Before you know it, you’re stepping out of the hangar elevator onto the primary elevated platform, some forty feet off the ground. You’re not alone. Far from it. A gathering of mechanics tend to the open chest of an inactive Hellion, more than likely performing routine maintenance or prep for the next cluster of enthusiastic pilot wannabes. A supervisor sits, hanging from the railing, observing one of the Hellions that laid flat on her back on what looked like a resting platform for the Mech. The sound of groaning and whining machinery hits your ears again. You raise your head to see one of the seated Hellions rotating its head, cockpit open, the pilot obscured by the edges of the hatch.

There are a mess of others tending to their duties, totalling to at least a dozen and a half members of the maintenance unit, running their rounds or sitting down by the lower platforms, chatting the day away.

You don’t know where to start.

>Approach the Hellion’s open cockpit
>Approach the group of mechanics
>Talk to the Supervisor
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3490580
>Talk to the Supervisor

>>3490580
>>Approach the Hellion’s open cockpit

>>3490580
>>Approach the Hellion’s open cockpit

>>3490580
>>Approach the Hellion’s open cockpit

>>3490580
>>Approach the group of mechanics

File: Pretty Boy Reinweld.jpg (43 KB, 225x350)

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You jog along the catwalk, making your way towards the open cockpit and the only activated Mech in the hangar. Its head—and mono-eye camera—shifts wildly as you approach, as if the pilot inside was attempting to find a targeting solution from a seated position. You recognize it as a targeting alignment sequence of a sort (Although, you can’t fathom why they’d be doing so in a prone position with no weapon … and no targets), with the camera and systems aiming and tracking as if there were a plethora of objectives within range, prepping an assist sequence for the pilot’s current task …

‘Hard at wor—’

Your words fall to the non-existent wind as the pilot steps out from the cockpit, placing the training helmet on one of the external consoles wheeled out to the side. You can feel your expression take a more rigid quality as your eyes meet, disdain and a begrudging acknowledgement of sorts makes itself apparent to you again. Gentle locks of brown dance as equally dark eyes lift to meet yours … and it takes every ounce of your being to not march off in a tantrum.

‘Mishima.’

Emilio Reinweld’s expression is as cold as ever.

‘Reinweld.’

You try to at least keep things neutral.

>Leave
>‘Getting some last minute practice in, I see.’ (Neutral, Casual)
>‘Any reason that you’re here and not in the city yet?’ (Curious)
>'You have news on your posting?'
>‘I thought that you’d be back on Hertha by now. You’re not the type to linger.’ (Trade House Scion, Neutral)
>‘I thought that I’d caught a whiff of something rotten around.’ (Trade House Scion, Antagonistic)
>Write-In

>>3490963
>>‘I thought that you’d be back on Hertha by now. You’re not the type to linger.’ (Trade House Scion, Neutral)

>>3490963
>‘I thought that you’d be back on Hertha by now. You’re not the type to linger.’ (Trade House Scion, Neutral)

>>3490963
>>‘Any reason that you’re here and not in the city yet?’ (Curious)

>>3490963
>‘I thought that I’d caught a whiff of something rotten around.’ (Trade House Scion, Antagonistic)

>>3490963
>‘I thought that you’d be back on Hertha by now. You’re not the type to linger.’ (Trade House Scion, Neutral)

File: Emilio Again.jpg (480 KB, 1508x1896)

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Keep it civil.

It’s what you tell yourself.

Keep it neutral.

It’s practically a mantra at this point for you … but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s the same for him. Lanky and in possession of an almost ethereal quality to his being, Emilio was a fantasy for the average Imperial citizen on what they perceived of the Emperor and his children. The Scion of Trade House Reinweld, the future inheritor of a vast empire of itself, Reinweld was something akin to a celebrity among your peers. On paper, he was the second best pilot in the whole year … and the only reason he hadn’t taken the valedictory commendation and given a pathway was due to his electives being scaled down in the marking process (You can’t fathom why he had taken Chemistry and Law as his electives to mix with the syllabus to this day), despite scoring a collectively higher score than Maldante.

The only units you’d consistently outperformed him in were History and Engineering … and the margins were almost always razor-thin. Being an enthusiast on the operational history of Chapters, Battlegroups and Skirmishes gave you the edge in those subjects … but Emilio more than made up for it everywhere else; sometimes several times over.

You respect him.

You just don’t know if you’d ever grow to truly like him.

‘I thought that you’d be on Hertha-Olmac by now,’ you state, eyeing Emilio as he sets the helmet down proper. ‘I know you’re not the type to linger for longer than you have to.’

‘Sansa’s put her all into tonight’s celebrations,’ he returns coolly, unzipping his collar slightly. ‘It’d be an insult to leave without at least indulging in the festivities a little.’

You don’t look away.

‘What does your father have to say to that?’

‘My father will respect my decision.’

You almost snort in irritation. Emilio’s relationship with his family was … tumultuous at best, frosty at its worst and tumultuous in its entirety. While a Trade House wasn’t a bastion of warmth or a respite from the politicking of the universe, you’d never heard of a Scion that actively rejected his lineage. You’d called him out before.

The hypocrisy of it all.

The naivete of his perspective.

You’d engaged in more spats with Emilio than you care to remember over this, albeit with honeyed words rather than poisoned edges. To this day, you couldn’t understand the why … and Emilio didn’t care to elaborate on it anymore than he had.

He didn’t like them.

They, however, needed him.

‘And what does your wife have to say about that?’

‘You’re welcome to call her your wife if you so wish.’

‘I might,’ you retort, your tone betraying your irritation. ‘Do you think her family would be open to negotiations? An inconsiderate husband would be viable grounds for annulment.’

'There is no Head of Scion's wife that would dare risk an established standing to do so. Your mother hasn't complained of it, either. I don't see why my wife would.'

You don't answer.

'There's only so much indulgence one can experience in a lifetime.'

>Release the restraints on your temper.
>'We talked about this. About what you wanted to do.' (Serious)
>'Even as a Scion, it's not a good idea to go against the wishes of your Head.' (Reroute)
>'Look, I know that we'll never be on good terms but ...' (Diplomatic)
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3490993
>>'Look, I know that we'll never be on good terms but ...' (Diplomatic)

>>3490993
>'Look, I know that we'll never be on good terms but ...' (Diplomatic)

>>3490993
>'We talked about this. About what you wanted to do.' (Serious)

>>3490993
>>'Look, I know that we'll never be on good terms but ...' (Diplomatic)

>>3490993
>'We talked about this. About what you wanted to do.' (Serious)

>>3490993
>>'We talked about this. About what you wanted to do.' (Serious)

>>3490993
>>'Look, I know that we'll never be on good terms but ...' (Diplomatic)

>>3490993
>>'Look, I know that we'll never be on good terms but ...' (Diplomatic)

File: This Is Why We're Not Friends.jpg (58 KB, 1024x576)

58 KB JPG

‘Look,’ you start, exhaling in exasperation as you try to keep yourself steadily on the line, ‘I know that we’ll never be on good terms, but … don’t you think that you’re over-reaching on association by extending your damn grudge on a woman that’s happy just to be your wife?’

‘She’s happy to be a Scion’s wife,’ Emilio retorts, albeit with a tone as affected as a rock embedded in a wall of stone. ‘She’d have gladly taken my uncles or my brothers if they had the same designation on their name. I have no delusions that she has any affection reserved for me beyond what I am in my association to Trade House Reinweld.’

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

‘You can afford to be more receptive to it,’ you counter, taking a softer tone to the one that you took before. ‘My father would probably have words with me for trying to prevent the internal collapse of another House—’

‘Then, don’t.’

Deep breaths.

‘You’re not going to be making things any better for yourself lashing out at people who don’t have anything to do with whatever it is you’re holding against your family,’ you continue, not missing a beat. ‘She’s not one of them … to put it in crasser terms.’

Emilio glares at you.

You don’t know what you’d said, but it felt nice to at least get a reaction out of him for once.

‘We’ve talked about this.’

‘And we’re talking about it again.’

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘That’s what you said about it last time, too … and here you are, making things worse without realizing that you can actually change things for the better on your own terms,’ you let out, sarcasm practically dripping from your mandibles. ‘You know, for someone belonging to one of the few Trade Houses that consolidated power purely through economical manoeuvring mixed with political chain-links for the last thousand standard years or so, it boggles the mind that you’re so stubborn that you don’t have half the sense to realize that playing ball would be the most pragmatic course of action. You joined The Aegis because they didn’t want you. You’re pushing a career as a Chapter Pilot because they never did it before … and you don’t even want to go and pay a visit to your wife because you think that you’d be popping little Reinweld babies for the Trade House Reinweld machine. Please, stop me when you think I’m getting too far off the mark. I’ve had a tendency for that since we’ve met.’

The noise of the hangar ceases as your words die. Emilio’s eyes turn from the irritated glared held in deep brown to a tired, dull quality.

‘This is why we aren’t friends.’

>‘Sad as it is to admit … I believe this is exactly why we’re friends.’
>‘Among other things.’
>Say nothing
>Leave

>>3492757
>‘Sad as it is to admit … I believe this is exactly why we’re friends.’

>>3492757
>>‘Sad as it is to admit … I believe this is exactly why we’re friends.’

>>3492757
>>‘Sad as it is to admit … I believe this is exactly why we’re friends.’

>>3492757
>>‘Sad as it is to admit … I believe this is exactly why we’re friends.’

>>3492757
>>‘Sad as it is to admit … I believe this is exactly why we’re friends.’

File: DARLING.jpg (236 KB, 850x1100)

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You don’t want to say it.

You’d avoided saying it since the day you’d met and almost went to blows with him in your physical reconditioning classes; when you were as wide as a whale and he was mere stick and bone. You’d never been comfortable around him to the point that you could throw up idle chatter on the fly. Not like you had done with Ryosuke, Sansa, Gerard … even Maldante. The crux of your conversations had been made up of snide remarks, insults, the odd political discussion and the state of your Houses. Emilio got along much better with everyone else. Sansa and Ryosuke he socialized with; Gerard he could bond over their talent in a Mech’s cockpit. You he almost slugged with an elbow over a perceived insult.

At the end of it all, though, and despite everything that you had built and torn down together in the five years of proximity with one another, there was one truth that would stand the test of time.

That you understood one another.

The inadequacies, the fears and your ambitions.

‘As much as I’d like to agree with you—and the universe and the stars knows I want to—I believe that, sad as it is to admit … that this is exactly why we’re friends.’

Emilio leans against the railing, his stare now against the open hatch of the cockpit, not saying a word. You can’t read his mind. You don’t care to. Around you, the world seems to go back into motion. Below, a truck wheels about, hooking onto what appears to be an empty trailer to drag it out. To your right, you make out the sound of several mechanics noisily progressing with their task. Neither you nor Emilio are able to find the right words, pondering in silence. He plays with the seams of his pilot suit and you give your neck the occasional rub, trying to find a way to put the conversation back on track.

‘If she gets bored, she can always just take a trip to a Paradise World. It’s not like she’s a prisoner on Hertha.’

‘She’s your wife,’ you counter, for what seems like the hundredth time in the last few days. ‘I think it’d be better for her to at least enjoy the company of the man she married instead of having him make excuses to not be with her for three years running.’

Your voice appears to take a more crotchety quality by the last few words. Maybe you were just tired at this point.

‘If she can’t handle my absences now, then she shouldn’t have married into a Trade House,’ he states bluntly.

‘This is different,’ you mention pointedly. ‘You promised her that you’d be on the first fold off. This isn’t you being too busy to make time. This is you avoiding her.’

He doesn’t respond.

‘It’s not my business whether you do it or don’t care for it, but if you’re that worried about your House’s next move, maybe it’d be better if you at least make a better effort at self-destructive subterfuge than you’re doing so far.’

‘So what do you suggest?’

You almost fall over. Emilio Reinweld being successfully egged onto one of your ideas was enough of a rarity for you test whether Ryosuke had slipped something into your sleep-assistance unit while you’d dozed off.

‘That you play the game properly,’ you manage, trying to keep an even tone. ‘I don’t care whether you’re plotting the downfall of your whole line, but the way you’re doing things has to be the most counter-productive attempt at sabotage that I’ve seen. Just because you’re excelling at what they don’t want you to doesn’t mean that they won’t adapt and accommodate. You could at least make an ally out of your wife. Doesn’t seem like she’s got any plots that’d be counter-productive to her interests.’

Emilio … laughs. It’s quite dry, however.

‘Whatever you want for yourself and your House, you’re not going to be able to execute it alone,’ you declare, dusting yourself off. ‘Plus, at least you get to spend some time with the woman who thought that you were worth taking a chance on, politically-motivated or otherwise.’

‘So you suggest that I sleep with my wife?’

You roll your eyes.

‘There are heftier obstacles out there,’ you return, grumbling. ‘I’m sure that there are Salamander poachers that’d love to trade in for impediments of her nature.’

Emilio snorts.

‘Like you’d trade in for Morrigan and Sansa in your bed, I imagine.’

>Throw something at him
>Write-In
>Leave

>>3492914
>You do realize I am absolutely terrified of messing up with both of them?

>>3492914
>>Write-In
>quick smirk
>don't say anything

>>3492914
>>Throw something at him

Preferably something soft like a juice pack

>>3492914
>TSUN-DENIAL
I-I don't know what you are talking about! As if id ever!

>>3492914
>Write-In
“L-like I would stoop that low. Hmph.”

>>3492914
>>Throw something at him
>while blushing and stammering denials like a true Tsun

>>3492914
kek, I like these two. I'll back both or either of these.
>>3492934
>>3492935

File: Sansa.jpg (333 KB, 1897x1231)

333 KB JPG

‘As if I’d ever,’ you hiss, crossing your arms a raising your nose in disdain.

You’re almost cross.

The nerve of him to suggest something of that ilk. Sansa and Fisher? In that sense? Hardly. Career women, the both of them. Imagining either of them beckoning you for a night of pleasure was a thought … and a thought it would stay. You didn’t have time for either of them and you doubted either of them would make time for you; you were worlds apart, career-wise and … in every other aspect. Fisher had a comfortable life as one of the youngest Instructors in Aegis history and Sansa was in the midst of advancing herself towards a career as a Battlegroup Medic. You were on good terms with the both of them, of course … but that didn’t meant that you considered them in that fashion.

Nonsensical.

That’s what it was. That’s what it is.

Emilio could really push your buttons when he wanted to go about it. As if you’d ever consider either of them in that light. You had half a mind to sock him in the jaw or throw one of the plugs lying around in the tray across. Maybe a dented skull would improve his capacity for actual intelligence.

Not that you would turn it down, of course. Sansa and Fisher were attractive creatures by any standard. Being part of a military program and conducting extraneous physical activities on a consistent schedule had that kind of side effect. You only needed to look into a mirror to substantiate those claims to an Imperial court … and Sansa and Fisher would most definitely win the case.

Besides, you’d seen them both—

‘Besides,’ you suddenly speak up, crossing your arms, ‘it’s not like I’d stoop to that level and hunt them on their insecurities. I’m confident enough in myself to know that there’s nothing about me that’s more appealing than my family’s name. However you approach it, the first thing that comes to mind when it comes to a Scion is the Trade House. There’s nothing you or I or anyone else can do to change that.’

You consider your words in a few seconds of silent thought.

Was it a pity party if it was factual truth?

‘Sansa and Fisher included,’ you mutter, albeit not without some measure of reluctance. ‘The both of them would probably bend over for Maldante before they so much as looked at me that way.’

You consider your words again.

You didn’t want to mislead anyone with that statement.

‘Not that I can see them bending over for anyone, mind. Sansa can be a nose on her worst days … and I’ll probably solve the mystery of the Unknown Brother before I figure Fisher out proper.’

Emilio stares at you, a faint twitch of the lips visible from where you’re standing. He doesn’t look convinced.

Prick.

‘If you say so.’

You feel your irritation scratch at the back of your neck at his words.

‘I do say so.’

He closes his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 'That's what I said.'

You take it back. Maybe you weren't friends, after all.

>'I'm more aware of my inadequacies than you realize.' (Confess)
>'If you have something to say, say it.' (Irritated)
>'So, do you think I'm naive for holding onto my virginity or do you think I'm repressed?' (Turn)
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3493080
>'I'm more aware of my inadequacies than you realize.' (Confess)

>>3493080
>'So, do you think I'm naive for holding onto my virginity or do you think I'm repressed?' (Turn)

>>3493080
>>'So, do you think I'm naive for holding onto my virginity or do you think I'm repressed?' (Turn)

>>3493080
>'If you have something to say, say it.' (Irritated)

>>3493080
>>'So, do you think I'm naive for holding onto my virginity or do you think I'm repressed?' (Turn)

>>3493084
>>3493085
>>3493096

“No i think ur gay”

>>3493124
By Trade House standards, you're pretty gay.

>>3493080
>'If you have something to say, say it.' (Irritated)

>>3493080
>>'So, do you think I'm naive for holding onto my virginity or do you think I'm repressed?' (Turn)

File: Morrigan Fisher.jpg (199 KB, 850x1146)

199 KB JPG

‘Do you think I’m just being naive about these things or do you think I’m secretly repressed?’

Approaching things Ryosuke’s way wasn’t how you liked to do things (Ryosuke’s methodology, in fact, was one that you tried to avoid as much as you could afford), but there was nothing that you wouldn’t at least try at this point to get away from the topic of Morrigan Fisher and Sansa Wilmots. It was one thing to deem them attractive. It was another thing to consider sowing illegitimate children with them (And making your grandfather proud) in some instance of intimacy.

‘I don’t think you’re naive in any sense of the word,’ Emilio returns, ‘or repressed for that matter.’

You shrug, more satisfied with the reply than you had expected to be.

‘Good to know.’

Silence reigns once more.

There’s seldom an opportunity for either of you to share anything resembling organic civility … and if there was someone to break it, it wasn’t going to be you. Emilio’s presence was usually enough to have you begin manning your mental fort, lest he tear you to pieces … but when the animosity eventually ran its course, that same presence often morphed into tolerable company. It was really too bad that Emilio could be a self-righteous prick on even his best days. You would have appreciated having someone to relate Scion-specific issues with, even if he came from a rival House.

Although, considering it was Emilio, you doubted that he’d last four sentences into a conversation of that ilk.

‘It’d do you a world of good to put a foot in there, in any case,’ Emilio comments, throwing an idle glance in your direction. ‘You may not be naive or repressed, but you should definitely take a chance to warm up your bed.’

‘This coming from the man who’s been married four years and not so much as fluffed the pillows with his wife?’

‘This coming from a man that thinks you’re dwelling on the fact that your female colleagues have traits appealing to what’s behind your loins much too unhealthily for your own comfort.’

You feel your throat constricting at the notion.

‘We’re deviating.’

‘You need to get laid,’ he declares, clearly exasperated. ‘I’d burn the legacy of the Scions if I could, but honestly, I’ve never encountered an instance where the Scion in question holds back from exercising the full scale of his influence to get his pecker wet. You might be the first … and now that I’ve experienced you first-hand, I’m thankful that you’re the only one out in existence with this conundrum. At least Lord Thibault Cloudstrider had the excuse that he could only get it off in combat.’

You wrinkle your nose as you eye Emilio in disbelief.

‘You’re not repressed. You’re just fussy.’

You find the hinges of your jaw creaking as a swell of emotions make themselves known to you. You? Fussy?

‘Well, forgive me for actually putting emotional weight into that line of thought,’ you call out, raising your hands in exasperation. ‘Maybe I should just throw it away at an orgy with a tab that’s the size of a township’s second term budget.’

‘Like every other Scion.’

You really want to strangle him.

>Write-In

>>3493244
Good thing I'm not like every other Scion then, eh [insert clever insult here]?

>>3493244
>Fuck it. I admit it. I'm terrified of ruining the lives of the girls I'm actually attracted to. I don't want them to end up like my mother. (Angry)

>>3493247
i really cant think of anything clever to say here

>>3493244
>"Yes, idiot Scions who don't act their station" (Accusatory)
>*waggle eyebrows* (Smug)

>>3493255
>supporting
we are truly the epitome of a proper Scion

>>3493252
This

>>3493244
>So since you’re a scion you admit too it? Why you are avoiding your wife becomes clear..

However, as much relish as you believed that you would acquire in your attempt of murder … you can’t help but allow the thought to stew as the words begin to sink in. You were a Scion. You are a Scion … so why didn’t you act like it? You had the attitude for it. You had enough angst on that for the past two years for an ink factory’s annual cycle alone. You’d had your gradual circle of friends expanding enough to realize that your condescension drove people away more than it endeared you to them. That you only knew enough about your surroundings to boost your own perspectives rather than to contemplate and revise them. That even with all the money, influence and titles to your name, you couldn’t …

You cease your train of thought as you find yourself back in the hangar, the ambient noise of mechanics hard at work, compounding the deafening silence between you and one Emilio Reinweld. Emilio, who, in the irony of ironies, was the picturesque definition of the ideal heir to a Trade House’s Empire … and sought to do all he could to subvert the heights of his achievement in every way imaginable.

It was amazing how a shift in perception and environment could alter one’s way of thought …

And it was frustrating from the deepest pits of Carthage Hydross to the distant stars on the Galactic Frontier that you were the one Scion not named Emilio bloody Reinweld that wanted to share something more with a woman that you cared about than post-coitus pondering and remarks about her broken maidenhead. Your grandfather you are not. Your father you definitely aren’t.

Why, by the Emperor’s name, did you start to bloody care?

You let out a grunt of frustration, raising your hands to echo the sentiment.

‘Fine, I confess,’ you cry out, pushing yourself off as you feel the corners of your lips slowly raising upwards in an ode to your sarcastic tone. ‘I’m terrified, Emilio.’

‘Terrified?’

‘We’re Scions.’

Five years ago, that would be a loud proclamation. Now, it feels like a bitter acknowledgement.

You didn’t dislike the wealth. You relished in the envy of quadrillions that cursed you for the fortune of being your father’s child and your grandfather’s favoured. You weren’t bothered by the false smiles of the thousands that wished their machinations fulfilled and the usurpation by their influence completed. You cared less for the scheming and counter-scheming that permeated the walls of your House as your father turned his back to all but his duty to defend the realm that was—that is—his.

But you see your mother, solemn and bitter, damned to it as much as he is.

Your grandmother’s silent resignation, her wisdom and patience all that holds her together as your grandfather goes on one of his jaunts.

You don’t wish any of that on the women of your life.

‘I don’t want to open that life up to people I care about,’ you admit, biting the inside of your lip as you allow the thoughts to stew. ‘I think they’d be happier not knowing what we get up to behind the glitz and the glamour.’

You pause for a moment.

‘I think the both of us are used to it enough that we know how to work ourselves around whatever comes our way … or that we have enough people at our backs to keep us at it. I don’t imagine that Sansa or Fisher could cope.’

‘So you have given it thought.’

You groan.

He really knew how to tick you off, definitely.

>‘I’d be lying if I said I never considered it, but … can we at least agree that they’d probably be happier sorting their own lives out as it is?’
>‘Have you been listening to a thing I’ve said?’
>‘Unlike you, I’m much more aware about what the consequences entail. You’re a force in a Mech, but you’re intangibly impulsive when you don’t have to be.’
>‘So, why are you here? In the Practice Hangar?’
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3495612
>‘I’d be lying if I said I never considered it, but … can we at least agree that they’d probably be happier sorting their own lives out as it is?’

>>3495612
>Are you trying to get out of Sansa's celebration plans by making me punch you, and both of us getting tossed in the brig? Because you're definitely pushing it, and I KNOW you know it.
>‘So, why are you here? In the Practice Hangar?’

>>3495612
>>3495619
this is great.

this please.

>>3495612
>>‘I’d be lying if I said I never considered it, but … can we at least agree that they’d probably be happier sorting their own lives out as it is?’

>>3495619
supporting

>>3495621
This

>>3495612
>‘Unlike you, I’m much more aware about what the consequences entail. You’re a force in a Mech, but you’re intangibly impulsive when you don’t have to be.’

‘I’m very tempted to walk over there and punch you in the throat,’ you start, taking a slow, deliberate drawl as your approach and keeping your tone as even as you can manage. ‘However, I also know that by doing so, I’d likely come out of it worse due to your lackadaisical approach to fighting fair’—you throw him a brief, accusatory glare—‘I am not going to. That, and I don’t intend spending the lead-up to the first day of my career under disciplinary scrutiny or having you escape the suffering of mingling with the cocktail audience.’

Emilio snorts.

‘You’re a cruel man.’

‘I’m a Scion. We’re not born with empathy embedded into our bones.’

‘That’s a truth,’ he concedes, nodding. ‘So you’re definitely going, then?’

You let out another tired sigh.

‘I am,’ you confirm, nodding. ‘Sansa put her all into it … and it’d be an insult for either of us to reject her, being just what we represent to the populace.’

‘So you do have concerns of that ilk.’

You roll your eyes, feeling tired just from being in the same vicinity as this man. There couldn’t be any other conclusion to the fact that he positively enjoyed getting under your skin; not that you didn’t do the same with him whenever you had the opportunity to do so, but you didn’t pounce on them in a frequency akin to a Primal World’s mid-tier food chain participant. Maybe you were just being too soft on him for your own good … or that Ryosuke and Gerard’s friendship had made you more reserved in your conduct over the last few years. Either way, you bite once for every three nibbles he makes. You don’t care to even the score more than you had to.

You did, though, once upon a time.

‘Can you imagine if it got around that we, the embodiment of the legacies of Mishima and Reinweld— who double as her confidants, I will add—decided that all of Sansa’s hard work wasn’t worth two hours of the standard Imperial day?’

He appears to consider it for a moment.

‘It’s not about whether you want to go or not,’ you add, crossing your arms. ‘As aware as I am about how the rest of the class perceives me, blowing Sansa’s hard work off just like that would end up worse for her than it’d affect my reputation.’

‘So you’re going as a mercy?’

It’s a joke. A friendly jibe.

It doesn’t stop you from practically steaming at the ears, however.

‘I’m going because it’s probably the last time we’ll ever see each other,’ you clarify, almost gritting your teeth in irritation. ‘And I’m more aware of what the ramifications carrying the name Mishima mean if I decided to not at least honour that. As you should be.’

‘You know how what I think about—’

‘Then maybe you should start compromising.’

Emilio quickly shuts up.

For some reason, you feel like throwing a victory parade in the city streets.

Still, there was a sense of finality in the air. That things had been made clearer than they had been before. You don't have anything else to particularly say to Emilio, and you have the feeling that there's not much else that he has for you that you don't at least already have a grip on. He had his own path to follow, as did you, but at least you were now aware of the potential crisscrosses of your respective roads.

It didn't mean, however, that you were looking forward to them.

Because at the end of it all, the harsh truth remained: Emilio Reinweld was a prick.

>Leave
>Ask about his posting
>Inquire to his presence in the Practice Hangar
>Inquire about the current state of Trade House Politics
>Write-In

>>3495680
>>Ask about his posting

>>3495680
>Ask about his posting

>>3495680
>>Ask about his posting
>>Inquire to his presence in the Practice Hangar
>>Inquire about the current state of Trade House Politics

lol u think u were done writing OP?

>>3495686
No, but the last time you guys extended stuff like this, people complained of boredom.

>>3495691
In your old quest. Stop living in the past.

>>3495691
anons will bitch no matter what really
i like all the lore we're getting

>>3495697
It's repeated often enough for me to be wary of it. If you can guarantee it won't happen ever again, then I'll stop casting a worried gaze. Until then, I'll keep my apprehension, thanks.

>>3495680
>Ask about his posting

>>3495680
>>Ask about his posting

>>3495680
>>Ask about his posting

If it counts for anything mechanic, add a +1 to the count of people who enjoy all the lore and dialogue.

File: 55th Vasteran.jpg (165 KB, 709x1145)

165 KB JPG

You decide to change your focus to a lighter topic.

‘So where did they assign you?’

‘You first.’

You make a sound akin to a dying mutt. While you weren’t by any stretched ashamed of where you were being sent (At least not to the point where you wished to take an honourable way out) … having to say it to Emilio Reinweld of all the citizens in the Imperium made you feel queasy. The contrast between your stations was razor thin, but the classification of your talents could hold quite a few chasms. Yes, you’d had your days … but if you had your days, Emilio had weeks. At times, you wondered if said chasm was the universe’s way of telling you you had a long way to go … or if you had hit your walls where others could build bridges.

In any case, you didn’t relish telling him.

‘I’m part of the Supply Unit on the Greyhound,’ you reveal, trying your best not to sound apprehensive (You do, though, inevitably). ‘Logistical Branch of the Aegis, no concrete designation and the rank of Specialist to my name.’

To your surprise, he … frowns, in what you can make out as a bout of confusion. You didn’t think you’d put enough jargon in there to get one from that branch of emotion. You didn’t know he could have the capacity to be confused, even. Not often, anyway.

‘Strange,’ he comments, furthering your astonishment. ‘Not where I would’ve assigned you.’

You thin your lips, wondering whether he meant that as a veiled insult or a direct one.

‘I’m not sure if there’s a black hole in the universe that can hold my massive ego,’ you quip, sarcasm dripping from your lips, ‘but I’m sure that the moment they find one, they’ll dump me in as soon as they can.’

‘I would’ve put you in a position on the field, actually.’

You raise an eyebrow, tempted to clear out your ear and asking him to repeat himself.

‘That’s surprising.’

‘Our assignments are meant to reflect areas where we excel at, where we would benefit the most or to bring us up where we’re lacking,’ he recites, practically reading off Fisher’s data pad. It was nice to know you weren’t the only one that she’d drilled her words so fittingly into. ‘I don’t see why they’d put you on the pathway of a Department Administrator instead of learning the details of a Command at ground level. It looks like a dead end from where I’m standing.’

Was he … trying to cheer you up?

Weird.

‘Well, it’s where they’re sticking me,’ you go on, shrugging. ‘What’d you get? Commissar’s attendant?’

He eyes you in suspicion. Did he suspect you were lying?

‘I was scouted by the 55th Vasterans. I’ll be taking up one the post of one of their transfers.’

You feel your stomach do flips.

Emilio was to be a pilot.

>>3495917
>‘How’d you pull that off?’ (Bitter)
>‘Fast track to being noticed by a Chapter.’ (Neutral)
>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)
>‘Could be worse. You could be joining a Chapter from the get-go.’ (Joke)
>Write-In

>>3495917
>>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)

>>3495919
>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)

>>3495917
>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)
Damn, it sounds like we've really been goofed over by our superiors.

>>3495919
>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)

>>3495919
>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)

>>3495919
>>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)

>>3495919
Honest question, are you a woman?
>‘Fast track to being noticed by a Chapter.’ (Neutral)

>>3495917
>>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)
you beautiful, perfect piece of shit

>>3496502
bruh, i can tell you 100% Mech aint a grill.how did such a question come to you?
are there any female QMs on this damn site?

>>3495919
>‘Fast track to being noticed by a Chapter.’ (Neutral)

>>3495919
>>‘Congratulations.’ (Accepting)

Possible three waifus huh....

>>3497572
Only one off the top of my head is maybe katoqm

File: Wray2.jpg (47 KB, 500x275)

47 KB JPG

Much to your surprise, you … don’t even feel angry at all. You’re envious, of course, but it’s not the self-destructive envy pit that so many fell into. It was more … no; no use in denying it: there’s a sense of awe and respect that you feel tingling up in your bones, looking at Emilio.

A pilot. He was going to be a pilot.

‘Congratulations.’

It’s all you can manage. You mean it, though; from the bottom of your heart, you’re—despite the vitriol that had festered in the last few years—genuinely glad for him. Emilio would be a good addition to any Squadron out there, for sure. He had a good head on his shoulders, a keen sense for the battlefield and was no stranger to putting the hours in or getting knee-deep if he needed to be. He wasn’t perfect, of course, but you’d be lying if you said he (and Maldante) hadn’t made you second guess the truth of the statement at times.

‘It’s not what Fisher achieved,’ he concedes, ‘but thank you.’

‘You’re too much of a perfectionist,’ you snipe, smirking … before adopting a thoughtful expression. ‘You’d get along with my father that I’d ever manage, I think.’

‘She made a Chapter on graduation,’ he press on pointedly. ‘The frequency of that occurrence is once every decade on the average. You get one or two of me every year.’

You grumble in exasperation. Did he just have an inability to take a compliment or was it so beneath him to feel the slightest bit of elation at being one of that so-called one or two of him in every year? The typical Aegis graduate would be jumping for the three moons of Rhysode in his place. Even you’d be waving your commission for all to see. The only person you’d excuse it for was Maldante and even he was looking to jump straight into the politics of the Aegis’s administrative arm at the first possible opportunity instead of being a jet-setting Mech Warrior.

‘Can’t you just take a compliment?’

He keeps silent for a while, looking … more troubled than you’d ever seen him before.

‘I didn’t get a recommendation from Wray.’

‘No one gets a recommendation from Wray.’

He eyes you. There’s a fire of a sort burning in those dark irises; a confusion that you’d rarely experienced coming from the Scion of House Reinweld. You’re apprehensive to inquire as to the reason of the distress, but you also knew that for as long as you’d known him, anything close to an attempt of a forced extraction would only have a tirade of insults spouting from your dry throats as the end result.

‘What?’ you throw out, finding yourself offended by the accusatory glare (That you felt you didn’t deserve at all).

Emilio sighs.

‘Not no one.’

You almost groan, knowing just who he was referring to … again.

>>3499484
>'Fisher also held the defense of Arrakis System for seven standard months alone.' (Exasperated, Factual)
>'Can you stop being so hard with yourself on this? It's embarrassing.' (Banter)
>'You know, you're being a real downer here, you know that? Borrowing a phrase from Ryosuke ...' (Pointedly)
>'You have the second best records of the year. Stop being so hard on yourself.' (Friendly, Comforting)
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3499487
>>'You know, you're being a real downer here, you know that? Borrowing a phrase from Ryosuke ...' (Pointedly)

>>3499484
>'Fisher also held the defense of Arrakis System for seven standard months alone.' (Exasperated, Factual)

>>3499487
>>'Can you stop being so hard with yourself on this? It's embarrassing.' (Banter)

Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>3499489
>>3499490
>>3499499
Three-way standoff.

>>3499487
>>'Can you stop being so hard with yourself on this? It's embarrassing.' (Banter)

File: Piranha.jpg (17 KB, 310x310)

17 KB JPG

Rolling your eyes, you decide to return your relationship to its origins. You’d had enough of this … sulking, because that’s what it was: sulking. The both of you were Scions. Showing this sort of thing wasn’t specifically unworthy, but the extent that he was practically on the edge of a tantrum over not achieving such a specific, minute detail to the letter gave you second-hand embarrassment in the same manner that one of Ryosuke’s bolder attempts at flirtation did. That it was Emilio Reinweld, of all the beings in existence that enabled this embarrassment, only compounded your irritation.

‘Can you stop being so hard with yourself on this? It’s embarrassing.’

His gaze turns cold as he raises his eyes to meet you. You’re unaffected, however.

‘It’s embarrassing?’ Emilio practically growls back, wrinkling his nose. ‘Maybe if you felt a little embarrassment once in a while at your underachievement maybe you’d be a little more than where you are right now.’

You don’t bite.

‘Maybe if you decided that you knew where your limitations were and decided to refine instead of obsessing over the failure itself, then maybe you wouldn’t be where you are right now.’

All right, perhaps you do bite. A little.

‘This coming from the person who touted ambition and superiority in his first year?’

‘That coming from the same person whose only reason for getting in a cockpit and having designs on a post in a Chapter … just to piss his own family off?’

The both of you exchange glares.

He opens his mouth to say something … before having the words apparently die in his mouth as soon as they tickle the roof of his mouth. Whatever he wished to say, he would not elaborate on, nor would did he bother to continue. Grabbing the helmet, he snaps the chin strap into place, the glare quickly vanishing as he steadies the top of his helmet and throws you a small nod, effectively ending any continuation to the conversation-cum-insult parade … probably for the better. You didn’t want the gossip pages of some slanderous rag making money off the stand-off. It was a miracle that the last five years hadn’t so much as peeped about your tumultuous … friendship/

Even the word feels wrong to think about.

The cockpit shuts by the time you’re up the ramp, leaving Emilio to whatever it was he was doing prior to arrival. It’s none of your business at this point. The noise level in the hangar rises with every step that you take towards the exit. Below, you see crew members pour out from their stations as the supervisor climbs down one of the ladders, shouting orders at—

‘Is it assisted?’

‘No, sir!’

‘Then get the external units and plug them in; see if they fit!’

—The sleeping Piranhas, wheeled in on massive transportation units into their new home.

>>3499581
>>Approach the supervisor

>>3499579
>Meet up with Ryosuke and Rosaria
>Talk to the Supervisor
>Write-In

>>3499579
>>Talk to the Supervisor

>>3499586
>>Talk to the Supervisor
sup

>>3499586
>Talk to the Supervisor

I'll be running in a bit, so hang tight.

‘It’s not a different height!’ the Supervisor yells, making rapid gestures that highlighted his exasperation. ‘The damn shoulder mounts are smaller and the thruster units are folded! Just hook ‘em up to the assist and make sure the hydraulics are set to the weight!’

One of the engineers, some goateed young man with a cap and goggles holding a pad, jumps down from one of the many trolleys, gesturing towards the Supervisor with a raised hand. The man gestures at him to approach, which he does, stopping directly below the raised catwalk where the both of you stood.

‘Sir, the adapter ports aren’t the same size.’

‘What do you mean they aren’t the same size? It’s the same platform!’

‘It’s an updated make, sir. They’re too small.’

The Supervisor gesticulates further, particularly to the rested unit.

‘It’s called an adapter port. An a-dap-ter port. What about the hydraulics?’

The man below seems to go over his pad as the other mechanics, engineers and staff members

‘Should be enough, sir, but the specs say that we’re dealing with about five tonnes of mass more, so the restraints might falter a little. Don’t see a point putting the thing in if we’re going to have millions of crowns worth of clean-up.’

‘I know that. I have the read-out. Just tell me why in the name of the Emperor is it so hard just hooking it up to a—’

A horn blares. You raise your head to see blast doors hosting a traffic jam.

‘Honestly, how many of you come from the boondocks? There are eight bays! Eight! Count ‘em up and line your bays! Why’re you even—forget it!’

He raises his hands in frustration, palms facing the ceiling above. Below, the impromptu traffic bottleneck had begun to disperse … into a mess that would have made the parking lot of a shopping complex green with envy. The trucks and the trailers, the transports hauling what appeared to be the collection of the resting piranhas, form obstacles to themselves, reversing too early at acute angles and prompting the drivers to improvise and make it into more of a mess with their own ideas of an effective pathway. The horns blare louder and louder with each pattern of a gear being thrown into reverse, only to meet five centimetre cushions to collision as they repeat the pattern over and over, as if an end to the chaos was some instant resolution away from whatever rotation of the wheel they decided to deploy.

It’s a failure of almost comical proportions.

You’re so distracted that you almost bump into the Supervisor (Or rather, he almost bumps into you).

You open your mouth to speak.

‘Unless it’s a solution coming out of that mouth, son, shut up and get out of my way.’

>>3502538
>Try to come up with a solution [Technical Resolution]
>Allow him to do his job (Leave)
>Ask about the Mechs
>Write-In

>>3502544
>>Try to come up with a solution [Technical Resolution]
we may not be a Tech Nerd this time round but we still smart

>>3502544
>Try to come up with a solution [Technical Resolution]

File: Spoiler Image (335 KB, 670x251)

335 KB PNG

TECHNICAL RESOLUTION
BASE: 2
BASE: 1

Gacha Gacha Gacha

Rolled 4, 3, 1, 4, 5 = 17 (5d6)

>>3502554
Dice Rolls. Please reply to THIS post.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>3502555
oh god can i remember how to do this right?

>>3502555
Someone asked who was who. I'm the RED and you're BLUE, just to make things clear. The rules are the same.

Base + Average Roll vs. Base + Average Roll. As always for this quest.

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>3502555
Need at 4.4 average to pass.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>3502554
f rank luck here we go

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>3502555

>>3502565
>>3502556
>>3502567
F rank Luck all day eh lads

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>3502555

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>3502555

‘I—’

‘Move.’

You don’t risk testing him further. Scion or not, an engineer with a temper was one of the few creatures in existence that you didn’t want to aggravate, lest you lose a limb and your kidneys. You’d seen a head of a department argue with your grandfather over the mechanics and the logistics of the situation on an asteroid belt mining station and practically dared the him to bring the rain of a dying star to burn him and his family because somehow, the feasibility of the physics of the situation counted for more than the livelihood of millions. They were certifiably insane.

The Aegis engineers were less so, of course, but you didn’t want to test to what degree less. You valued having all your teeth intact.

You move out of the way.

It’s a bare minute before you’re outdoors and marching towards Ryosuke and Rosaria, the both of them having found comfortable spots on the grass and happily chatting away.

‘All right, so what you’re telling me is that let’s say if I was in that position … I’d have the pick of any woman I’d want? Like that?’

‘You’d have to go through an approval process, but … that is the gist of it, yes.’

‘Where’s the challenge in that?’

‘It’s not about the challenge; it’s mostly about keeping the population at a stable rate of growth without breaking marks. There’s only so many ships on a Fleet …’

You make your presence known.

‘I see the both of you are getting along fine.’

‘Heya,’ Ryosuke greets, getting to his feet. ‘You finished your business?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I saw the Piranhas coming in. You get a good look?’

You think back to the frustrated visage of the supervisor, for one reason or another.

‘More or less.’

>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)
>Head to the Practice Hangars
>Head to the Academy Plaza
>Head to the Stadium
>Head to the Instructors' Lounge
>Head to the Gardens/Lake
>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles
>Try the Archive
>Write-In

>>3502595
>>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles

>>3502595
>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles

>>3502595
>>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles

we need robo-thighs

The Academy Staff Domiciles aren’t luxurious.

Boxy-looking monstrosities without, they were made more for practical housing concerns more than they were anything of aesthetic value. One that their denizens had rightly remedied with their own modifications to the domiciles. Fences, gardens, lawn ornaments and custom paint jobs over the bland white boxes that made up the sections of the house. Down by the lake side, Rosaria gives a loud squeak as she slides down the bank towards the water as Ryosuke laughs. It was her first time being up close to lake. A man-made one, but these days they were all pretty much stamped and paid for by the Terraforming Committee. It was good that she’d taken an interest in that, too. You didn’t want to have to explain to your Instructors (if they were even at home) why you were harbouring an unregistered Colony Fleet Inhabitant who’d somehow just waltzed into Academy grounds without a pass.

You frown, considering it again.

Fisk was probably more to blame for it than you. He was the one who’d practically turfed the poor girl off with his lack of concern. You didn’t even have a reason to help her, let alone not turn her to the enforcement agencies of Rhysode.

But you did.

You let out a breath as you consider your destination, silently thankful Ryosuke had taken to the role of Senpai to Rosaria as you had. It was a good thing he was so open with everyone … most times, anyway.

Where to?

>Wray’s Quarters
>Memphis’s Quarters
>Fisher’s Quarters
>Corinth’s Quarters
>Leave

>>3502676
>Fisher’s Quarters

>>3502676
>>Fisher’s Quarters
GLORIOUS THIGHS

>>3502676
>>Fisher’s Quarters

yeye

>>3502676
>>Wray’s Quarters

I'm breaking fast, so I'll continue when I get back. Sorry for the delays.

>>3502676
>>Fisher’s Quarters

>>3502676
>>Fisher’s Quarters

File: Morrigan's Sister, Delta.jpg (203 KB, 850x1155)

203 KB JPG

You’d been here more often than you’d like to admit.

A small, neat green lawn and a brown fence surrounds the blocky structure of Morrigan Fisher’s home, which is the least … ornate of the housing units. It’s a standard dwelling, with pruned row of flowers, a coiled hose that was dripping water, telling you that it’d only been recently put away. Her home is one of the few built into the slope of the lake, which meant that it had a lower level for access in addition to the standard levels of dwelling. Plants are lined in suspended pots; a series of additions made at the behest of one Darton Wray, whose own home lies uphill by the cul-de-sac. Morrigan’s home is at the lowest tier of the arrangement, sitting in a row with three other homes that belonged to Instructors Curien, Candow and Mortonion; the latter of which had been on leave for the last year for personal reasons.

You place your hand on the identification unit, the device informing the denizens of the home of your presence.

You’re greeted almost instantly.

‘Sorry, Morrigan’s—’

It wasn’t who you were here to see, unfortunately.

The hair is almost same highlight of blue, of course. The length is practically identical and the look of annoyance etched spoke volumes of her relation to the true master of the house. Her features, however, are markedly more youthful and rounded compared to her older sibling’s angular look, with darker eyes and a slightly messier crown to emphasize the difference. The sweater she wears hangs loosely from one shoulder as she clutches the doorway in an attempt to dissuade unwanted visitors, like you, from barging in.

Well, not you. Not really.

‘Good morning, Delta,’ you greet, carving the most professional smile you can manage upon your features.

The door hisses shut in a hurry.

That was unexpec—

It hisses open again.

‘Well, good morning, Master Mishima …’

A flirtatious wink and her back leaning against the doorway; a leg raised barring entry but practically sending an invitation; a nineteen year-old girl whose mood practically swings from repulsion to … whatever it was that she was selling with that dip of a sweater hang; enough that you can see the teasing pink of her—

‘Good morning, Delta,’ you repeat, dropping into a small bow as you remember manners (and try to put the eyeful that you’d received away). She responds with a light hum, shifting from one side of the doorway to the other, letting out a playful giggle as her foot slides down the gap … and try not to trace your gaze from her bare ankles.

It’s hard to keep the red out of your cheeks, but you succeed.

‘Would you like to … come inside?’

It’s a wonder that they’re sisters at all.

No.

They were definitely sisters.

>>3503522
>Go inside
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3503522
>>Go inside

>>3503530
>>Go inside

>>3503530
>Write-In
Im looking for Morrigan, is she in?

>>3503530
>Go inside

>>3503559
support

>>3503530
>>3503559
This. We want to ask about our assignment and say bye.

>>3503530

I'll also support >>3503559

>>3503530
>>Go inside

>>3503530
>>Go inside

File: MASH MASH MASH POTATOES.png (847 KB, 1447x1020)

847 KB PNG

You decide not to aggravate her tendencies. A small nod and a light bow and you’re inside, dragging your bag in over your shoulder. The inside of the house is as simple as the exterior. White kitchenette and a black counter; cream-coloured covers and a faux-wooden floor with several adjacent rooms visible to the naked eye. A balcony sits behind a glass partition overlooking the lake, chairs folded and resting against a centred table. The couch is a semi-circle in the middle of the room, with a small table laden with tablets and a holo-display of what appears to be a communications disruption notice makes rapid blinking gestures in red. You move out of the way as Delta rushes to make an attempt at clean-up, making frantic apologies as she picks up one of the few displaced pillows and wrinkled edges of the carpet.

‘F-Forgive the mess, please!’

You wave it off. You’d left your quarters in worse states. It had given you an appreciation for the presence of servants.

‘It’s fine.’

‘We have company?’

A purple-haired bespectacled young lady pops her head from behind the counter, a brown apron hanging from her neck. Her expression breaks into one of her surprise as she locks her eyes upon your being … to which you raise a hand in greeting.

Iona Fisher, like her sister, breaks into a flustered mess as she practically tosses her apron upon the counter as she is made aware of your presence.

‘Hey, Iona.’

‘Um … uh … sorry about the mess!’

They were sisters, all right.

‘I’m just here to pay a visit before I head into the city,’ you clarify, raising your hands to stop the two sisters from zooming around un-creasing corners and making sure the paintings and photos that decorated the walls were at a right angle rather than a degree to the left or right. You won’t lie that the fuss that they made every time that you waltzed into a room was a chuckle and a half … but after five years of having two girls you considered to be more than mere acquaintances, you thought that they’d grown out of it.

Before you so much as take half a stride, the youngest Fisher sister is before you, a glass of cold orange juice set upon a tray with a neat little umbrella, almost tickling the tip of your nose. Even your servants weren’t this—no, they were a little faster, but only by about a margin.

‘Please!’

Unwilling to argue, you pick it up and give it a sip.

You’d tasted better.

Iona gestures for you to take a seat; practically a ritual between the both of you at this point. You don’t fight it, either, setting your bag down and sitting on the couch … right as Iona places a coaster on the table for you to set your drink, shutting the blinking holo-display down. Still wearing a panicky expression, she rushes for the kitchen area, pro—

‘So!’

>>3504656
You’re not allowed a moment of thought.

Your right side is under assault by an over-eager nineteen year-old, eyelashes fluttering and using your arm as a support of sorts. Her grin almost blinds you with how wide it is, fangs visible and voice dripping with sugar.

‘So,’ you return, neutrally.

>‘Where’s Morrigan?’ (Professional, Direct)
>‘Delta, my arm.’ (Experienced)
>‘So, Iona, how’d you do in your exams?’ (Ease)
>‘Release me.’ (Irritated)
>Write-In

>>3504662
>‘Where’s Morrigan?’ (Professional, Direct)

>>3504662
>>‘So, Iona, how’d you do in your exams?’ (Ease)

>>3504662
>‘So, Iona, how’d you do in your exams?’ (Ease)

Pretty sure we’d be long sufferinv/used to this. Some days we try to pull her off, some days we cant be bothered.

Also ic we’re supposed to be gone for a while soooo. Might as well enjoy it for a last time for a while.

File: Nerd.jpg (64 KB, 564x939)

64 KB JPG

‘So, Iona, how’d you do in your exams?’

‘M-My exams?’

She seems surprised by your inquiry. You hope you weren’t pressing too much.

Unlike the girl to your right, who had no qualms doing so.

‘As well as I could,’ Iona reveals in a slow, deliberate tone. ‘I barely passed Tertiary Theorem and Classical Higher Gothic, though …’

You’re almost cruelly amused with the reveal of the latter. Tertiary Theorem was a hard subject for sure, but … Classical Higher Gothic was another beast entirely. A tongue almost exclusively for the Empire’s upper reaches, Higher Gothic was something that it was better to be raised by rather than taught. Even you had a hard time getting the intonation right sometimes, and intent and prose was as important to the structure to a sentence over the hard Imperial Standard that was more practical. Higher Gothic at its highest degree was the language of elegance; even being fluent in Lower Gothic was considered an achievement.

Asking a sixteen year-old to even appear a novice in the tongue was asking for the Emperor to abdicate on humanitarian grounds. It just wasn’t done..

‘Classical Higher Gothic?’

She nods meekly, cheeks pink.

‘I, um … I was the only student, so I thought that I could take it up as an elective. I didn’t think there’d be so much … reading’—she gives a slight shudder—‘involved.’

‘Higher Gothic isn’t something that you can learn on the fly,’ you impart, mostly in concern, remembering your grandfather’s library of physical books that dictated the history of mere syllabic flow. It was only due to your exposure that you even had something akin to a word (pun intended) on the subject.

‘That’s what I told her,’ Delta chimes in agreement, taking an exaggeratedly irritated expression as she smirks. ‘What? You’re trying to impress some Scion and give birth to a litter somewhere and live in luxury?’

She turns beet red, shrinking half her size.

‘Oh, how bold.’

‘I-It’s not like that!’ Iona exclaims defensively, stamping her foot as her sister snuggles up to you, her smugness practically permeating around the room. ‘Classical Higher Gothic is an elegant language and we’d do better to preserve its beauty instead of having it relegated to just some discussion at a business table.’

Delta shrugs playfully, pressing her thigh to yours.

It’s amazing what you’d gotten used to in the last few years.

Delta had filled out, though. You’re very sure about that.

‘Eh? You sure?’

‘I’m very sure!’ Iona counters vehemently, balling her hands into fists.

‘Ah, what a shame,’ she sister laments, her voice still playful and her gaze more inviting than ever. ‘I thought I had some competition.’

Iona’s cheeks turn a deep purple, swelling rapidly …

>>3504719
>'Hey now, calm down ...' (Try to break the tension of the situation.)
>'So how well can you converse in Gothic?' (Trade House Scion, Converse with her in Gothic)
>'Learning Higher Gothic is a waste of time for you.' (Arrogant, Elitist)
>'Where's Morrigan?'
>Write-In

>>3504722
>'So how well can you converse in Gothic?' (Trade House Scion, Converse with her in Gothic)

>>3504722
>>'So how well can you converse in Gothic?' (Trade House Scion, Converse with her in Gothic)
>>Write-In
Get her to sit down before she runs off. Preferably beside us, opposite Delta.

So she'll be in headpat range when shes doing well.

>>3504722
>>'So how well can you converse in Gothic?' (Trade House Scion, Converse with her in Gothic)

>>3504722
>>'So how well can you converse in Gothic?' (Trade House Scion, Converse with her in Gothic)

protecc the kouhai

>>3504722
>'Where's Morrigan?'

>>3504722
>>'So how well can you converse in Gothic?' (Trade House Scion, Converse with her in Gothic)

>>3504722
>>'So how well can you converse in Gothic?'

Sorry, was at a funeral. My cousin's grandfather passed away.

File: Eh Pretty Much The Same.jpg (162 KB, 834x834)

162 KB JPG

You decide to save her from her embarrassment.

‘How far were you able to progress on your intonation and emphasis?’

Delta’s expression of shock is almost worth it.

Iona begins to fidget; in no doubt trying to process a proper response. You decide to give her the time to tabulate a proper response. It’s not something you hold against her to take the time to process. After all, the difference between star and mother was a mere second’s stretch over the line … and you wouldn’t be a good sport holding her year of learning to your existence of exposure. Even your mother had expected you to keep to it … and she’d barely mastered the middle degrees of Lower Gothic..

‘Um …’

You look up, anticipating her response.

‘I,’ Iona starts again, stuttering (and almost failing), ‘good some, not good all, competent. Hard stupid’—you try not to wince—‘but practice much. Good write letters’—you assume she meant that she could string sentences in a written format—‘and understand. Tongue incompetent, syllables difficult. Can understand.’

You lean forwards, a small smile upon your features. That was better than you’d expected from a year of learning, actually. Better than most pretenders.

‘You are having difficulty rolling the words off your tongue as you’d like, my lady?’

‘Truth.’

You raise an eyebrow. She hastily moves to correct herself.

‘Yes.’

You notice Delta’s gaze darting between you and her sister, slowly turning pale as she struggles to keep up with the conversation, effectively locked out due to her inability to comprehend fruit from leaf. It’s quite amusing to see her flabbergasted so easily and quickly, by Iona of all people. Delta was antagonistic more days than not (at least in your eyes); seeing Iona finally get her back by being able to communicate with you to at least a degree of common understanding (even if the comprehension and intonation were horrid, rolling off her tongue) was akin to the dog finally having its day.

‘It would take the years and deep roots to reach fluency,’ you declare. ‘Sections of the language require whole libraries to tell the difference between what is said and what is intended to be said by the words alone. Many scholars dedicate their lives in its study.’

Iona nods.

‘Do you know any curses?’

Maybe you were pushing it a little.

To your further surprise, she nods enthusiastically.

‘May you never find your way; may peace elude your eternal soul.’

You frown. A little strong. It was a war-time insult. A curse upon a defeated enemy.

‘Whoa, that’s … pretty fancy.’

You almost laugh at Delta’s ignorance.

>Write-In

>>3506453
>Headpat Iona.

>>3506453
>headpats
>and tell her to keep at it

>>3506453
>>Write-In
Apply headpats to the imouto
"Well done, truly. To reach this stage is no simple feat. Keep at it."

>>3506457
>>3506456
>>3506455
Is he such a familiar man?

>>3506458
seeing how we've known Iona since she was 10, its too be expected

You raise yourself to full height, marching over and giving the shorter girl a congratulatory pat on the head, thoroughly impressed. A little crass, lacking in areas of elegance and poise … but otherwise a serviceable application of the vernacular. Whoever her tutor was, they’d done an excellent job ingraining the basics. You can only suspect she only classified as a bare pass due to the lack of scaling and difficulty, but as far as you were concerned, she’d done an all right job. You’d just held a conversation without context being misunderstood, so that counted for something.

‘Ah …’

She doesn’t fight your ministrations, despite the apprehension.

‘It’s not without flaws,’ you adjudge truthfully, ‘but you’ve done well to reach this far in such a short span of time. It’s no mean feat to be able to understand context and hold a conversation for someone of your birth … especially with your lack of exposure compounding the difficulty. Keep at it; maybe you’ll even be able to reach the upper degrees one day.’

‘I intend to!’ Iona declares, practically jumping on the balls of her feet.

She catches herself just as quickly, however, realizing more likely than not just who she was being that impertinent towards. You let it slide, however, taking her enthusiasm for just that, and giving a tussle of her hair for good measure.

‘I mean,’ she backtracks, pausing slightly before continuing, ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Y-Yeah, I-I believe in you!’ comes the unenthusiastic whoop from Delta, more than likely alienated by the common ground that Iona had inadvertently bridged.

The both of you share a smile as you let your hand slide down and take a step back.

>‘So is there a reason that you took Classical High Gothic up? Couldn’t have been on a whim.’
>‘Where’s Morrigan?’
>‘So what’ve you been up to lately, Delta?’
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3506471
>>‘So what’ve you been up to lately, Delta?’

>>3506471
>‘Where’s Morrigan?’

>>3506474
>>3506475
Flipping a coin. Coin flipped.

Perhaps you were being too cruel here. They were still sisters after all … and as much as Delta loved teasing Iona, it wasn’t as if the animosity between them existed beyond the standard sibling squabble. Delta could be antagonistic and Iona was much too passive for her own good … but they’d remained a functional unit for years. Being that wedge was something you refused to be, even with Delta’s excessively opaque attitude. Her intentions were clear as day, and while her awareness of the situation was rather impressive, your own awareness of yourself told you, bright as day, that it wasn’t something you wished to … return. There was being desperate … and then there was giving in to the whims of which only your grandfather would cheer on.

As much as you wanted his approval, your damned sense of pride and conscience refused it.

Five years on this rock and you were in danger of being a good man.

‘So how have things been going for you?’

Your voice is a little haughty, but considering it was Delta, you suppose that it was a little warranted.

‘M-Me?’

‘You applied for a Navigator License, didn’t you?’

‘O-Oh!’ she exclaims, folding her fingers in front of her chest. ‘W-Well, that, um … didn’t … ah … well, it’s not as if it was my first choice, anyway. I’m looking into, uh … other … options?’

You quirk an eyebrow, confused at her sudden … hesitance.

It’s almost refreshing.

>‘Failure. How fitting.’ (Disdain)
>‘What happened? I thought you were doing quite well?’ (Concern)
>‘Happens to the best of us.’ (Brief)
>‘Speak clearly, girl.’ (Authoritative)
>Write-In

>>3506493
>‘Happens to the best of us.’ (Brief)

>>3506493
>>‘What happened? I thought you were doing quite well?’ (Concern)

>>3506493
>>‘What happened? I thought you were doing quite well?’ (Concern)

>>3506493
>‘What happened? I thought you were doing quite well?’ (Concern)

>>3506493
>>‘What happened? I thought you were doing quite well?’ (Concern)

>>3506493
>‘What happened? I thought you were doing quite well?’ (Concern)

>>3506493
>>‘What happened? I thought you were doing quite well?’ (Concern)

File: DELTA AGAIN.jpg (48 KB, 225x350)

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Despite yourself, you can’t help but feel a tinge of … concern. From what you’d understood the last time she’d clung to your arm in an attempt to sow your seed for herself, Fisher had communicated that she was progressing steadily enough that she’d be on course for the more advanced portion of the examination. You weren’t aware as to what the course itself entailed, but as with the rest of the Imperium, you understood that the qualifications were among the hardest to meet, taking at least eight standard years to complete. Considering there were hundreds of inhabited worlds and dozens upon dozens of systems charted, it’s no mystery to anyone as to why. That Delta, of all people, with her rather clingy demeanour, had deigned it a career worthy of her attentions, was even more surprising, but you’d wished her luck all the same.

That it came to such a conclusion confused you.

‘What happened?’ you question, feeling … oddly invested. ‘I thought you were doing quite well?’

She spares Iona a glance before turning her attention back to you, wearing a smile that you guess is made with the intent of reassurance. It doesn’t work well.

‘Well, you know … things just don’t go as planned … Lord Mishima.’

You’re not convinced. Not at all.

>‘Delta …’ [SPEECH]
>Leave her to her secrecy
>‘Well … do you mind telling me where your sister is, then?’
>Write-In

>>3508298
>‘Delta …’ [SPEECH]

>>3508298
>>‘Delta …’ [SPEECH]

>>3508298
>‘Delta …’ [SPEECH]

>>3508298
>>‘Delta …’ [SPEECH]

>>3508298
>>‘Delta …’ [SPEECH]

>>3508298
>>‘Delta …’ [SPEECH]

Testing

File: Inaccurate But Eh I Like It.jpg (369 KB, 1368x1500)

369 KB JPG

+1 SPEECH

‘Delta …’

You don’t even need to finish your sentence. Delta’s resistance to you was almost non-existent. Perhaps, in other circumstances of birth, you’d be scoffed at and have a shoulder bumped on the way out, but Delta’s reverence for your station was an advantage you couldn’t ignore; especially when she was being so reluctant to divulge information that you had taken a … weird spike of interest in in the last few minutes. Her shoulders slump as she bites her lip, staring at you as if you’d relinquish your curiosity with one look into those deep, dark eyes of hers.

‘I, um … I was unable to complete my qualifications for the first year of the Navigator Basics Module,’ she confesses, grumbling … and sparing her sister another glance. Iona doesn’t react, but she does adopt her sister’s nervous look, glancing between the both of you with what you can only surmise to be uncertainty.

You’re not convinced with her answer, however. Not one bit.

‘Did something go wrong?’

She looks downwards.

‘They … withdrew my sponsorship,’ she reveals. ‘I … finished getting my Level 1 License Qualifications, but the University and the Navigation Committee broke off relations, so I … Morrigan can’t afford to send me on the eight year module.’

‘You couldn’t afford it?’

‘It’s not like you’d understand.’

Even she looks surprised by her exclamation.

>‘Watch your tongue, girl.’ (Chastise)
>‘I’m sorry. I … is it really that expensive?’ (Understanding)
>‘How were they able to just withdraw the scholarship?’ (Confused)
>Cut the conversation off
>Write-In

>>3508359
>>‘How were they able to just withdraw the scholarship?’ (Confused)

>>3508359
>‘How were they able to just withdraw the scholarship?’ (Confused)

>>3508359
>>‘How were they able to just withdraw the scholarship?’ (Confused)

>>3508359
>‘I’m sorry. I … is it really that expensive?’ (Understanding)

>>3508359
>>‘How were they able to just withdraw the scholarship?’ (Confused)

File: Sister of Fisher.png (997 KB, 808x734)

997 KB PNG

You cross your arms, confused. As far as you knew, the sustainment of an agreement was what the crux of a scholarship’s existence relied upon. From what you had gathered … Delta was meeting the mark just fine. At least … that’s what you had concluded from the on-and-off discussions that you had had with her and Fisher during your visits. There didn’t seem anything worrisome about Delta’s performance … and you had no reason to suspect that they were putting on the airs just to show off; Iona had been honest in her own shortcomings, after all. There’s no reason her sisters would be any different to her in that aspect.

Fisher definitely wasn’t.

‘How were they able to just withdraw the scholarship?’

Delta bites her bottom lip, more contemplative than hesitant now. ‘I … I don’t know. I was able to get into the program through a shared half-scholarship with the First University of Rhysode and the Mappers’ Guild Collective. I still had to pay fees, but … well, Morrigan could afford it, at least. When the Mappers Guild Collective decided to part with the University and the University agreed, I didn’t think it was going to be so … bad. Then they decided to … make it a partnership with the affiliated corporations. I don’t know why, it’s just … just how they decided it was going to be. They just said that because my qualifiers were made through the university, it didn’t apply to the new agreement.’

She finally looks away.

‘We … we can’t afford it.’

‘They considered the agreement null and void?’

Delta pauses briefly, tucking a lock behind her hair. ‘They said it wasn’t binding because the Academic units didn’t carry over in applicability due to … syllabus. I can’t make heads or tails of it, but … I decided to just withdraw. It’s not as if it was my first choice, anyway.’

You didn’t think that the Navigator’s License Programs were that exorbitant. You’d gone over the scales back on your home-world. They were lengthy, what with the sheer number of destinations in the known galaxy, but even your father wouldn’t put something so practical out of reach or outrightly inaccessible. Navigators were in demand; keeping that occupation in a state of a drought was nonsensical. Having someone willing to put the hours into the study of galactic mapping was rare in itself. To deny them so easily was unheard of.

Wait until your grandfather heard about this. His personal Navigator was an octogenarian. You think he’d relish the opportunity for a pretty girl like—

Well, he would. Age hadn’t slowed him down one bit.

‘I don’t want to trouble my sister anymore than she already had,’ she goes on. ‘It was hard enough getting my name down … and it was only because she was the White Hawk of Arrakis, anyway. I told her I didn’t want to ride her name all the way to the bank anymore than she had. Especially not with the twerp over there trying for University next year.’

‘Hey!’ Iona exclaims.

>'Why not join The Aegis?' (Ask A Stupid Question)
>'I suppose that explains why you've been so eager to ... mate with me.' (Joke)
>Refocus on Iona
>End Conversation
>Write-In

>>3508421
>'I suppose that explains why you've been so eager to ... mate with me.' (Joke)

>>3508421
>>Write-In
>and that is what I like the most about you Delta, the fact you want to make something of your self without relying on your sisters reputation
>offer her help

>>3508424
>>3508436
Flipping a coin. Coin flipped.

>>3508421
>>3508436
This is fine

>>3508436
this

>>3508436

>that is what I like the most about you Delta, the fact you want to make something of your self without relying on your sisters reputation
I have no idea how to proceed with this because it feels very out of character. If someone can clarify/iron it out for me to finish off, it'd be appreciated.

>>3508448
Whats the problem actuslly? MC too prou? I thought he'd appreciate someone trying to make it on their own merits.

>>3508451
You're still meant to be abrasive, and while you're used to Delta's "admiration" of your being, there's still some awkwardness trying to communicate praise to someone who, in your eyes, essentially has you their walking meal ticket. You've tolerated it and she's nice enough, but having:
>and that is what I like the most about you Delta, the fact you want to make something of your self without relying on your sisters reputation
Is hard for me to put up without the proper wording to communicate established sentiment and the "opening" which Delta has allowed by revealing her own ambitions to you. Since you previously thought of her to be just a flirt.

>>3508453
"How admirable. To move forward on your own strength is to be applauded and lauded.
SHI KA SHI
One must know their own limits and know when they need to ask for help and not be too prideful. Let me help. Rely on me."

>>3508455
why the hell not
gotta be a pompous dick to keep our Scion cred up

>>3508455
going for this, also we should do some flamboyant pointing and poising, think thats also part of our scion cred

>>3508455
Sure.

>>3508421
>>'I suppose that explains why you've been so eager to ... mate with me.' (Joke)

My aunts and I are watching John Wick. My aunts have a crush on Keanu Reeves and I'm accompanying them. See you guys in a bit.

>>3508485
He's a great guy and it's a great movie.

>>3508488
Aunts reacted to it like it was a horror film. My cousin and I were wide-eyed and feeling like we were watching some beautiful mish-mash of high class pornography and hyper-violence. I highly recommended it to all children.

>>3508455
Supporting this, but include >>3508424.

Outside of her looks, not much endeared you to Delta. She was much too pushy for your liking, among other things, despite her outward reverence of your station and wealth (as she should, but that was another matter entirely), you didn’t find her … stimulating. At least, not until a few seconds ago. It was nice to know that behind that veneer of a (thus far) failed seductress, there was something akin to ambition, drive and a degree of integrity. You didn’t understand the pride of the commoner in its entirety, but standing so stubbornly tall and making do was something that you admired, nonetheless.

‘It’s admirable that you’re willing to take things into your own hands,’ you start, musing that it was probably the first time you’d spoken so warmly to the girl who spent your visits playing the parasite, ‘but considering just who you’re acquainted with, maybe it would’ve been better to put your pride aside and just ask.’

‘Morrigan’s still paying for my education,’ she replies, ‘but I don’t want her to go and get saddled with a loan that she’s going to still be paying off by the time I’m apprenticed.’

‘No,’ you return, raising your hand. It was apparent that she’d misunderstood you. ‘I mean, why didn’t you just ask me for help?’

Her eyes turn as wide as saucers.

‘You mean you’ll—’

‘If I can—’

‘Get me pregnant?!’

Iona gasps.

You bring a hand to your forehead.

>‘Perhaps I should educate you on the difference between gossip and fact regarding Trade Houses before we proceed any further.’ (Trade House Scion, Witty)
>‘I don’t want to sound crass, but it’s amazing that you have such confidence in the quality of your womb.’ (Trade House Scion, Serious)
>‘No.’
>End Conversation
>Write-In

>>3510608
>>‘Perhaps I should educate you on the difference between gossip and fact regarding Trade Houses before we proceed any further.’ (Trade House Scion, Witty)

>>3510608
>‘Perhaps I should educate you on the difference between gossip and fact regarding Trade Houses before we proceed any further.’ (Trade House Scion, Witty)

>>3510608
>>‘Perhaps I should educate you on the difference between gossip and fact regarding Trade Houses before we proceed any further.’ (Trade House Scion, Witty)

>>3510608
>>‘Perhaps I should educate you on the difference between gossip and fact regarding Trade Houses before we proceed any further.’ (Trade House Scion, Witty)


I like Fisher better desu

>>3510608
>‘Perhaps I should educate you on the difference between gossip and fact regarding Trade Houses before we proceed any further.’ (Trade House Scion, Witty)

>>3510623
>I like Fisher better desu
I don't think we've met her in Reloades yet. Are you remembering her from the prequel?

>>3510608
>>‘Perhaps I should educate you on the difference between gossip and fact regarding Trade Houses before we proceed any further.’ (Trade House Scion, Witty)

‘Perhaps I should educate you on the difference between gossip and fact regarding the perceived traditions of Trade Houses and the actual traditions that we practice before we proceed any further,’ you comment dryly, ‘the first of which would be that despite our reputation for indulging boundless hedonism, we don’t jump system to system in search of eligible females to host private, drug-fueled orgies … or prowl for fertile, unwed maidens to sow our oats in, for that matter, and to insinuate such … insinuations is very rude.’

You don’t mean for it to sound so … accusatory, but as far as you knew, no one in your family save for your grandfather practised the art of seduction on such a widespread basis. There was some truth to it, of course: many Scions and Heads were guilty of fathering illegitimate (but acknowledged) children on many planets … and your grandfather himself is father to your two uncles and one aunt, none of which could claim to call your grandmother their mother. However, it wasn’t as if it was a widespread tradition or expected practice (Except, again, by your grandfather). Being unfaithful, admittedly, was a norm; but being a plunderer of that ilk was just fantasy (One that even your grandfather had slowed down in regards to, despite his age).

Delta drops into an apologetic bow.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to … to imply anything of the sort by my actions, Lord Mishima.’

Your ire drops slightly. As much as you disliked her being clingy, seeing her apologetic in her own home made you feel uncomfortable. Even Iona wears a look of distress and uncertainty, her eyes darting between you and her cowed sister.

‘I know,’ you mention softly, almost apologetic yourself. ‘I’m just trying to make it clear to you that my actions are not … motivated by my desire to follow a so-called tradition built on the idea of a Trade House Scion over the truth of being one.’

She nods.

Only took five years.

‘I understand,’ Delta declares, albeit a little uncertainly. ‘So your grandfather … wasn’t the Scion who hosted The Party To End All Rackets all those years ago?’

‘No,’ you sigh. That was him. ‘He was. In fact, he had two parties.’

Your grandmother was in attendance, too. You wish you didn’t know that, either.

‘Oh, but … he doesn’t have any bastards?’

‘That part’s true,’ you admit, ‘I have two uncles and an aunt from three other women; they were acknowledged but can’t be legitimatised. I’m still the eldest of my generation, though, and thus … the Scion.’

‘What about the Stealing of the Duchess? Did that happen?’

‘Not my House,’ you reply, almost defensively. ‘My grandfather wasn’t involved at all. It was Trade House Milton.’

Delta frowns.

Iona, to your surprise, follows through with a stare that’s between accusation … and confusion.

You weren’t making a good case.

>>3510644
>'Perhaps there is ... a lot of truth to that, but do I look like the sort of person that would practice such irresponsibility on so grand a scale?'
>'Can we please move on?'
>'Any other questions?'
>'Right, so is Morrigan around?'
>End Conversation
>Write-In

>>3510646
>>'Perhaps there is ... a lot of truth to that, but do I look like the sort of person that would practice such irresponsibility on so grand a scale?'

>>3510646
>'Perhaps there is ... a lot of truth to that, but do I look like the sort of person that would practice such irresponsibility on so grand a scale?'

Get ready for Morrigan to walk in with burn.

>>3510646
>>'Perhaps there is ... a lot of truth to that, but do I look like the sort of person that would practice such irresponsibility on so grand a scale?'

‘Perhaps,’ you start again, now feeling your shoulders slump in defeat, ‘there is a lot of truth to that, but do I even come close to being the sort of person that would practice such irresponsibility on so grand a scale?’

Iona twiddles her thumbs.

Delta looks hopeful.

>Write-In

>>3510660
>Morrigan is behind me isn't she?

>>3510660
>>Write-In
Sigh audibly and facepalm.

"Nevermind, forget i asked. In any case Delta. What im offering is to cover the costs of your program. What do you say to that?"

>>3510663
supportin
the life of a non hedonistic Scion is hard.
Grandpa will be disappoint at our decision to not have bastard and continue to wonder if we have the Big Gay

>>3510663
Supporting

>>3510663
+1

>>3510668
>Wonder

>>3510660
“Ok maybe 80-90% of scions are like that and maybe there are some forces at work that want me to do that tradition proud, thx gramps and uncles, but if i was to sow my wild oats then it would be pretty much be with someone i would want to spend a lot more time with as a person”

‘Right,’ you concede, taking a sharp intake of breath, ‘in any case, forget all of that. What I’m trying to get at is that I’m willing to cover the cost of the continuation of your training … should you wish for it to be so. I’m sure that such an arrangement would be to your liking?’

Delta’s eyes widen slightly … before bowing in what reads off as a mode of apology.

‘I would like that very much, my Lord’ she starts, prompting you to start recalling some details, continuing, ‘but I’m afraid that considering the circumstances, it would be … disingenuous for me to accept the offer when I have done nothing in return to earn it.’

You frown, wondering just what she was implying. She’d been flirting with you for all of the last three years on the sole promise of your money and influence … and now, with the former on the doorstep, she wanted to turn you down? Confusion reigns as you find yourself growing impatient with the string of inconsistent developments that were turning up one after another like some rapid flurry of a Wargeass enforcer getting physical when the referee wasn’t looking.

‘You don’t have to do anything,’ you elaborate, glancing at Iona, who’d remained quiet throughout the exchange. ‘I’m willing to offer you my financial support in your endeavour, no strings attached.’

She only seems to become more … agitated.

‘Just … like that?’

‘I can’t do it now,’ you explain further, ‘but I can make a few calls and pull a few strings to make it easier for you to continue in your studies. It’s not as if Rhysode is totally cut off from my family’s influence, after all. There are a few subsidiaries lying around that—’

‘So, even without being the mother of your child, you’d … give me favour?’

You roll your eyes.

It’s like she was stuck five hundred standard years and three intact moons in the past.

‘Not directly,’ you iron out, raising your hands for emphasis … and feeling a headache coming along. Was it so hard for people to believe that you could be charitable? ‘However, if you wish to think of it in that light, I won’t stop you. It doesn’t matter to me, either way.’

Her apprehension is more than apparent now. It’s amazing how much she resembles Rosaria at this very moment.

‘It’s because of my sister, isn’t it?’

You never said that.

‘I never said that.’

‘You like her,’ Delta mumbles, a little defeated. ‘You think that by—’

‘Delta,’ you cut her off, raising your hand. ‘Can’t you just accept that I’m willing to be play the notes of kindness for once?’

She and Iona share a look. The both of them seemed … worried.

‘It’s just … awkward, my Lord,’ she sighs. ‘I kind of expected for me to be the one doing this sort of asking after you bent me down and took me for a night’s worth. Not … out of your kindness.’

Iona nods in affirmation.

You groan.

>‘Where’s Morrigan? I think this conversation has run its course.’ (Give up)
>‘All right, what circumstances would … make this arrangement more comfortable with you?’ (Patience)
>‘I’m beginning to regret ever growing a conscience.’
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3510720
>Write-In
“Ok, i sorta understand that viewpoint from you but... Et Tu Iona?”

>>3510720
>>‘Where’s Morrigan? I think this conversation has run its course.’ (Give up)

>>3510720
>‘I’m beginning to regret ever growing a conscience.’

>>3510721
Supporting

>>3510721
why the hell not, supportin

>>3510720
>Leave

>>3510720
>Write-In

I respect you and myself enough to not do both of such a disservice

Besides, if i ever do sleep with someone then it would be with one i would want to spend a lot if time with and not just for carnal and short time pleasure

Even though 80-90% of scions and such are like that doesn't mean i have follow such traditions even if notable elders of my house want me to do so

>>3510713
Wait, now I'm confused. Why does everyone in this reboot think we like Fisher? Is it because we picked worst girl last season and so you assumed people would do the same again?

>>3510721
Sure, supporting

>>3510739
It's called teasing. She has rubbed off on you, though. More than anyone else. You'd still be an asshole otherwise. She was the only Instructor to meet you halfway.

>>3510631
yes

>>3510720
> You making me regret even offering, wheres Morrigan? I think this conversation has run its course.