goneawayworld | HARK! How the bells, sweet silver bells...

Entry tags:

HARK! How the bells, sweet silver bells...

Who: Everyone
What: Holiday Events
Where: Piper 90 - The Rig
When: Post-Rose Tattoo
Warnings/Notes: Holiday cheer, smooches, tactical snowball action

It's the Holiday Season in the Gone Away World and on the Rig in particular! Though they claim to be open to any cultural celebration of this time of year, the dominance of Santa Claus, reindeer, and elves in decorating really kind of blunt that claim. But the PA system, when not blaring alarms or fuzzy announcements for working party C to show up at the maintenance bay, play Christmas tunes of all sorts at inconvenient volumes. Decorations hang limply from the walls. And every worker with children has been issued a shotgun and a bandoleer of shells loaded with pellets of cold iron.

Just in case.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Can't say the Confederacy ever did." Of course, when your job is oppressing people who aren't wearing power armor, you don't have to be particularly good.

Whatever. The Confederacy and her checkered past are a universe away, and Loken's still stuck.

"You don't have grenades and I don't have a cutting torch," Kerrigan says, scuffing at the decking with her heel. "And if you can't break out physically, I don't think I can manage enough of a TK shove to get you out, either."

"TK shove?" Loken's complete unfamiliarity with psyker terminology comes into play here. Just because he hangs out with a few librarians doesn't mean they've cut him in on the trade terminology they use.

"Telekinesis?" Kerrigan prompts, as though she thinks he ought to have been able to figure it out, because she does. "Do you not have psychics where you're from?"

Weird.

"You are a psyker." Loken stiffens considerably, standing up even more straight than he was before. "I'm going to assume from your general demeanor and behavior you have training and aren't a wild talent or otherwise cursed, then."

Oh, there's the suspicious reaction she's used to. Kerrigan sighs and folds her arms. "I don't lose control of it, if that's what you're asking."

Not anymore, anyway. And whether or not she's cursed is a matter of opinion. Kerrigan herself thinks that would explain her life.

"Well, that is good to know. It is not as though I do not know any of them... I just have not had good experiences with some of the less common psychic phenomena that I have been witness to." He grunts, "Are you powerful enough to extricate me using those skills?"

That's more of an apology than she usually gets, and Kerrigan relaxes a little. Looks like he's not going to be any worse than the Sons of Korhal, and she put up with them for a decade.

"I don't know." She bites her lip, concentrating, and the mistletoe jerks suddenly, as if being yanked by an invisible hand, but stays...rooted? as whatever force that caused it to grow out of the ceiling in the first place also resists it being pulled. "It's in there good," Kerrigan says, continuing to half-heartedly twist at it telekinetically, hoping that the roots might give if she keeps at it, "and...I can't believe this is something I'm saying, but--" she looks at the mistletoe with narrowed eyes "--it doesn't have a will to override."

Kerrigan's composed, not twitching even a little, and her use of psychic power is invisible, its effect on the world the only sign she's doing anything. Up to Garv whether that's more or less disturbing than being haloed in the unholy light of the Warp and having a frothing seizure on the floor.

Edited 2020-12-13 18:51 (UTC)

"Your abilities seem more subtle than my companions were. THat makes sense, I suppose. They were like me, only psychically gifted, and their powers were generally ones that were used in direct combat of Warp Entities and the like." He narrows his eyes, "To do anything at all without any overt manifestations you either have great power or great control, or both."

Might as well make it into a compliment.

"Both," Kerrigan says, but she doesn't sound pleased. Just tired. "I'm a ghost. A stealth operative. 'Overt manifestations' would defeat the purpose."

She gives up on the mistletoe, which stops moving. "The hell is a 'Warp entity?'"

"A warp entity is a thoughtform, or an emotion given physical form and manifest, typically negative in nature. We perceive them as demons. They... corrupt the world around them, and the older ones amongst them have recurred in history, though most often cloaked in myth. I was tasked with fighting them when I went from a line officer of the Astartes to ..."

He smiles, though there is no humor in it, "A stealth operative. A ghost of sorts, you might say."

Kerrigan listens to the explanation without so much as a flicker of recognition. Sounds rough, and also not her problem.

She snorts at his comparison, though. "Sorry, you can only join the club if you've got the skills." She taps a temple to indicate she means psychic powers. "The gear wouldn't work for you...or fit you, for that matter."

"I am certain that you could not fit in Mark VI power armor either, for that matter. I am curious if you could heft a bolter. Some unaugmented people can, though the recoil has been known to cause injuries if they're not prepared for it."

He strains against the force field again. "But for all that, I cannot escape this field."

"Right, right." The actual problem at hand. "Hang on, I'm going to give you a push."

Her eyes crinkle slightly around the corners, but that's the only indication she's doing anything. Well, that and the sudden pressure on Loken's chest, hard and fast but distributed evenly across his rib cage. Kerrigan's TK is stronger than she is, and the shove is powerful enough to stagger or even knock Loken over if he weren't stuck in the magical trap.

Loken grunts, noticing the pressure, and sadly does not stagger or get knocked back, just grits his teeth as his flesh is pressed heavily against his fused rib plate.

"Not working." He chokes out, obviously trying to maintain a facade of stoicism, but having someone psychic touch him directly with that power has his own tendency towards aggression working overdrive, even though he knows she's trying to help.

Nice try, but she's a telepath.

"Whoa, hey, sorry." Kerrigan raises her hands in placation and takes a step backwards, dropping her telekinetic efforts. "You okay?"

"I am sorry. I react poorly to things like that. My first impulse..."

He stops, and lowers his head. "My first impulse was to map out a way to try to kill you. I do not think your powers are going to solve this."

Kerrigan just snorts again. "The usual ways will work." Not the first time someone's threatened to kill her, she doubts it will be the last, and besides, he feels bad about it.

"I wonder why the kiss didn't do it." She drums her fingers against a thigh, channeling her agitation into one small movement. Her training tells her to suppress it entirely, but you know what, she doesn't work for the Confederacy anymore and doesn't have to do a constant robot impression. "Maybe you have to mean it," she suggests, dubious about both the idea and what it entails.

"Mean what?" Loken asks, clearly confused by the whole kiss discussion and the idea of 'usual ways.'

Oh, goddammit.

"I'm just wondering if maybe the...magic spell makes it so the kiss would have to have real emotion behind it, not just a symbolic thing." She sighs yet again, this time with the air hissing out between her teeth. "You're certainly good-looking, but..."

But.

But...she doesn't even know. But basically everything.

"Oh. I think I see the problem. Well, I am certain the stuff will have a limited life span. So if worse comes to worse I can be left here as long as someone brings by food. "

Loken thinks for a moment " I am not sure if my sus-an organ still works but if it does I can just take some rest for a few weeks. "

"What?" What a dumb idea that is, what's a sus-an organ, what the hell. Kerrigan pulls out her comm and starts typing search strings. "No, there's got to be another way. I'm not leaving you standing in the middle of the damn hallway for a week."

There are people she'd cheerfully subject to that, but Loken is much less of a burning toxic waste dump than most of the people she knows.

Edited 2020-12-15 19:36 (UTC)

"I guess we're down to kissing then. So how do we do that right?" He looks very intent, not so much passionate as dedicated to his craft, be it war or just getting out of an awkward situation in a direct and decisive way.

Kerrigan blinks up at Loken as though she hasn't understood what he said.

What.

"I..." she trails off, because what do you say to that? "You, uh, want a kissing...lesson?"

What.

"I was expecting more directions but I suppose lessons are also a practical way of approaching things." He still looks at her with a stoic expression, clearly having no idea this is a flustering thing to ask anyone, let alone someone you have barely met before.

Kerrigan can't quite manage to tell Loken that it's functionally the blind leading the blind, and she's not sure his if utter lack of guile and pure businesslike intent makes it better or worse.

"Uh, well, the point is intimacy," she says, scrubbing at the back of her head. "I don't really know how it feels for non-telepaths." Is this happening? When does she wake up? "You press lips together, and for the, uh, romantic version, your tongues touch, too."

She pauses, mentally replaying what she's just said.

"...It sounds ridiculous when I say it aloud."

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