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 Posted: Sat Feb 11, 2023 3:34 pm
Faustite had been drinking. Not enough that he felt it, but he wanted to banish his cough for as long as possible while his throat and chest recovered. To manage this, he had been spiking his cups of tea throughout the day, and they had a palpable effect — when he had to cough, it was a stunted, wan little affair, lacking the gagging or doubling over that coughing had usually entailed. He'd have remarked that he felt a little more human for it, had that not been such a misnomer.
After finishing his third cup, Faustite decided that now was as good a time as any to keep moving with his plan. A taloned finger grazed down a list of names on his tablet, then halted at the name Fulgurite. He would be next, then.
Fulgurite — that was Albite's boy. An artifact from a dissolved team. Sylvite's team. Faustite could hardly recall who else was on that team, not that he particularly cared; none of the other drifters ended up with him, so their fate was inconsequential. But Albite had Fulgurite, which meant Fulgurite was also his business. He couldn't recall much about the boy, save for Albite telling him that Fulgurite watered his garden. Faustite had only seen him hanging about at the back of groups, generally doing as little as possible and getting away with it (for this, he blamed Albite as the soft touch). Perhaps it was time to see what he could do.
He couldn't summon this one, what with his current rank. Perhaps Faustite's standing as a team lead would prompt Fulgurite to answer a request for his presence nonetheless. With his tablet lying flat on his desk, Faustite propped up his chin with his left hand as he typed with his right.
COME TO MY OFFICE, the message said. He touched send.
Come to think of it, he'd seen Fulgurite with Cryolite on occasion. Was there something going on there…? Maybe he'd find out.
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Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2023 6:18 am
COME TO MY OFFICE, it said. It said it in stunning full caps lock, the kind of implied voice that might have hinted he would have been summoned if not for his newfound rank. Being Eternal had made existing easier, at least, even if still not favorable. There were fewer demands that could be made of him. The ones that were made were considerably loftier or had the kinds of eyes behind them he wanted to keep away from him because they came with more expectations. More expectations came with more work. More expectations came with more s**t he had never agreed to at the onset. There was a part of him that wanted to put his foot down. Reply with a no and a passive-aggressive heart emoji. But if it wasn't one thing, it was another. There was always something else to do. There was never any chance to truly separate from it. Hell, the only reason why he got away with as little quota as he did was by entertaining always something else to do. With Albite it wasn't a quota. It was ******** gardening. And ultimately, Faustite was Albite's husband. There was always something else, and to prevent it from being even more else, it was best he entertain the summon. OkayWhen Fulgurite teleported outside of the office he had only approached during total group summons -- the increased quota, for one -- he tapped the door rhythmically a few times and waited for an acknowledgment before entering. Best to let people have their space. Sad he rarely got his own. "You wished to see me?" What the hell was needed that was so demanding? It better not have anything else to do with ******** increased quotas; he was already doing enough for that to compensate for what Albite couldn't cover--
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2023 1:39 pm
There he was — the swimsuit model who called himself Fulgurite. Faustite gestured brusquely to a chair.
He was cute, Faustite had to admit. He wondered if his husband picked this one for his looks, or for his sphere, or his capabilities, or his track record as an officer, or solely because he had a fling with the boy's former boss. Albite's thought process was an impenetrable mess as far as Faustite was concerned, more prone to instinctual decision-making than anything that resembled logic or reason. Could've been that Fulgurite reminded him of some guy who used to run a greasy spoon type of diner who served Waru a hefty plate of nachos once, and the fond memory combined with good food meant Fulgurite had to be picked from the pile of orphaned officers. Who was to say.
"Yes —" He began, but an eruption of coughs cut him off and he abandoned the rest of what he intended to say. Faustite scooted closer to his desk via his stool, then readjusted how he sat on it. Picking up a pen, he started scribbling on a blank post-it note that was shaped like a fire emoji.
"Higher-ups want to see another training op. Something to get the Lieutenants and Basics better armed for skirmishes in Destiny City. Wanted me to run it, but I've been sick. The others've got their own missions and objectives. Yours is the emptiest plate among us." He peeled the post-it from the stack and stuck it in front of Fulgurite.
"Plan is to lure a few White Moon and use them like cage fighters. Get the rank and file some practice, then starseed them before they get too frisky. Expecting you to scout out the time and place, then oversee it."
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Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2023 2:47 pm
Fulgurite eyed the chair down his nose, but ultimately didn't waste much time sitting down versus standing. It gave him a good position for what happened next, and his eyes widened in surprise as he heard the coughs that cut him off. Could the half-youma get colds? Their merger with the chaotic monsters they commanded had always given him the impression that things that bothered humans wouldn't necessarily bother them. Weren't their bodies different? The question of curiosity was on the edge of his lips but died before he could ask it. There was always more s**t to do. Some other ******** responsibility he had never asked for. This one was a training operation, apparently, and his relatively clear plate was coming to bite him in the a**. Faustite was delegating, of course, as was his right as a team lead. The curiosity that had swept across Fulgurite's face had been replaced with something more decidedly neutral as he plucked up the fiery post-it note. Thematic, at least. His brain was scrambling for a way out of this one. He didn't want to do this. Order, White Moon, whatever, had been excessively nice to him. He wasn't sure if luring a bunch of them to be fighting dogs and then slaughtered was a remotely comfortable notion. He wasn't sure what Raksha or Selinur would think -- or Nectaris, most importantly. Thinking of her in relation to this made his skin feel cold. But would his relative lack of responsibility even be allowed to persist if he refused? What would Albite say if Fulgurite had some excuse for this? If people like Hessonite expected this, if people like Laurelite expected this, one of the reasons why he was even there, what would they think? Would it be a punishable offense, or worse, a killable one? It was a rock and a hard place and there weren't any answers that didn't result in some kind of trouble. So where was the route of the least resistance? Sitting silently was not of any particular benefit, so he started with a, "Just thinking, sorry about that," which was true. Not really wrong. "Never run an op myself before." Also true. "I'll need some time to get this arranged. When are the general-sovereigns expecting this?"
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2023 3:48 pm
Faustite was observant of the silence, though he did not comment on it. He sat quietly as well, mind combing over the list of to-dos that had become delayed due to whatever was wrong with him. This strange illness created its own task on his mental running list, for he needed to know how to kick whatever this was if he wanted to remain an effective officer. Of course, there was also the matter of the leak, and rooting it out from the team on a whole. There would be many to meet after this, and many more meetings elsewhere.
Nor long after Fulgurite fell silent, Faustite started to cough again. Hoarse, raspy things that shook and rattled his avian bones and left him curled over for breath. He wiped his mouth on the back of a sleeve and refused to speak of it at all. Fulgurite could figure out the obvious.
And once the boy found his words again, he was asking when. A curious first choice for someone who had never run an operation. At this, Faustite glanced up with lukewarm incredulity. "Why the ******** did they promote you if you've never run an op?" It was a serious question; he'd heard officers got promoted without any sort of leadership tasks, though he never got to know how that happened, or what they had done to earn a promotion through alternate means.
Barring that for a moment — "Sovereigns want it done by summer. Expect there's something bigger coming that they want to put the rank and file to use. Best none of us ******** it up, first time or not."
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Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2023 5:31 pm
There was that coughing again. What the hell actually managed to cross the boundary between human and half-human, half-youma? He would have more time to ponder it if he wasn't wondering how the hell he was going to run a whole goddamn op that was going to result in a whole bunch of unnecessary murder to people who were probably just fine. ********. ******** ********/>... Huh, sounded like Faustite had just assumed he had op experience... The question was a good one. To be honest, considering what he was already confronting, he wished he could tell them to take it back. Not that he wanted to be able to pulled around at someone else's ******** will, taking him away from anything he was doing. Not that he wanted to have to obey. Not that the heeling had stopped. He never asked for this. "Probably has something to do with these," he offered, reaching into subspace and pulling out a small display case he kept on him, filled with the eleven medals he had accrued. Each one made his skin crawl. Each was a reminder of what he had done, the missions he'd been part of, the murders and the captures and the-- "Albite asked me to submit to him everything I've done in my nine years here. A bit later, Albite was pulling me into Hessonite's office." Done by summer. What was going to happen after that point? Would this be worse than that damn alien invasion that was apparently actually favorable? If they had to worry about getting lieutenants and basic to figure out how to murder people... He offered the case toward Faustite if he wanted it while asking, cautiously, "Do you have any recommendations for someone who has never done this?"
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Feb 13, 2023 11:35 am
Faustite spared a glance at the medals, then diverted his attention back to Fulgurite. Sylvite had a quantity of medals like that before she betrayed the Negaverse by freeing Ganymede. She was let in on a secret mission like the rest of them, then put in charge of a generator in that fight on the hill. Now she was a Knight, unfortunately still alive, and Fulgurite was one of her leftovers.
All those medals and no operation experience to show for it. Albite must've worked some wonders to plead Fulgurite's case.
'Albite was pulling me into Hessonite's office.'
Faustite grabbed another sticky note. Wrote in shorthand over top of it. There was always more to do.
Looking back up at Fulgurite, Faustite nested his chin atop his left fist while he spun the pen in his hand frivolously. "Do your research on the enemy. Plan for everything you can imagine to go wrong. Find your intrinsic motivation. Consult others to evaluate your p—" He cut himself off with a hissing wince that lasted but seconds. "Your plan," he finished.
"Surprised that Sylvite didn't give you any experience," he commented offhandedly as he reached up inside his vest from the bottom. "Something to report, I suppose."
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Posted: Mon Feb 13, 2023 4:16 pm
When the medals were observed and summarily ignored, Fulgurite wasted no time dismissing them back to the depths of subspace. No point in focusing attention on them if Faustite didn't care to. Fulgurite didn't care to, either. As much clout as they might have given him in the Negaverse, Fulgurite could hardly bring himself to care beyond a small surge of pride he felt at their numbers. That pride was, of course, always quickly squashed by the reality. What was Faustite writing? Wished he could ******** read that. What had he said-- Intrinsic motivation--why was he hissing--that was a ******** joke. The hell was his motivation? The hell skin would he have to put on to find that bullshit? He supposed the motivation here was to make sure the newbies didn't die, which seemed fair enough, but why this way? Couldn't they just duel each other? There was those tournaments he used to enter... What was he reaching for-- it was the offhand mention of Sylvite that caught his attention, and he couldn't quite stop himself from coming to her cautious defense even if she was labeled a traitor. "I think her goals for me were a bit different than gearing me for ops." He bit the inside of his bottom lip. How to word this... "She did a lot of work on helping me be less impulsive." To be honest, he was pretty sure Nectaris was part of the reason why he was mentally struggling with the quota he was taking on. Instead of focusing on Nectaris, though, he slid back into the topic truly at question. "Getting help sounds like a good idea in this case." Unfortunately. Maybe Albite would know something and then maybe he'd just ******** do it himself. Fulgurite could just make him a whole botanical garden in return. "Intrinsic motivation -- giving the newbies a better chance to live, I imagine."
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Feb 13, 2023 4:58 pm
"Looks to me like she helped you to do the bare minimum." Dates weren't necessarily assigned to medals, and if Sylvite helped him out with any impulsivity before, then perhaps that was why he wasn't doing anything but collecting his minimum quota now. No projects, no subordinates, no Database entries — Faustite saw nothing for Albite's attaché, not even a peep out of Albite that he was good in bed.
So either those medals were stolen, or they were old. He half-smiled; would be ballsy of Fulgurite to steal them, and that would make him more interesting, too.
Fulgurite speaking about his intrinsic motivation drew a look from Faustite, but he said nothing more of it. The sticky note he had been working on was peeled off and stuck off to the side to be dealt with later. He'd heard enough already that he couldn't rule the boy out between his continued support of Sylvite and Albite discovering the leak through something Nectaris had said. It wasn't strong evidence, but it was worth investigating on his own time.
Faustite fetched his tablet, coughed dryly into his sleeve. "Suggest you look at the mid-ranks," he said as he turned back toward his desk. "Pick some of the eager ones. They're always looking to prove themselves."
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2023 6:58 am
Honestly, Faustite wasn't wrong, and Fulgurite had trouble mounting an argument about the fact he was doing the bare minimum. He was, in a lot of ways, and it was a more comfortable spot for him than the endless expectations that accompanied things like underlings and apparently now running whole murder ops. It was a more comfortable spot than indulging the rage that boiled him so much that people died in his wake. In a way, there wasn't a point in mounting an argument; Faustite had read it accurately, and attempting an argument might have just looked like a pathetic attempt to save his own a**. It required more effort than it was worth. Why was Faustite smiling, ******** he wished he understood whatever ******** language Faustite was writing in, though. What the hell did that say? Was it about telling the general-sovereigns to give him more to do somehow, because if that was it he was going to cry? "So the captains and supers," repeated Fulgurite back, as he realized this was about fetching him some people to manage. There was always more s**t. "I'm most familiar with a few lieutenants and basics. I'll have to reach out more to see who is eager for an op among the higher ranks." He had a few theories about overeager beginners, but he honestly had no significant interest in working with them. Of course, they might just take on more responsibility than necessary and let Fulgurite continue to do the bare minimum. Anything but-- Ugh, reach out. No matter what he had more s**t to do. "Feels like a more realistic version of what those tournaments used to be like."
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2023 8:16 am
He wondered how long Fulgurite was going to stand there and sound off, or if this was one of his methods of procrastination. Maybe he thought if he could annoy Faustite long enough, he would be excused from the 'mission'. "Whatever it takes," Faustite confirmed with the boy as he booted up his tablet.
He had never gotten accustomed to the way anything was laid out on these damned things, which meant he was constantly asking his subordinates to teach him how to access the files or applications he needed. The majority of what he knew was how to contact someone. Anything else — even notes — were lost on him. He was already annoyed for having to go through these charades with those present at the wedding; he wasn't in the mood to muddle around with the tablet just to find its remote access to the Database.
The mention of the tournaments gave Faustite pause. He remembered them, though he never liked to; so many of the people he had grown to trust from those days were gone. Aue, Tibby, some names that he'd forgotten but faces he remembered. Those were difficult days that he preferred to relegate to the furthest reaches of his thoughts, for those faces were never coming back. And if they did — well. She would be back. His brows huddled down, the corners of his mouth twitched into a slight grimace.
"Tournaments were for demonstrating mastery," he explained as he tried to distance himself from those memories. "Your trainees don't have mastery. This is to build their skill.
"If you're done, don't loiter." He broke off with a few coughs. "Both of us have a lot to do."
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2023 3:37 pm
Tournaments were for mastery -- no wonder he never won, no wonder he never wanted to. This was a training mission, dedicated to making sure that his underlings didn't die. Didn't die in whatever nonsense that was apparently happening in the fall, or at least after summer. Should he give Nectaris a heads-up, or did he need more information first? And what was he going to do about this mission he needed to start ******** his thoughts spiraled, Faustite suggested he not loiter. Fulgurite couldn't help the relief that washed through his body, but it shortly disappeared as he realized being dismissed with that implication meant that it was time to work. It was time to work on this training mission. It was time to figure out how to lure in these Order senshi and knights to be beaten up before getting summarily murdered. It was time to figure out if he could dig what was happening come summer. He stood up, then, nodding his head upward toward Faustite. "In that case, I'll be on my way." His brows knit. "Be well, Faustite." Was that the right response considering that damn coughing? With another nod, he left.
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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