DISCLAIMER: I do not claim to own any of the ideas or worlds described in the story. The ‘They are Smol’ universe is the intellectual property of u/TinyPrancingHorse. Nothing in the story is canon to his universe, and I’d suggest you visit his writings if you love wholesome stories about humans being human.
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TPH Author Page: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/wiki/authors/tinyprancinghorse#wiki_they_are_smol
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TaS Series Page: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/wiki/series/they_are_smol
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TaS Discord Link: https://discord.gg/hSAj9qW
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TaS Twitter Link: http://twitter.com/TheyAreSmol
—————
Last Time:
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Javert protects Valjean.
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Valjean protects Javert.
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Anyone who denies the will of the floofdinos gets the smallpox blankets.
This Time:
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3,000 words of pure dialog.
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I’m trying to burn all the goodwill I have left.
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Let me live.
—————
The feeling of victory was universal. Whether it be a simple game between siblings, or a war between colonies, every sapient was born with the intrinsic desire to win. It’s a survival instinct, after all. The will to become better than your fellow man. Necessary for life, and crucial for innovation. Success.
What Arzel’ta was now realizing was that this emotion, in fact, was not all-powerful. Her smug confidence, achieved from eluding her assailants, eventually faded into boredom and frustration. And she couldn’t do anything about it, either. She had to stay as quiet as possible, in the belly of her prized station, while those good-for-nothing Diarchy [bastards] tore her pride and joy apart. It didn’t help that she was stuck in a skintight suit designed for external atmospheric variations. Not comfort.
At least she had electricity and oxygen. That would keep her alive until… she ran out of water. And that was a problem. She didn’t want any possible variable to threaten her survival. That included thirst.
Luckily, easily-accessible water ran through most of the lower walls of [Ossuary]. A well-timed cut into the tubes, and she could link it to her suit’s liquid storage. Her ingenious solution was enough to make herself chuckle. Unfortunately, the soldier she had passed on her way out hadn’t budged from their post. It didn’t change her strategy, but it did mean she’d have to be extremely careful.
Her claw was about half way into the metal when footsteps above silenced any movement she would’ve dared to make. They passed over her, echoing through the walls and into her skull. Just stay quiet. Let them be blind of her presence.
…
Rumbling. A ship undocked, sending minor tremors through the floor. It wouldn’t have done anything to her, had her talons been anywhere else. But the shockwave shook her claw, creating a sharp gash in the tube. Water gushed out, flowing oddly as it exited the artificial gravity of the station. She cursed under her breath.
The leaking water wasn’t a problem in it of itself. The system would shut off before she drowned. But that would be an issue. There was no better way to alert someone of your presence than an error in the vital functions of a station. It didn’t help that she had absolutely no way to patch a breach that size, either. So, Arzel’ta did the next best thing.
She stuffed her wing into the hole.
The terribly cold liquid seeped into her feathers. Her suit was made to isolate its wearer from the void, not from water. It wasn’t designed with osmotic barriers in mind. So, the water slowly trickled down her wingspan, making her shiver. But it worked. Mostly, anyways. The deluge had been reduced to a trickle. Now, all she had to do was keep her arm in there… indefinitely… while soldiers searched for her above… and she marinated in a prison of her own creation.
“|...Fantastic.|”
—————
“|...nngh…|”
The world was so… slow. His blood felt like mercury, his scales covered with needles. It was hazy. Tel’kros’ opened his eyes, and it took a moment for them to respond. Light, somewhere. The hum of a ship. Machinery. And…
“[[J-Javert]! Welcome back to the land of the living, [Chocobo].]”
Dylan. He tilted his drooping head, reaching out a weak claw. “|...hello, Brother… [Human]...|”
“[C-careful with those nails, bud. Don’t want to get skewered.]” The vague outline of the [human] moved to face him. “[Alright, uh, don’t be mad. Okay? We’re good?]”
“|...yes… good…|”
“[Jeez, they really did a number on you, didn’t they? Uh, so, anyways… we may be on a Diarchy ship right now. W-With the [raptor] police. They say they’re the police, anyways. I don’t know. But I got them to bring you. Okay?]”
“|…safe?|” He tried his best to glance at the blurry figures in his periphery, only managing to loll his head slightly.
“[I… I hope so. They didn’t force me to come, but… I…]”
“|...don’t… don’t worry…|” He let out a small chirp. It hung in the air, ringing faintly in his ears. “|...need protecting?|”
“[Heh. Who doesn’t?]”
“|...here.|” Tel’kros’ once again reached for the [human], hooking his hand around Dylan’s back. He was shaking. “|...hold you?|”
“[Y-Yeah. That’d be nice.]”
He trilled, weakly pulling the [human] forward. They were so soft. He got as far as his chest before the strangers in the room began to chirp in alarm.
Dylan raised a free paw, turning to the other Karnakians. “[H-Hey! Don’t panic! He’s j-just cuddling! I’m fine!]”
The noises stopped, but he could feel their eyes. Staring. He ignored them, and pulled the [human] closer. Warmth. Uneven breathing. Erratic pulse. His scales tingled against the foreign presence.
“|...little hatchling…|”
“[Close enough… h-hey, easy there. I still need to breathe, you big-mmph?!]”
Hold. Keep. The world was distorted, his senses failing him. But he’d guard this beacon of starlight with his life. Everything was fuzzy, so he couldn’t see much. Couldn’t see light. But he knew what this creature’s mind looked like. He could feel it.
“|...safe.|”
“[Man, you are going to be so [pissed] once you get off this high.]”
—————
“...Alouette, gentille alouette, alouette je te plumerai…”
Vra’krik hummed the childish tune to herself, feeling slightly self-conscious. Her soldiers were out there, fighting her battles. The least she could do would be to step onto their commbead network and offer support, advice, or information. But her assistant had insisted that she get herself into something less formal. He’d oversee operations for the time being, and let her dress into a simple robe or some other, less oppressive uniform. She didn’t want the [human] to feel intimidated, after all.
That was also her excuse for listening to this [Terran] melody. Probably a song for their youth. She persuaded herself into playing it in the background, arguing that it would be a good idea to know what tone of voice to use. In reality, Vra’krik just wanted to listen to music. And [human] instruments were so foreign and interesting, even if the translation was so odd that she was convinced something was broken.
“...gentille alouette, alouette je te plumerai Je te plumerai le bec…”
Aha! There it was. A blue fabric, embroidered with golden outlines. Near the breast, her name and position were marked, but nothing more. Simplistic, but enough to still appear aesthetically pleasing. It had been a while since she’d worn this. What was it, thirty years ago? A gift from a friend, if she remembered correctly. A lifetime had passed since then…
Her commbead beeped. One of her operatives, most likely. Smiling, she set out into the hallway, leaving the sounds of music behind her.
“...et le cou, et le bec, et le bec, et la tête et la tête, alouette, haaaa…”
She raised a hand to her head, accepting the call. “|Matriarch Vra’krik. With whom am I speaking?|”
“|Ka’rryh’zt of GALE-27, ma’am. Designation: FOSTER. Just wanted to inform you that BROTHER has arrived safely. He’ll meet with you at the assigned meeting room shortly.|”
“|Ah. Thank you, Officer. Any advice on how to approach him?|”
“|Well… he is clearly distressed, as you’d expect. Keep a respectable distance. He’s already got someone to comfort him.|”
“|What do you…|” She chirped. “|...oh, yes. I remember, now.|”
“|Yes. The criminal is sedated, so he shouldn’t be any threat. We practically had to drag him off the ship. Nevertheless, I would suggest calling in some guards to stand watch. Just in case.|”
Vra’krik nodded to no one in particular, gesturing in the air with her right claw. The motion send a wordless notification to any soldiers in the sector, listing her request. “|Anything else?|”
“|Er… don’t try to seperate BROTHER from his companion? Oh! Oh, and, uh…|” There was an awkward pause. “|…don’t offer him food. Sounds odd, I know, but he didn’t react pleasantly when I tried to. If you need him to eat, just… leave it on a table or something. Don’t give it to him directly.|”
“|I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Officer Ka’rryh’zt. Your assistance is appreciated.|”
“|Affirmative, Matriarch.|”
\click\
What was she feeling? Anxiety? Excitement? Maybe a mixture of both. She couldn’t tell. She hadn’t ever personally met a [human]. But, then again, neither had most of her species. The Dorarizins and Jornissians weren’t that much further ahead, but they’d had more time to encounter problems like these. As far as she could tell, Vra’krik was the first Matriarch to head a [human] rescue mission. If you didn’t count [Atlanta], that was.
There it was. An inconspicuous door at the end of the 5th Sector. The only notable difference was the two guards that stood outside the entrance, apparently having rushed to their requested positions. Vra’krik wanted to believe that it was productivity on their part, but it was just as likely that they only wanted to see a [human]. Not that she could blame them.
She gave a chirp of recognition to the soldiers, and walked inside.
“|...oh, by the Black Sun…|”
Well. This was certainly a… pleasant… surprise. She was going to have few choice words with whoever assembled this monstrosity. The day before they had arrived at PARALLAX, she had offered an opportunity for crew collaboration and morale. Research and design a meeting room to make the [human] comfortable. She had intended for them to work together, with some semblance of a common theme.
That was not what happened.
Instead, the previously unremarkable chamber had been filled to the brim with various, colorful additions. Several banners hung from the ceiling, covered in images spanning from the humble [human] origin world, to one particularly bold engineer’s smiling face. Unfortunately for him, she knew which sector he worked in. She made a mental note to chastise him later. Pluck him of a few feathers.
The rest of the room was equally chaotic. Chairs, tables, desks, and assorted furnitures of all kinds peppered the floor. Most were made with Karnakian proportions in mind, scaled down for their small visitor. A few pieces of [human] furniture were spread haphazardly, but they were far outnumbered by their... less thoughtful brethren.
And the pillows. By the Great One, there was probably more pillows in this room than in the rest of her ship. Countless fabrics, sizes, and colors. Some were simple in their design. Others were intricately woven with specific patterns or messages written in a [human] language. One was even covered with a… scantily clothed [human] female. Oddly proportioned and [blushing], it made her crest flutter up in embarrassment. How improper!
This just wouldn’t do. Flustered, Vra’krik began to tear down the garish decorations. Shoving as much as she could into the far corner, she only left a few large cushions for herself, a small table, and a simple [human] fixture. One that, if she remembered correctly, was called a [‘Sofa’]. Like what might happen if you took the offspring of a nest and a table, and injected it with pure, undiluted fluffiness. Not that she expected anything less from their squishy neighbors.
She was in the middle of stacking a few stubborn furnishings when the door opened. She swung around, only to be disappointed when it was just her assistant, carrying a platter of assorted [human] food. She directed him to the central table, and continued on her quest to make the chamber somewhat presentable.
“|...steady… steady… yes!|”
Vra’krik tweeted happily, seeing the fruits of her labor. It was still a disorganized mess, but the chaos was now isolated into a huge pile far from the door. She might have to explain what exactly it was, but that wasn’t an important issue. Maybe some piece of modern art or whatnot.
A scratch at the door. She chirped, making a few finishing touches. “|Come in!|”
The door slid open, revealing two guards carrying a limp yellow Karnakian. They lowered him onto the [sofa], gave her a nod, and stepped out without another word, closing the entrance behind them.
“|Er…|” She stuttered. “|...where exactly is the [human]?|”
A muffled noise emanated from the Karnakian’s chest, causing him to shift slightly. A second later, the slightly red face of a [human] popped out, like some kind of party trick.
“[H-Hello!]”
In spite of herself, Vra’krik lept back, yelping in surprise. Her trajectory knocked out a crucial load-bearing pillow, causing her meticulous constructed structure to collapse on top of her. The avalanche lasted all of eight [seconds], deafening and painful. Those cushions weren’t playing around.
It took a moment for the ringing in her head to stop. Embarrassed, she clawed her way out. Her talons puncturing a stray cushion, spraying her face with foam. She let out a roar of frustration, bursting out from her prison. Covered in the remains of her velvet enemies.
“|...I’m sorry, [human]. That was a terribly rude introduction…|” Vra’krik trailed off as BROTHER shook with faint squeaks. Laughter.
“[No, no, it’s all… it’s all good...]” He replied, voice breaking into chuckles ever so often. “[...I needed that. N-nice to meet you, Mrs…]”
“|Matriarch Vra’krik, of The Hundred Fables. But we’re not meeting on… official terms, so just Vra’krik is fine.|”
“[Cool. I… uh, I don’t know where to start. Th-Thanks, I guess? I mean, you are the Karnakian police, right? Y-you weren’t lying?]”
Her head crest reared back, before she recalled the details of his situation. He probably hadn’t ever been in Karnakian space before, let alone come into contact with law enforcement. And without any prior knowledge of their function or structure, what reason would he have believe them? She’d been told as much by her advisers. But she had assumed he wouldn’t have been so calm if he thought they were criminals. Though, his half-conscious friend probably helped.
“|Yes! Yes, we operate under the Holy Karnakian Diarchy. Though we aren’t your typical law-enforcement. More so a… specialized task force.|”
“[So you’re Space-[Sea, Air, and Land] Team Six?]”
“|Er… I suppose. I am… unfamiliar with that military unit. Some part of recent [human] history?|”
“[Recent for you, maybe. A couple decades before F-First Contact. I hadn’t been born yet.]” He gave an unfamiliar gesture that, even if Vra’krik was fluent with [human] body language, would have been indecipherable on account of the mass of feathers that surrounded him.
“|Oh!|” She chirped. “|Where are my manners? I haven’t let you introduce yourself!|”
“[It’s fine. My name’s Dylan. Dylan Richmond. And th-this guy here… I don’t actually know his name. I just call him [Javert].]”
The Blind Karnakian spoke for the first time since he had entered the room. His voice was hoarse and slurred from the sedatives, but was still audibly laced with venom. “|...Tel’kros’.|”
Dylan frowned. “[That’s no good. There aren’t any nicknames that work well with that. I’m just gonna’ keep calling you [Javert], alright?]”
“|...that’s… fine...|”
“|Well, [Dylan]’, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to learn how you got to [Ossuary]. I am assuming that it was not of your own free will?|”
The [human] broke eye-contact with her, glancing at the ground. Her heart melted at the sight. “[N-No… I was kidnapped. Abducted. F-From [Rashress’Isshrens]. I think my captors were named… [Tr’zka]? [Tr’zka] and [Tk’rak]. White, skinny birds. You… you wouldn’t happen to know them, would you?]”
She shook her head. “|No, I don’t recognize those names. But I can assure you that we will apprehend them as soon as possible.|” She meant it. She’d head the investigation herself, if that’s what it took to bring those cowards to justice. “|If you don’t mind me asking, why were you on a Jornissian planet? Most [Terran] exchange programs are limited to extraplanetary stations or isolated systems.|”
“[Well, I, uh…]” There was hesitation in his voice, and a cascade of dim lights behind his eyes. “[...I’m n-not exactly part of the exchange program. I mean, it s-says so on my papers. Junior Assistant Navigator or something. But that’s not… I was… th-they were…]” His voice began to break.
Suddenly, he was pulled inside the drugged Karnakian’s grasp, completely covered under his plumage. He glared at her, choosing his next words with considerable deliberation while soothing the anxious [human].
“|...he was traveling... with friends… nestmate… was injured… worried…|” It seemed like there was something else he neglected to mention, but Vra’krik didn’t pursue it. They sat there in silence for few [minutes], only interrupted by the occasionally movement of Tel’kros’ head as he checked on the [human].
Eventually, though, Dylan’s face emerged from his Blind ally, brown eyes tinged with a hue of red. “[I… I’m s-sorry. But… I don’t… I don’t know… know where they are, or… or… if th-they’re okay… or if… if…]”
Vra’krik was quick to respond. “|We’ll find them! You have your vessel’s ID, right?|”
“[Y-Yeah. It’s, uh… zero, six, eighteen… J, three, X. I… I think. But if they’re… if she…]”
“|Don’t worry. If they’re anywhere in this galaxy, we’ll find them for you.|”
He bobbed his head unenthusiastically as she sent the identification code to her senior officers. Hopefully they could find something soon. Then this creature wouldn’t have to be so… miserable.
“[Thanks…]”
“|...anything else you… need to… ask… my friend… here?|” The Karnakian interrupted.
She frowned. This criminal didn’t have the right to use that tone of voice with her.“|Maybe not him, but I do have questions for you. What was your relation with the [human] on [Ossuary]?|”
“[[Javert] didn’t do anything w-wrong! H-He’s been nice! Watched me while I was there!]”
Tel’kros’ glanced down at Dylan. “|...yes… I was the… assigned guard… escort… for the [human]...|”
“|Escort to where?|”
Dylan muttered something under his breath.
“|Excuse me?|”
“[He w-would take… t-to… to her… and she…]” Yet again, the [human] was sucked into a blanket of feathers. Tel’kros’ simply stared at her, his two empty sockets making her tail stand on edge.
When he didn’t emerge after a few [minutes], though, Vra’krik started to get worried. Had she made a mistake? She cursed herself for being too direct, and instinctively reached a hand forward to offer an apology.
“|...don’t.|”
She nodded, and slumped back. From inside his embrace, she could hear muffled, wounded cries. Great Spirit, she should have been more careful. Why couldn’t her species approach a [human] without something going wrong?
beep
Her head jerked up to the commbead alert. Urgent message. PINCER. She gestured apologetically to her guests, and stepped out into the hallway. Maybe it would be good for both parties involved to have a moment of reprieve.
“|Matriarch Vra’krik. With whom am I speaking?|”
The voice on the other end was strangled and bitter. “|T’sari’k of PINCER-13, ma’am. Designation: FULCRUM. We… I can’t use codes for this. It’s not right. It’s [fucking] insane. It’s…|”
“|T’sari’k.|” She stated, mildly annoyed at his insubordination. “|If you are not capable of continuing the operation, I have no quarrels with having you replaced. Is that understood?|”
“|...I apologize ma’am. This is just… I’ll start over. We found an office of some kind in our sector. My best guess is that it belongs to PARALLAX’s Matriarch.|”
“|And you found this Matriarch?|”
“|Negative. If we had, I’d have already shot her through the head for all that she’s done, the soulless, despicable-|”
“|T’sari’k.|”
“|Apologies. We did search her personal computer, though. Tried to find any hints of her location. Didn’t get very far, but she did have some… incriminating videos stored there. They’re…|” He paused, voice threatening to burst into sudden rage. “|Look, I don’t want to make you watch them. They’re not… not for the weak-willed. But it is important for BROTHER’s condition. He’s injured.|”
Vra’krik felt her talons dig into her scales, and she spoke her next few words with as much self-control as she could muster. “|...I am perfectly capable of watching disturbing footage. Send me the file.|”
“|Affirmative.|”
There were few quiet taps, a static hum, and a silent ping as her commbead was sent the video in question. She raised a hand to her neck, overlaying her vision with the image of a dark room.
As it adjusted to her bright surroundings, she was able to make out the approximate shape of a Karnakian. The recording was positioned just above her chest, giving the impression that it was her body. In reality, thought, it was likely the illusion of some variety of implant. She was gazing downwards, lying on the ground. Arms wrapped around something. Someone.
The [human].
He stirred, eyes red and dazed. His captor held him tighter and spoke, her voice making her blood boil.
“|Welcome back, Dylan. Did you sleep well?|”
His eyes widened, filled with a mixture of confusion and terror. “[N-No… this isn’t… I should be dead. Wh-Why aren’t I dead?]”
Laughter. “|Now, now. You didn’t think I’d get rid of you so quickly, did you? Especially when there are still things you need to tell me...|” She rubbed a claw gently down the side of his face.
Dylan began to squirm, crying for mercy. The Matriarch continued, seemingly unfazed by his outburst. “|...shhh, it’s alright. All I want to know is who your crewmates are. That’s all. And then I’ll let you go, we can talk some more. Doesn’t that sound nice?|”
“[Please. D-don’t. Th-they d-didn’t do a-anything.]” He whimpered.
“|So are you going to tell me, or not?|”
“[...n-n-no.]”
“|Hmm… that’s no good. Perhaps you need a bit more convincing? I promise not to be so quick this time...|” She sang, as if it were some sort of reward.
The black plumage shifted, dropping Dylan onto the floor. He flinched, holding himself with shaking fingers. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and the stain of iron-rich blood covered his shirt, even without any visible wounds. After a moment, he stared straight into the camera, breathing quickly.
She wanted to help. To reach into the past, hold him, and take him to the present. Keep him from this torment. He was right there. But her claws only grasped at shallow air. She couldn’t change history. Couldn’t save him.
“|Well? Go! I’ll give you a head start. It’s only fair.|”
The [human] glanced up, but didn’t budge. Paralyzed with fear.
“|And… time’s up!|”
She launched forward, hooking her talon into his shirt and pulling him with her. The movement was relatively slow, but Dylan didn’t jerk back until it was too late. Vra’krik couldn’t tell if it was the fear that froze him, or just natural [human] reaction times.
In the blink of an eye, he was pinned against the wall. A set of teeth hung an [inch] from his face, reflecting in his widened pupils.
“|Oh dear. Now isn’t this unfortunate…|” She spoke gleefully over the [human]’s pleas. “|You lost.|”
Dylan flung his limbs out, kicking and punching with the desperation of cornered prey. He made little progress, and the Matriarch simply grinned further.
“|Like stars. A shame you can’t see.|”
“[P-p-please. I-I’m… I’m sorry…]”
“|Now, now. What kind of mother would I be if I couldn’t enforce consequences when necessary? I’m doing this for your own good, little [human].|”
She let go of his torn clothing, and he instinctively jerked away, grasping for any opportunity of freedom. Vra’krik felt herself holding her breath, praying for him to succeed. But he wouldn’t make it. The [bastard] was toying with him.
Before he could get a [meter] away, a claw dashed forward. A scream of pain. The squish of flesh. The crack of bone. The protests of metal.
Blood.
His hand had been embedded into the wall, punctured straight through the center with a single nail. Painted in red. Tears streaming down his wide eyes, he tried to yank the arm away. It only seemed to cause him more pain, pulling the exposed muscles against the Matriarch’s talon.
“|Don’t move, my little [human]. It hurts more. And that would be a tragedy, no?|”
Screams.
“|Here’s how this game works. I’ll move this claw, poking holes all the way up your arm. All the way to your heart. And I’ll continue until you tell me what I want to know, or… you flicker out. Either way, it will be an enjoyable bonding experience.|”
The illustrate her point, she moved the talon up, puncturing his wrist. More red. More screams.
“|One.|”
Frantic cries for help. For someone, anyone.
Red.
“|Two.|”
Shards of white.
“|Three.|”
Red.
“|Four-|”
Vra’krik shut it off. She couldn’t take any more of it. She couldn’t. She couldn’t. She…
...was crouched on the floor, her claws drawing blood from her own palms. She took a breath. She was stronger than that. She was Matriarch Vra’krik of the Holy Karnakian Diarchy. If nothing else, she had to be an example for her people. After a [minute] of silence, she spoke into her commbead.
“|T’sari’k. What… why would…|”
“|I don’t know, ma’am. That was one of three. It was… the least visceral, at least in regards to the amount of… blood. I… this isn’t right. It’s sick.|”
She clutched her chest “|...Listen to me. I… I want that Matriarch found. Alive. Death is far too generous a punishment. Tear PARALLAX apart, if you have to. Find her.|”
“|Affirmative... I’ll notify the other PINCER units.|”
She nodded to her guards, flattened her jumbled feathers, and stepped back inside. The [human] had emerged from his friend’s embrace, face and eyes red. The same color as the liquid that ran underneath the surface.
“[I-I’m sorry. I… I just don’t w-want to talk… a-about [Ossuary] right now. M-Maybe later?]”
She didn’t respond, moving forward with slow, tentative footsteps. “|...could… could I see your arm?|”
He shifted uncomfortably, but obliged, pulling free his left arm. It looked normal, but her eyes started to notice small imperfections. Circular areas of a lighter shade. Sections void of fur. They stretched all the way up to his shoulder before stopping. Seven in total. She reach out a hand to hold his own, but stopped. Tel’kros’ was glaring at her, fangs bared. He knew. He knew.
“|I… I am so sorry, Dylan. We…|”
He froze. “[Y-Y-You knew?]”
“|No. We only found the evidence a few [minutes] ago. I… do you need anything?|” She said plainly, her words pitifully incapable of healing the wounds of suffering. Of torture.
“[I… I… I can s-still feel it, [Vra’krik]... in m-my neck and my arm a-and my chest… twisting…]”
Tel’kros’ pulled him under, but that didn’t stop the murmurings. Only muffled them. “[...and… and… and I c-couldn’t take it… and she… sh-she said she w-was going to have them… k-k-killed… and she s-smiled… while she…]”
Vra’krik turned to Tel’kros’, trying to keep her own emotions at bay. “|You… you let this happen?|”
“|...no… I tried to… protect. What… did you think… happened to my… eyes?|”
She paused, trying to be calm herself. She had to be rational. Had to help the [human]. To fix him. “|Tel’kros’... neither you or I are masters of psychology. If… if you would let me, I could take him to the medical bay. Make sure he’s in proper hands.|”
“|...I’m not… leaving him…|”
“|...then I’ll drag you there myself.|”
He smiled, the right side of his mouth drooping slightly. “|...good…|”
…
It was certainly a sight, seeing their typically honorable, responsible Matriarch, dragging a half-conscious criminal across the floor. She gave them a morbid summary of the situation, and, as soon as she could, dashed off towards the command room. Her break was over.
She had a demon to find.
END CHAPTER 17
Submitted March 15, 2019 at 01:56AM by BenchNotA https://ift.tt/2Hm0Y7Y
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