for a concussion, but otherwise alright. Thank you for the backup." He'd been headbutted and punched in the face; no reason to take a risk with something that could kill him when all it would do was serve his pride.

He also couldn't help but notice the way Jet's hand rested on Aquamarine's hip. Ah, it was like that between them. An interesting bit of knowledge, but not anything he intended to comment on out loud.

Leifite got a fond roll of the eyes, as she approached.

"Very funny, Lieu--"

He stopped himself, once again.

Ah. Well.

Now that he had a good look at her, that wasn't right. And there was no mistaking the expression on his face for anything but pride.

"Captain. Look at you. Earned a battlefield promotion and everything. Excellent work."

Cadet Vyn

Vyn glanced around nervously, his grip still tight around his blaster.

Everyone beyond the strained shape of the Commodore was unfamiliar to him, and yet Vyn was certain he knew who they were, and where he and his fellow Cadets had been taken. Those people were part of the Negaverse, this dark place was their domain, and that woman standing at the front of the room was their Queen.

She was a far more impressive presence than the Velencian King.

Vyn did not think that was to their benefit. At all. Even though they’d apparently been brought under her protection, at least temporarily.

She seemed sweet and sinister at once, not a young girl but not an old woman either, in the prime of her life and confident in her power. Being from a peaceful world of peaceful people, Vyn had never seen anyone quite like her. Just her presence was terrifying. Her smile left him quaking in his boots.

He knew better than to trust her. She was polite, but she was not their friend. Vyn knew better than to trust any of them. Certainly her army could be as fearsome as she was. They could pull starseeds. They could end a life permanently, had done so already that night, though he had not seen it up close.

Still, he knew. Their power, their ferocity, both were unmistakable.

His distaste for the Earthlings extended beyond the White Moon. None of them had the best interests of Velencya or its people at heart.

Instinctively, Vyn sought out Aliez. His friend fell unconscious on the field, and though Vyn knew Fangnyl would care for him, he also knew that Aliez would be vulnerable while regaining consciousness. Vyn found Aliez with Fangnyl still, but did not experience relief in seeing either one of them.

If they were here, weren’t they in danger?

Weren’t they all in danger?

The Cadets, and the Commodore?

“Commodore…” Vyn said, made anxious by their surroundings, confused by the events of that night, and scared for the Commodore, who was injured but stubbornly kept himself standing.

The Commodore was weakening. Vyn knew it, the Dark Kingdom Queen knew it, likely everyone in this room knew it. What if they attacked? Vyn could not fight them on his own, and so few had helped him defend the Commodore before. Only Aliez that he could remember. The others? Dead, or injured, or sabotaging their own mission.

Vyn felt at once surrounded and very alone.

He wanted to offer the Commodore his comfort and support. He wanted to express his gratitude at the knowledge that the Commodore would do everything in his power to protect them even now, especially now, but Vyn knew there were no words or actions adequate enough, and he was too afraid to try.

Tentatively, he shuffled closer to the Commodore’s back. He reached out…

But Vyn could not let his fingers connect. He dropped his hand before it came to rest against the Commodore’s shoulder.

Cadet Caelyna

Caelyna didn't think she'd ever been so afraid in her entire life.

Whatever powerful energy had been coursing through the Commodore, it had cracked her Source Stone--distantly, she wondered if she would have to get a new one, but she hadn't really had time to think about it. Because they were enveloped in that strange, purple glow, and taken away, and--and--

And here they were, in a strange place, a place that was apparently the lair of the very people that had executed Gavaen.

Her heart dropped.

This was not right. This was not where they should be. Her trust in the Commodore was unwavering--but she didn't like any of this. It comforted her, just a little, that Lyndin also looked unhappy with the way the woman with the scythe was talking--but that also made her more afraid. If he was so exhausted he was trembling, if he couldn't do anything about this disrespect...

They would have to stick together. She was certain of that much, at least. And so her eyes searched the little group (and there were so many missing, it broke her heart) for Fae-Fae, and spotted her, holding her precious cargo, Daesva by her side.

Velyria's last wish had been asking Fae-Fae and Caelyna to stick together. Even without that, though, she would not have left her friend alone. So she moved to Fae-Fae's side, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, and looked to Daesva, too.

"Velyria would have wanted us to look out for each other. So...we need to stick together." Her voice was low, soft. Hopefully quiet enough that it didn't reach any Negaverse ears.

Negaverse Sailor Niter

What Niter was expecting: After a few minutes' lull, Jet would pass out more orders. With the generators down, they were to subdue more White Moon and start converting them into Negaverse officers manually. Or, the General Sovereigns would start closing in like a menacing game of Red Rover. Or, that malfunctioning thing in the center would blow them all into the comet that was apparently shot down.

What Niter got: Spirited away, without warning, while still holding the Sack of Fluor (Fluorapatite) that was once an enemy. He'd never seen the place before, but it was huge and had a fancy throne at the end of it — Niter would've thought they were fighting a boss here, but the only boss in the room was Laurelite. And maybe that alien-looking giant guy in the corner. With the way Laurelite sounded like she was taunting them, maybe that was the boss fight.

Niter wasn't looking to fight a boss battle with dead weight in his hands. A few youma were wandering around attending to the wounded, and Niter hoped one would drift his way. So he waited. And waited. And then one finally swept by him, only to hiss violently and storm away on a pile of tentacles for legs.

Niter's shoulders dropped. Jet told him about this, but he was hoping maybe one would suspend that deep, abiding hate to see to the unconscious girl in his hands.

Then Jet called, and Niter froze. What was he supposed to do now? None of the youma looked remotely interested in taking the girl, and he couldn't leave her on the floor unless he wanted her tripped over and stepped on. "Just, um, stay unconscious for a little while longer, okay?" He muttered down to her.

Readjusting his grip on her knees and side, Niter wove his way around the gathering of Negaverse officers until he spotted familiar black and teal. He came up behind, and uttered a quiet "sir."



Negaverse Super Adonis

Metallia's tits, what a ride.

First he was standing around, gawking at the space opera, then he was watching the throne room spin like a cocaine-fueled dreidel. Adonis was deeply thankful that the Queen didn't have much to say in those moments, because Adonis wasn't hearing her over his sudden and rampant urge to repaint the throne room floor. Little bit of warning would've been helpful, but Supers couldn't be choosers.

Adonis massaged his temples while he watched some of the youma scurry to and fro. Quickly lost interest in them, though, when his attention found a group of those aliens from before. Adonis recognized the big dude, and a couple of the other ones from Space Opera Central, and he felt familiar enough to wave at them. Didn't much expect them to wave back, though.

Adonis took a few stumbling steps before his dizziness wore off, and then he started looking for people he knew. Looked for people he didn't know, too — people who looked like they didn't have anyone to shoot the s**t with, or people who were separated from their usual groups. Looked for Diasporite, since that kitten heeled little b*****d teamed up with him for a while. Looked for that lone Negaverse senshi (Lionel) he saw when he tuned back into the Space Opera, too.

Had to cut it short, though, when Sylvite called. Couldn't disappoint the brand-new boss, he figured, so he parsed the crowd for that tiny, stylish pair of daggers and found her by some bashed up ******** called?" He leaned over her, then added, "oh, who's this? New teammate?" Grinned broadly over that one.



General Faustite

Bloodless and absent resistance, Faustite laid limp in Taenite's arms. Breathed heavy for how he was laden with cold sweat, how his blood dregs were overtaxed. His vision clouded over, full of a hundred thousand stars encroaching on the center. Full of the colors of the broken comet as it shattered across the sky.

"Wait," Faustite huffed softly, and made a weak gesture at the disembodied arm that Taenite passed. But Taenite hadn't time to pick it up, for they were vanished —

And transported to the throne. Here, he felt a margin less like a dumpster fire, for a comfort hung in the air. Taenite kept up so steadily well with his wit; the boy had one more jab in store for him that was returned with a deadpanned stare. Faustite raised his hand with palpable effort, paused only to look at it and count its fingers, then curled a loose middle finger at the boy who carried him. "b*****d," he wheezed.

That hand fell, and he rested his head against Taenite's arm. Moving was too much to bear; he had to conserve energy to ask necessary questions.

"How long — does this last?" The magic, that smoke, whatever Taenite used to replace the parts he'd lost, it was magic, and magic invariably had a time limit. So when would these limbs expire? Were they truly his limbs? They obeyed him now, as he would expect of the body he was born with, but what could he expect from them?

"And Kamacite — my team —"

The thought was left unfinished when a creepy skeleton (Hippocrates) loomed over him, making statements that he evaluated with a few weary huffs. "Need blood," he managed, as if the youma had a few bags of it on him.

Cadet Fae-Fae

Daesva's words of concern were met with a pained expression. No, Fae-Fae's look was saying, of course I'm not alright. Her puffy and messy face offered a few more tears -- from pain that needed to be shared, and gratitude that she was being offered a witness.

While she was a bit scuffed, she didn't have any serious injuries. Her worst complaint was the taste of cinnamon still lingering in her mouth from the senshi who had attacked her.

Caelyna's gentle touch, and reminder of Velyria's final words, sent a spiral of warmth pulsing through her being. The chokehold of darkness loosened its grip on her a bit, and in spite of everything, she offered her friend a small but dreamy smile in response. It was obvious she agreed.

Corrupt Cymophane

As soon as they arrived in the throne room, Cymophane turned his attention to making sure the people he cared about were okay.

He wasn’t going to think about the magic that hit him, or the memories it made him relive. He wasn’t going to worry about the mission, which must not have been as much of a failure as it seemed with the loss of the generators if the Queen was in such a good mood. He wasn’t even going to concern himself much with the aliens, even though they were interesting and, holy wow, that one guy in front of the rest was impressive. In a very attractive sort of way. Like, prime specimen right there.

Focus, Cymophane.

He turned to Reidite first, felt him up in ways that were appropriate between siblings to assure himself that Reidite was uninjured and whole. Then he turned to Jet, because Jet asked after him, smiling cheerfully as he answered, “Fine here, General!”

Another Senshi (Niter) earned Jet’s concern. Cymophane had a smile for him, too.

“Hi, newbie, I’m Cymophane. Jet recruited me, too. He likes Senshi. Or maybe he doesn’t and he just tolerates us. I don’t know, that’s probably more likely. He did kill that one…”

Which, on the one hand, was kind of badass, but also, on the other hand, kind of terrifying.

“I’d stick around to chat longer, but I need to find my friend.” Cymophane bounced up on his tiptoes a few times, trying to peer over the crowd. “Kamacite! Hey, where are you?”