Current coursed through her body and filled her, burning in her limbs and raging for further release. Lyntael could feel her chest heaving with heavy panting as she stood still in a ready stance, with her teeth grit and light caustics dancing across her form. Without any conscious thought behind it, she lifted her head, exhaling a breathy growl of victorious exultation, hands flung wide as the claws on her gauntlets flexed. She looked around for other threats in the midst of the crumbling metavirus while her thoughts waded, heavy, through a growing sense of static. Then, through the electrical feedback of her final strikes, the briefest flicker of relief, calm and gratitude. The sensation pulled her back again, grounding. Lyntael blinked a few times, gasping air as she fought to take deeper, longer breaths. Sparks rolled from her body, skittering across the outside of her armour and tumbling away while further excess flared in smaller fanning arcs from the corners of her eyes, heralded by the familiar stinging sensation.
“...Lyntael?” Rogan's voice brought her back to her senses further and she straightened. It took a moment to relax her jaw and unclench her teeth as she struggled for calm. “Lyntael, I have many warning readings here; you're under substantial strain, are you alright?” Another wave of sparks flooded out from her and with a tracing of soft silver light her draconic armour faded away, leaving just her slightly torn vest and undergarments again. The sense of combative defiance faded with the cross, but the strain of her charge, beating hard inside her, remained insistent. She swallowed, lifting palms to press at her stinging eyes.
“I'm... I'm okay, Rogan. I'm okay. Just... I just need a minute. I can keep this under control. I can.” The words were more difficult than they ought to have been, but she did manage to speak them between harsh breaths. The urge to release the full weight of her charge again; the burning pain of the build up and the promised relief that letting go would bring, if only for a moment, wore at her willpower, but Lyntael focused and held off, letting her body stabilise bit by bit. Her eyes caught on the transformed patch of solar panels and a distant memory surfaced. Those helped; Martia had discovered that. She made the few steps across to the glowing patch and dropped to her knees, pressing her hands to the panels and letting them take up stabilising bursts; each pulse of sparks became more of a balm to the next gradually until the hammering of her charge had subsided to a warm beat and her breathing returned to something more normal.
“Hahh... okay... I'm okay.” She stood slowly then lifted her arms above her head, and out to the sides. As calm returned, Lyntael began to stretch gently, working her muscles out. The motions began to flow one into the next as she closed her eyes and let herself slip into the warm calm that tended to follow these moments of heavy charge. She heard Rogan start to say something, but the channel simply remained open without him speaking while she pulled small threads of air and wind around her, let them brush her skin and swirl as her gentle warm down became a graceful dance. Despite the violence of the moment, there had been something there, at the end. She'd felt it, in that moment of final release. It hurt to know that she hadn't been able to save the poor creature, or help it, but it told her at least that she'd done the right thing, or at least as right as she had the power to do.
“I know you tried, Lyntael, but I'm sure there was nothing you could have spared, in that virus.” As he spoke again, Rogan sounded worried. He was keeping his voice level and calm, but she could hear it, hidden away behind the words. Her mind drifted to how he had spoken to her, after she'd defeated the abominavi that had attacked earlier. She hadn't been ready for the visceral nature of what she'd done, but... I hadn't been the first time she'd had to end a life. Not that it made it any easier. She let her dance drift to a stop and stretched slowly, working out her limbs one more time.
“I couldn't bring anything back, but what there was was only suffering, and now it isn't. I'm alright, Rogan, really.” She wasn't entirely sure how true that last reassurance was; it was still difficult, and made her chest feel tight to think about, but... but she didn't doubt her choice.
Calm at last, she began to walk forward, as Rogan spoke about some of the things she'd been through, and reassure her feelings. She caught herself wishing she'd been more open with him, the first time. As much as his words were solace now, they'd have been moreso then... but they'd been working, and there hadn't been time. Even so, she nodded along. Her trek down the beach continued, moving more into the uneven and less picturesque sections of terrain that common beach-goers would be unlikely to visit as she pursued the source of the local viral upsurge. There was still some time for them to talk safely though, and things probably weren't going to get much more private than this any time soon. She rubbed at the back of her neck and glanced off to the side as his words came to a pause.
“I know... and you're right. Back with Eurayle, I wasn't ready for what happened even if I had to do it. The...” she still felt a small shudder of horror pass through her as her mind supplied the memory of the moment. “The rawness of it, I guess. I wasn't ready. I'm still not... but... I know I had to do it, and... Rogan, it... it wasn't the first time I've had to do that, for someone who was alive, and suffering.” She heard the faintest catch of breath from her operator, before he controlled it. She'd have missed it if she wasn't already listening for his reactions, the attention spared for where she was going as she picked her way across the coastal terrain a background secondary to her focus on the conversation.
“...I'm sorry. If I had my choice now, I wouldn't ask for you to deal with that.” There was a pause as Lyntael felt herself biting back a comment on the irony of of his words; that he had asked her to, though he didn't know it. He was feeling guilty enough already... there was no sense in her adding to it. In the silence, as she didn't answer, Rogan sought to fill the space again.
“Is... it something you can talk to me about, Lyntael?” The question was unexpected, and she stumbled as she climbed over a rocky outcrop. As much as she knew Rogan was doing his best to treat her better now, the level of caution and care he was using around this topic was still unusual. It was more personal in a way though, she supposed; it had taken her a while to understand it, but the lives he had on his own conscience weighed on the man far more than he liked to let on, and she found herself wondering if Rogan had had anyone close by to turn to, the first time he'd ended up in that position. Eric, of course, her thoughts replied immediately... but now they weren't on speaking terms. She still hadn't answered. Lyntael paused to sit on the rock she'd stumbled over, and looked out to the slowly rolling waves.
“It wasn't bloody or violent, like that. I think I'm still sort of... holding onto it, and dealing with it, you know? It was only...” She paused. She hadn't meant to put any extra guilt on him, but she was saying it now, and Rogan was smart. She'd just have to be honest about it. “You told me all about the sorts of thing they were doing to the navis they... captured. It was horrible, but, it wasn't really real, for me, until the rescue operation. Not just the ones we got out, Rogan... there were... others. Others I couldn't save.” She half expected a quick reassurance from her operator, but this time Rogan seemed to realise that she needed him to hold his peace until she was finished. Gradually, she told him, starting with careful words that swiftly descended into a broken, tearful recount the more she spoke about it; of the other four she'd found, twisted and mutilated, kept alive by the functions they'd been put to, and her own part in ending their stories. Each of their names was etched into her mind along with the fragments of memory that had passed to her. As the story drew to a close, she sniffled and scrubbed at her eyes and nose.
“I... I felt the things that they felt, Rogan... felt the people they were, and the pain they were in and what they'd been turned into. They weren't 'just' programs... none of them were. They felt, joy and love and.... boredom, exasperation... inspiration, excitement... and in the end, agony, despair, terror... Two of them wanted to die, Rogan. One was so far gone, there wasn't anything left to want anything any more...” she felt her voice break as she tried to give air to the next words. “And one of them just wanted to see her operator again, hadn't given up hope, but... but cutting them out of the system was the end anyway, and I made it happen.” Despite her slow breaths and intermittent wipes, hot tears still made their way down her cheeks. “I never want to be responsible for ending lives like that, Rogan. Sometimes it might be all I can do, but... but I will always... Always... try to find another way first.” Talking about it aloud helped, somehow. Putting words to the flow of feeling that came with the experience helped turn the mass of distressed emotions into something clearer.
“Lyntael...” Rogan's voice was thick; somewhere between distress and anger, both feelings the man never let to the surface if he could help it. Now he sounded like he was close to tears, and possibly to breaking something. “I'm sorry. I gave you those orders, Lyntael. The responsibility should be mine, those losses mine to bear, not yours. I don't want those weights to be yours.” The overwrought sound in his voice clarified something else in Lyntael's mind and she felt herself take a longer breath, wiping her own eyes again and climbing back to her feet. Clearing the air was fine, but more suffering didn't help either of them. She wanted Rogan to care for her, and he did; that was what mattered. Enough with guilt.
“I'm glad I was there for them. I'm glad they weren't alone, at the end. If we hadn't done what we did, together, Rogan, then they'd still be suffering now, in a place where no help could ever reach them. I don't blame you for any of that. I don't.”
“Maybe, but I still—”
“I know, Rogan, I know... We had a mission, and a plan. You told me what you needed me to do, and I chose to do it... and together, we did the best that we could, alright? Listen...” For a moment, Lyntael looked out at the sea again, then closed her eyes and let her senses feel the soft movements of the wind, seeking calm.
“I know this situation is personal to you now, but it's personal to me too. We're going to set things right, however we can, and we're going to do it together. I may not know entirely who I am now, but I'm working it out. I'm going to do things my way, but that means that if I end up hurting, or getting hurt, it's because I chose to take that path. I know that you will do your best to keep me safe; sometimes you might not be able to, and that's okay, Rogan, because I know you will do your best. I'm going to be doing my best to keep you safe too, and I'm not going to be perfect either... but I'm not going anywhere, and we're going to see this through. I'm not brittle or fragile... not any more. You don't need to carry the weight of my decisions for me, alright?” It felt good to say it, in a way. Lyntael opened her eyes as a sense of fresh air seemed to light her senses and a peaceful, true calm spread through her as she set out again, continuing down the beach. This was right; this was who she wanted to be.
((Ready for Battle 9))
TrainArrow2Effect: Adds +40 Aqua to Buster Shot Attack
