Re: [Memory] The Waves
Posted: Sat Nov 02, 2019 4:21 pm
Evening, Hamis 21, 2716
Breckenridge Refinery, Outskirts of the Rose
Breckenridge Refinery, Outskirts of the Rose
Five men, and Uzoji looked between them. He was not grinning, but the expression on his face was pleasant and friendly, and it did not falter when the first - Rowland, Uzoji noted - greeted him with a hostile scowl.
Uzoji kept his gaze on Rowland as the man crossed into the edges of his field. He neither drew it back nor pulsed it, but he knew it flowed smoothly in the air around him, the weight of physical mona mixed with the heat of static. Without looking, he could still see the other two men rise, slowly, one looking as if he might slip away at any moment, as soon as no eyes were on him. Aiden too, reluctant.
Uzoji shifted his gaze then, conscious and deliberate. He looked first to the parse, and then, slowly, at each of the humans, meeting the gaze of those who would look at him. He did not try too hard with the man who looked inclined to flee; let him not feel seen. He turned back to Rowland last, and inclined his head, gently, respectfully.
It would not be hard. Signal Niccolette to Rowland, verbally - they had more than enough ways between them. She could cast under her breath from the walkway above. He did not know what she would choose, did not know how long he would need to stall for, but he knew well that it would be - impactful. Niccolette had a wonderful sense of the dramatic, and wonderful timing.
Best to wait, a moment, a beat or two, because there would be panic; there was always panic. And then his knives and Tom’s, Aremu’s gun and Niccolette’s from above. Conquest, the sort Niccolette loved, bloody and loud and messy, with no regrets and no remorse, joining them all together unafraid in the dark.
It would be better not to make too much noise, but Uzoji did not think there were many others left here in this dark, empty place. Osborne, perhaps; Uzoji did not know the man, but Tom did, and he thought it unlikely he was among them. One of ours, Rowland had called Collingwood. Uzoji wondered how many felt the same. But once he had gone through those who would stand - then what?
It was a fine plan, but Uzoji was not so sure it would get him what he wanted.
“I understand,” Uzoji said, without the faintest trace of mockery, solemn and steady.
“It’s an honorable death, dying for one of yours,” Uzoji said. He found his hands with his pockets, and he grinned, a little crooked, his eyes sliding over the men again. “But you are wrong. It is my business. We have need of some aetherium, bought and paid for. I mean to talk to Collingwood, one way or another, and tonight.”
Uzoji stepped forward now, close enough to touch Rowland, though only just. He looked slightly up at the man. “Perhaps you can send us away,” Uzoji said, gently. Perhaps. “You’ve every right to try. But I think we’re together in this, Rowland, you and I and Collingwood. I think we all want the same thing. I’ll offer that truth to Hulali, here and now.”
The tortoiseshell cat had crept closer. Uzoji smiled, and he knelt, and extended long fingers to the little thing. It trotted over, bell jingling, and Uzoji stroked its head, found a spot to scratch behind its ears, loud purring rumbling into the room.
He looked up at Rowland, one hand on the cat’s head, the other resting lightly on his bent legs. “What do you say?” He asked, curiously.
Uzoji kept his gaze on Rowland as the man crossed into the edges of his field. He neither drew it back nor pulsed it, but he knew it flowed smoothly in the air around him, the weight of physical mona mixed with the heat of static. Without looking, he could still see the other two men rise, slowly, one looking as if he might slip away at any moment, as soon as no eyes were on him. Aiden too, reluctant.
Uzoji shifted his gaze then, conscious and deliberate. He looked first to the parse, and then, slowly, at each of the humans, meeting the gaze of those who would look at him. He did not try too hard with the man who looked inclined to flee; let him not feel seen. He turned back to Rowland last, and inclined his head, gently, respectfully.
It would not be hard. Signal Niccolette to Rowland, verbally - they had more than enough ways between them. She could cast under her breath from the walkway above. He did not know what she would choose, did not know how long he would need to stall for, but he knew well that it would be - impactful. Niccolette had a wonderful sense of the dramatic, and wonderful timing.
Best to wait, a moment, a beat or two, because there would be panic; there was always panic. And then his knives and Tom’s, Aremu’s gun and Niccolette’s from above. Conquest, the sort Niccolette loved, bloody and loud and messy, with no regrets and no remorse, joining them all together unafraid in the dark.
It would be better not to make too much noise, but Uzoji did not think there were many others left here in this dark, empty place. Osborne, perhaps; Uzoji did not know the man, but Tom did, and he thought it unlikely he was among them. One of ours, Rowland had called Collingwood. Uzoji wondered how many felt the same. But once he had gone through those who would stand - then what?
It was a fine plan, but Uzoji was not so sure it would get him what he wanted.
“I understand,” Uzoji said, without the faintest trace of mockery, solemn and steady.
“It’s an honorable death, dying for one of yours,” Uzoji said. He found his hands with his pockets, and he grinned, a little crooked, his eyes sliding over the men again. “But you are wrong. It is my business. We have need of some aetherium, bought and paid for. I mean to talk to Collingwood, one way or another, and tonight.”
Uzoji stepped forward now, close enough to touch Rowland, though only just. He looked slightly up at the man. “Perhaps you can send us away,” Uzoji said, gently. Perhaps. “You’ve every right to try. But I think we’re together in this, Rowland, you and I and Collingwood. I think we all want the same thing. I’ll offer that truth to Hulali, here and now.”
The tortoiseshell cat had crept closer. Uzoji smiled, and he knelt, and extended long fingers to the little thing. It trotted over, bell jingling, and Uzoji stroked its head, found a spot to scratch behind its ears, loud purring rumbling into the room.
He looked up at Rowland, one hand on the cat’s head, the other resting lightly on his bent legs. “What do you say?” He asked, curiously.
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/lR8STTu.png)