2024-09-14: Rainbow in the Dark

• Log: 2024-09-14: Rainbow in the Dark
• Cast: Seolla Schweizer, Teletha Testarossa
• Where: TDD-1, Pacific Ocean
• OOC - IC Date: Sept 14 UC099
• Summary: A Captain of a vessel confers with a trusted confidant. Neither see eye to eye about the circumstances, emotional impartiality acting as the insidious poison of fraying bonds.

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<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        A storm enveloped the Earth not too long ago. The fall of Junius Seven, shattering into myriad falling stars all across the world. A cataclysm nearly brushing with complete disaster. One that was yet beautiful in a way.

        ...stationed as Seolla was protecting an escort ship at the tme, all she could do as the sky was torn asunder was to take aim at a falling star, and fire one round in futility, as though thousands of miles could be crossed by her will alone.

        ...if any machine -could- do it, though, it'd likely be this Personal Trooper.

%Kneeling like an azure angel, the Wildfalken Seolla tested for Mao Industries cuts a figure shockingly akin to the Gernsbacks at its flanks - like an older sister trying to show off. It's totally different on the inside than an Arm Slave, but its armor and styling shares a lot.

        And, of course, it's toting a titanic rifle nearly dwarfing the PT in height - the Oxtongue Rifle and its colossal twin barrels gleaming over the rim.

        "Pheeeew, I'm pretty jealous of that~" chimes in Kurz Weber, leaned against a crate and whistling up at the Wildfalken. "Here I thought I had the best eye in the SRT, but you get to tote around a beauty like that? Well, guess it matches the shooter, hehe."

        Up on the gantries, toying around with the OS, Seolla peeks around a screen and shoots Kurz a smile so casual and disarming that it paradoxically tempers his usual incorrigible flirting. "Ah, thank you. Well, we're different types of snipers, you know. This one's probably a little less powerful than what you're used to, but it has a lot of compensation and ballistics calculations to handle moving at high speeds. It's probably a little overcomplicated where a more traditional rifle would do...ah, right, have you seen the captain anywhere?"

        ...Kurz can't help but click his tongue at the immediate divergence into a) technical know-how and b) obvious preference towards Captain Testarossa, and with a shrug, he remarks, "She's always busy with something or another, 'specially now. Probably having all sortsa important talks we'll never know the truth of...sooo secretive."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

Tessa, for better or for worse, hadn't been much for keeping many secrets around. There was no need to; Not ever since the entire drop that was Mithril's closest secrets shunted out onto the internet in a bid to undercut the power of secrecy, not with the many, many movements under the boards to ensure that TDD-1 wasn't about to be powerbombed out of nowhere. There was still this mental shield, this idea that she had to maintain herself somewhat uptight even during this situation, this process which had spanned the majority of her recent life.

And yet, she allowed her hair to be dressed up in a simple ponytail.

"I do remember we're still addressing rank, but there's no period of classification assigned to anything we do now." It's stated as the most obvious thing as she strides in, holding back a yawn while another bunch of papers stick out of the folder she's holding up. "Another round of wargame practice for the next available timeframe. Defenses are against Theta Zulu this time." The very question of which group these were meant to represent were left deliberately unknown, ambiguous. Someone more enterprising could tell off of specifications and army lineups, but they were merely guesstimates. Assumptions.

"Before you ask, no, we're not spending ship supplies on a sniper shoot-off." Even so far gone, Mao's usage of the Arm Slaves as flamenco dancers...still leaves thoughts. "But neither of you will shoot the other's eyes out." Not without substantial punishment.

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        The sound of Tessa's voice makes Seolla perk up a little more energetically from her seat at the Wildfalken's heart, craning over the monitors and getting a far more excited cheer. "Ah, we were just talking about you, I guess you overheard!" Pushing aside the monitor stalk, Seolla clambers down the ladder, careful not to bump into Tessa, since she'd surely embrace the captain a little too casually.

        "No no, don't worry, I'm not gonna be that irresponsible with this thing yet-" ...yet?? "-it's too important to be careless with in our situation. It's all still a little perilous, isn't it...?"

        A hand falls on Tessa's shoulder once she yawns, Seolla's vivid blue eyes looking at her in concern. By now, her hair's grown out a bit, bangs nearly crossing her vision, though a little messily. "...Say, Captain, you're not working overlong hours, are you? ...Have you eaten yet today? I could go for a spot of lunch..."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

There's an audible handoff of a paper to Kurz, who's already looking over the doc. "Nothin' too shabby this time, huh? 500 here, a thousand there- Mmmh. Mmmmmmh." A slow narrowing of the eyes, muttering to himself. "If we take it here, then that means..." There's a smile on his face, at minimum. Another entertaining idea.

"A little?" Her own eyebrow cocks up, eyes gazing over the hangar, the source of all of Mithril's current armaments. Reorganized and adapted to being as efficient as possible, not a single bit of metal going to waste. Granted, the usual ambivalence of Mithril's PMC docket had its little effects here and there: There was a gang of mechanics hooting over the latest fix on an M9 knee-joint, and another looking over the latest trade magazines and muttering about the advances in technology.

"The same hours as always. Why?" What were those hours? Only the Captain really knew; She was always on-time to meetings and such, but even the most high of hers had her sometimes be in bed. Her own circadian rhythm that refused to fully align to the 24-hour workday, those black-ringed eyes of eternal lack of sleep continuing to deepen.

And she's stifling a yawn right now. "Not in the past...five hours or so." That was the right time, right? Right. Captain's chair, bed, office, a few calls, a few prods, setting up...Hunting that bastard down...

...Her stomach decided to loudly agree with that point. "I suppose an energy drink doesn't count."

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        A big pouty look and a forward lean from Seolla, glaring deep into Tessa's exhausted eyes. "The 'same as always' has always been worrying to me, aaaargh...! You're stubborn, you know that?" Seolla gives the captain a big, pushy shove to the forehead, and then...

        "...you're stubborn even on an empty stomach! It's so hard to imagine...when I'm really hungry, I could just curl up and pout and grouse all day! Jeez. You always are on the verge of just collapsing, and you don't even notice it, ugh-!" Forcefully, Seolla grasps Tessa by the wrist - and marches her way towards the mess hall, quickly telling Kurz, "I'm fixing our captain's bad habit of forgetting to eat til late in the day, come hell or high water!"

        ...Something's a bit at strain with Seolla here. Constantly looking back at Tessa though her march through the halls, eyebrows worrying melancholically. It's almost rather pushy the way she forces Tessa into the line for the cafeteria, and only then, once she's all but dropped a tray into Tessa's hands, does Seolla finally relax and let go of her wrist.

        "...mmm. ...remember when...you were keeping such diligent track of everything I ate and did, to make sure I was recovering the way I should...?"

        "...do I need to start doing that for you, Captain?"

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

There's a step back at the light shove, eyes widening in light shock. Sure, there's been a bunch of touch and go, but its been a while since she was well and truly pushed. The reasoning was sound; No real contest to that exclamation, nor to being dragged away. The sense of mind to wave to Kurz, who's just gioving his usual smile. Good luck, Captain! Lucky you, dragged around by a- Even his thoughts were slightly rotted.

Tugged along to the cafeteria, the mental map serving as a perfect guide. She knows where Seolla's going past the third turn and her own personality. "But I don't need-" The first look back said it all, no need for words. Even as her legs instinctually stepped along every pipe (and failing to bypass one, tripping stumbling, getting upright, and continuing), her mind kept racing along, working...on things completely separate from the situation at hand.

Into the line. At least it's something more substantial than granola. Taking what she could, sitting down. And staring at it for a moment. Food. Food for the brain, for the mental house of work.

It doesn't take long for her to start eating; If nothing else, she tries to keep the food stock relatively varied. It's paying off. "...I need recovery?" It's a silly, simple question. Those eyes say it all; She didn't get enough sleep last night. Again.

"That's an impossibility, Seolla." Chomp. Munch. A sip of some juice. "We're still going strong, and I'm the only one that can." Chomp. Munch. Sip. "Even if we have Satellicon, there's nothing we can do except to stop Amalgam." Chomp. Munch. Sip. "We can't exactly...rest until that happens."

Chomp. Munch. Sip. Even so, she was still eating.

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        Seolla, of course, has proven to be a rather big eater herself - definitely operating on 50% more food than Tessa gets, tray piled high with casserole and rice and biscuits aplenty.

        "...Nnnn...is 'recovery' the right word?" Seolla muses, remembering the long, painful process of adapting aboard this ship. "...Yeah. Yeah, I think it is. You're not...balancing it properly. It's not like my situation where I caught fire and fell down smoldering, more like you constantly have flames licking at you and eating away at you, slowly turning more of you to ash."

        She downs a biscuit a bit hastily - Seolla's a fast eater, but normally in a casual way, where things just seem to be eaten in a handful of few, ordinary movements. Here, though, she really digs in...then stops in her tracks. "And despite that, you're carrying the world on your shoulders alone. I'm...annoyed. Annoyed that the adults in the room pile so much responsibility onto you, just because you're 'special'. It's...it's no different than what I went through. Asking me to do dirty work just because I had special training, even though I was a child..."

        Seolla's hand crosses the table, a little close to Tessa's, as a little wateriness crosses her gaze. "...I just don't know what to do. It's like...you're not even capable of seeing the ways you're slowly falling apart before my very eyes..."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

"Is it recovery?" Or anything at all? The question left unanswered as she passively mulls over that statement. Recovery? From what? From where? Is there such a thing as recovering from something you put your mind to? From pushing on, going step by step, dedicating yourself for something? It's not a thing seen as noble from the onset; Nor does she think it is noble. "I don't feel myself turning ashy." There's a smile at that. Ash? Her? There's no sense of burnout, to keep going, day by day, continuing along without hesitation. The daily talks. The passing of wargames. The fact that each and every day, there's one tug closer to Amalgam, to snag at any whisper out there and to bring it to heel.

Even the locked drawer is overflowing with what she's tried to snag, the latest ones from the chorus of outbursts thanks to Junius Seven.

"Special training..." It's a sick source of knowledge: To know. But to not explain how one comes to know. "I chose this, Seolla. From the onset, I knew why." A glance to the left. And right. It's too crowded. Opting to remain silent for a moment, taking a particularly large bite out of some chicken breast. "The only reason I'm considered 'special' is because of something completely out of my control. Not even because of someone close to me, but out of everyone's control." Something from beyond.

Those tired eyes gaze towards Seolla's own. Even under such concern, they seemingly burn, resisting the care. "...I know what I have to do in such a situation. If you had the capability to do something that no one else could, and the world would be better off for it...Would you walk away?"

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        Biting at one fingernail, Seolla knits her brows together, the braid at her temple falling over one eye pensively. ...It's too often like this. That sense of...of...

        "...your over-inflated pride is gonna be dangerous for you one day...!" She tries to keep her voice down - she can't just call Tessa -prideful- in this totally public space, where she's nealy worshipped.

        "I know you...-chose- it, however you choose to imagine it, but you...you can't even see the kind of toll reaching for a star like that's taking on you!" Seolla's tones start to fume - she eats a spoonful of rice strangely defiantly, lips curling downwards at the corners.

        "...especially tough when everyone -likes- the way you fight the world the way you do. I'm included there. I'm part of the problem! Ugh!" Fork stabbing into the casserole, Seolla leans over the table, elbows on the surface, balled up fists pushing into her cheeks. ...Why is it only her who can see it? How clearly exhausted Tessa gets? How much it's wearing her down?

        ...or does everyone else see it, and choose not to care, because surely if anyone can do it, can push through this, it's Tessa, put on their little pedestal the way they all do...the way Seolla does herself...

        "...god I wish I had a counterargument to that...you're so good at telling me exactly what'd make me feel like a contrarian not to agree with you. ...It's frustrating. Cause no. I wouldn't walk away. ...But I'd do it because I don't think people would care that much what became of me..."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

The accusation of pride. The direct statement of her self. Prideful. A crease in her brow at that, glancing away with trepidation. Of course she knows. It's a fact that she's facing then and there, to have it stated so blatantly. It's a miracle that this entire operation is still going.

Supported on the shoulders of a girl who couldn't leave her brother alone.

"Leonard isn't a star." The same directness is lashed back, a pointed dart. "He's wanting more than to just shine in the sky. Not just for this. For everything." The suppositions, conclusions, the ideas of what her brother wanted...It was obvious to her. To voice it bordered on insanity. "He may be acting like one, but he isn't one." To have someone so far above, knowing, moving, waiting, shifting, and believing that everything could go as planned.

...It was his fault, and she wasn't going to walk away from this.

Watching Seolla, those darkened eyes widening slightly. Sure, there was concern, there was a bit of wariness, but there was no fear in those eyes. Her eating is mechanical; There was taste. There was savorment. There was no real enjoyment, one familiar with the food that she brought in, one that knew how these chefs loved to cook, one that knew their habits, predelictions, and preferences.

In short, knowledge of the food and the routine she enforced herself on deadened the taste of the simple enjoyment of eating.

"Exactly. I'm...aware of what happened to others who've gone on like this." A slow dip of some chicken breast into a packet of mustard. Chew. Sip. Swallow. "How many times have we had veterans come home from war, unable to adjust to it? Back when Mithril was still existing, we've had applications like those all the time. Both PRT and SRT. Those who can't adapt normally, those who've known only war all their lives."

Isn't that just everyone?

"...Mithril weeded out nearly all of them. Those who want to be in this line of work either enjoy it or are in it because there's nothing else they can do. This crew is all the former." A lucky thing, to be sure. They're here because of her. They're here because of her leadership. There's no other conclusion in her head.

"That's why I have to keep going."

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        ...it surely must include all but the luckiest people in the Earth Sphere. Who -hasn't- been fighting all this time?

        "...I'm not calling THAT bastard your 'star', Tessa!" Seolla grouses, reaching out to hold the Captain's shoulder and shaking it a little. "I mean...what you're looking for in working so hard, the triumph you're trying to get...kah..." Seolla's expression drops a little, and she stops jostling Tessa so much, thinking about what Tessa's implying with this. ...that all of them, everyone on this ship, only has a place on the battlefield. That it scarred them too much to do anything except have their flames snuffed out in the arena of their choosing.

        ...she's admitted the same, hasn't she? That she just wants to let her flame of vengeance consume as much as it can. ...They're so painfully similar.

        A pain that creases Seolla's brow, pushes her grimace into her cheeks. Because if she thinks what Tessa wants is okay for herself...

        "...say, Captain...how much do you worry about me these days? ...If I were recklessly pushing my limits to hunt our enemies down, and barely getting sleep over it...would you try and stop me?"

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

The light shake brings out a grunt of discomfort. How long has it been since she's touched someone? To feel warmth? To know anything but the light of the submarine, the light of the sun, and the light of nothing else? The flame burns impassively, shaking her head as she offers a smile. It's a genuine one, set in what she wants to do. "He'll do much worse if I stop." Words said with conviction.

"I've still kept tabs on you, like everyone here. If you were pushing your limits so..." A downcast face. She knows the answer. The self-hypocrisy of knowing but not acting on it. The dance she knew all too well, having had to say similar lines to those new recruits, those who danced with death and the oncoming dead too close for anyone's comfort.

"I would pull them off the frontlines, of course." There's no need to elaborate on the multitude of reasons why it's more important for the frontline asset to be relieved of duty. Once everything is set, they can go back on.

...It reminds her of Sousuke, in a way. Looking out for others, thinking nothing of the self.

... "How about that?" A soft mutter, a vague question to an unwelcome truth.

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        Seolla's fingers tighten into Tessa's shoulder.

        "...how about that...?"

        ...One little thing nags at Seolla. Out of all of what Tessa says, she can't help but raise in temperature about. It's almost foolish. It's almost ridiculous, given their positions.

        But...

        "...I wish I heard something more personal than 'like everyone here'. ...Tessa..." Her fingertips loosen, brushing gently downwards as her hand slowly retracts.

        "...because we don't really...talk to each other...'like everyone else', you know? ...it's...a bit different between us, right? ...it's okay to admit that. It's not just because I'm a valuable fighter, it's because..."

        Seolla's head tips downward, bangs tumbling over her eyes a little bit.

        "...it's because I can be a bit important to you, supportive of you, I hope."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

There it was. The most obvious divide in passageways. Her own hand slides back, slowly finishing her meal, bit by precious bit. Completely mechanical. Working. Chewing. Sipping. There's no hint she's enjoying that meal. Those eyes, fiery as they were, held little emotion behind them.

"I know." Her words are chosen carefully. Considerately. She's...outwardly, not hesitant.

Maybe it's acting. Maybe it's not. She's trying her best to not let it show on her face. Maybe. What does she want for herself?

"And like I said, Seolla. This is what I want to do." There's no other way around the main problem of the moment. "When I set out for this, I meant what I said. I'll...find my own route when this is over."

When is it over? When is it well and truly over? Anyone who saw Junius Seven could taste the bloodlust in the air. War is a business. And business is poised to boom. Just like the 'good old days' after Operation British, some oldheads dishonorably discharged would say.

"I..." Her fingers curl up. A gaze down at the empty tray. The lacerations of mental strain keep scoring downwards. "I said at the start that anyone is welcome to leave. You're with me until the end of this." ...It's hard to not want to lord over what she has. What sort of person she could become. It's so simple. It's so simplistic. It's...

...A deep breath in. A deep breath out. It's so easy to slip into darker waters without the notice of anyone else.

"I do wish for your support." Like everyone else. "After all, you have your own reasons." Like everyone else. "I want to finish this soon, and I know it'll still be a while." Like everyone else.

There's a smile on her face. It fails to reach the eyes. "I wish I knew what more to say, but I don't believe in lying to my own crew." Not like everyone else.

<Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.

        ...Seolla wonders if she needed to choose her words more carefully. ...If something wasn't conveyed properly to Tessa. Or if...

        ...Or if...

        ...that long-instinctive search for a paired synchronicity was fraught to begin with.

        "I'm kind of an arrogant girl, aren't I?" Seolla asks, lifting her head, eyes a little clearer than expected.

%"It's -really- arrogant of me, to hold you as tight as I can, to stop you from drifting off into the machine for good. ...It's really arrogant of me to think that I can keep you here, as a person, as a human, just by...mmm. ...just by what? What was I trying to do? Be a companion...be desirable...be special, in some way?"

        ...She would at least like to trust that Tessa is honest in saying she's being honest to her. ...And thus, that one conceit towards standing out becomes something Seolla assumes makes her replacable with anyone else. ...That one conceit...

        She can't stop one tear from falling down her left eye.

        "...I should probably get back to taking care of what I was up to with the Falken...I'm glad we got food in you on time, Tessa." - and she has always called Tessa that, even so early on in her 'employ'.

        "...Thank you for keeping me company for it, selfish as it can be. I'm...always here if you need someone to talk to." Even retreating from the obvious strain in her heart, Seolla holds onto whatever leaves her a thread to continue believing what she had hoped to believe this connection was...