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Bite of God
[I started this story years ago, and have worked on it off and on since then. The last stint was quite a while back, but I've pulled it off the brick that houses all the stuff that's been dumped off of two dead computers now. I've always liked the characters in it - though I may end up renaming half of them (Bane and Morningstar, particularly; we'll see). This is the first go-through (in chunks) of stuff that needs more substantial re-writing than I've had a chance to give it, but I've at least cleaned up most of the really messy stuff from my teenage years. Oh man.]
Aurrin locked eyes with Banen, his gaze reluctant as he met hers from across the pandemonium of the hall. She still stood framed by the door, having just entered, slightly late, filled with silent terror and fury. Unheeding of Morningstar's meandering crowd of peon's and couriers, she cut through the loose crowd of people directly toward him. Bane stiffened, evading the brush of her shoulder as she settled into the place at his side. The aura of entitlement that she carried around her form made Banen bristle; she was determined that they would take this mission together, and that it would would help to clear the obstacles they’d happened upon as lovers. Aurrin and Banen had met working together, and it was too that element she wished to be returned.
Morningstar’s hard voice rang out across the hall from his small podium to their left. Without ado of any kind, the old man started announcing the working pairs that would be assigned to each of the dozen-odd missions and projects that had been posted in the mess of the complex for almost a week. It was at this same moment that Aurrin spied the sallow redhead, Aishling, who’d recently been initiated into the company as what she called a hired thug. Banen called her Anya. Suppressing a sneer at the stoic, green-eyed visage, Aurrin straightened to attend their commander.
The visceral reaction came before the rational decoding of what the boss had said. Aurrin whirled on Banen, a gauntletted fist raised to strike him. Morningstar had listed the missions; Banen’s name and number on the last one, slated to pursue the infamous Baronir Calthan. Banen was worth the mission… he was the best pursuant they possessed, but Morningstar had announced that his partner would be the newcomer, the mortal woman fresh among their ranks. It was impossible. Banen's eyes were on her, unflinching and unapologetic. It only served to feed her rage.
“No!” She pushed forward rather violently, fighting the encroaching crowd toward the podium. Unalarmed, Morningstar turned eyes silvered with age her direction, and one thinning white eyebrow arched. Furious, she met his gaze levelly. “She’s a novice, commander Morningstar. Unfamiliar with protocol, inexperienced in her work. You should be putting someone with equal skill to Banen on a mission of this depth, unless you plan to use her for cano –“
Simultaneously, Morningstar answered, “Protocol is of no importance in Calthan’s case.” And the young slayer interjected “I’ve got more on my record than you do, Khadran.” Their combined voices formed a knot of cold baritone and steely malice, both statements painfully clear to Aurrin.
Morningstar raised a halting hand to the woman at the derogatory term for his kind, and continued more calmly to Aurrin. “Are you suggesting that you, yourself, take on this mission, even given your personal politics with my agent?”
She flushed at his judgment, stringent on the air between them. “No sir, I suppose not.” Aurrin replied hotly, and whirled to depart. She was no longer needed.
Banen caught her, his hand nearly bruising against the bare skin of her upper arm. Startled, she glared upward to his face, sapphire eyes meeting indigo. “Aurrin-“
“What do you want?” She cut him off, uncaring that she was making a scene.
“I chose Anya… I can explain to you later…”
Irritated further by his false display of patience and the fact that he was acting like she didn't know how the alliance had been made, Aurrin ripped away, her flesh burning where he had touched her. As she stormed from the room without a glance back, bits of silky down hovered in her wake.
By the time midnight came around on the clock, Aurrin felt clean again. She had scalded her skin, scrubbing it to a stiff polish in an effort to erase the memory of his fingerprints.
He had come and gone. They had parted in a passion of harsh words, a bed of molten anger. He’d tarried at the exit, to turn and spit upon her doorstep before vanishing into the hovering dusk.
Aurrin locked eyes with Banen, his gaze reluctant as he met hers from across the pandemonium of the hall. She still stood framed by the door, having just entered, slightly late, filled with silent terror and fury. Unheeding of Morningstar's meandering crowd of peon's and couriers, she cut through the loose crowd of people directly toward him. Bane stiffened, evading the brush of her shoulder as she settled into the place at his side. The aura of entitlement that she carried around her form made Banen bristle; she was determined that they would take this mission together, and that it would would help to clear the obstacles they’d happened upon as lovers. Aurrin and Banen had met working together, and it was too that element she wished to be returned.
Morningstar’s hard voice rang out across the hall from his small podium to their left. Without ado of any kind, the old man started announcing the working pairs that would be assigned to each of the dozen-odd missions and projects that had been posted in the mess of the complex for almost a week. It was at this same moment that Aurrin spied the sallow redhead, Aishling, who’d recently been initiated into the company as what she called a hired thug. Banen called her Anya. Suppressing a sneer at the stoic, green-eyed visage, Aurrin straightened to attend their commander.
The visceral reaction came before the rational decoding of what the boss had said. Aurrin whirled on Banen, a gauntletted fist raised to strike him. Morningstar had listed the missions; Banen’s name and number on the last one, slated to pursue the infamous Baronir Calthan. Banen was worth the mission… he was the best pursuant they possessed, but Morningstar had announced that his partner would be the newcomer, the mortal woman fresh among their ranks. It was impossible. Banen's eyes were on her, unflinching and unapologetic. It only served to feed her rage.
“No!” She pushed forward rather violently, fighting the encroaching crowd toward the podium. Unalarmed, Morningstar turned eyes silvered with age her direction, and one thinning white eyebrow arched. Furious, she met his gaze levelly. “She’s a novice, commander Morningstar. Unfamiliar with protocol, inexperienced in her work. You should be putting someone with equal skill to Banen on a mission of this depth, unless you plan to use her for cano –“
Simultaneously, Morningstar answered, “Protocol is of no importance in Calthan’s case.” And the young slayer interjected “I’ve got more on my record than you do, Khadran.” Their combined voices formed a knot of cold baritone and steely malice, both statements painfully clear to Aurrin.
Morningstar raised a halting hand to the woman at the derogatory term for his kind, and continued more calmly to Aurrin. “Are you suggesting that you, yourself, take on this mission, even given your personal politics with my agent?”
She flushed at his judgment, stringent on the air between them. “No sir, I suppose not.” Aurrin replied hotly, and whirled to depart. She was no longer needed.
Banen caught her, his hand nearly bruising against the bare skin of her upper arm. Startled, she glared upward to his face, sapphire eyes meeting indigo. “Aurrin-“
“What do you want?” She cut him off, uncaring that she was making a scene.
“I chose Anya… I can explain to you later…”
Irritated further by his false display of patience and the fact that he was acting like she didn't know how the alliance had been made, Aurrin ripped away, her flesh burning where he had touched her. As she stormed from the room without a glance back, bits of silky down hovered in her wake.
By the time midnight came around on the clock, Aurrin felt clean again. She had scalded her skin, scrubbing it to a stiff polish in an effort to erase the memory of his fingerprints.
He had come and gone. They had parted in a passion of harsh words, a bed of molten anger. He’d tarried at the exit, to turn and spit upon her doorstep before vanishing into the hovering dusk.
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