Welcome to Gaia! ::

Adamaz had a lot of willpower, he felt. According to his dad, at least. But these finbeasts in his stomach writhed at every word the redblood said, no matter how much he tried to ignore them. He stopped moving her away, and looked her dead in the eye, putting a flicker of anger into his own.

"If it was about money, I'd get a much better job than this one. It's about getting out alive and intact. Same as you." He glanced at Chiara. "Trying to get me to desert isn't helping your chances, here. Kinda digs a deeper hole, you know? You're already in one, turning on our friends in the cavern." By friends, Adamaz could only imagine Chiara had meant the drones. Adamaz focused on that point, letting it make him mad, and letting that anger sink into his face. How many of the drones he had helped were wounded by this same girl?

Would he run? Flee from the sight of her? Stunned that she was alive, just as she was stunned he was alive? No, it seemed. He came to her and held her hands in his with such tenderness it rendered her breathless. Milieu's throat clenched as she watched, her eyes still wide and swimming with tears. The simplicity of the touch made her feel strange. She watched as his face quivered unsteadily, and then as he gave in to whatever pain made him collapse in the swamp. He Folded down and rested against her hands, like a stiff gust of wind against a house of cards.

HIs hands were rough, calloused against her own. But he was not rough or mean. Instead his touch was light and sparing, a tenderness reserved for someone much closer. She could feel the soft breath on her skin as he kissed her hands. Some part of her whispered that she should move back, disengage from the situation, run from this. This was too much, it said. Look what happened last time. A relationship that ended in flames, a guilt that still made her feel hollow and sick inside. Another relationship with its wings clipped long before it even launched. Outright, bitter objection. This was bad. This would not work. This was...

Milieu's stoic shock melted as her face twisted in pain, tears racing down her cheeks to the ground below. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead against his soiled, muddy hair. In another time, perhaps she would have recoiled, but this simple action was a balm to the aches of her being. Ganyma had said nothing, but shared something incredible and deep. Kindness, sadness, need. The need to be safe and the need of her, at that moment. It wasn't the hasty desire she had felt burn in her from Lunear. It wasn't the warm creeping happiness of Vremea. At that moment her feelings were simpler, and less passionate, but not less emotional. It was reminiscent of the feeling she had as a wiggler next to owlmom. Safety, reassurance. These weren't touches or kisses of passionate quadrants. They were lost and hopeless and she could offer him sanctuary from a terrible night. If only in the form of a simple embrace and quiet, nonjudgmental companionship. It was what she needed too.

She rested with him, shifting so they were closer. The mud would stain her clothes, but those didn't matter as much as the troll did. How funny, that they had chosen one another to partner with in battle. The teamwork they had was intense and remarkable. Here now, was a different sort of teamwork. Idly she stroked his hair and sniffled softly.

[WAR BABES]
[forera, luxara, rasali, aerona : 8 / 25]

The youngest person in their party certainly had a lot of zeal. Luxara could admire that. Not even that big of an age difference and I feel old.
So much s**t kept happening; it was impossible to ignore the weight of it compared to any point in time where things weren't so heavy. Was this normal?

"Comin', Ace!" She kept her speed up, not wanting to fall behind. One, for pride, two for survival reasons. There was still potential danger, and dragging the team down could end horribly. Past victories wouldn't matter if someone lost a limb or got killed. Step carefully, softly, quickly.

Even as they moved along, she kept thinking back to the kids hunting them down. Everyone was cannon fodder, and poorly planned at this point. There was no way children could catch much of anyone who went out able-bodied enough. Most of the rebels around were teenagers. Weapons, experience. Sure, Luxara herself was a stealthy, capable child. But highbloods? Not so much. But that was who the crown employed for pest control. Gross.

Up ahead, a head popped out from the side of a tree. Aerona! Luxara moved to join her, and quietly glanced where the redblood was gazing.

The rebels' broodmother herself. A surprising resource, and something that had utterly broken Ganyma. Luxara, a hermit at heart, was still not sure how this was so horrifying. She had more personal things to contend with, and that came first. Otherwise, this made some level of sense. Desperate times, desperate measures. Whatever transgression this was couldn't be anymore awful than anything the crown had done. The Initiative's leader was a mutant, and the cause had taken life into their own hands. Considering these facts, it certainly appeared that society as it was didn't have to be a certain way just because someone said so.
It was almost exhilarating, in a way.

Sorry, Gan. She looked to Aerona. "We made it." Few hints of the matter were larger than a Mother Grub.

Zariah Rutace
With Keionx and Alexin - TO THE RESCUE!!

"WAIT! KEI!" Zariah blanched as he watched his twin barrel forward. The small blueblood took her initial attention, but Zariah could tell immediately why she'd run over. That OTHER blueblood! The cretin that attacked his twin! Why was he in chains? Why did she wanted to help him?! UGH! Maybe they could get the innocent redblood to safety and the blueblood would just.....happen to stay behind.

Zariah grit his teeth. He didn't like approaching royalists....not after.....ugh, his wrist still stung at the thought. But he couldn't let Kei go alone....he couldn't lose her too. Zariah grabbed the teen's mud and blood caked wrist and tugged....to no avail. Uh oh.....why wasn't he moving? Why was he just.....standing there? He hadn't even acknowledged that his brave twin had come to his rescue....he just stared straight ahead with a creepy glazed expression....what was wrong with him? He grunted and tugged harder, but the teen was sunk in the mud and still stubbornly put. UGH! Maybe it was a trap! Maybe he was going to reach out and snag Zari and attack Kai again! He pulled back at the thought, staring suspiciously at the unmoving blueblood.

"Uh....Kei......he's not moving. Like.....at all. What's wrong with this guy?" he asked, scrunching his face in confusion. He wasn't attacking or trying to escape.....was he just stupid? Maybe concussed? Whatever it was....Zariah wasn't strong enough to get the teen out by himself...

Alifax couldn't remember whose idea it had been to split off from the main body of the searchers. But it was a sound one, he thought. In the big mass of other royalists it'd be impossible to get a good idea of just where the rebels where: the TPS would just detect the other loyal trolls nearby. And besides, they moved quicker as a small group, even with Lorata being...well, Lorata. At least she was interested by this rather than bored and finicky, and now that their business with the mutant had been wrapped up, Alifax wanted to do well with this other venture, too. And he actually trusted this group of trolls to do...fairly well in this venture.

"I wish jade didn't blend so easily into the swamp," Alifax confessed. Though if they'd stolen a mother grub rather than killing her outright, it was fairly logical that they wouldn't hurt it. They'd want its grubs, probably, right? "But I guess that's why we're suited to it," he added, shrugging. He actually felt a little bit useless at the moment. He'd never relied overmuch on his extra abilities, because he'd always wanted to keep them to himself. Still, it seemed like the only extraordinary thing he brought to this group was a long history of service and dedication to the crown. And, well, experience in skirmishes. But Sarcel, who could scout ahead while essentially undetectable, was far more useful to this venture than Alifax was. The best flames could do in an environment as damp as this one was a temporary trap. With the amount of trolls that was likely to be guarding the mother grub...Alifax wasn't so sure that he could create a blaze that big.

Adamaz kept his face firm throughout Tevini's pleading. She was trying to get a reaction from him. No... she was being sincere with him, just like he was at the start. He had informed her of the situation as flatly as he could. She was being honest in turn. Her reaction was... well, it was expected. Fear was what any lowbloods should feel in this situation, beyond a usual constant state. Not Adamaz, however. He would endure his position. It was who he was, who his lusus was, and who he was going to be. His gaze was still locked on hers; his eyes fiery, hers wet with tears.

Do other lowbloods have finbeasts in their stomach?

A shout from his companion started him. Her command was to run. He barely acknowledged the command with a glance. There was movement where there shouldn't be any. An attack? Rebels? Swamp monsters? Doesn't matter. Survival does, though.

"Come on," Adamaz said to Tevini in a low hiss, pulling her along. He hefted his trash can lid. "Papa, push that turtle out of the swamp." He rushed Tevini to her lusus."You said I could hide inside, right? Well, you do that. Now."

Beauty and the Beasts
[Odette, Ganyma, Reemus 2/25]

"Guh." His shoes kept sinking in the muck. At this rate, Reemus was half-tempted to just throw them off and go barefoot. It could only be easier than fighting to keep his footwear in one piece. Or at least on his foot.
Even though his clothes were in disrepair, it was still enough to keep him from giving in to the mighty need to roll around in the mud. He found it to be a very weird headspace, rejecting the gross things he had grown up loving so much.

Even almost being disgusted by it. Frankly, growing up sucked. Gillian, meanwhile, barked with excitement, mud between her toes and caking her feet and fur. Even her face was dirty. The howlbeast was having the time of her life.

"Glad to know someone's havin' a good night," Reemus grumbled, only partially with any sort of moodiness. He was sweaty and sticky and the bugs kept bothering him, Voscil was off with other trolls or something, and that kind of hurt. He was on his own for the most part with these bloody awful wounds, but at least his mum was there for him. He just wished he actually knew more than two people if he had to spend any time with these radicals at all. What was he going to do with himself if he couldn't protect anyone? All he could do was fall into an aimless trudge.

Milieu’s presence now, at this moment, was like nothing that Ganyma had ever felt before. The sensation started from his scalp. Her touch against his hair, her head pressed against his and their bodies close together radiated warmth. With each trace of her fingers, the tension in his muscles began to untangle. His nerves, for sweeps even, had been knotted so tightly that even in times of joy and rest there would be no respite. He was always a live wire under a solid façade, and the relative massage was a physical conversation. He unwound. His shoulders slumped, and his breaths became heavy and long. Ganyma nuzzled Milieu.

The world stopped shivering. Sounds of the swamp were identifiable now. Amphibians, avians, insects. That was all. No more trolls but these two in quiet solace. This was fine. Trolls were tormentors and destroyers. The long chequered history of conquer, capture and kill was repeated in the hunt for the rebellion these very nights. Ganyma had fled for the second time, but the Phoenix Initiative didn’t have the answers he so desired. The Phoenix Initiative had committed a tragedy, creating life. It was more than hubris in the weight of the gall and responsibility now crushing down on their collective shoulders. It occurred numbly to Ganyma that this outcome was inevitable. It was too late, now, to return to a simpler time. He reciprocated Milieu’s actions. A hand moved up her chin and cheek to a soft support of the back of her head. Ganyma breathed out as a rush of thoughts re-ordered themselves in his thinkpan. Marching on with a squadron of children to an execution proved his weak-mindedness, and fleeing from the monstrosity of the Mother Grub proved his cowardice. Acting when told, fleeing when he was simply unable to cope.

But… Something had changed, now. Ganyma felt Milieu’s skin against his own, her soft fingers against his hair. There was nothing between them, no fabric or mental barrier keeping unsavory thoughts locked away. He was not afforded an artificial calm. There was no escape, but he was safe in his vulnerability. How to describe this feeling? They had not said a word. The realization of this made Ganyma rouse from his trance. He slowly pulled his head back from Milieu, his hands resting on her shoulders. Tired, deep-set eyes looked almost quizzical as he tried to understand her involvement. They had communicated before so effortlessly, and now he was at a loss for words. Ganyma didn’t have the answers. Neither did Milieu. But for the first time that he could remember, his conscious was resolved and he experienced clarity. That was all he needed for now. There was nothing that could be done about the past. It was time to move on. From both the Initiative, and the military.

“Thank you…” Ganyma whispered. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “For talking with me.”

Ganyma was uncertain whether or not his definition was accurate, but it was the only word he could use to describe their moment in the wooded swamp. His shoulders rose and fall as he readied himself to rise. “The Mother Grub has to reach a safe place. Would you lead me there?” He asked. Ganyma pointed in the direction that the two had come from and then off into the distance to imply the ‘safe place’.