Summary:Rooftop encounter, a brief heart to heart and plans formed come what may. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Laynia is more than a bit…off. That Dome run, that did some stuff to her that she's not sure she's ready to deal with. The offer from Amara…should -not- have been so tempting. At all.
Once he day's work at the Triskelion was done, her training sessions, continuing education, after action report for the Dome…she just could not stomach going home. Nor did she want to go out and get drunk.
Instead she flew high over the city, still in street clothes - a pantsuit and leather jacket against the chill, and then portaled three times to get to Mutant Town, and her target - an old bell tower in an abandoned Church. It has a lovely view, is sheltered, and is somewhere she won't likely run into anyone.
And indeed when Laynia lands she runs into no one. No one but a curiously significant collection of cats. Wild, mostly feral, cats. Up on the roof and in the bell tower of an old church. At the edge of Mutant Town, the church offers at once an overlook of the Disaster Zone, or an overlook of Mutant Town itself.
And cats.
Laynia probably is not shocked completely senseless, then, when a figure in worn, threadbare military surplus attire climbs out from under the eaves of the roof around the other side, a hint of tanned, slightly dirty skin and greasily unkempt ashen blonde hair peeking out from under the bill of a ratty hat, looking in her direction. Not approaching. Not talking. Just … there. And not invisible.
Which one supposes does say something, after all, since both women know well Hunter could be invisible if that was what she wanted.
The cats…don't register consciously at first, but when Hunter appears, she can't help but chuckle. "Of all the belfries in all the Church towers in all the town…I wandered onto yours." Her Bogart impression could stand some work, but it isn't as horrible as some, so there's that.
Laynia is perched on a bit of brick, an impromptu seat formed by a wall collapse. Feet pressed to the bricks, and arms about her gathered together knees. To Hunter's senses the woman is clearly in some distress, she smells…a little frightened, actually, which is not at all common. She's been through a lot of shite in her days, very little phases her anymore.
She shakes her head, and then rests her cheek on her arms as she looks to Hunter. "You?" Status.
Hunter is not quite so completely without larger social context that she misses the allusion, but it takes her a few seconds. And there's not really any smile, just a shrug. No grimace. No growl. Just a shrug, a lift of one shoulder just half an inch or so, and then over.
Being Hunter, she says nothing. She does not intrude. She does not pry. But she is aware that something is going on with Laynia. And so her first 'answer', such as it is, happens to be to look down to a rusted fire escape on a neighboring building, a good two, perhaps even three stories below the roofline upon which they now both reside. Her implication is clear: should I go? You're entitled to quiet alone time.
Asked about her own status, though, Hunter lifts her gaze, watching the fellow Russian. She considers, and then shrugs again, one off-handed gesture simply a wave at her surroundings. She isn't with the Pride. She isn't with the people. She's up here. Far away. Isolated.
Duh. Howdja think she is?
And how distressingly eloquent can Hunter be in complete silence?
No, Laynia figured a Casablanca reference would not be missed, even by Hunter. Such a classic movie is seldom not at least something people are peripherally aware of. Her friend's solitude, save for the feline horde, is troubling to her. And…for Laynia it is FAR easier to deal with a friend's problems than her own. Her own she tends not to face sometimes.
A shake of her head at the offer to depart.
She is truly awed by how expressive this woman, her fellow expat, can be with just a look, a gesture, a nod. "We should find a way to entrench, to protect your people /and/ let you be here for them."
No go? OK. Hunter comes the rest of the way out from under the eaves and just sits down on one of the ridges of the roofline as the cats mill about her. She doesn't approach too much closer to Laynia's bell tower, but she's close enough that she could speak and be heard. Assuming she was ever to decide to use words.
Damned laconic mess.
Laynia's comment brings out a gusty sigh from the Hunter, and a bit of rolled eyes. Has Laynia been taking notes from Lexi or something? Damnit. She frowns a bit, and looks - is that longingly? - towards the alleyways below, to the closest of those the Pride occupy and claim.
As alone as the fearsome tiger can be, somehow, that is not Hunter's way. She stands a bit apart, but she thrives on doing so from amongst those that are hers. Staying away hurts. It sucks. But for some reason, she seems visibly convinced this is the only choice.
Uncoiling from her perch, Laynia moves over to lean against the same ridge, about a foot of so away from Okhotnik. "You are being stubborn, padrooga." She observes. And yes, Hunter IS a damned laconic mess.
She's had good reason to be.
Lexi and Laynia have not in fact talked - which point /might/ be taken as corroboration of the idea. "You cannot protect them if you stay up here, not well. If you leave, then you abandon them and the Razors will return and once again, they will be unprotected." A faint smile, more than a bit bittersweet. "Is catch twenty-two, but in this case you are catching actual rounds from a 22 long. At best."
Eyes of cinnamon are looking past Diya, not challenging by making eye contact. At least not yet. "Also…we would miss you." She adds softly.
Hunter merely offers a little glance at the reference. Stubborn girlfriend? Yes, she is that. In spades.
Diya looks down at those alleyways, and her amber-backed green eyes shimmer. SHe would literally rip the spine out of anyone who dared comment on it, but it brings tears to her eyes to consider never being a part of the Pride again. She misses them that badly.
She turns away, wiping her eyes, and then turns to face Laynia. "Squid girl." she begins. "Want base. Castle." Hunter explains, shaking her head. "More war." She gestures widely, towards the rest of the City around them. "Territory. Bosses target. More killers. Death." She hates the idea. Naturally.
"Should home." Hunter offers after a while. "Hunt Razors. Burning glory." It would be suitably Russian, of course, to go home while hunted by those there, and start a war right in their faces, then go down in a blaze of glory taking as many of the bastards with her as possible. And there'd be nothing for any to gain coming after the Pride, then.
But then the Pride would likely collapse, without her to protect and lead them. Unless she can find someone else.
Like Laynia.
"Do you trust your people, Okhotnik?" This is asked in all seriousness. "You are the champion of these people, yes. I will defend them too. As will Lexi. That is the thing - individuals can be strong, but a single brick can be broken when a wall of bricks reinforce, are much stronger." She looks to Hunter, making /no/ comment about the misting eyes. "You love your people, you have the heart of a protector." These are things she shares, part of why they understand each other. "But you have to let them do their parts too, not /just/ as intel network."
She nods. "It is true crimelords will be problematic…for a time. Bloody their noses enough, they will back the fuck off. Burning glory is bad idea. Cathartic yes, but bad. Short sighted. No, we work together, we hunt them down, we rip out their entrails and feed them to them. THAT is solution, not one woman death pyre."
And no, Laynia does not want Hunter's job! Hunter is way better at it.
Hunter eyes Laynia a bit, and then shrugs, nodding. Yes, she trusts her people. Hard not to, really. "Not soldiers." she complains, however. And she's not wrong; the Pride are not soldiers, and they didn't sign up for war. But that does not mean they are helpless, and she knows that.
Just ask those who survived the Incident about what happened in Mutant Town. There's a reason why the PCB stays out of here as much as possible. They don't talk about it. But they know better than to mess with this place, or these people.
"Asymetric." When Hunter pulls out words like that, it's often jarring to others; one doesn't expect the near-never-speaker to pull out the biggies. But one word covers a whole paragraph. "Castle small. Hidden. Unused until needed." And then Hunter grins ferally. "Take all. Blood. Gold. Gear. Finance. And decimation."
Diya means it literally: kill one of hers, she kills ten of theirs. And she'll start from the top down, not the bottom up.