- [+] Kursha Vidari
With Ganyma doing the footwork as well as picking off any stragglers that got too close, and Kursha nailing the majority of their targets from a distance they proceeded through the swamp largely unscathed. A good thing too, because exhaustion had begun to catch up with the greenblood. Their temporary alliance might have been the only thing that saved him from feeding the walkers. Not that Ganyma ever needed to know.
Even so, Kursha hated it. He hated how well they operated as a team, he hated how stupid he must have looked, and most of all he hated that once again he had fallen into Ganyma Callow's debt, even if the tealblood owed him for exactly the same. Wearily Kursha plugged two cartridges into the prone daywalkers as soon as Ganyma called them out. He did not so much as bat an eye, but turned his gaze what lie ahead and began reloading.
“Don't tell me what to do,” he snapped, as Ganyma began to set off again. He was too worn out to care whether he sounded childish or not. When the tealblood began to gather speed however, Kursha grudgingly lowered his rifle and tightened his grip. Branches whipped past them. Leaves crackled underfoot.
Wait. Leaves?
Kursha surveyed the woods with a more attentive eye. He had not noticed under the breaking light of day, but their surroundings were vaguely familiar. The trees were taller, the forest thicker. And the ground... There was no way Ganyma would have been able to break into a full sprint in the swamp. The ground was solid. They had left the marshlands behind.
For a moment, Kursha felt sweet relief. Somehow they must have drifted further west than he accounted for, and ended up in the Four Fronds. Not that it mattered. It was civilisation. And that meant his mission was complete.
The thoughts that he had stowed away back in the swamp, now demanded to be released, to be recognised. They unfolded in his thinkpan one after another, like an unending letter. He had failure to shoulder, a queen to report to, and a captive to turn in. Quiet, Kursha turned his gaze to Ganyma. As he regarded the tealblood, the thoughts in his mind began to shift, and take new shape. His pump biscuit held no pity for the tealblood—not one drop—and whatever punishment he got he deserved. But first, Kursha had to act for himself, and he had no intention of treating Ganyma with mercy.
Through the trees, Kursha suddenly glimpsed an unusual orange glow between the pale blue bark of the trees. It could not be the sun, since she rose over their backs. Narrowing his eyes, Kursha squinted through the trees. Shadows played along the trunks, flickering like erratic dancers. After a moment the sharp odour of smoke reached his nostrils. A fire.
“Hey.” Kursha nudged the tealblood in the ribs with his heel. “Any of this look familiar?”
Sypon
Trust Kursha. I know you don't want to, but just do it.
