In Which Requests Are Open Again
Because tis the season and I am feeling properly festive or something...
HOLIDAY DRABBLE REQUESTSHave something you've always wanted to see me write? Now is the time to ask ( Read more... )
HOLIDAY DRABBLE REQUESTSHave something you've always wanted to see me write? Now is the time to ask ( Read more... )
"Because it has to be done and this is the best way of getting it done," her companion said, her words marked like stones from a sling. The otter's eyes gleamed as they passed over the rows of weapons in front of her.
"Has to be done yes," the serpent woman agreed. "Best way to do it? I'm not so sure on that."
"Nonsense! Blowing 'em up will be the most efficient way to get that rat's nest out of everyone's hair," Relos said, pacing into the armory. She made a sweep around the armory, boots clicking on the tiled floor. When she reached the door, she made a tight military turn and walked the rows again, this time pausing to size up the actual equipment before her.
Itzie followed with more care, stopping in front of the crossbows and staying there. She knew a few types of weapon, but crossbow was her old friend. Plus it was a good vantage point to keep an eye on the unpredictable woman. "Why do I always land with the god damn pyros?" Itzie asked out loud when the otter stopped in front of the fire arms.
"Hey, I'm not a pyro," Relos protested. She sighted down the length of a rifle almost as long as Itzie's tail.
"You're the one who brought up explosions."
"That's not the same as being a pyromaniac," came the reply, now from somewhere by the swords.
Itzie couldn't see her from her current vantage point, so she loaded the crossbow just in case Relos was up to something. Up to something that would warrant a crossbow in response, that was, as Itzie was sure the strange blue furred otter was definitely up to something. "You are arguing for things going up in a big fiery cloud. Of death."
"See, death is the key word," Relos called back. "Best way to wipe out a lot of people at once! Blow up the whole base. Bam, simple."
"Fiery death," Itzie repeated. "Fiery. You are a pyro."
"No, you're misusing the word pyro," came the counter. That was not by the swords, though Itzie couldn't mentally pinpoint what was in the corner she heard Relos in now. "See, pyromaniac is someone who get a kick out of lighting things on fire specifically. Not to be confused with arson, who do it for money or power, pyromaniacs do it for the thrill of seeing something on fire. It's a whole mental thing for them, like getting tied up, for example. A bit of a kink, if you will."
She was on the move through the wracks of weapons again. Itzie frowned and drifted down her own row of weaponry to see if there were any good shields lying around.
"Now, me?" Relos continued, "I don't need fire to be happy. I don't dislike fire, but I don't need to light things on fire. Sure, some might say 'Relos! You're a water element! Shouldn't you hate fire?' The answer is no. I like anything that gets the job and gets it done fast and sometimes, that's lighting the other bastard's ship on fire before he can torch yours."
There was a click and something charging. Itzie belted on an armored vest quickly and headed for the noise. "Okay, so you light things on fire for personal gain, which is not the same as doing it for pleasure."
"Right!"
"Then you're an arsonist."
Relos laughed. "Sure, when it suits me, I guess so."
"Good to know," Itzie said, rounding the corner. She stopped, finding the otter standing in front of the more technologically advanced weapons, a charging laser pistol in one hand.
"And they say knowing is half the battle," Relos said with satisfaction as she sighted at the far wall.
"Yeah," Itzie said carefully. "And what the hell is the other half?"
"I'm not sure," Relos hummed. She fired a shot off as the pistol reached charged. A bolt of blue light fizzled through the air, sending an entire row of spears crashing into the swords across from them and bringing down half the row in a metallic cacophony. When the last blade settled, there was a tangled mess of metal and the trailing scent of ozone in the air. The otter's face lit with a maniacal grin as she patted the pistol with one hand. "But I think the other half might be this puppy right here."
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