Fluff, Relationships, and Traditions
This entry is part 52 of 52 in the series 365 Challenge
So characters have habits, ways they interact with certain people and situations, things they do and like to do, stories and histories together. I've known a lot of my characters' for a long time but getting them all into fic is interesting, particularly for the ones I don't know that for.
I've ( Read more... )
Shift's preferred form was blonde, fair, girl-next-door but with that incredibly noticeable sparkle in her eyes-the playful grin with her innocent pencil skirts, the sober-faced ponytail with working clothes, blonde hair loose over jeans and white shirts with the icy threat in her voice as her fingers snapped and the team formed rank behind her.
Justus started at the back and to the right, then slowly moved up and inward as he became one of them. He had trained with Shift for three months; now, he trained with the team for an equal period before Shfit finally told him he was ready for active assignments.
“So you’re the new fourth.” Justus looked up to see Sear leaning on the rail above him, her black eyes snapping with interest. “Hear tell, Protector doesn’t even mind.”
His hand paused on the gun he’d been cleaning after practice, but then he opted to continue, finish, pull out a knife to clean that too.
Sear wasn’t someone Justus had really gotten to know yet. Three months back when Shift briefly introduced him to the rest of the team, he had noticed Sear only as a black-haired, olive-skinned female with the ability to sear with a look, metaphorically or literally. She covered exits from hostile territory with sniper fire and worse and frequently bloodied her hands in defense of her team. This was the first she had ever spoken to him.
He answered carefully but not slowly-showing uncertainty here was exposing blood: “Protector said he preferred his old rank.” Rank was something else Justus hadn’t really gotten to know yet.
Black eyes narrowed slightly and Justus stared back stoically under the fierce sensation of having all his layers peeled up under her scrutiny.
"First rank," Sear demanded abruptly. "What do you think it does?"
He raised his eyebrows over the knife. "Take care of the team."
"Wrong." She flipped over the railing to land in a crouch beside him. "The leader leads. They serve as a buffer between the team and the admin. The leader punishes us, keeps us in line, enforces the rules both ways."
"And Shift wouldn't do any blessed, cursed, or crazy thing for any of you?" Justus answered back, incredulous.
Sear shrugged. "She used to be a third."
He stared at her. Sear was ranked third, Kilter second, Justus... fourth. "Why are you here?" he asked finally, wearily.
"I used to be fourth." Sear's gaze flickered over him briefly. "Different teams divide duties between second and third by temperament, but as a rule, third is a loose cannon. Third takes care of the team. Third bloodies her hands and sacrifices and is reckless and doesn't care what it costs. Third ticks off the admin for distractions and takes the heat off the rest of the team. Thirds would bloody the whole Department if that's what it took to save someone."
Outwardly, he didn't react, just held that knife in his grasp as he studied Sear and subtracted from her all the qualities she exhibited now that fit that bill.
"Fourth rank," she said, flicking a brow in question.
"Fourth watches the team's back and does the dirty work that needs to be done," he answered. "Fourth sacrifices and counts the cost so it doesn't go too high." It was a terrible sort of balance, the weapon against their own administration in third and the weapon against those outside it in fourth. He followed that through mentally and finished, "Fifth plays coverage." The ultimate in defense.
Respect flickered in Sear's eyes. "Exactly."
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